Bondage and discipline is often employed by partners seeking new thrills, in order to explore new dimensions of their sex lives. Between consenting adults, this behavior can be considered relatively harmless, if no malicious intent is involved.
But humiliation and degradation are used as tools of punishment as well. In fact, it is rampant in our society. This book deals with depraved, brutal torment. It deals with parents ... who sexually assault and abuse their own children!
These cases are not pretty, they do not leave the reader with a positive feeling. They are graphic, blunt, and to the sordid point: parents discipline their children in various ways.
Marvin G: "Why does Mom do this to me?" He tried to keep his report card a secret, but his stepmother discovered his deception. A chilling case.
Krissy K: "I lived in a cage, doctor!" Convinced of the precocious child's mental inferiority, her drunken parents kept her secluded and terrorized!
George D: "She was just like any other girl." His mother, a junkie, made George feel guilty about her situation, then made flagrant overtures to the young boy.
Debbie S: "Mom is nuts, doctor!" Her mother, a religious fanatic, kept Debbie on the path of righteousness ... by keeping her prisoner in her bedroom!
CASE HISTORY ONE
SUBJECT: Marvin G. AGE: Fifteen
INTERVIEW ONE
On first sight, Marvin G. looked not un-like other boys his age, excepting the large black eyes that adorned his face. Or the bruises that covered his arms and collarbone. For Marvin was an abused child, abused and beaten not by his peers or by vengeful street gangs, not by thugs or derelicts ... but by his own mother.
Marvin answered all my questions with a polite "yes" and "no," and I realized it would take many sessions to establish a comfortable rapport with the young man. This "patient-therapist" relationship is most effective when firmly established from the beginning, for only then can the patient begin to talk comfortably about his or her specific problem. And in Marvin's case, the problem was very grave and unusual indeed.
Here, then, is a tape recorded transcript, unedited of course, covering an outline of our many, many sessions:
I don't know what to tell you, doc. What do you want to hear, anyway? These bruises? Well, I got them from playing hockey.
Would you believe I fell down in the street on my skateboard and collided with a speeding bus?
How about this: I tripped and fell down the stairs? Jumped from a window?
Okay, okay! I'll have to tell you the truth. I got these bruises from my. . . my mother, doctor. Yes, my own mother. And all because I brought home a bad report card.
And, if I bring home another one like the last, Mom is certain to beat me up again.
Yes, doctor. She is kind of strange to begin with, my Mom. Really, she's only my stepmother, since both my parents died when I was very small, in an elevator crash. I was too young to remember most of it, but Lena, that's my stepmother, was a friend of Dad's and raised me just like I was her son, all these years.
I can't say that she was a bad stepmother, doc. I really can't. She always let me get by with whatever I pleased, most of the time at least. I was no different from other guy's my age. I had lots of friends, I was very happy.
At. least, until recently. Mom had been acting very cold towards me for months, and going out a lot. I didn't mind that too much, you know? But she would never tell me where she was going, or with whom. So, I figured it was none of my business, and didn't bother her anymore.
"I'm leaving, Marvin," she would say, "and won't be back until after tomorrow." Then, Lena would put on her leather jacket and her Frye boots, and head for who knows where. I'd be home all by myself, but that didn't bother me in the least. I could always use the spare time, and the privacy, to jerk-off or just sleep all day.
But then, when Lena would spend several days away from the house, the temptation to play hooky from school was too much. So, I would just leave for the day, go to the movies or to the zoo, even stay home and watch television the whole afternoon.
My first encounter, violent encounter, with Mom was when she first received a notice from the school. I had too many absences, I guess, and they thought Mom should be notified.
"Asshole," she screamed. "What the fuck is the matter with you?"
"What's wrong, Mom?. " I asked, knowing full well what the matter was. But Mom wasn't concerned too much whether I went to school or not, at least, I didn't think she would blow her cool the way she did that day.
It's all really painful to explain, doc. It was really painful to experience, too. I'll try my best to relate everything as clearly as I can, but I have to admit I've blocked out a lot from my memory. I don't even like to think about that day I spent tied up in the closet. I shudder every time I remember it.
"You've been playing hooky, ass-hole!" she screamed. "You've been playing truant while I've been gone, haven't you?"
"Aw, come on, Mom. Everyone plays hooky once in awhile. I'm just tired of school."
"Yeah, well I'm tired of getting notices like this in the mail, buster! I'm tired of talking to that dimwit principal, and all his sleazy little cunt secretaries. I'm tired, Marvin. I'm tired of you, you, you!"
Doc, I don't know what happened to Mom then, but she ... she hit me! For the first time that I could remember, excepting the time she accidentally dropped a glass plate on my head, Mom hit me! I was shocked.
"Little worm!" she yelled. "I can't even leave you alone for one second, without you fucking up somehow! What am I going to do with you, Marvin. You're such a fucking zero, you know? A little punk zero kid, who doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground."
"Aw, come on, Mom. Don't say that!" I was sort of shocked by the way she sounded, doc. Mom used to bitch about a lot of things, but my behavoir was never questioned. As far as I knew, Mom thought I was a perfect angel.
"I'll say anything I want, ass-hole! And I'll teach you to skip school again. What are you trying to do ... be a failure? Embarrass me?"
"I go to school, at least three times a week," I reminded her. "You seem to take off anytime you want to, and I never question where you've been."
"You're not supposed to, ass-hole! I'm an adult, not a fucking little worm kid!" She glared at me, doc, I could feel her eyes burning a hole right through me from behind her mirrored aviator glasses. She pulled the rim of her SS cap down over her forehead and looked real mean.
"If you ever pull a stunt like this again, Marvin ... if I evern once again have to pick up that phone and talk to that little faggot principal of yours, I'm gonna jack your jaw wide open.
"Things are going to be a lot different around here from now on, Marvin. You're not going to get away with all the trashy, filthy things you pull anymore, got me?" Mom stomped her heel against the floor and the windows shook in the frames. "Okay?"
"Yeah, Mom. I'll behave ... I promise."
Well, sure. I was a little taken back by her threats. Usually, Mom could care less whether I went to school or not. Or what I did.
"Here, take this vacuum cleaner and get going, ass-hole! I want this house sparkling clean by the time I get back from the supermarket!" This was nothing unusual, doc. I mean I helped Lena keep the place clean all the time. But the way she threw that machine at me, literally threw it at me, scared the fucking shit out of me.
I heard her leave the house, then I plugged the vacuum in and went about my business. I dusted the chairs, the couch, picked up the dirt from the carpet, the whole deal.
But then, wouldn't you know it, the bag burst open. And not only that, but there were no more in the storage bin. "Shit," I said, opening the top of the machine, "is she ever gonna be mad."
Well, there wouldn't be too much she could say about it, after all, she should have checked to see if there were anymore fucking bags in the closet before she even told me to clean up.
There was dirt and dust leaking out all over the clean carpet, but that could be gotten up just as easily with the broom.
I don't know why, doc. I guess I just was really horny that afternoon, but for some reason, I wanted to find out what would happen if I attached the vacuum nozzle to my ... my ... cock.
Please don't laugh, doc. I'm really serious. I mean, when some girl gives you a blow-job, she's just really sucking until you shoot. And what would be better than a fucking vacuum cleaner? Nothing, I decided. I closed the lid, turned the machine one once more and dropped my pants.
My cock was really stiff by now, stiff and leaking all over my shorts. I couldn't wait to stick that vacuum nozzle up to my prick and let it suck the jizz right out of my balls.
"Here goes," I moaned, deciding to rest on the floor. It was a perfect fit, doc. My cock just slid right up into that metal nozzle, and I was in jerk-off heaven.
I closed my eyes and felt the air rushing into the machine. The longer I let the vacuum run, the stiffer and hotter my prick grew, until I was sure I was gonna lose it at any second.
I must have stayed there a long time, doc, on the floor, almost dreaming. Until, at least, Mom came home and found me wallowing in all the dust and dirt.
"What the fuck is going on here?" she screamed. I couldn't believe that she would have been back that early. But there she was, with two shopping bags in each hand and looking really mean and evil. I reacted immediately, doc. I tried to pull the nozzle off my crotch, but by now the suction was too great ... I was stuck!
"Isn't this the pits," scowled Mom. "Fucking masturbating with the goddamn Electrolux! The absolute pits, Marvin!"
I looked at her, embarrassed and afraid. But still, I could not get rid of my hard on, nor could I remove the metal nozzle from my crotch. It must have looked strange, I'll admit, standing there with a vacuum cleaner where my prick should have been.
"You're hysterical, Marvin. A ton of laughs. You're so funny, I'm gonna beat the fucking shit outta you!" Mom grabbed one end of the hose and yanked it off my crotch.
"Wouldn't you know it?" she said, "Marvin has a hard-on. Pitiful!" I was so embarrassed I wanted to die. Mom had never, never caught me jerking off before, and as luck would have it, she would have to catch me now. "Fucking pervert creep! I'll teach you how to jerk-off!"
WHAM! Doc, she lashed out at me with the hose, and bruised my arm. "Ouch, Mom! Take it easy, okay?"
"No, Marvin. I won't take it easy." She started chasing me around the room with her deadly weapon and finally cornered me ... with a sharp blow to my cranium!
I saw stars and comets, just like in the movies! I fell to the floor, but Mom only laughed out loud.
"You wanna get it on with the vacuum, huh? I'll show you how, baby. You just wait!" I could hear the machine stop roaring as Mom evidently shut it off or unplugged it.
Then, she put her boot heel against my neck, and forced her weight down on top of me. I was still quite dazed, doc. I couldn't even fight her back when she tied my hands behind me with the vacuum cleaner cord. She tied some mean knots, too. By the time she was finished, my hands were blue and numb ... I could hardly move them at all! I was my Mom's prisoner! And was I ever afraid!
"Stupid worm. Asshole! Teenage pervert!" she yelled over and over.
"Mom! Let me go! I didn't mean to mess up the house. The bag broke!"
"Just like I'm going to break your ass, Marvin! I'm gonna teach you a lesson you'll never forget!" That, as far as Mom was concerned, was that.
I tried to wiggle out of the cords, but they were much too tight and merely cut into my flesh whenever I struggled against them. I could see Mom out of the corner of my eye, searching through the different vacuum cleaner attachments. She found what she was looking for, a little plastic nozzle that you use to clean the Venetian blinds.
"How do you like this, Marvin? I'm gonna cram this up your ass!"
"No! No!" I hollered. But there was no use, I was her prisoner. With a forceful shove, my own mother crammed the plastic nozzle into my rear! She sodomized me with a fucking hose! Was I ever embarrassed!
"I told you," she said, standing over me with her boot still pressing against the back of my neck, "that things would be a lot different around here, didn't I?"
I was so racked with pain I could barely make more than a whimper. Still Mom continued to torment me.
"You'll get worse than this if you ever cross me again, ass-hole! And I'm not kidding at all! So, you better straighten up your act, buster! That's final!! "
I had to ask Marvin to come back for another session, since our allotted time had unfortunately run out. So had my wits. What, I asked, could possibly drive a mother to sodomize a stepson with such vengeance, such sadistic temperament?
The answers could only lie in future sessions with Marvin.
INTERVIEW TWO
This time, I had to notice that some of the bruises and other discolorations on Marvin's body were now healing rather well, in fact, the boy seemed to be in much better shape, physically and mentally. Until, of course, the topic of conversation turned to Lena, Marvin's stepmother.
Haven't I told you enough about her, doc? What could I possibly tell you? There really isn't any way I could describe the brutal, painful tortures my mother puts me through.
For awhile, our little apartment was just like an SS camp, and I wouldn't have been surprised at all if Mom had put up barbed wire around the doors and windows. No, she didn't carry things that far, but almost.
I steered clear of her for weeks and weeks, and soon I began to trust her again, though not in the same way I once trusted her. Anyone who could find the nerve to tie you up and stick a vacuum cleaner nozzle up your ass had to be a little strange, I thought. And there was always something in the back of my head that warned me that Mom could fly off her nut at any time.
"Hi, Mom. What's going on?" I'd ask her, just to be sociable.
"Shove it," or "Bite my crank!" Yeah, that was always her favorite. It still is.
Well, sooner or later, doc, all those days I had skipped school were bound to catch up with me. And they did, doctor. On my next report card!
Hooked at it, over and over, trying to figure out a decent way to alter it. It was from a computer, and I couldn't find a typewriter in the whole school that matched the letters of my grades. I don't even want to tell you what I scored, doc. It was really bad, I'll just say that.
I couldn't show it to my Mom, no way. I really couldn't-she was feeling very cranky lately. So, I placed the report card in the nearest ash try, and set it ablaze! Now she'd never find out about it.
"Marvin," she said, very calmly, "I'd like to talk to you for a second." She was sitting in her bedroom, no, actually she was ironing some things. If I had any idea-of what it was she wanted to discuss, I would have jumped out the window and into the street before I ever entered that bedroom, her little love-pit of terror.
But I had burned the report card, hadn't I? There was no evidence, no proof for her to find. Except the carbon copy that was mailed to my house. I didn't count on that happening to me, no sir!
"Marvin, I'm holding something in my hand. Can you tell me what it is?" she asked, still keeping her cool.
"Gosh, no Mom," I said. It looked like the phone bill or something.
"Well, I'll give you a little hint," she said. "It's from your school, Marvin. And it's enough to make me puke!"
"It's a picture of my English teacher," I said, squirming in my chair.
"No!"
"Well, er ... next week's lunch menu."
"No!"
"I can't imagine what it could be," I said, "I've given up!"
"Marvin," said Mom, in a voice barely above a whisper, "I have given up with you. Totally. You didn't show me your report card, did you, Marvin?"
"I thought you'd get mad," I said.
"I am mad, Marvin. I'm seeing red!"
She was staring right through me, doc. I could hear her blood boiling in her veins, she was so mad. "I guess I have to either control my temper, like a rational human being, or I can beat the shit out of you, Marvin. Which do you think I'll do? Would you like to try and guess?"
I bolted for the door, but Mom beat me to it, stepping in front of me and slamming it shut with her back.
"Going somewhere, ass-hole? Got someplace far away on your mind? Hmmmmmm?"
"Well, Mom. I have to..."
"What, Marvin. What do you have to do?"
"I have to go to the bathroom, Mom." I could always try to climb out that window in there, even though it was seven stories to the ground.
"Good, I'll go with you!" she said. She grabbed me by the shoulders and shoved me out the door.
"Mom, I can't go to the bathroom with you in there," I pleaded.
"Yes you can, Marvin. You certainly can. What a better place to beat the shit out of you than the bathroom." Now she was practically kicking me down the hall, and each time I fell she socked me even more!
"You'll have to be taught an extremely tough lesson, ass-hole!" she yelled, still beating me with the toe of her boot. "I guess I'm going to have to give you a repeat performance, huh?"
"No, Mom. Have some common decency, will you? Don't treat me like this," I pleaded.
"Common decency? For you? You, a little turd, asking to be treated like a human being? Why, you're just a piece of shit, Marvin. Nothing but a fucking piece of manure!" She belted me again, this time with her fist ... and blacked my left eye!
I was on my knees, crying. She had really hurt me bad, and the things she said to me were even worse than the way she punched me.
"We're going to the bathroom, darling, because I want to watch you jerk-off. I stand out here a lot in the morning, and listen to your pitiful masturbating, but I've always been very curious to watch you do it!" Mom dragged me down the hall and kicked me onto the bathroom floor. "Let's get goin, ass-hole! I want to watch you beat your meat!"
"Mom! What are you talking about?" I asked. "This is crazy!"
"You bet, prickhead. You better believe it! Now get going!"
"Aw, Mom! I can't jerk-off in front of you. I really can't!"
"Who says you can't, huh? I'll do it myself, if you don't get going!"
There was no way that I could masturbate in front of her, doc. There just really wasn't. I got up from the floor and stood there, acting as though I was going to drop my jeans. But instead, I ran down the hallway, and into my bedroom, where I slammed the door.
"Come out of there, Marvin. Or I'll kick the fucking door down!" Mom's voice was low and gruff ... she sounded like a truck driver out there, beating in the door.
"I'm not kidding, Marvin. I'll drill through the lock. I'll take the door off the hinges! I'll bust your ass when I get in there!"
There was silence for a minute or two, and at first I thought she had gone away, maybe to cool off or something.
I stood with my ear to the door, and only heard her breathing. Then, I noticed something wet by the door, like the roof was leaking. But it wasn't raining outside, doc. It was coming in from under the door. Mom was squirting something into my room from outside!
It was lighter fluid! For her cigarette lighter! "Come out of there, Marvin, or I'll set your room on fire, and you'll go up with it!"
"Mom! Don't do this! You're nuts!"
"Am I? Are you going to wait and see?" I heard her strike the match against the door. I never really thought that she would actually set that stuff on fire! I backed away from the door and watched the flames sputter and lick the floor.
I tried to put it out with my feet, but it was too much. I finally opened the door, just like Mom wanted me to. She saw standing outside with a bucket of water and a coil of heavy rope!
She doused the fire, sure. And she doused me, too! I was down on the floor in a second, and Mom was on top of me-poking at my eyes!
"Just hold still, ass-hole! While I tie you down. That way, you won't be hurting me, or yourself."
I thought she might have blinded me with one of her fingernails, doc. I could feel a little trickle of blood flowing down my cheeks. I couldn't see that well, and by now I was hurting so bad that I really couldn't fight her off. She had me again, and she wasn't going to let me go until she finished what she had in mind.
"Now, I guess I'll have to jerk you off instead. I though you'd cooperate, and give me a free show," she said, tightening the ropes so that my hands were bound and completely helpless behind me. "Just let me get your dirty jeans off your crotch, and then we'll have something to talk about, won't we?"
She unbuckled my levis and tugged them past my knees. Then she did the same with my
BVD's! "Oh, it's just like a little worm, pinhead. Just relax, and mommy will get it going big and stiff!"
I felt her fingers against my prick, I knew that I could never get a hard-on for her, even if she worked on it all day. There was no reason why she should have treated me that way, but she couldn't be discouraged. Mom was going to jerk me off, whether I wanted to come or not. I guess you could say that she was raping me.
"Terrific!" she said, stroking my penis with gentle up and down movements of her hand. "I bet you'd really like some hand cream, wouldn't you?"
"Mom! Don't do this, you're embarrassing me!"
"Aw, you should be thankful, Marvin. It's not everyday someone jerks you off. Especially your own mother!"
She pumped her hand cream all over my cock, then began to spread it all over. I have to admit, doc, it felt really good. I couldn't stand to look at her while she did it, though. I was lying there with my eyes closed, pretending she was someone else.
"Look, Marvin. It's getting stiff! You've got a big prick there, don't you?" said Mom, spreading the lotion all over my cock and balls. It was getting pretty hard, doc. It was a lot better than doing it yourself!
"Too bad I'll have to cut it off, Marvin."
"What!"
"You heard me! I said, I'm going to cut your cock off. Maybe your balls, too. I'm going to have them stuffed and mounted ... and give them back to you for your birthday!"
Mom laughed for a long time after she said that, and I was turning blue in the face. At that point, I couldn't tell whether she was serious, or whether she was just being real sick!
"No, I won't cut your balls off," she laughed, "or your cock."
"Whew!" I sighed. But when Mom returned after a five minute absence, carrying my razor and shaving cream, I was terrified.
"Since you can't use this yet, peach fuzz, I thought I'd break it in for you!" Mom knelt at my crotch and began to spray the shaving cream all over my pubes.
"Now you'll have to hold real still for this operation, kiddo," said Mom, placing a blade in the holder, "because, one false move could ruin you for life!"
Doc, I know it's hard to believe, but my Mom was going to shave my crotch!
"Mom, why are you doing this to me?" I gasped. "Why?"
"Because, Marvin. I want to humiliate you.
Now, when you go to gym class, everyone will just laugh and laugh and laugh!"
Ten minutes later, and it was all over, my crotch was bald! Mom stepped back to admire her work, and broke into hysterics.
"You look so ridiculous, Marvin. Just wait until you see it! I'm so proud of you!"
Mom wasn't satisfied with just my crotch. After she finished with that, Mom shaved my legs, my armpits ... and my eyebrows!
And that was it, doc. She didn't even bother to finish jerking me off, she just picked me up and walked me over to the mirror. And laughed for what must have been five or ten minutes while I was reduced to tears.
After that, Mom didn't bother me again. And there was no need to, since she made it perfectly clear to me that she would treat me even worse if I ever crossed her again.
Yeah, I was the laughing stock of school for a few weeks. And how could I tell anyone that my mother had done this to me? No one would believe me, I was sure. No one but you, doctor.
You've got to help me while I'm still alive! I really believe that I might be cracking up under the strain. I don't know what to do or say to her anymore. If she beats me up again, I know I might just get fed up and kill her or something. And then what will happen to me?
CONCLUSION
It was important for me to keep Marvin in therapy for several weeks, or as long as it took to discover certain clues to his mother's behavior.
I kept asking myself why a woman would take such drastic measures to discipline her child? Especially when the child was all of fifteen years old. And to sexually brutalize him also was a tip off to this neurosis.
I concluded that Marvin's mother felt sexual attraction for the boy, and seeing how this incestuous drive is the strongest taboo in our society, she punished the young boy for exciting her ... something over which he had no control. But rather than admit her desires, the mother used her son as a scapegoat, hoping that by punishing him she could also relieve the wanton lust of her own soul.
I am happy to say that the mother has entered therapy with another doctor, a colleague of mine. But until she is ready to admit her desires for her own son, she will not be able to admit her true reasons for punishing Marvin.
It may seem strange to the reader that Marvin's mother would take such great pleasure in humiliating her son. It must be considered that the woman possibly misunderstood her own feeling for the child. Instead of coping with her anger, she lost control of her reasoning ability. I hope she will recover. As I hope Marvin will emerge unscarred from the incident.
Only time will tell.
CASE HISTORY TWO
SUBJECT: Krissy K. AGE: Sixteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Krissy was referred to me by a social worker at the children's institution where she had lived for four years of her life.
Krissy had been a model ward, though somewhat of a slow learner and occasionally lapsed into fits of anger and anxiety. It was these attacks which brought her to my attention.
After reading her history, I was immediately interested in her past, and how it might be affecting her present behavior. During our first encounter, I noticed that Krissy was no ordinary child, In fact, she was extremely attractive to the point of distraction. The following is a transcript of our conversations:
Tell me, doctor. Do you ever have nightmares? Do you ever have dreams that make you break out in a cold sweat and cry in the middle of the night? Have you ever been so afraid that you were scared to go to sleep at night?
I guess everyone has had dreams like that, doctor. Especially when they were smaller or if they were afraid of the dark. But I'm sixteen years old, doctor. And I still have nightmares like that every night. I can no longer sleep, except during the day, and the pills they gave me don't work either. In fact, they're more frightening when I take sleeping pills. I still have the same dreams ... but I can't wake up from them.
To make matters worse, I can't remember what the dreams are about the next morning. I just know that they are horrible, terrible things, but by the time I have gotten over the scare, I can't remember exactly what went on. I feel ... haunted, like I was being followed by some ghost. And I'm scared shitless, doctor. Really. I'm not kidding.
That's why I feel so depressed, doctor. It's not because I'm angry or unhappy, it's because I feel ... I feel like I'm going to die!
I was admitted to the institution when I was twelve years old. I don't really remember much about living with my parents, and I haven't even seen them since the day I entered the home. I think that my father wasn't working, because he was always around the house, and my mother and father were always fighting about something, but what it was I can't remember.
I might as well tell you now, doctor, that when I was taken to the institution, they thought I was mentally retarded. I couldn't read above a third grade level, well what do you expect. I don't remember going to school all that much ... Mom and Dad never sent me.
I never really had that many friends when I was little, either. Maybe my parents really did think that I was dumb, that there was something wrong with me. I guess they kept me home a lot, because they were afraid I would embarrass them, because I was a freak or something.
Do I look like a freak? I don't think so, doctor. In fact, I think I look pretty good for a sixteen-year-old girl. I have lots of admirers, girls and boys. Lots of girls at the institution are really envious of my rather voluptuous body ... I have to admit it did develop very well over the years, and still has a way to go.
And there are a lot of boys I know who I can guess would be really eager to get inside my pants. At least, that's the impression I get from the way they're always acting towards me.
But, to tell you the truth, doc ... I really don't have that much of an interest in sex. Whenever I get aroused, when I get hot, I don't feel very well, and something happens to my head that eventually turns me off. I'm sure that I've had sex before, because I'm not a virgin by any means, I just can't seem to remember with whom. Isn't that strange? Not being able to remember who you fucked?
I'll try to tell you a little bit about my Mom and Dad, what little I can guess from the twelve years or so I spent with them. I don't think they were very educated people, since I can't remember ever seeing any books or hearing any music when I was a child. In fact, all I remember about that period of my life is a room, a single room, I guess it must have been mine. Whenever I'm feeling depressed, I always get flashes of that room, like, in the back of my mind. It never really comes into, complete focus for me.
All I remember about my mother is that she was young, somewhat pretty ... when she wasn't heavy or drunk. That's something I'll never forget, doctor. She and Dad used to come into my room, smelling terrible. To this day, whenever I'm around someone who's been drinking booze, I get physically ill. That's because my Dad used to breathe heavily when he talked to me, and it made me really sick.
I guess our family, I didn't have any sister's or brother's that I knew of, didn't socialize very much, because I could never remember an instance when either my Mom or Dad weren't at home, watching over me. They used to keep me in this little bed, which was kind of like a hospital bed, with heavy bars that could be swung up around the mattress. I used to sleep in that same bed even when I had outgrown it, when I was eleven or twelve I would sleep with my feet poking out the slats at the foot of the bed. When I finally learned how to throw the bolt, and walk around on my own, Mom and Dad had a little fence built in the corner of the room, one that was very difficult for me to climb out of, and they'd lock me in there on the rare occasions that the would go out, or when they thought I would get into trouble.
I know that they were constantly talking about me, but they never really paid that much attention to me when I'd cry. Especially in the middle of the night, when I was really afraid of the dark. And my little room got very dark, since there were few windows, and also it was very cold.
If Mom wasn't feeling well, she would just ignore me, and I can remember many nights that I would be scared to death ... but no one would come in and hold my hand or anything. I can still hear my mother telling me to shut up, or banging on the door with her fists. I guess I would cry for any number of reasons--if they hadn't fed me in several days, or if no one had come in to unlock the fence so I could get out and crawl around. And if Dad ever came in late at night, he would just stand in the corner and stare at me, that frightened me even more. Then he would come over and breathe all over me, with that sickening alcoholic breath. I've considered the fact, since I've been in therapy, that my parents could have very well been alcoholics, since they always smelled like cheap booze. I guess that's why I can't drink, even when someone sneaks something into the institution.
Can I remember any unpleasant experiences with my mother? Sure, but only one. By that I mean there was only one clear episode that sticks out above and beyond all the rest.
It was late a night, and the room was really dark. I was having a bad dream, and I couldn't get back to sleep. I kept seeing dragons and snakes crawling through the holes in the fencing, and I couldn't get out to escape them. I guess I was screaming pretty loud, because Mom actually came into my room and turned on the light!
I was so glad when she did that, because I could finally see that there weren't really any monsters in the room with me.
"What's wrong, Krissy," she mumbled, holding onto the fence gate for support.
"I'm afraid, mommy," I'm sure I must have said. I kept staring at the bottle Mom held dangling, wondering if it would fall from her hand. I remember looking at her face and how terrible she looked, almost as frightening as the monsters in my dreams. She had very dark circles under her eyes, like she had smeared them with coals. Her panty hose was torn ... I think they call it "fishnet," anyway, that's what she was wearing. That, her panties, and her bra. Nothing else.
And her breath was repulsive. When Mom began to scream at me for waking her up, I started crying even more than before. I wanted to climb out of that chain-link fence so bad, but every time I grabbed hold, Mom would jab my hands with the blunt end of her whisky bottle ... and laugh.
I was only about five or six then, doctor. And I was really impressionable. I thought for sure that mommy was going to hurt me or something, since she wasn't feeling all that well.
"Shut up, you little cunt," said my mommy.
I remember that word, specifically. "Cunt!" That's what she called me, doctor.
"Mommy!" I scared, "there are snakes and spiders in this room."
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" she laughed, slumping to the floor in a daze. "Snakes and Spiders. Get a load of this retard, will you?" Then she finished off the rest of her bottle and the booze dribble down her chin.
"Retard! Retard! Why did I have to have a damn retarded kid?" she screamed. "What did I do to deserve you, you mongoliod? I didn't do a damn thing!"
And then, doctor, she started to cry. I had seen Mom cry lots of times before, well ... I had heard her cry from outside the room when she and my daddy would throw things around.
"Just another fucking retard, another fucking piece of shit to feed. I have half a mind to starve you to death, Krissy," she threatened, still laughing like a hyena. "A piece of shit doesn't deserve to live!"
I really didn't understand what she meant by that then, when I was five. But now I do. Still, I trusted her to the point where I thought if I cried some more, mommy would leave and keep the light turned on.
"SHUT UP! SHUT YOUR GODDAMN FUCKING MOUTH, RETARD!" she yelled. Then, teetering a bit, as if she might fall down, mommy unlocked the gate and came into my little fenced-in bed.
"Afraid of the dark, huh?" she yelled "I'll give you something to be afraid of, for the rest of your' fucking life. I'll destroy you, Krissy! Look what you've done to me and your father!"
I remember being really afraid, doctor. I think I might have been shaking. Mom knocked me over, hitting me on the side of my head with her whiskey bottle.
"Look what you've done to us, ohhhhhhhh," she cried, staring over me while I screamed. "Look at the sewer you've made for us, Krissy! Fucking cunt retard! I'm going to make you pay for it, darling. For the rest of your life!"
I couldn't figure out exactly what she was talking about. Then, pouncing like a tiger, my mommy jumped on top of me and started clawing me with her fingernails until each of them broke off. There were long, painful tears into my arms and legs blood was dripping everywhere. I screamed for daddy, but I guess he wasn't around.
"Your daddy hates you too, Krissy! But not as much as I hate you, little cunt dumb shit!"
"Mommy! Let me go, please!" Maybe I didn't say that, doctor. I don't think I could have found the effort or the energy to speak at all, not after what my mother did to me that night inside the fence.
I remember this very well, now ... it's all coming back perfectly. I could feel her sweating body on top of me, while she spread my legs wide. And then...
. . . then she stuck the whiskey bottle into my-my hole! Oh, doctor, I'm just now remembering it all. Yes, my own mother! She's the one who messed me up down there! With a whiskey bottle! She tore my cherry, my own cherry, with a whiskey bottle!
I remember how I ached down there for days afterward. It was a long-necked bottle and Mom shoved it into my crotch like she was going to kill me.
"Afraid of the dark, huh? Well, you'll get used to it, darling. When I lock you in the fucking closet for a week. Then, you'll get used to it!"
After that episode, I remember daddy coming into my room one day and painting the windows black. When he was finished, there wasn't a single trace of light anywhere in the room. All I remember was darkness, silence, and bad dreams. I don't know exactly how long I was alone, but when I woke up again, I was terrified. Of the dark, of my father ... and especially my mother.
Krissy was in tears after her recollection of the encounter with her mother, so I ended the session early that day.
It seemed that perhaps this young, beautiful patient was on the way to a breakthrough, and I hoped that more progress could be made in the next few weeks. Do doubt Krissy was disturbed by her past, as so was I. Was this fantasy, or did these terrible things really happen?
INTERVIEW TWO
Krissy canceled our next appointment, her reasons being that she needed more time to prepare for another traumatic experience. The revelation of her last conversation was quite painful for her, understandably. But, thought making connections with the long-forgotten past, there was hope that Krissy could understand the problems which beset her presently.
I'm really sorry that I couldn't make it last week, but there was so much to think about after our last session. I was very depressed for several days afterward, because I realized what human monsters my parents really were.
It's strange how you can forget things, when you really don't want to be reminded. And in my case, doctor, I had forgotten just about everything. Except when I was sleeping, and I think you would be interested in my dreams. Because last night, for the first time, I remembered what the dream was all about.
But first, let me tell you something about my father. There's not much to say about him he was as filthy and depraved as my mother. They were both convinced that there was something wrong with me, because I wasn't doing very well in school. The teachers had told them that all I did was cry, that I couldn't learn to read, that I couldn't comprehend simple logic!
How could I have comprehended anything, doctor? I know I must have cried day in and day out at school. Finally, Mom and Dad just withdrew me, on the basis that I was mentally retarded, something they had been telling me from the beginning.
There is very little I can put together from the time I was six to about age ten. I don't know how my parents got away with what they did, but it's all in the past now, isn't it? I mean, you would have thought a social worker or someone from the board of health would have checked up on me, but for all practical purposes, I didn't exist. . . except inside my little chain-link prison.
No books, no friends, nothing but the television set that mom would roll into the room when she'd leave for the day. I guess that television saved me, doctor, because I used to make up imaginary conversations with the people on the screen ... television was my only education.
I soon learned that the best way to avoid punishment at my house was to completely avoid my parents. I wouldn't talk to them, not even when they yelled at me or hit me. When they didn't feed me, I just kept my stomach pains to myself. When daddy came in to molest me ... and I want to talk about that today, I would just take anything he would dish out. Even if it hurt, which it usually did.
Since I was cut off from the rest of the house, I never knew exactly where my parents went, who was home at a particular time, if anyone, or what they did for a living. Once, when Mom was really irritated with me, she had locked me up in the closet ... I didn't hear a noise for several days, except my own screaming.
When I heard someone finally unlock the door, I was frightened, and scared that it was Mom, ready to yell at me for messing up the closet ... I had no place else to relieve myself. The door opened, I was blinded by the light that poured in. Finally, after a few minutes, I could see my father.
"How long have you been in here, retard?" he asked, pulling me from the smelly little hole. "How long has cuntmouth left you in here this time?"
I hadn't eaten in several days, and I think I was probably very weak. Daddy had to pick me up in his arms and carry me over to my bed, where he more or less threw me down.
"It's too bad your so dumb, kid," he said, rubbing his hand across my belly, "'cause you could be such a pretty little girl. Too bad you have to shit all over yourself like that!"
Daddy would usually clean me up after my mother's punishment, and in a way, I trusted him more than I did my mother. But only because I saw less of him than Mom, and he could be, when he wasn't too drunk, very nice to me.
"Aw, Krissy! Don't look at me that way," he would say, carrying me into the bathroom. And I remember how gentle he would be when he sponged me off in the tub ... kind of like he was rescuing me from something. From my mother, from myself. I don't really know, but it was very comforting, at least until Mom came home again and he would leave me alone again.
He would even rock me back and forth in his arms and make gurgling noises as me, like I couldn't understand a word he said. I had been watching television all this time, and I knew what he was talking about. But I knew if I said anything to give myself away, Mom would only beat me some more, like the time I asked her what "assassination," meant.
I can't believe that my parents actually thought I was retarded. Not when I'd asked them intelligent questions. But mommy would always yell at me, then hit me, then send me back to the closet or the cage. So, I just stopped asking questions altogether.
"Maybe we should have just destroyed you, Krissy," he said, "maybe we should have just killed you a long time ago. Things would have been so much easier for you, wouldn't it?" What was I supposed to say?
"Your mother had wanted to, Krissy, but I said no! I couldn't let her kill my little girl, even though she is a retard!" Daddy still hadn't dressed me, in fact, lately they had let me run around naked, so I wouldn't mess up my clothes. They used to cut up plastic garbage bags and lay them out on the floor, so I could just shit and piss whenever I felt like it. It was too much trouble for mommy to unlock my cage and take me to the bathroom. I got used to it, and so did they.
Daddy rocked me back and forth on his lap, still gurgling and making goo-goo eyes at me. He was half-repulsive, and half-attractive, I think that my father may have been a very good-looking man. That's the way I remember him in my dreams, doctor. And that's the way I remember him that afternoon, when he raped me.
I could feel something stiff poking against my leg, something that scared me. Daddy just smiled and continued to tickle me, but that thing between his legs just got stiffer and hotter against my skin.
"You want to see something, Krissy?" he asked, I just looked up at him, and noticed a big bulge in his pants. It was moving around, like a snake! What did he have in there, and what was he going to do to me?
Daddy tickled my crotch, and I remember him sticking one of his fingers up into my hole. That's when he got very angry, and started cursing my mother, calling her names that I couldn't even remember. If I could, doctor, I probably wouldn't be able to repeat them.
His face, which had been all smiles and laughter, turned really evil and nasty, like Frankenstein or somebody. He was poking his finger up inside my hole, just like Mom had crammed that whiskey bottle up inside me. Only instead of hurting a lot, it felt really nice, and I remember laughing all the time he was threatening to kill my mother.
"I'll give you something, Krissy!" he said, not really looking at me anymore, but at his crotch. That big snake inside him, at least, that's what I thought it was, was still moving and jerking around, and when Daddy unzipped his trousers, I thought he was letting it out to bite me!
I was screaming really loud by then, but Daddy clamped his big hand over my mouth. That's when I bit him, doctor. I remember still the way his hand tasted when I sank my teeth into him.
"Fucking retard cunt!" he screamed-that was my nickname, doctor. "Retard cunt!"
I really can't go on with this, not without breaking down. It's so terrible, I wish I had never remembered it at all.
He pulled his trousers down over his knees and then I could see that snake poking out against his shorts. "Look at this, Krissy. See what Daddy has that you don't have?"
His hand was still bleeding and the blood was oozing down his leg as he pulled down his briefs.
And then I saw it for the first time! It was long and stiff, and poking up at the ceiling. No, it wasn't a snake after all, but to me it was ten times as terrifying! I had never seen anything like it before in my life, and I thought it was going to hurt me.
"Too bad you're not a virgin, Krissy, or you'd appreciate this even more!" he laughed. Within an instant, my father was on top of me, his thick snake rubbing against my legs!
"Shut up, cunt! Or I'll kill you, I swear I'll strangle you to death!" I kicked and bit, still screaming at the top of my lungs. But Daddy was going to do as he pleased, and, as always, I was the victim.
He spread my legs wide open, just as mommy had the time she tore my cherry out with that liquor bottle. I knew that if he hurt me as badly as my mother had, I would rather die than to have my crotch bleeding for another day.
I could feel my Daddy's cock pressing up against my crotch, forcefully! Bot his hands were tightly around my neck, ready to break it if I screamed once more. I shut my eyes and pretended he wasn't there, or that it was just another bad dream.
"Take it, retard! Take it up your fucking cunt!" he screamed, almost choking me to death. With one plunge, I was his ass raise up from the bed, then lower again as his thick snake climbed into my tight, tiny hole!
It was probably, next to the time my mother raped me, the most painful experience
I have ever felt in my life. My father must have been hung like a horse, so to speak, because I thought he was going to tear me into with his prick!
He must have fucked me for ten minutes, maybe more ... I really can't say. But I was in tears the entire time, not knowing if I would be alive after he had finished with me.
I never got used to the sensation of his tool inside my crotch, not at all. It kept pumping in and out of me, too fast to really enjoy. It actually felt like he was ripping the insides out of me, and I ended up shitting all over the bed while he ignored me, his eyes closed, his alcoholic breath making me sicker by the minute.
"I'm gonna shoot you full of come, Krissy! I'm gonna tear your fucking cunt apart before I'm through with you." He kept moaning and threatening me the entire time, thought I wasn't too certain about what he meant. "Maybe that would be the best way for you to go, Krissy. I can just fuck you to DEATH!"
And when he said that word, he tensed up, choking the breath out of my aching body. I knew that this was the end for me, as he had said. When I felt his come shoot into my hole, I thought it was actually me ... bleeding from the inside!
After Dad left me alone, after he had spilled his come inside his own daughter, I didn't hear anything else from him at all. Until about two days later, when he and my mother had another fight.
I heard him screaming at her when she came in the door, screaming about how he was going to kill her for what she had done to me. I knew, somehow, that he was mad about that time my mother had raped me with the whisky bottle. But I couldn't figure out how he had known about it, though. It was so long ago, and even I had tried to forget it the best way I could.
Then, that's where I leave off, I can't recall anything else that happens, except waking up in the hospital and being fed.
I never saw my mother or father again, and I was placed in the children's institution. Slowly, after adjusting to being around normal children my age, some older, I learned how to behave. It was difficult at first.
I've done very well in four years. And I can't believe that I was really rescued from my parents, rather than have been left alone to die. They made it very clear from the very beginning that I did not have a learning disability, and I was tutored regularly, in addition to attending elementary school classes.
I've completely advanced now, and I have a new life. But the most unpleasant parts of my childhood keep coming back, doctor. I can't forget them, and they make me feel really sad. I can't let this keep me from returning to the real world. I can't let this hold me back any longer.
CONCLUSION
Even after years of intense caring and treatment, I was surprised that Krissy could have possibly progressed to her present stage at all. Now after years, important formative years practically in isolation, and years of the most deranged, inhuman abuse.
If her father, as I later discovered, had not killed his wife, something which is still being kept from Krissy, surely the young girl would have died. Discovered in her "cage" by the police, the twelve-year-old was taken to a hospital, where she was treated for acute malnutrition and worms.
How Krissy's mother could have ever determined that her daughter was "retarded" is beyond my comprehension. From her story, I know the child must have been highly perceptive, perhaps precocious, which might have led to behavior slightly deviant from the norm.
The only problem which remains for her is to adjust sexually. Her brutal treatment has left scars which have yet to be removed. Perhaps Krissy will never be able to escape the monsters in the dark, but the has at least identified them. And that, hopefully, is a good beginning.
CASE HISTORY THREE
SUBJECT: George D. AGE: Nineteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Arrested on assault and rape charges, for which he was convicted, George D. is an interesting case to consider. The young man in question was brutalized from early childhood by his mother, a heroin addict and somewhat of a loose woman, a whore to be specific. His father was imprisoned when George was seven years old, leaving the boy to be brought up by his mother.
I was involved with George's case from the first psychiatric examination, which I conducted. The first two of these are of importance to the reader, hence they are presented here in completely unexpurgated form:
I don't remember nothing, doc. I don't remember a thing. Every time they ask me why I did it, and they shove those pictures at me, I just draw a blank. A complete blank. I had never seen those women before, I never did nothin' to no one.
Sure, I remember a lot about my childhood, doc. Who could possibly forget something like that? My old lady, my mother, she was too much, doc. The things she used to do to me ... man, I don't know if I could even tell you what she was like.
She got strung out, and I mean she stayed that way for weeks and weeks at a time. Then, she'd always crawl around the block, especially in the summer, and make a fool of herself. I guess I have to be honest about it, doc. My old lady turned tricks to pay for her fix.
Me? I was born addicted, man. My mother was so strung out when she was pregnant, I almost didn't make it. Sure, they pulled me off real quick when I was a kid, once they found out what was wrong with me.
My father was convicted for robbery, his second time. I never saw him again after that, there was nobody left but me and Mom.
Which was the beginning of the problems.
Mom just couldn't cope living without my father, I guess. She used to cry about it a lot, and then she went back on dope.
I noticed that she spent a lot of time sitting around the house, just nodding-out and acting like a zombie. Her eyes would be waxed-over, really glassy. You could walk up to her and put your hand right in front of her face, and she wouldn't even know you were there.
We kept getting evicted from apartments, I'm sure we moved about three times a year. Finally, we ended up at a welfare hotel, just me and my mother. Things didn't change drastically for either of us Mom still kept up her habits, and she took most of her problems out on me.
Except when she was really whacked-out and used to chase me around the house. No, she really liked to see me then. I remember when I was about twelve years old, and how Mom used to comer me in the bathroom, or in my bedroom, and try to touch me!
"Oh, baby! You're just like your father, you know that? Huh?"
I could see the needle marks on her arms when she stretched them out towards me. "Mom, why don't you get some help?" I asked her. "Why don't you try and find someone who can help you out?"
"Help? Help? Who needs help when I got you hanging around, baby?" She lunged at me and grabbed my head. I could feel her dry, chapped lips against mine. She kissed me, doc. But not in the way you would normally expect a mother to kiss her son.
"Hold me, Georgie. Hold me real tight. I'm lonely, baby!" she would moan, tugging me down to the floor. Usually, when Mom was in this shape, I could just touch her with my finger and she would fall like a leaf. But not today, anyway. She was really after me, and she wasn't about to let me get away.
"Oh, baby! I know you got a big cock, 'cause your father had a big cock, and I know that's hereditary," she would say, grabbing at my crotch.
"How would you like to take it out, baby? Howdja like to get it big and thick, and stick it up my cunt?"
I froze, doc. I knew those words, 'cause I used them everyday. And I thought I was getting away with something, you know?
But to hear your own mother talkin' at you that way, man it freaks me out cold! She kept me on the floor, pulling on my pants whenever I tried to get away from her. She kept kissing me, smothering me with kisses until I couldn't breathe.
And the most embarrassing part of it was ... I had an erection. My God! I felt like I was doing something wrong, but I had no control over it. When Mom grabbed my cock and pumped it with her fist, I thought I'd either throw up, or come depending on what she did to me.
"Oh, Georgie! Your cock is so fucking big," she said, breaking into giggles. "I want to suck on this one all fucking day long!" Mama was rolling on the floor like she was going crazy or something. And still, the entire time, she kept playing with my pecker like it was her favorite toy.
"How about it, George? Wanna fuck mama? Wanna stick your cock up her slit and fuck her? Just like your daddy?" She giggled some more, but I didn't think anything was very funny about this whole scene. I was embarrassed, but Mama was getting me off real hot.
I had never fucked anything before ... except my fist, doc. And now, here was my own mother, pleading with me to put it to her. I couldn't do it, there was just no way. Even when she put it in her mouth and sucked on it, I tried to hold back my impulses.
She was licking my stick wet and juicy with her tongue, rolling the tip up and over the head a thousand times. I closed my eyes and thought for sure that I would come, but each time I came near to it Mama would stop licking my pole and start giggling again.
"How do you get this thing inside your pants, honey?" she would howl, slipping her fist up and down my cock.
"Mama don't do this. It's not right?"
"Who said it's not right?" she asked, glaring at me like she was really angry. "Who said a mother couldn't love her son? I love you, Georgie, and I want you to love me, too! Just like your big, stiff father!"
I wasn't expecting her to let me go, so I tried to pull myself away, hoping she'd just pass out or something and forget the whole deal. But she wasn't going to let me get away so easily, man. I had to practically tear myself away from her, and I ended up tearing her blouse off in the struggle.
"Aw, Georgie!" she said, hanging her head until her chin touched her collarbone. "Georgie! You hurt me!"
"Mama I really sorry! I didn't mean to, really!"
"I know," she said, acting like she was going to cry. I had seen her depressed before when she was high, and I knew that this time I couldn't leave the house, not when I had really hurt her.
"Mama, why don't you just take it easy for awhile, you know? Is there anything I can get you down at the store?"
"No, baby! Not today, I don't need anything." No food, no sleep-man, I wonder how she survived as long as she did.
She was crouched in the corner of the room, sobbing like she was going to die or something. I was really upset, too. 'Cause once she started on one of these jags there was no damn way to turn her off. She used to talk about dad like he was in the room with us, I guess maybe she even thought he was at times. And this particular day, she must have thought that I was him instead.
"George, come here for a minute." Whenever she called me George, I could never figure out whether she was talking about me or my father. I walked over to where she was slumped down on the floor and tried my best to make her feel better.
"Oh, George. I'm so fucking lonely, baby! I'm so fucking lonely, lonely, lonely..." she would trail off like that, and then she'd be quiet for awhile.
"No, you're not," I said, "you've got me here."
"George, please fuck me, baby! I really want you to fuck me, can't you do that for me?" she asked, grabbing my waist and holding tight.
"Just take it easy," I said, trembling. I knew she hadn't forgotten about that yet. . . she was still trying to seduce me. Now I felt as if I might give in, I felt so sorry for her.
"I will, baby! I will," and she slipped her hand once more down inside my pants.
I thought she might get really crazy if I tried to fight her any more. So, I don't know why, I just thought that it would be easier for her if I let her jerk me off. Then, maybe she would finally leave me alone.
I was stiff before she even played with me, doc. I was almost coming in my jeans! When I felt her fingers slipping against my prick again, I didn't know what to do but let her pull my pants down from my crotch, and do whatever satisfied her.
"Oh, baby! Yeah. Yeah, it's really stiff and hard, isn't it?" she giggled once more, on her knees between my legs. I watched her grab my cock by the roots and point it straight up at the ceiling. "Oooooh," she growled, "it looks so good, baby! I'm gonna suck your big fat cock all afternoon, until you just shoot your jizz!"
I was dazed, not only because she was saying those things to me, doc, but because she was my mother. She tenderly kissed my cock on all sides, starting with the head and slobbering all the way down to my balls.
When she took half of it in her mouth and sucked it wet and hot, I thought for sure that I was going to pass out. I couldn't look at her the entire time she sucked me off, either. I had to close my eyes and pretend that it was somebody else doing it.
She grabbed my balls in her fingers and played with them while her tongue slipped back and forth against my meat. Soon, I didn't even care about the way she talked to me ... I was too hot to care that my own mother was giving me a blow-job. And so was she.
I didn't know how much longer I could last. Every time I groaned, Mama would stop sucking my cock and laugh, like she was trying to keep me going forever. "Honey, I'm going to drink you dry!" she howled, placing her mouth over my cockhead again and eating every inch of my dork.
I could feel her teeth scraping the base around my crotch, but even better I could feel her tight throat muscles against my cockhead. And that's exactly when I shot my load, doc.
Mama drank it all, she didn't even let a drop fall from her lips. I was wasted, just totally wasted. "You like that, Georgie? You really like me?"
"Yes, Mama. I really like you. I really love you, Mama." I didn't know what else to say to her, doc.
I was pretty freaked-out about it for a couple of weeks afterwards, and evidently so was Mama. Because she got really up-tight and really nervous, especially when she'd get high. Then, for no reason at all, she hit me, or beat me ... while she called me lots of names. Names I would just rather not repeat, doc.
It would go on like this, doc. Until at last she would calm down...'cause I'd have left the house before she got too crazy. I'd always be returned though. Every time I ran away.
She would continually assault me, finger me, poke at me, then she'd always make me feel like I had hurt her, on purpose. I'd feel so bad about the way she felt inside, that every time I would let her do what she wanted to do-then we'd both feel really bad about it afterward.
I had to get away from there, doc. So, when I was fourteen, I ran away for good. I was never going to go back to that hotel room, or to Mama.
Unfortunately, our time was up. I had as much information as I could use for the present, I had known in advance that George D. was picked up and returned to his mother, but what could have occurred between them to produce such a violent nature in the young man. Or what kept him from remembering what he had done?
We were scheduled for another session later in the week. Hopefully I could discover the motivations that led George to desperate rape.
INTERVIEW TWO
George was ready to tell me more about his unusual relationship with his mother. I was anxious to hear, and listened attentively, asking few questions, to the rest of his story.
Well, doc. I didn't stay gone from Mama long. I was returned, and I guess I could have made a fuss over it, you know, gotten out of going back with her.
But what could I have said? I couldn't tell anyone that I had done it with my own mother ... no one. You're the first person that I've ever confessed this-and I don't feel so great about it, even now.
I was convinced that no one would believe my story, anyway. It sounded like something a pervert might think up, and I knew it would only lead to more trouble ... for me and for Mama.
So, I kept quiet about it, and before two weeks I was back with my mother. A social worker would come to visit us every so often, and they found out that Mama was really strung out. They got her on some program, something that was supposed to make her feel better.
And things worked out for awhile. There was food again, 'cause Mama wasn't spending every dime she had on her habit. She seemed a lot better, at least she looked a lot healthier to me. I was sure everything would turn out okay for the two of us. I really didn't want to leave Mama alone, but the way she kept coming on to me really bothered me.
Well, she cooled it for awhile, anyway. I didn't have to worry about her coming over to my bed in the middle of the night and attacking me. I didn't have to worry about her cornering me in the shower. I didn't have to worry about none of that stuff.
After awhile, though, Mama started to slip back into her old ways. I mean, she got back into her habit, slowly at first, but soon she was doing the same things she had done before I ran away.
I'd come home in the afternoon and find strange men in the room ... sometimes they'd be in bed with Mama. We shared that single room, and while they got in on, I'd either have to leave the room or go to the bathroom and stay there. She never kept anyone for over an hour, though. Still, it bothered me that Mama was doing this.
'Cause I knew she was using the money she made to buy shit. I'd open the medicine cabinet and a whole box of insulin needles and stuff would fall in the sink.
It was like living with a ghost, a fucking creepy ghost. And I really began to hate her, doc. I hated her for what she was doing to herself. I couldn't believe the way she treated me, either. One day she would be coming on to me, the next day she would be throwing things ... ashtrays, glasses. It was too fucking much, doc.
One day, when she decided to get some action on with me, I decided to let her know that I wasn't playing this game anymore with her. I knew that she didn't think I was my father, I knew that she wanted me to think that, though. To make it all a bit more excusable.
I was in the John, brushing my teeth one morning, hoping that I could get out of the room before Mama woke up and discovered I was still around. She would try to keep me home all day, either to rape me or to beat me, and I never knew from day to day which she had in mind.
Ma'am opened the door, I saw her face reflected in the mirror and almost screamed. She looked like a dead woman, her face was pale and her skin was sagging, especially below her eyes. She wasn't wearing anything but her robe, and I could see her body clearly under the thin fabric.
"Hello, kid. How'ya doin' these days?" Mama was hanging onto the doorknob to keep from falling down.
"Better than you, Mama," I said, "you gotta get back to bed."
"Naw, I'm not sleepy," she said, "I just need a little pick-me-up." I knew she kept her syringe in the medicine cabinet, but this was one morning that she wasn't going to get to it. I had tossed them all out the window the night before, when Mama passed out cold and knocked her head against a chair.
"Forget it, Mama," I said, rinsing my mouth. I was wearing only my shorts, doc. And I knew that she would try to come on to me before this business was all over.
"What do you mean, baby?" she asked, pinching my ass. I didn't say anything to her at all.
"Come on, Georgie. What do you mean "forget it?"
"I'm tired of you making me," I said, "I'm really tired of it, Mama."
"So? You always like it, don't you?" she asked, side-stepping me as I left the John. I knew she would blow the stack when she found out her works were missing. But I'd already be dressed and out the door before she could throw a tantrum.
She just didn't have enough energy to get mad that morning. But I was wrong.
"Shit! Fucking shit!" I heard her scream. "George, where did you put my stuff, huh?"
"Later, Mama. I'm going out!"
I heard something crash it sounded like glass breaking. I ran back inside to the bathroom and found Mama staring at her face in a broken mirror, blood oozing from her hand.
"You shouldn't have done that, Georgie-boy. You shouldn't have done that at all!"
"Fuck you, Mama. I did what I did because you're not going to kill yourself any longer!" I was getting really angry at her. I was fed up.
"You hurt me, baby! You really hurt me...
"Just shut up, and go back to sleep." I knew she wouldn't be sleeping for weeks probably. She'd be sent back to the hospital, or maybe I'd even be taken from her. But I wasn't going to watch her destroy herself any longer. "No body hurt you but yourself, Mama. No one but you!"
She picked up a piece of the broken glass and tried to slash her wrists, or at least pretending that she would. "Go ahead, Mama. You really want to die, don't you?"
"Yes, baby! You don't love me anymore, no one loves me anymore, I'm finished, I'm through, I'm..."
"You're just playing again, Mama. I know you don't believe that," I said, trying to keep my cool. I knew that mama would probably try to make me feel like I had done something wrong to her. She always did, and then when I was just about ready to cry, she'd attack me-either beating me or just playing with my cock.
So, I decided to see what happened when she knew the game was over. I left the room, and left her alone.
I went to the movies, took a walk, saw some of my friends. But I still kept thinking about what she was doing in the hotel all day by herself. What if she really needed something, and couldn't get out to buy it. What if she actually had no money? What if, after I had left her alone, she really did feel so bad that she had killed herself?
I couldn't hang with my conscience much longer. I wanted to check in on her, to see how she was doing. But I was afraid to go back to the hotel. If anything had fucked-up--if Mama was lying on the floor dead, I would have hated myself just as much as I hated her.
"Mama? Are you okay?" I said, opening the door. I could see her lying on her bed, motionless.
"Mama? Are you alive? Are you awake?"
"Oh, George! Baby! Come over here, let me talk to you." I slowly walked over to the little bed and asked if there was anything I could do for her.
"Take my clothes off, George! It's hot in here."
"Mama, you can take off your own clothes. You don't need me to help you."
"Yes, George, yes I do. I'm hurting too bad, I can't move."
I noticed her hands, they were trembling hard. Maybe she was dying, I thought. "I'm gonna call the hospital, Mama," I said. "Something's wrong with you!"
"No, Georgie! There's nothing wrong with me, baby! Nothing at all. Just come here and help me take my clothes off."
I agreed, though I knew I shouldn't have even touched her in the first place. When I got her out of her robe, I saw all the tracks and needle marks in her arms and legs ... more than I had ever seen on her before. "You're really in the big leauges now, aren't you?"
"Yeah, George. I got you all to myself! And you're the biggest ever!" she giggled, pulling me down to her breasts.
"Oh, George! My pussy is so wet, so hot! I'm sick, George! I'm love-sick!" Again and again, I thought, how much longer could this last. "Come on, baby! Don't you wanna give me some good loving? Don't you want to treat your Mama right?"
I don't know what happened, doc. I was crying, I remember that much. "Why do you have to do these things, Mama? Why do you have to make such fools out of us? I can't be your lover!"
"Fuck me, Georgie! Come on, you can do it, baby!" Mama was moaning in my ear like I was one of her tricks. I felt sick right then, but I couldn't leave her side.
"Stick it to me, honey! Let me feel it nice and thick inside my hole!" Mama grabbed my crotch and discovered exactly what I didn't want her to find: An erection.
I was trembling just as much as she was, maybe even more, doc. She snaked her hand down my pants and grabbed my cock, just like she had done so many times before. I couldn't even fight her away, I felt so bad about throwing her stuff out that morning.
"Come on, Georgie! Fuck your old lady? Wanna fuck your mother?" And she broke down in hysterical laughter.
I felt her tongue slip into my ear it was wet and hot as it slithered around. Her fingers were pulling at my fly, she had my pants down and around my ankles while she played with me.
"Suck my tits, baby!" she moaned, "suck them really hard. Make them hot, Georgie!" She pressed my head against her tits and I immediately coated them with my tongue until the nipples were stiff and wet.
She wrapped her arms around my body, her hips were rolling slowly against the mattress. I could feel her crotch wet and sticky with her juices, and I knew that she was really hot. What can I say, doc. I'm just a normal guy, who can get an erection like anyone else. I was so used to getting it on with Mama, and though I knew it would lead to more problems for both of us, I couldn't control my impulses.
I was going to fuck her, and that was that. She wanted it, I wanted it, there was no way out.
"Spread your legs, Mama," I told her, "spread 'em wide. I wanna see your pussy lips!"
I caressed her wet bush it was dripping with her cunt cream in little drops that slithered onto my hand. I rubbed her gravy over my stiff dick and slid the cockhead up against her twitching hole.
"George! George! Oh, baby! Fuck me, fuck me like you used to..." she moaned. And that's when I slipped it into her, doc. I let her have every inch of my stiff member up her twat.
I had never seen Mama so happy before, at least when I was watching her. Most of the time I kept my eyes closed and pretended that she was some girl I had seen at school. . . but her pussy felt so warm and tight around my cock and she was so experienced to begin with, that I couldn't keep Mama's face out of my mind.
"Faster, baby! Faster!" she moaned. "Stick it in me, baby!"
I pumped her hard, pumped her as fast as she begged me. And before I knew it, doc, I was ready to shoot my hot jizz into Mama, just like she was my girl or something.
Well, doc. Mama was pregnant not too long after that. She never said anything to me about it, though. Not until she was five months with the kid-and that's when she decided to see a doctor.
She was still heavily strung out-I couldn't control her habit anymore than she could. I can't blame her a bit for what she did to herself she was really lonely, and I guess that it was too much for her. But she could have gotten help, doc. She had done it before, and it wasn't too painful for her.
The doctors at the hospital got her back on methadone, but Mama just sold her bottles for money to buy the real thing. And I guess it was when I was seventeen that Mama overdosed and killed the child with her. My kid. My own kid.
So here I am, doc. I can't say if I regret what I've done because I can't remember anything about raping those women.
But you know what's really strange about all of this? I've seen pictures of the women I've supposedly attacked, and you know what?
They all look just like Mama.
CONCLUSION
Trapped in a love-hate relationship with his mother, George D. could not resolve the reasons for her death. Subconsciously, he holds her responsible not only for her own death-suicidal, but slowly instead of drastically, but also for the death of his own child.
George reiterated several times that he could not cope with this incestuous affair with his mother, but could not resist her overtures towards him. She used her own desperate situation to play on his own self-guilt, seducing him to seduce her an interesting concept.
In his unconscious rage, George "got back" at his mother by attacking and molesting women who obviously, from his own analysis, reminded him of his mother. There were several women involved all identified George D. as the man who attacked them.
And all were similar in appearance and age, all were, like George's mother, at one time or another addicted to heroin. George raped all of these women as they departed from a downtown methadone clinic, another interesting clue.
At the present, George D. is serving out his sentence in a state hospital, under constant chemical treatment. Whether he can return to society anytime in the near future is doubtful at this point. There are too many emotional scars from his childhood which will take much time to confront for what they are.
CASE HISTORY FOUR
SUBJECT: Debbie S. AGE: Seventeen
INTERVIEW ONE
This is a case which concerns something quite out of the ordinary lesbian bondage, mother and daughter.
Debbie was an attractive young girl, intelligent and capable of adjusting to most situations. Except her family life. The torments she described shocked me, to be quite frank, but as she told her story, I could see the motivation behind her mother's actions, sordid as they were.
For the moment, I will let Debbie tell you her own story, in her own words as recorded from our session:
Doctor, I know this might sound a little strange at first, but I've got a serious problem. It's a problem that I don't feel very comfortable with, and it's causing me lots of other difficulties-especially with boys.
Now, you would look at me and think that I wouldn't have any problems at all with sex ... not with this body. I've always been proud of it, that I will admit. And with my fabulous tits, my slinky, well-proportioned legs, my tender, heart-shaped ass cheeks and my hot fever bush between my legs, well, I know this sounds like an ego-trip, but I know what I have, and I try to make the best of it.
Except when I'm in bed with a guy. Then, for some reason, I feel really guilty about. . . well, about fucking.
I freeze up, I can't enjoy anything he does to me, I can't have an orgasm, not even one! Doesn't that sound a little strange to you? Well, what I've got to tell you is even stranger. . . stranger than fiction, as they say.
I've heard that childhood traumas can "fuck you up" for years and years. And my childhood, well it was quite unusual.
My parents were both white collar drunks-you know what I mean? We were living in a respectable neighborhood, had lots of money, my father had a respectable job we were just plain respectable.
But if the people in my neighborhood had known what went on behind our closed doors and windows, I'm sure they would have called the police or burnt down our house in a fit of rage! I'm really surprised that Mom could have gotten away with everything she did for so long, but she did. And I'm not any happier for it, either.
I don't know what was wrong with her-I guess she really wanted to make sure that I didn't grow up to embarrass her. You see, she's a real religious fanatic, doc. And when I mean fanatic, I mean full tilt! I know that she must have been ill, especially drinking the way she did. And she was always having it out with Dad, you know? He was drinking just as much as she did, which was quite an accomplishment considering her petite size. And her mental stability which was not good either.
Dad had a mistress and didn't spend too much time with us, not after I turned fourteen. Once, when he was drunk, he tried to make it with me, and I was completely repulsed. Luckily for the both of us, we were able to talk about it afterwards, and he confessed that he really was attracted to me. I guess I can't blame him I am pretty hot. I guess it's perfectly normal for a father to feel sexual attraction for his own daughter-especially if the daughter looks as good and juicy as I do.
So, it was just as well to have him away from the house. For all his faults, I really loved my father, I still do. But I wanted to avoid any other embarrassing encounters with him. And also, when Dad was away, Mom didn't drink so heavily and she didn't attempt suicide every other week or so. So, things were pretty good around the house, just me and Mom. I was happy, except when she had those "heart-to-heart" talks with me.
Mom was always criticizing the way young people behaved. "like animals," she would tell me, "and they're all going straight to hell, too. Don't you forget it for a second." I could never make Mom understand that she was drinking herself into oblivion, and it was when she was really plastered that she'd start in on how kids were decadent and spoiled and well, you know the story.
One time, when she was just out of it, totally out of it, Mom dragged me down on the floor with her to pray for my soul. My soul, you got it? There was something pathetic about it all, and once or twice I had to stifle my giggles. After that, there were more lectures about boys, and how I was supposed to stay un-fucked until I was married, all that.
I understood Mom; though. In her own way, she was just trying to raise me the way her parents raised her. She didn't realize that things have changed to drastically in the past two decades or so. None of those things work anymore, doctor. Not for a teenager growing up today, they don't.
And me? I'm no different from the rest of the girls I know, or knew back then when I was fourteen. I was curious about a lot of things and I wanted to have a good time.
One of the things I was most curious about was sex! At fourteen, there was nothing more exciting to me than finding hot action and getting my cherry popped! There were, needless to say, lots of guys who were interested in getting in my pants, but since Mom kept me home a lot, and didn't let me socialize too heavily, there were very few instances that I could ever get sex together with anyone I wanted.
like every other fourteen-year-old I knew at school, I was also curious about drugs. And at my high school, everyone but everyone had "drug fever," as they called it. Those kids were dropping everything imaginable, from sleeping pills to diet pills, all that stuff, doc.
Now, I wasn't into any of the heavy-duty stuff, you understand, I just thought it was much too dangerous for a kid my age to be messing around with. I would never try LSD or that kind of thing, not until I was older at least, and knew what I was doing.
But pot! Wow, what a thrill. I was smoking just as much as anyone I knew, and I loved it. Everyone--likes to have a good time, doctor. Everyone needs to let go. After seeing what liquor did to my family, I decided very early not to let that happen to me at all! I knew that there was a lot about pot that wasn't known, but I knew damn well it couldn't be as bad as booze. So, I would come home in the afternoon, roll a wet towel under the door so Mom wouldn't smell it and light up a joint the first thing.
Of course, when I smoke, I get really horny. Especially at fourteen, when I had never been fucked before. I'd usually masturbate for awhile after I came home from school, you know, just lying on the bed and fingering my hole while I dreamed of lots and lots of sex with guys I knew who were dying, literally dying to fuck me.
Sometimes, I'd tease myself to see how long I could go-or just how many times I could come in one afternoon. While Mom was downstairs, watching television, I would be upstairs bouncing from one orgasm to the next, enjoying myself as I hoped others would enjoy me one day-when I could really get into sex with all the boys I knew.
I never expected Mom to find me masturbating. I could usually keep my door shut and never worry about a thing Mom always knocked or called me before she walked in.
But not that day, doctor. I was bringing myself off for the fourth time, in the midst of complete and total pleasure, when in walks Mom! And not looking very happy either.
I was lying there, so frozen with embarrassment, I couldn't even take my fingers out of my hole. Mom had been drinking, I knew, because she was propped up against the doorjamb and her hair was frizzy and sticking on all sides like the Bride of Frankenstein. Mom looked like warmed-over death, to be exact, doctor. And I knew she wasn't going to be too happy about me.
"What are you doin, Debbie?" she said, her bloodshot eyes wandering around the room. "What's that funny smell in here?"
"Mom! Why didn't you knock?" I asked, slowly pulling my panties up around my crotch. Except for those panties, I was totally naked in front of Mom!
"You've been smoking marijuana, haven't you?" she asked. "You've been doing things to your body, haven't you?"
"Mom, now calm down," I said, hoping to avoid another collision with Mom over drugs and sex. She hadn't known about me smoking pot, ever. I don't think she ever suspected a thing until that day she caught me red-handed, or wet-handed, I should say.
Mom was standing, well, leaning, not saying a word. I noticed she was staring at my crotch really hard, then her eyes would shift back and forth from my panties to the ounce of grass that was lying on my nightstand along with a pipe!
I hadn't bothered to put it away, since Mom would never have barged in on my like that. But was I ever wrong. I was just as good as dead.
"I thought you were different," she said, almost crying," I thought I had brought you up to be a good little girl. But look at you, messing your mind up like that? Can you hear me, Debbie? Do you understand me?"
"Sure, Mom. I can understand you perfectly. Are you okay?" I asked. I knew that she might just fall down if she tried to move. I thought I had better try to take her to her room and let her lie down for awhile.
"No, you can't, can you? You're all messed up on drugs, just like everyone else, you little cunt!"
"Mom! Don't say things like that! How could you?" I couldn't believe that my mother had said that to me, calling me that name. But then, she was really out of it. "Let's go back to your room," I said, taking her arm. "I think you need to rest!"
"Get your filthy hands away from me, Debbie!" she yelled, and then she slapped me something not out of the ordinary.
But what she did afterwards blew my mind completely. I tried to move her from the doorjamb, but she stayed where she was, refusing to let go of the door! "Come on, Mom! I'm not going to leave you here like this!"
"Oh, my poor darling! What has happened to you?" she cried, trying to make me feel bad, I knew her game.
"Mom, nothing has happened to me!" I pleaded. "Now will you come on, or will I have to put you on my bed?"
And that's when she attacked me, doctor. Just like my father had attacked me, only I didn't realize at first what she was up to. She kinda fell into my arms and cried for awhile. She looked so pitiful that I couldn't resist trying to make her feel better.
I eased her to the floor, and took her head in my hands, pressing it to my breasts. She sobbed uncontrollably, while I tried to comfort her-no use, doctor! I could feel her hands snaking up and down my back, very sensual stroking that put me off for a minute.
But when she kissed me, I freaked out all together. I kiss my Mom all the time, but not like that.
She slipped her tongue between my lips and licked my teeth, then my tongue as I tried to push her away. Mom grabbed my titties and began to fondle them I knew she was really whacked-out.
"Mom! Stop it! This isn't the way you should behave!" All those lectures about misbehaving, and Mom was practically trying to frig me! At the time, I didn't know that much about lesbians, but I had had some encounters with girlfriends when I was twelve. I never suspected my mother to be hot for me, though. That really freaked me out for days on end.
"Mom! Let me go, dammit!" I screamed. And then, after practically prying her away from my tits, I managed to escape.
When I returned to my room, Mom was still there, passed-out on the floor. I called my father, but I couldn't tell him what had happened. I just couldn't. When he offered to come by and talk to me, I just told him to forget it, that it was nothing too important.
We had to end our session at this time, because of other appointments, and also because Debbie had a class at three o'clock. After arranging an appointment for the next week, I studied my notes and tape recordings until a picture began to form. One which was somewhat frightening, but hopeful at the same time, at least for Debbie's problem.
INTERVIEW TWO
Debbie returned on time for her next appointment. I will save further commentary for the conclusion, as what Debbie had to say is much more important than any analysis.
Doctor, I really hate to ask you this, but ... do you think I could have one of your cigarettes?
Thanks a lot. I usually don't smoke, but I'm very nervous today. I've been thinking about how I would tell you the rest of my story, about Mom. And several times, while I was writing things down last week, so I wouldn't forget, I broke down and cried. I wasn't going to come back this week, but I know that if I really want help with my sexual problem, I'll have to tell you everything, isn't that right?
I went out last night with a really neat guy, but it was the same story all over again. I was even feeling really hot for him ... until we took off our clothes and got in the bed. Then, I froze up like an iceberg, and Jimmy, that's the guy's name, wasn't very pleased with my performance. He fucked me, alright, but I didn't enjoy it at all. What am I going to do about this? I'm too pretty and too sexy to live with this for the rest of my life! I'll go crazy, I know. I might even end up like Mom!
The more I think about it, doctor, the more I'm convinced: Mom wasn't getting enough sex, therefore she was really unhappy. And something else I've considered, in fact, I'm pretty damn sure is true: Mom was a latent lesbian, and she was really hot for me.
She would never admit it, though. She couldn't. She's from another era, or something. I know lots of lesbians, or girls who are into that right now, and they seem to think that there's nothing wrong with what they do. But then, they don't beat each other or tie each other down-and they don't molest their children, either. That's what Mom did to me, doctor.
After that first encounter with Mom, she cooled it for awhile, and so did I. I didn't smoke any more pot inside the house, that was the only way she could tell if I was stoned or not.
But I couldn't stop masturbating, doctor. Well, that was easy enough I'd just lock my door at night and save my pleasure for later, when Mom was dead drunk or something.
I thought that everything would be okay, and it was. For about six months, Mom didn't hassle me at all, she never came onto me again either. I had lots of opportunities to tell my father about it, but I didn't. I didn't want to upset him, doctor.
One day, when I had just turned fifteen, I told my father that I was considering going to art school when I left high school because I was doing so well in my drawing classes, and I thought it would be a career I would really enjoy. Dad was really pleased, and gave me his blessings.
But not Mom! No sir! She immediately broke down, called me a whore and a slut for even considering such a thing.
"So, you want to be an artist, huh? Well, I'm not going to let you!"
"Why?"
"Because, I won't let you grow up in that type of environment! I won't let you become a pervert. And all artists are perverts, Debbie! They're sick, sick, sick! No!"
I didn't press the issue, and I didn't need to. I knew damn well that I'd do what I pleased when I went to college, but when Mom suggested that I drop my art courses at high school, I told her flat out "NO!! ! "
Well, needless to say, there was a lot of friction in the house already. Mom wasn't letting me go out or anything I was practically trapped inside the house until she passed-out or went to sleep. Then, I would usually leave and go where I wanted to. Mom would always have something to say about it, though.
Now, about the same time, I was really involved with this guy, David, who was in my art class at school. He was really crazy about me, too, 'cause he was always making lewd comments during class, and he even offered to take me out!
A date! A legitimate date, at last! Maybe, at last, I would get laid and by someone who really turned me on! I had played with him before, you know, gotten him hot. And I knew" he had a big cock, too. I could feel it inside his pants.
"Mom," I said, "I'm going out tonight."
"With whom?"
"With a guy, Mom. I'm going out on a date, got that?"
"No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no!! "
I just ignored her, doctor. There wasn't much she could do if I decided to go out. There just wasn't any excuse-it was Friday night, I didn't have any school the next day-and I wasn't going to spend another weekend alone with Mom, listening to her tired rap about teenage sluts!
"Say, "no" all you want, Mom. I think it's about time you let me go out with a guy!"
"You know why you really want to go out, don't yous" she said.
"Yeah! Because I'm lonely!"
"No, that's not the reason," she snarled, "you want to go out because you want to behave like a slut. You want to go out and have sex like an animal in the back seat of some car. I'm not going to let you do that to yourself, Debbie! No daughter of mine is going to be a whore!"
I didn't listen to anymore of what she had to say, I just calmly walked upstairs and took a shower. While I waited for my hair to dry, I sorted through the closet for something really nice to wear. I wanted to impress David, just as much as I wanted to fuck him. My heart was pounding with excitement whenever I thought about the thrills I would get from him, or the wonderful things I could do to him, too!
I was standing naked, not a stitch of clothing on my voluptuous body. One minute I was planning what sweater to wear, and the next-I was down on the floor!
Mom had sneaked up behind me, and tackled me like a quarterback! She clawed me with her fingernails even stabbing me in the crotch.
I kicked and screamed like ... well, like a person who was being raped! Because I knew that's what Mom would do to me, after she finished beating me!
She was screaming at the top of her lungs, calling me every name in the slang dictionary! Slut, whore, trollop-I was really fed up! "Sick, sick, sick!" she screamed. "You're sick, Debbie! I won't let this happen to you. You won't be the devil's harlot!"
Mom Jiad really done some damage to my body, doctor. There were long, red scratch marks, some of them were deep and bleeding, all over my belly, my thighs and my tits! I just looked at myself, knowing that now I couldn't go out with David even if I did escape from Mom.
"Cunt! That's all you are, Debbie!" she screamed, picking up a heavy lamp on my nightstand. "A cunt! An evil, sick cunt!"
That's the last I remember, doctor. Mom cracked my skull open with that lamp, not literally but I didn't get up from the floor after she hit me. I thought the world had come to an end for me. I was seriously considering suicide either that or killing Mom!
Before she killed me! Doctor, I was terrified of my mother then, especially when she started tearing up my sheets into long strips. I thought she was nuts, yeah! And I thought that she would probably destroy me!
"I won't let this happen to you, Debbie! I've tried to help you, but nothing seems to work, does it?" I wasn't unconscious, doctor, I just couldn't move! All that abuse, and with it the tearing of my bed sheets behind it.
"I'm doing this for your own good, Debbie! You'll thank me later, really. I'm going to pray for you, day and night, until you see the error of your ways, and you are filled with the holy spirit!"
Her religion! Jesus! The whole trip! Mom was always trying to force it down my throat! Now I realized exactly how sick the woman was.
She grabbed both of my bleeding arms and pulled them behind my back. "You'll thank me later, Debbie! You know deep down in your soul that I'm doing the right thing!" Doctor, she was tying my hands behind my back! I could feel those knots pinching my wrists!
"Mom! Mom! Please! Don't do this to me! Leave me alone!" I guess I must have gone through that for awhile, I was practically delirious with rage and fear.
"Shut up, Debbie!" she yelled. When I refused, still tearing against the bonds, she stuffed some of the larger portion of the bed sheet into my mouth, and gagged me!
"I don't know any other way to keep you home, keep you away from sin, Debbie! You'll thank me for this, someday! Really, you'll thank me!"
That's the only other thing she said, doctor. "You'll thank me!" I was so frightened, my body was rigid and trembling. Mom just stood over me, looking like she usually did when she was plastered red eyes, uncombed hair--mumbling the same thing over and over. "You'll thank me!"
She knelt to the floor and draped her fingers across my forehead, like she did when I had a fever. "Poor Debbie! So young, so beautiful! The devil wants you, Debbie! But I won't let him have you! NEVER!"
I was choking on that gag, trying to plead with my eyes. But Mom was blind to anything but her own delusions, doctor. When she fondled my tits, I knew exactly what she had in mind. Mom was coming onto me again-and there wasn't anything I could do about it!
"Such a lovely body and you're trying your best to destroy it, aren't you?" she said, caressing my tits. I wanted to puke, doctor. I wanted to throw up. But if I had, I would have probably choked to death on my own vomit, and Mom would have let me, too!
"It's too bad," she said, "that you have to destroy yourself like this!" Can you imagine my mother, telling me that I was sick! For a minute, I thought I could slip my wrists from the knots, but every time I tried it they seemed to grow even tighter!
And then, Mom did something I couldn't believe, but I guess I should have known she would do it! She. . . she sucked my tits, doctor. She put her mouth to my breast and licked it with hot kisses, like I was her lover!
She planted kisses all over my body, doctor. She licked every inch of me, right down to the tips of my toes. It was terrible, doctor. I still can't put it out of my mind!
She even fingered my twat-and sucked it, too! I remember how repulsive it was, so repulsive. Mom stuck her tongue into my twat, and sucked it like a thirsty dog!
I kicked my legs up in the air, but Mom slapped me some more, then sat on my knees with all her weight. It was then that she poked her fingers into my cunt, and when I felt her sharp nails up against my hymen I feared the worst!
I hoped and prayed that I would faint rather than experience what Mom had in store. But I didn't, doctor. I wasn't spared a moment of pain.
To make it all very simple, doctor ... Mom busted my hymen with her fingers, tearing into my cherry with those sharp fingernails!
Is there anymore to tell? She raped me, yes. I have to accept that now, and I have. There's really not much more of to say. Mom left me in my room for days I didn't sleep the entire time. I kept thinking that she might have done something terrible to herself you know, after she realized what she had done to me. Or maybe she had too much to drink and died! It happens, doctor. My father almost died of alcohol poisoning. And if she was incapable of moving, I would never be discovered. I would just die, left alone to rot in my bedroom.
Thank God my father still kept a set of keys to the house. He found Mom downstairs, in a daze. They say she's catatonic, doctor. Dad said she looked like a mannequin, you know, she wouldn't move-not even when he shook her.
And then he found me! Tied and gagged in the bedroom. It took me many weeks to get over my experience, doctor. And still, I'm still haunted by it-I can't even get up enough nerve to visit Mom in the hospital. I won't go, even when Dad threatens to cut off my support! But I think he really understands how I feel. After what Mom did to me, I don't even really consider her a person anymore. Just l memory, some pleasant, but mostly a bad dream. One that won't go away.
I know that this is what has fucked me up sexually, I'm not that dumb. I know it has, and I want to get over my problem. But whenever I'm in bed with a guy, and he puts it to me-I think of Mom and the way she raped me that night. Then, I freeze up inside. I try to pretend I'm really enjoying myself, but it never works.
Doctor, you've got to help me with this. I can't spend the rest of my life this way. I need loving, caring, just like everyone else. But I need sex, too. Is that too much to ask?
CONCLUSION
No, it isn't. I have been counseling Debbie for many months, but there is very little that therapy can do in this case. She can understand her problem, and I can ask the right questions to guide her.
But what Debbie will need to realize her full sexual potential is the warmth and love of an understanding man. Someone who will take time and be patient, someone who can help her gently and carefully to achieving sexual satisfaction. I have no doubts that this will eventually happen, considering Debbie's attractiveness and intelligence. But when? This is something which I cannot bring about.
CASE HISTORY FIVE
SUBJECT: Sandra B. AGE: Eighteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Sandra was, up until the time she reached the age of thirteen, a perfectly well-adjusted child. What followed throughout her teen years drastically changed her life.
She was, in all respects, the perfect example of what most adults consider the ideal young girl. Sandra's family life, however, was far from ideal, and it was this which brought her to therapy. Here is her interesting story, unedited as it appears in my original transcript.
Doctor, I really can't hide from it anymore, I have to admit it before I go crazy: I am in love with my father.
Most girls love their daddies, and I'm no exception. But most girls don't love their daddies the way I love mine, that's for sure. For years, I have kept it a secret but not any longer. Not since daddy decided to make me his slave!
Yes, that's exactly what I said, and that's exactly what he has done. Daddy is convinced that I'm nothing more to him than his sex-slave and that's how he treats me, too.
I think he's going too far with this game of his, that's what I think. It was one thing for him to sneak into my room late at night and play with me. But it's another thing to keep me prisoner. Let me try to explain this, doctor. I may need some help.
It all started when I was only thirteen, a very good year in my life. For one, I was just beginning to blossom into a beautiful young girl. By looking at me now, you can't deny that at all, can you? I know that I'm sexy-I know that I'm really hot, I don't kid around. But at thirteen, I was a knockout.
My little tits were beginning to bud and every day I would notice more and more pubic hair covering my delicious pussy. I lost all my baby fat, well, most of it, and I was shaping up very, very well. I drew glances from all sorts of guys, especially teachers at school.
And, though I could have never believed it, from Daddy! From the time I reached thirteen, I had noticed that Daddy was spending a lot more time with me than before, taking me to movies, taking me to dinner. We used to have long conversations about life and love, but I was so naive at the time I thought he was just trying to steer me in the right direction, like a good parent should.
When Mom and Dad were divorced, I was placed in my mother's custody, but I could see Daddy on weekends, or anytime I really wanted to. And I still do, though not always by choice. No, Mom still doesn't know about our relationship, but I think she suspects something, especially when I go up to Daddy's summer house in Stockbridge and stay for weeks on end!
When I was thirteen, though, Mom and Daddy were still happily married, or at least they were still living together. They weren't sleeping together, that much I know. Daddy spent most of his time on the living room couch or in my bed, depending on how horny he was.
I remember the first time he ever made me! I was still a virgin, doctor. An innocent flower. It was a summer night, and there was a thunderstorm going on outside. I couldn't sleep very well that evening, I remember. And neither could Daddy!
"Sandra? Are you awake, honey?" I heard him ask.
"Yes," Daddy?" I answered in a whisper. "Can I come in?"
"Sure." I got up and threw on my robe. The door wasn't locked, but Daddy waited for me to open it just the same. He always respected my privacy ... just as much as he respected my body!
"What's wrong, Daddy? Can't sleep?"
"No, I can't. Too much noise outside," he said. "I thought you might be up."
"I can't sleep either," I said. But it wasn't because of the noise. It was because I was horny!
I had spent most of the evening masturbating, sticking my fingers up my twat and bringing myself off. I couldn't do very much, though. Most of my orgasms came from my imagination.
"Well, I just thought I'd come up and talk to you for awhile," he said, taking a seat next to me on the bed. "It's been awhile since I've even seen you."
"Yeah, Daddy! I've missed you too." Daddy had been away on business, and I really did miss him a lot!
"So, how are things going for you now?" he asked, "How's your life?"
"Pretty good, Daddy! I'm okay, except that
I've got too much energy!" Sexual energy, doctor. I was horny day and night.
"Yeah, I remember how it was when I was thirteen, but then, it must be different for a little girl, huh?"
"Aw, come on, Daddy! I'm not little anymore. I'm growing up!"
"Yes, yes, yes. So you are, Sandra. So you are." I noticed a funny gleam in his eye when he said that, and he winked at me when he rubbed my shoulders.
"And how are things with you, Daddy?" I asked. "What's happening with you these days?"
"Well, not very much, Debbie. I'm doing well, my job is fine." He stopped then, and I knew he was thinking about Mom. He didn't want to talk about her, though.
"It's okay, Daddy! I know you must have problems. You don't have to talk about them if you don't want to."
"I guess," he said, "I shouldn't bother you with my problems. I'm sure you've got enough of your own."
"Well, I just don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, that's all," I said, giving him a little kiss on the forehead.
What followed was unbelievable. "Kiss me again, Sandra. On the mouth!"
"What?"
"Come on, Sandra. Just a little peck on the lips, like you used to kiss me when you were little!"
"Okay!" I agreed. I placed my lips to his and gave him a little kiss.
Until he grabbed me, that is. And smothered me with his long, wet, fat tongue! Daddy held me tight, my tits were rubbing up against the front of his shirt. His tongue slithered around the inside of my mouth, fluttering and darting with my own until I felt dizzy and weak. And horny, doctor! Even that very first time, I was horny for my father. I wanted him, just as much as he wanted me!
His hand snaked under my robe and Daddy grabbed my luscious tits. "Oh, baby! They're so big for a little girl. They're so hot, too!"
"Oh, Daddy! Daddy! Do that again," I pleaded. But Daddy did more than just squeeze my tits, doctor. He sucked them!
I fell against the mattress and pulled Daddy's strong body on top of me. His mouth was grabbing my tit, sucking the milk out of it! My little nipples grew stiff and hot and my little slit down there bubbled over with hot, wet cream. Soon, Daddy had me so hot and so wet that I had another orgasm. And another, and another, just while Daddy sucked my titties. It was like nothing I had ever felt before. This was my first experience with a guy and the guy was my own father!
"Oh, Sandra! Oooooh, you're so hot, aren't you?"
"Kiss me, Daddy!" I pleaded. "Kiss me, just like you did before!" I loved to feel his thick tongue against mine and I'd suck it just like a prick!
"I'll kiss you, Sandra! But not on the mouth. I wanna kiss your pussy lips!" And sure enough, Daddy crawled over my body and stuck his head in between my legs!
I couldn't believe the things he did to me that night, doctor. After all, I had never played around with a guy before, in fact, I hadn't played around with anyone ever before. Masturbation was the extent of my experience, doctor. But I knew masturbation was a pitiful substitute for the real thing after Daddy had his way with me!
I wiggled and writhed against the mattress as Daddy stuck his wet tongue up to my pussy and licked it all over. Then he made sputtering noises against my little slit I felt like there was a boat motor in between my legs! Then, Daddy decided to get a real good taste of my honey, so he rolled his tongue up into my cunt and tickled the inside of my pussy until I had another orgasm!
Now, all during this time, I kinda had the thought that something wasn't right about all of this. Mom had told me once or twice that members of the same family didn't marry. But never did she say anything about fucking! And that's what I wanted to do with Daddy! I wanted him to bust my cherry wide open, and make me feel like a real woman. The woman that I wanted to be!
"How could I?" I asked. "How could I ever forget your big cock, and the first time I ever sucked it? Or took it up my hole? You're wonderful, Daddy! You know that I love you!"
"How many other guys have you been going out with, now that I've moved?" he asked.
"Well, I don't think you'd want to hear about it," I said, "if it really bothers you."
"Tell me, Sandra," he said gruffly. "I want to know!"
"Well, there have been a lot, Daddy."
"How many?"
"Well, five or six ... three that I've been seeing regularly."
"And since when did I tell you that you could fuck anyone you damn pleased, huh? Since when did you decide that you weren't Daddy's little girl anymore, huh?"
"Aw, come on, Daddy! I can't stay up here with you all the time. I have lots of spare time on my hands, and I'm horny! I have to do something!" Daddy didn't look too pleased.
"Do you own me, is that what you're trying to tell me?"
"You better believe it, Sandra. I'm your Daddy, you understand? And you're my daughter. You have to learn to obey your father, Sandra. You need some discipline!"
I didn't know what he meant by that remark, doctor. Daddy had never once hit me or hurt me in his life. "You belong to me, Sandra. You have since you were thirteen. And I intend to keep it that way."
"Well, what happens when I decide to get married or something?"
"I'll still expect you to do what I want, when I want," he said, his voice really gruff and harsh. I could feel his cock pounding against my leg as it grew thick and stiff inside his pants. "like right now!"
"That's what I came up here for, Daddy. To get it on with you."
"Stand over in that corner, Sandra. Go on, move your ass." Daddy was pointing to the left corner of the room. "Take off your clothes, and masturbate for me."
I didn't mind doing that. I always loved to finger my hole for Daddy, because it got him hotter than anything I could think of. "Sure, Daddy!"
"Take 'em off slow, baby. Real slow. like you were doing a strip-tease for Daddy."
I did just as he asked, my fingers slowly tugging at my halter. I eased the slinky shirt up around my tits, and gave Daddy a good look at my body. Then, I pulled it up over my head, and tossed it at his face.
"There. You like that?" I asked, giggling.
"Take off your shorts, Sandra. Get your ass out of those hot-pants, right now!"
Doctor, he was practically yelling at me, throwing his commands around in a tone of voice I was not used to. "Don't yell, Daddy! You know I love to tease you."
"Yeah, I know you do. Now get out of those hot-pants, and let me see your pussy lips."
I did just what he told me to do, doctor. Within seconds, I had those hot-pants from around my crotch. They were soiled and wet with my dripping cunt juices, and when I threw them at Daddy, he pressed them right up to his nose and inhaled.
"Now, Sandra. I want you to get down on your knees and crawl over here to me," he demanded.
"What?"
"You heard me! Get down on your knees and crawl, cunt!"
Well, that was going a little too far, don't you think? I mean, I would do practically anything for Daddy. As long as Daddy treated me nice, as he always did. But there was something really menacing about the way he talked to me, as if he were really mad.
"Why don't you just come over here," I suggested, "and get a piece of my pussy!"
"Shut up! Get down on all fours and crawl over here!" He stood up from the couch and crossed his powerful arms against his chest. I could almost see smoke pouring from his nostrils, and his face was red and scowling.
"Daddy?" I asked, "What is going on?"
"You'll find out, cunt! Now get over here!"
I realized that this was debasing, that Daddy was being cruel to me. "I'm not, Daddy. If you want a slave, you'll have to find someone else. No thanks." I was almost to the point of tears, but Daddy didn't say a word.
On my way to the bathroom, he grabbed me, doctor. My father grabbed me from behind ... by my tits!
"Daddy! Leggo! You're hurting me!"
"Good! Good, that's exactly what I want to. do!" he hissed, his hot breath against my neck.
"I want to hurt you, baby! Because only through pain will you learn your lesson. You can't cut out on Daddy without suffering the consequences, now can you? Daddy is very, very jealous of his little girl." I could hear him breathing heavily, and his fingers were tearing at my firm tit meat, like he wanted to rip them off my chest!
"Daddy! Cool it, will you?" I cried. He let go of me, alright. When he pushed me to the floor!
"No, Sandra. I won't. In fact, I'm going to get a lot hotter before I'm finished with you. Now get up and let's get moving!"
I was shaking as I rose from the floor. "Where are we going, Daddy?" I asked, not really believing that his act was for real. It was so un-like Daddy to treat me this way. Or anyone, for that matter. He would fight with Mom, but he never once called her a cunt!
"We're going down to the basement, Sandra. I have a little surprise for you." He was walking behind me, making sure I couldn't run away without him grabbing me. We descended the stairs to the cellar, but Daddy kept the lights shut off until we were at the bottom.
"Daddy, I can't see anything! Are you still there?"
There was no answer. But now, I could hear him breathing really hard, like he was having a heart attack or something. I could feel his body heat, but still he wouldn't say anything to me. "Daddy? What are you doing?"
"Give me your hands, baby!" he demanded. I could tell from his voice that he was standing not too far from me, facing me as he spoke. "Stretch out your hands and point them towards me."
I stretched out my arms, just like he told me. Then, before I even knew what had happened, I heard something click, something metallic.
Daddy had handcuffed me!
"Is this some sort of joke, Daddy?" I asked. "What the fuck are you all about, anyway?"
"This!" he said, shaking my bound hands. "You're just my little sex-slave now, Sandra. And I'm going to keep you this way the entire time you stay with me."
"Bullshit!" I said. 'Take these fucking things off of me!"
"Shut up!" he hollered. "Shut up and listen real good. This basement is your home now, Sandra. This is where you're going to spend the rest of your summer vacation, every single minute."
"You can't do this to me, Daddy!" I cried. I was still not convinced that he could do something so hideous, so vile as this. "You don't want to hurt me."
"No, I don't. I'm just going to keep you out of trouble, that's all. I want you to learn who is your master. Me, Daddy, that's who!"
Doctor, I could feel his cock pounding with blood as he stepped closer to me. He raised my arms and dropped them around his neck. He stepped close to me, then threatened me again as he pressed his body next to mine.
"And your master can do anything goddamn thing he wants to you, got that? I can fuck you anytime I want. I just want you to know what's happening to you, Sandra. Just want to make sure you've got it all clear in your little head."
What else is there to say, doctor? My father kept me in the basement, handcuffed and unable to escape in the dark, for days. Of course, he fed me and took care of me, but I didn't dig it at all.
Except when he fucked me, and then I really thought I was his slave! I didn't mind too much then, like I said . ... Daddy's the best lay I ever had!
And the thing is, my problem, I can't let myself go! I can't leave Daddy, even when I know he will abuse me. No, he doesn't beat me, he doesn't torture me ... he just keeps me all to himself. And you know what?
I think I really like it!
CONCLUSION
In cases of reported incest, it is very rare indeed to find actual long-term relationships. It is stranger still to find actual cases of father-daughter incest, since most of the time the man involved is the step-father, rather than the original parent.
I had never encountered a case like this before, and I was somewhat put off. Sandra came to me with a problem, a specific one: her father was keeping her cut off from other sexual relationships. And yet, in concluding her story, she admitted actually enjoying her possession.
I did ask her what she thought would happen when she fell in love with another man. What would happen when her father grew older and was no longer physically attractive to her?
Sandra said only that she would worry about it in the future, and that it was of no concern to her now.
Advising her to think more seriously about her future sex life, I could only admit that she needed no therapy. How could I treat a patient who admits she has no problems? Sandra came to me on her own, I had to power, either legally or morally to convince her of the dangers involved.
One would hope that Sandra will come around, and leave her father to find someone else to abuse. Until then, there is very little anyone can do for her. She loves her father ... and obviously Daddy loves her, too.
CASE HISTORY SIX
SUBJECT: Barbara S. AGE: Nineteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Sometimes parents are quick to forget that children, especially young children, need more than the necessities to develop fully into well-integrated personalities. They need love, the definition of which I will not deal with in this space.
In Barbara's case, the attractive young miss was given more than just love: her stepfather lusted for her from the time she was fourteen. And added to this, the man also demanded strange actions from his stepdaughter for his satisfaction. Here, in Barbara's own words, is the bizarre story of her relationship with "Dad."
Hello, doctor. How do you like being a shrink, I mean, it must be terribly rewarding, isn't it? I don't know whether I should be seeing a psychiatrist or not, since I think my problems are meant for a witch-doctor.
Doctor, for most of my life I've felt that I was absolutely normal. I'm really no different from anyone else my age, maybe a little better looking though. Yeah, I'm considered quite a "dish" as my boyfriend puts it. I've been living with him for four months at college, and we're very tight. Sure, I see other guys and we get into group sex once in awhile, but I really do love Tod. Other than that, I'm just your regular, average sociology major. No heavy drugs, no excessive drinking.
Well, at least I thought so, anyway. Until about a month ago, when I began to have these nightmares.
They're really difficult to explain, so I have to take my time, okay? You see, when I make love to Tod, I really get excited. But after it's all over, the only thing I can do is rest. For at least thirty minutes or so, until I can recover from my climaxes. And it's when I'm asleep that my mind, or shall I say my "soul" leaves my body.
It's really freaky, I know. I'm not sure what causes it, but I feel very strange about it ... like I'm not ever going to come back. I can see the room around me, I can even see myself in bed, next to Tod. And in a way, the feeling is exhilarating, like you might be flying. But if I stay "out there" too long, then things become really unfamiliar cold, and strange. Really creepy.
I try to wake up, but my body freezes solid, like I was paralyzed. And then, it hits me that I can't wake up-I can't ever get inside my bady again. I try to scream for Tod, but I can't make a sound. Until something comes over me, and with all my might I scream out a name. Not Tod's, though.
I scream for my stepfather. Mark.
That's why I came to you, doctor. Because of Mark. I really believe that he has something to do with these nightmares ... since we had an encounter a few months ago. A sexual encounter, while my mother was in the hospital.
Mom had come down with the Gilliame-Barre syndrome, after she had her swine-flu shot, of course. We were both really worried about her, and also I had the shot, so I was afraid too. Yes, that's the disease that paralyzes you, and though she's completely recovered, she still feels weak at times. I of course, hurried home from school to see her-Mark and I practically lived in her hospital room.
Except, of course, for one evening. And what a difference that evening made, doctor. I feel strange about it even still.
Mark moved in with us five years ago, after he married my mother. My real father was killed about three years before he drank himself to death, doctor. His liver just burned out. That had a really heavy effect on my life when I was little, because I really liked my father.
But time takes care of things like that, and when Mark moved in, I didn't blame Mom for getting together with him one bit. He's a really handsome guy, doctor. Very mysterious, too, like someone who had a deep, dark secret.
Well, he had a secret alright. Me. And for four years, I didn't know a thing about it. I knew he liked to talk to me a lot, and to tell you the truth, doctor, I used to get really turned on by him. I can remember several times how wet my pussy would steam up when I noticed his bulging crotch. But I would never have told him about my particular fantasy, and if he had any of his own I didn't think he would ever tell me about them, either.
Well, doctor. How wrong I was! He behaved himself remarkably well, discreetly coping a feel of my tits or ass whenever the opportunity presented itself. At first when I was a naive young thing, I could always brush them off as accidents. But by the time I was sixteen, and had lost my virginity, I knew damn well what he wanted from me.
Never! It was immoral. And I loved it, doctor. I was very flattered that an older man, especially one as good-looking as Mark, would even take an interest in a teenager like me.
We made it through, alright. I never had sexual relations with my stepfather since I always controlled my impulses better than he could. But when my mother was hospitalized, I lost my control. And, I think, my sanity.
I was at home, thumbing through a magazine or something. I was feeling really nostalgic about the house, my childhood, you know? I spent many happy years there, from the time I was born. Now I was living with a boy at college, and I realized how much I had grown up, so suddenly.
I was thinking about Tod, and also all the other guys I had ever been out with. Especially the first time I balled. Was that ever the amateur hour, doctor. Neither of us knew exactly what we were doing, since we were both virgins. But was it ever a hot evening! I know I'll never forget it!
While I thought about that first time, I noticed that inside I was just as hot as the first time, too. My little lust-bush was just soaking with juice, to the point where I could feel it dripping down the insides of my thighs. And, since I was away from Tod, no one to take care of me.
When I get horny, doctor, I just have to come. At least a few times, just to wear it out of my system. If I don't, then I'll be just as hot all through the day until I finally get balled or masturbate.
I can't exactly say if other people can control their horniness better than I can. I imagine there are some who can keep their cool-but I can't.
And this particular afternoon, I had to bring myself over the top. It was past the point of luxury. It was a necessity! I didn't bother to undress, either. I just wiggled my fingers down my jeans, and stroked my pussy until it purred like a tiger.
My fingers were becoming sticky and slippery from all that cream that leaked out onto my panties. As I slipped my longest finger into my twat, I closed my eyes and thought of Tod with his thick, drooling cock bulging in his pants. In my mind's eye, I mentally undressed him, re-dressed him, moved him into a thousand of my favorite positions ... all the while I fingered my hole until it was hot as a furnace. I was going to tease myself for the whole afternoon, and come buckets of my cream. As hot as I was, I knew it would be at least a gallon of come to leak from my core.
Since I was alone in the house, I figured that I could make just as many noises as I wanted to. I just love to moan and groan while I'm bringing myself off, doctor. Because I can hear Tod moaning along with me, just like we were together again.
I suppose I was making quite a bit of noise, alright, since I didn't seem to hear Mark come in at all. I didn't hear him pull up into the driveway, and I didn't see his car outside, either.
But there he was, standing in the other corner of the living room, staring at me like a wild-man. I looked up and freaked--I didn't recognize him at first! His eyes were bulging out of their sockets, bloodshot and crossed. His tongue was almost hanging out of his mouth while he kept watching me.
And his crotch was a massive bulge of squirming, pulsating meat. A lot of it, doctor. Hot and ready for me, anytime I wanted it.
"Oh, Mark! It's only you," I sighed, thinking at first he was an intruder. In a way, of course, he was-invading my privacy as it were. But I had no business masturbating on the floor either.
"Oh, er ... uh Barbara! Well, hello! Didn't expect to find you here, that's for sure!" Ha!
He was probably watching from a window before he came in! I know Mark, doctor. He would do something like that.
"How is Mom?" I asked, regaining my composure. I was on the floor still, but with my legs drawn up in front of my tits. "Any change?"
"Yeah. She'll be home in another week," he said, "she's making a lot of progress."
Well, doctor. The conversation ended at that point. I was so happy to hear the good news about Mom, that I got up from the floor and ran to Mark throwing out my arms to hold him.
It must have been an impulse that slipped by me, doctor. Because I knew that he had an erection! I knew that he was excited! The last thing I needed to do was to hold him close to my hot body. The very last thing!
I was back on the floor again in an instant-this time with Mark! He was acting like a horny gorilla as his big hairy hands tore at my sweater. He grabbed my tits and squeezed them until I thought they would burst! He ate my boobs until they were wet and sloppy with saliva, and my long dark nipples were poking out like fiery fingers. There was nothing more I could do, doctor. I was helpless in my horniness, and Mark was going to get me off. At last, I thought, the anxiety is over. I was even glad that he was going to fuck me. I couldn't wait to feel his thick, meaty pecker penetrate my cunt.
Under that starched white shirt, Mark has the body of an Olympic wrestler, doctor. And that's exactly what we were doing, too! Wrestling on the floor as Mark ate every inch of my hot, voluptuous body. My stepfather turned me into one, giant erogenous zone! If he could do that, then he could do anything else he damn pleased as well.
like ball me! When I felt Mark's tongue slipping against my clit, I just felt like screaming with lust. . . which is exactly what I did! Just with his sloppy tongue, Mark put me through countless climaxes. By the time he was ready to stick his fat prick to me, I was halfway to the moon.
I could feel it squirming like a snake against my dripping pussy lips, and I could even feel his raging pulse beating like jungle drums against my body. I took his cockshaft in my hand and tickled my pussy with the bulbous head. Those thick, pulsating veins were growing hotter to my touch. Now was the time to really get it on!
"Slow, Mark!" I moaned. "Real slow! I like it real, real slow and easy!" At first at least, doctor. Then, I like to tear loose from all constraints, and let go like I was jumping from a roller-coaster!
His slick, thick dick slithered up my juicy cunt like a green snake burrowing into a hole. He stretched my pussy wide open to the maximum and over. Tod, my boyfriend, has a big cock, doctor. And he knows how to use it to its full potential, too.
But Mark! His prick was not only thicker, it was longer besides. I felt like I was shish kebab on a long, lean fleshy skewer that would simmer along with my hot flesh as he toasted my pussy walls with the friction of his massive dick!
"Faster!" I cried. "Faster and harder!" It was about time to really get down to it! I knew that I would explode like an H-bomb. A big, mushroom cloud of pussy juice!
He pumped me harder, he pumped me faster! I was practically holding onto the nap of the carpet to keep from flying out the window with Mark's forceful bucks of his hips. His huge, fiery balls were banging up against my crotch so fast that I couldn't distinguish them any longer. The were so swollen and filled with Mark's hot jizz that they seemed like billiard balls knocking against my flesh.
That's when we both let go together and shook the house as we came! I could feel his curdled milk shoot up my cunt, and I know he felt that gallon of my spunk as it rushed over the top of his cockhead and onto his crotch.
Now that I think about it, doctor, Mark may have been the best lay I ever had in my life. He was older than anyone else I balled ... and his maturity showed through that marvelous, final orgasm I experienced at the end. I just had to sleep, to recover from the shock waves, but when I woke up again, Mark was gone!
Our first session for the afternoon had unfortunately come to a conclusion, but I scheduled Barbara for another hour the following week. So far, there was nothing in her behavior that I considered responsible for her nightmares, since many girls, (or more than you would think,) do have sexual relations with their stepparents. Barbara had made it clear when she left that the most important part of her story was yet to come.
INTERVIEW TWO
After having reviewed my notes from the last session, I guided Barbara, who was quite reluctant to begin, back to the day after she had first had sex with her father:
Well, yeah. I didn't feel all that good about it the next day. In fact, doctor, I felt terribly guilty. You know, getting it on with Mom's husband, and my stepfather no less, while she was suffering in the hospital. I first realized what I had done after I discovered that Mark was gone. I didn't even sleep much that night, and neither did he, evidently, because I saw him the next day with bags under his eyes. They were from worrying, all right, but not about Mom.
I knew that Mark was feeling just a guilty about our balling as I did. But I didn't know exactly how much he really suffered inside. We felt uncomfortable with each other for days afterward. And when I finally left to return to school that weekend, I felt somewhat relieved.
No, I didn't tell Tod about that incident, even though he wouldn't have been jealous at all. Tod and I frequently have sex with other people, sometimes together or alone. And we enjoy our liberation ... but not as much as we enjoy ourselves. And the best time to enjoy is in bed together, screwing all through the night!
At Thanksgiving, I once again left school to visit my parents. I was going to spend the holiday with Tod, but seeing as my mother was now out of the hospital, I was sure she would want to have me home for the holiday. I didn't live too far from our house anyway, just two hours or so by bus, so I spent the vacation with Mom and with Mark.
All the way back, I wondered how he would react to me. I hoped that he wouldn't try to get it on with me again, and I was certain that I would ignore any passes he made.
I didn't write to him at all while I was at school, because every time I tried I, couldn't send the letter. I couldn't stop thinking about our balling session but I didn't want to mention it again.
I played it cool-thinking about how terrible it was that we could no longer relate to each other as mere friends. That's the price you pay, I guess. But it was still disturbing.
You know something else, doctor? I was, at times, really mad at him for having fucked me that day. I was mad at myself, too, but for some reason I put the blame for our incest on him. I felt like he was a little boy who needed to be punished for his sin. I guess you could call incest a sin, doctor. I always have. Even though I get into lots of sex, I still think incest is something not to be dealt with.
But of course I didn't mention this to him, no. Not at all. I was polite, I smiled a lot. And I was still horny for him. Yes, doctor. After all I said to myself, about Mark's deportment, I still got hot and juicy whenever I thought about him balling me, or when I'd see him come out from the shower with hardly anything. And, as before, I would have to masturbate for quite awhile to get over my heat.
We had a calm vacation, nothing out of the ordinary. Mom had her usual feast, and we stuffed ourselves like gluttons. All though dinner I could still hear my pussy growling away like a horny cat every time I watched Mark get up from the table. I couldn't take my eyes off his fat crotch, bulging out like he had a slice of salami inside those trousers. Even flaccid his cock was noticeable. But when it was stiff-you couldn't ignore it!
I didn't hang around Mark that much after Thanksgiving day. I spent a lot of time with my old friends from the neighborhood and school. And I spent a lot of it in my room, either studying for my exams or masturbating. I tried to pretend it was Tod I was dreaming of, but it wasn't. Not at all!
It was Mark's body I wanted! My stepfather! And I couldn't have it, not if I wanted to feel like a good, moral person. like the little girl Mom always hoped I'd be, I was going to behave myself during this visit home. And I expected Mark to do the same.
I think I must have been daydreaming when he knocked on my door, because at first I didn't answer it. I thought immediately that it might be Mom, reminding me of something I forgot to pack. It was Saturday night, and I was leaving on the afternoon bus back to State. And back to Tod'
I was beginning to miss him, doctor. I always did after we were separated more than a few days. But there was something else I was thinking about too. I was feeling guilty, doctor. Guilty and confused over Mark! I knew he had the equipment to turn me on, and I knew that he would probably be more than happy to use it ... if we let our game slip for even one moment.
Our game? Simple, doctor. I pretended that nothing had ever occurred between us, and so did Mark. But deep inside, I knew I wanted to ball him ... but this time I wanted him my way! I wanted to take out my revenge at the same time that I received my pleasure!
"Barbara? Are you there?" he called. I jumped up from the chair at the first sound of his voice.
'Wait just a second, Mark," I said, wondering if I should let him inside my room. He might take that as an invitation to sex ... something I was sure he wanted.
"So, you're leaving tomorrow, huh?" he asked, taking great pains to convince me of his good intentions. "We sure will miss you again, Barbara. Just like we always miss you when you're at school."
"I know, Mark. I'll miss both you and Mom, too. I think about you often." I returned to packing my things, hoping that he would either get the message to leave, or would at least try to attack me, so that I could clobber him.
"Barbara," he said, "I want to talk to you about something. Something I think we should get settled."
"Yeah? What could it be, Mark?" I wasn't going to say anything about the incident. If he was going to bring it up, then it was his business. I had nothing to do with it.
"You know damn well what it is," he said gruffly, "don't play those cock-teasing games with me!"
"Mark! I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," I said. "You must be out of it, or something!"
"Hell if I'm out of it," he muttered. "And let's get one thing clear, okay? You don't use language lake that in this house! Not in front of me or your mother!"
Doctor, I just had to laugh. Here he was, blessing me out about saying the word "fuck," and after he had called me a cock-teaser. Him, cursing me out! After he had fucked me on the living room floor ... while Mom was in the hospital!
"I think you better have your head examined, Mark," I said coldly. "Because I think you're off your nut!"
"Shut up, Barbara! You've taken this too far. You know you want me to put it to you, because you don't get anything like what I give you, isn't that right?"
"Mark, cram it!" I didn't want any part of what he was suggesting, at least not consciously. But underneath my jeans there was a bush-fire of lust spreading from my core the tip of my clit! If only I could keep it under control.
"Who did you tell to cram it?" he snarled. "What do you mean by that?" His eyes were like tremendous balls of fire, and sweat was beading up on his forehead.
In addition, you guessed it, his cock was fully stiffened and quivering inside his pants.
"Get out of here, Mark," I told him. "Get out now, before we both regret what we do!"
"The only person who'll be regretting anything," he sneered, "is you, Barbara! I'm going to make you regret you ever talked to me that way, or that you ever tried to tease me with that sexy body of yours."
He approached me, and I was trembling as I felt his hairy hand against my skin. He gently stroked my face and cheeks and then he slapped me so hard I fell against the bed and knocked my suitcase onto the floor!
"Pig!" he screamed. "You're just a slut, Barbara. Mom thinks a lot of you, but then she doesn't know the evil side to your nature, does she?"
"Mom! Mom!" I screamed. But Mark was on top of my, muting my howls with his strong hand.
"She's not even here, cunt!" he said, rubbing his other hand up and down my legs. "She's gone away for the evening, to a party! You didn't know that?"
I couldn't believe that awful grin on Mark's face. I was horrified and trembling as he spoke. "We're going to have our own little party, Barbara. A little discipline party. I'm going to teach you a few things ... before you go back to college!"
The feel and smell of Mark's body was overpowering me, doctor. I felt as if I had been immobilized by some mysterious paralysis. When he stared at me with his brown eyes, I thought I could see embers burning hot ... his pupils were the size of dimes!
"Yeah, you think you're such hot pussy, don't you Barbara. Well," and he began to unsnap my jeans as he said this, "you are hot, dear. Real hot and juicy! And I'm gonna make you even hotter still, after I beat your ass!""
"NO!" I hollered, grasping the bedsheets. Mark was grasping my jeans just as tightly, and while I struggled in vain, Mark had my panties down in the same amount of time. My heart-shaped ass-cheeks were bare and tingling with anticipation. No one had ever given me a spanking before. No one.
But if I were to be spanked who could possibly have better reason to do it than my stepfather? Mark was slipping his belt out from the loops, and I could hear him snapping it against the bed.
Now why I didn't fight him ... I can't say, doctor. I was so terrified that I was rendered helpless. But somehow, I know I could have gotten away from his beating if I really had wanted.
I didn't, though. I felt his leather belt against my butt as it snapped sharply into my tender flesh. "I'm not through with you yet, cunt! Howl all you want, no one can hear you!"
Doctor. How I screamed! How I suffered when that belt lashed out against my aching ass-cheeks. I could just feel the welts rising on my skin as Mark continued to shower me with cracking blows. I was shattered to the marrow, doctor. Mark was humiliating me ... and I let him do anything he wanted!
"That's enough for you, Barbara! I don't want to get your ass all bloody ... not before I fuck it, that is!"
"What?! " What was he talking about? All those things crossed my mind in a flash, and for a moment-I even forgot about the raging painfulness of my buttocks.
"You heard me," he yelled, "you heard me loud and clear. Don't act like you're having an epileptic fit, Barbara. Not yet, at least!"
He tackled me, doctor, and we both fell off the other side of the bed. I conked my head against the suitcase and almost split my skull open. "Mark! Mark! You'll kill me!" I cried. Tears were rolling down my cheeks as he slapped my legs and rolled me over onto my stomach.
"You'll manage," he said, unzipping his fly. "You'll do alright, you hope!" I knew that he would probably rip me wide open with his cock, and I had never been ass-fucked before, much less by something as huge and frightening as Mark's prick.
I felt him hard and trembling against my body as his hot phallus stroked the crack of my ass. Mark rubbed the head and shaft against my puckered anus as I fell into a coma of lust.
"Please, Mark! Think about this for a minute," I tried to reason, but in vain. I could feel this spongy prickhead against my ass, and I knew it was over-all over!
But instead of fucking me, like he threatened, Mark rolled me onto my back and glared. "You didn't have to take all of this shit, Barbara. You could have gotten away, easily!"
My stepfather looked at me as if I were an inferior creature, something to avoid. "But you wanted it, didn't you? You can't face up to what's really happening with us, can you? You want to pretend that you're still a stupid fourteen-year-old. And that all of this will go away!"
Doctor, I can't tell you how much I despised him. He had abused me, treated me brutally. And then afterwards he told me how I loved it! How could he?
When he walked out of my room, not even saying good-bye to me, I just thought the whole house would crumble apart. I couldn't stop crying until later that evening.
No, I didn't say anything to Mom about that. Not without explaining the whole truth, and I can't do that. Not now, not ever. And I couldn't tell Tod, either. What would he think of me? What would anyone think of me if they knew such a sordid incident ever took place?
But now, every time I make love to my boyfriend, I have one of these episodes where I "leave my body," and I can't manage to get back inside. I'm terribly frightened, and I need treatment' of some kind, I'm sure. If I have another one of these nightmares, I will be totally insane. What will happen then?
It's ... it's like Mark was haunting me, even though I won't even speak to him on the phone. Not after he treated me so awfully. But night after night, I break out into a cold sweat, with his name on my lips.
Tod hasn't caught on yet, but I know he's bound to. I'm taking him home to meet my family during spring break! What if Mark decides to scare Tod away?
Mark is a psychopath, doctor. And I'm afraid he will scare me out of my wits once more. I have sympathy for those who cannot cope in today's society. But I won't play these games with my stepfather.
CONCLUSION
Once again we see how repressed sexual desires, actively charged in the libidinal storage battery, affect our behavior either directly through consciousness or in the murky depths of the unconscious.
Barbara's desires worked on many different levels. On the outside, she wanted to part of an incestuous affair with her stepfather. On a subconscious level, she felt him extremely attractive, and at the last, the unconscious level she believed him to be her real father, perhaps resurrected from the grave to come back for her.
What of, you may ask, Barbara's curious nightmares. For her, these "dreams" were twice as frightening as her reality as the borders became indistinct between the two states. There are two possible explanations:
One, Barbara is, during her dreaming state when the unconscious levels of the brain are wide-awake and sorting through piles of information, escaping from herself by projecting outside herself. When her stepfather denounced her for being a "cock-teaser," Barbara might have seen some aspect of her personality in jeopardy. If it were true, she thinks, then I'm damned. If it is Mark's deception, so much the worse since she will be frequently harassed and forced into incestuous behavior. Barbara is escaping from her situation in an intangible Way ... through her fantasies.
Another explanation, though more metaphysical, is also warrants airing: that Barbara could indeed be experiencing out-of-body phenomena, wherein the psyche extends itself to the astral plane. Perhaps, in fact, it was her situation with her stepfather that triggered this sort of phenomenon. When I suggested this possibility to Barbara, she merely scoffed, as it was far too unrealistic.
Regardless, Barbara's nightmares have yet to cease, and she is still under my guidance. Her problem is only a minor neurosis, but could become disabling to her sex life if allowed to remain unchecked. I am certain that if and when Barbara ever comes to grips with her lust for Mark, she will stop having them all together.
CASE HISTORY SEVEN
SUBJECT: Carly S. AGE: Seventeen
INTERVIEW ONE
When I first met the beauteous Carly, she was something of a child celebrity. At seventeen, she had appeared in a rather controversial movie, doing things that would not be appreciated by many parents.
The movie, though obscure at first, became a cult sensation, rocketing the young girl to notoriety and underground stardom. It was her decision to leave the glamour behind that brought Carly to therapy. The following are unexpurgated transcripts of our conversations:
Doctor, I know that it seems strange, what me being a celebrity and everything, to want to cut out so early. I mean, I could have a brilliant career ahead of me, I could have been a model, an actress-I can't exactly say what else. Hell, if I really wanted' to, I could push it further than where I'm at right now. I mean, how many seventeen-year-olds do you know who've had their picture in People Magazine?
My mother always wanted me to be a star, and she really pushed me, even when I was a little kid. She sent me to ballet classes, voice lessons, took me from audition to audition, even if I didn't feel great that day. Even when I no longer wanted to even be on stage, my mother kept hounding me. I always allowed myself to be coerced into giving up my Saturdays to Shubert Alley. The best I ever did was kid's parts, and only as an understudy for Flora in "The Innocents." I was so mad with Mom for even taking me to the audition, I played the part very well.
You see, my mother is a bit of a neurotic, doctor. She's the epitome of the classic "stage-mother," but that's not why I'm here. Mom has gone further than verbal coercion, doctor. She is torturing me, with physical violence, to appear in ... in cheap, sleazy porn films!"
Yes, I would have never appeared in that movie if Mom hadn't threatened me-and given me a spanking besides. I know that I've got a hot body, doctor. I know that I could go very far with the way I look. But looks aren't everything, doctor. I have a mind, too. I want to use my mind if I'm going to appear on the screen. But who needs wits to fuck in front of a camera.
I am completely revolted at the idea of people, whom I've never met before in my life, nor would I want to meet them, staring at a projection of my body-twenty times larger than life and seeing everything about me. All the mystic qualities of a female exploited for the sake of a buck. I don't like it at all. And I'm not going to have anymore to do with it!
Sure, the critics praised the film for being so realistic! It was very realistic, doctor. I was beaten, tortured, and raped in front of a hand-held camera. While they were filming, I could see Mom forging my name to the release contract. She was signing away my pride, doctor. She was throwing my reputation to the wind-all for the sake of her mortal greed.
Greed, doctor, that's what I said. Greed! She made a bundle off that movie, but I don't get a cent, except in a trust fund. I'm sure the "trust fund" is a hoax, doctor. Mom is spending my money ... last week she flew to Guadeloupe in a chartered Lear Jet! And I'm a success, alright. A freak, that's what I am.
"Carly," Mom said one afternoon, a month before my abortion, "you know, I think you should go to this audition," and she handed me this newspaper.
It wasn't a copy of "Backstage," either. It was a porn magazine. "Look," she said, "I've got it circled in red."
"Voluptuous young miss urgently needed for high-budget X-rated film." I didn't know what she was referring to when she gave me that paper. "Mom, this is porn. You don't want me to do that, do you?"
"And why not?" she asked. "You're better looking than those other sluts I've seen."
I didn't know that Mom took in any dirty movies. "I didn't know you considered me in the same class with those girls."
"But look!" she pleaded. "I know the guy who handles them. He says if you can do what they want, you'll get a hundred, maybe two hundred dollars."
"No, Mother. I can't do that! I don't want to be a porn starlet. I don't want to do anything that involves nudity and sex without redeeming social virtue!" And I didn't, either. Me in a dirty movie? the thought of it made me puke!
"Can't you just maybe send them your resume?" she kept nagging. "You might be successful, you know?"
"I don't want to discuss it anymore!"
"But it's soft-core, Carly! How innocent. You won't have to do anything nasty!"
"I'll have to undress," I said. "I'll have to show them all my gorgeous tits, my wondrous legs, my beauteous ass. And I won't do it!"
"Yes, you will, Carly! Look at all the years I've worked just to get you started. Your best asset is your body, darling! Why don't you put it to good use?"
When my mother said those things to me, I almost died! "What kind of mother are you, anyway?" I asked. "Do you think what you want prevails over all? like you were God or something?"
"Yes," she said. "I do. At least when it comes to your career!"
To make a very long, boring story shorter, doctor, my mother broke into a long, pitiful tirade about her health, her finances since my father died, her drinking problem, her hopes for me, etc. I've heard it over and over, like a tape cartridge, I didn't want to hear it again. I knew that to keep my mother silent for a few days, to appease her will, I would have go to the audition.
"I'll go with you," she said, grabbing her purse. "I'll get the car, dear. You change into your bikini or something nice, okay?"
"Mom! You're not going to any dirty movie audition with me! What kind of person are you, anyway? What kind of reputation do you want?"
Mom was unperturbed. "I always go with you, just to read over the contract! I don't want you to be ripped-off by some unscrupulous charlatan."
"But how do you know I'll even get the role?" I asked. I was already determine to sabotage this audition. I would stand there like a frozen side of beef and not even flinch my eye. They would hate me! I couldn't wait.
"She's perfect," said the director, as he shook my hand. "She sure is a pretty little snatch isn't she?"
He was hideous, with a bald head and a repugnant cigar hanging out of his chapped lips. "We can start right away. Carly, why don't you take off your clothes and we'll do a screen test right now?"
"Forget it," I said. "No way!" I wasn't about to let this guy have even a peek at my voluptuous body. Not that sleazy old fart!
"Come on, Carly. You get up there and take off your clothes, or I'll break your neck!"
"I think," I announced, hoping to render them freaked-out, "that there is something you should know about me."
"What's that, sugar bush?" asked the seedy old fart.
"I'm ... I'm a lesbian. I cannot be aroused by men. Especially in front of a camera."
I saw Mom throw me a killing, vindictive look, her eyes like daggers. But the dirty old fart producer wasn't even fazed. "Perfect. Just what we need, a real live lesbian."
Mom lit up like a Christmas tree, all smiles. "Hey," I asked, feeling embarrassed, "what kind of fucking movie is this going to be?"
"Lesbian bondage and discipline," he laughed. "You're just what we were looking for!"
"Do it, Carly!" shouted Mom. "This is your big, big chance. Don't let it slip through your fingers now, baby! You've come so far!"
"Cram it," I said, not even bothering to take off my clothes. "I'm leaving. I don't want to have anything to do with this shit!"
I was on my way out of the door when Mom grabbed me! "I won't let you do this to yourself," she kept saying, shaking my shoulders. "This is too important, Carly. It's your life you're throwing away!"
"You bet!" I agreed. "That's exactly what I'll be doing if I'm in this picture!" And I sidestepped her quickly, hurrying to the exit.
"No you won't," I heard her scream. Immediately, I was grabbed from behind by not only my mother, but the fat old fart himself!
"Let's get her to the studio," said the man, "and I'll let you give her a taste of the whip!" This man was talking to my mother about a whip? While they dragged me on the floor behind them?
Now I realized what was going on. This was a freaky movie, not any "soft-core," stuff that Mom told me about. This was a picture about female slaves! The set was nothing more than a torture chamber dark and dimly lit. Two other women, obviously part of the cast, joined my mother and the director in securing my body to a large block of wood, binding me with leather straps that cut through my tender white flesh.
"No! No!" I screamed. "This is too much! This is a bunch of shit!" I couldn't believe that this was happening to me and my own mother was standing next to it all, smiling approvingly as she checked the contract.
"Mom! Stop it! You're a real bitch, aren't you?" I said. "You know what you are?"
"What is it, Carly?" she mumbled, adjusting her bi-focals.
"You're a cunt! A C-U-N-T: CUNT!"
They didn't bother to undress me they simply cut my clothes loose with several pairs of scissors. As I watched my favorite blue jeans torn to shreads, I was rendered naked, piece by piece, to the admiring eyes of the spectators. My mother only laughed and applauded.
This was nothing more than sheer perversity on the part of my mother. "Why are you treating me like this?" I asked. "Why are you humiliating me?" I had to force my tears back to even speak to her.
"It's for your own good, darling. But you shouldn't have called me a cunt, Carly. You really hurt me like that."
Now the eminent danger of my situation was becoming clearer, as I saw the instruments of torture and degradation that were to be used in this movie. I couldn't describe some of them, doctor. I try to block them out of my memory.
"You really shouldn't talk to your mother that way, Carly." She spoke calmly, but with a tone of voice that was highly offended. But not on the defensive, however. Mom was asking for one of the whips, and when they brought one to her, actually gave her a fucking long leather whip, I knew that she had gone mad.
Sure, nothing would happen to me. I was in the top floor of a loft in Soho, tied down to a slab and about to be beaten. I'm sure anyone passing by could have heard my screams, what with the machine tooling factory right next door!
My legs were rebound over my head, so that my bare ass-cheeks were a perfect bulls-eye for
Mom's punishment.
"Here you go, darling! Hope this will beat some sense into you!" She said that like she actually was getting off! But I wasn't getting off, not in the least. Not knowing my mother's psychotic tendencies, I was extremely disturbed when she snapped the cowhide against my ass!
Then, doctor, the cameras were started, and I could hear them running away as they closed in on my ass-cheeks. I tried to break out of my imprisonment, but there was no hope for me now.
I tried not to count the number of times Mom hit me, but she was shouting them out loud at the top of her breath. When she finally stopped, I was out of air, and couldn't call her anymore names. My butt hurt tremendously, but not as much as my pride. I had been spanked in front of people I had never seen before, and didn't want to know, either. Now, I would be fucked raped-as well. And all for their enjoyment!
She turned me over to the two women who were torturing me. And they really did torture me, doctor. While Mom stood there and fingered her tits!
They were really ugly, doctor. They looked like they had every venereal disease in the world! I know they must have been addicted to something, doctor, because their faces were pale and slack, with no color at all, except what was painted on. And their eyes were dilated not even a trace of iris!
Instead of comforting me, they said that I had better get used to this sort of thing, because I was in for a lot of it this afternoon, possibly into the evening if they had enough film.
I was really quite shocked to discover that these things actually take place, as opposed to being merely acting of some sort. Carly's story was as provocative as her reputation, and I wanted to know much, much more. I scheduled her for another appointment that very next day, to which she agreed.
INTERVIEW TWO
Carly was back at the same time, although she confessed she was missing an interview with David Suskind that was aired during our session. I obliged her by asking her what she had said during the program.
I didn't say a whole lot, doctor. In fact, I lied about everything.
There was the overwhelming desire burning in the back of my mind to spill the beans on Mom and what she was doing to me. I could have just renounced her, and her seedy friends, before the whole world but naturally it would have been censored. Even today, there are things which cannot be discussed openly, doctor. Especially on television.
Why was I invited to appear on the show? Well, not because of that first movie I made. Hah! That was just the beginning. Mom said she saw it running in one of those peep show affairs. Can you imagine a woman, doctor, a middle-aged woman hanging out at peep shows?
I can't imagine it either. It seems so ... so sick and perverted. And when Mom suggested that I should do more of this sort of thing, I said no. And really loud.
In fact, I threw a tantrum! "No, I won't do this sort of thing! You hurt me, Mom! You really hurt me! I really trusted you, at first."
"Don't make such a big fuss, Carly. Or I'll make sure you get more punishment." That word: punishment. To most girls my age, it meant missing a night of television, or being grounded inside the house for getting pregnant.
But for me, punishment came in many forms. like a twelve-inch dildo, shoved into your dry cunt. Or up your anus!
Or having to feel the lash of the whip against your skin. Being cursed and abused, being called a slave to punishment. That's what it was for me, doctor.
"We're going to another audition today, Carly. Only we're not really going anywhere!" Mom took a seat in the kitchen, no doubt having her morning coffee so she could bitch all day, strung out like the caffeine addict she is.
"What? I'm not going to any audition."
"You don't have to," she felled, "they're coming over here!"
I ignored her remarks, at least until the doorbell rang. Mom must have buzzed whoever it was into the building, because I didn't let them in. I looked through the peep-hole and saw not only the fat old fart who had imprisoned me for the first dirty movie they made, but another man, just as hideous, with him. He was carrying a large bag with him, but I couldn't make out the contents at first.
"Hiya, Carly," said the fat, bald man, blowing his cigar smoke in my face. "Where's your Mom?"
"You-hoo!" she called. "I'm in here, darlings! Won't you join me for coffee?" I knew she had arranged this, I knew she was going to humiliate me once again.
"How's Blondie doin' today?" asked the producer, that fat ton of lard. He always called me Blondie, because he was using that as my stage name. Can you imagine?
"She's fine," I said. "And mad! You can all go to hell for all I care, right this minute!"
"It'll be you who'll be in hell," said my mother. "We're going to teach you how to behave for photographers!"
Sure enough, the other ugly man was pulling out various harnesses and leather goods from his bag-while the fat old fart was adjusting his camera. "We're going to do some stills today," he said, as I backed into a corner. "Some great shots, you bet!"
Suddenly, I was besieged by both men, and my mother was right behind, leading up the rear of the attack. They threw me down on the floor, and having subdued me with straps and strange devices made of leather, left me lying on the floor, crying in my bondage.
They moved me into thousands of position, and rebound me in various ways, each more painful than the one before it. Of each position, they had taken at least a roll of film each time that flash went off I could feel my self-respect exploding with it exploding to nothingness. My pride was broken, doctor. And so was my will.
"An artist must suffer, Carly," said Mom, giggling throughout the whole shooting. While I died in embarrassment and humiliation, Mom was getting physically hot, fingering below her skirt while she watched the two men subject me to hideous tortures.
"We warit to make you addicted to pain, Carly," said the uglier, skinny man who accompanied his friend with the camera. "We're going to start you off on a low dosage, so you can get the feel of it without passing out, you know?"
I broke into tears. They were both smiling, the fat bald man was changing film. "But as you progress through the different stages, your desire for pain will be stronger, until you will be begging to be beaten, to be degraded, to be treated like a living piece of shit!"
"It's method acting," said my mother, laughing. "And the method is pain, Carly. You'll love it, soon."
Doctor, what they did to me, in my own apartment, was incredibly perverse. They subjected me to every vile and sickening sexual perversion they could think of, photographing me through the entire session. And I had to do exactly what they said, or they'd let Mom at me again, with that whip!
I pulled and tugged against my bonds, but in Vain. The ugly, skinny guy was jerking off his hideous cock, while he aimed it closer to my face. "I won't have anything to do with you,"
I snarled. "You stick that in my mouth, and I'll bite it off!"
"You just try, cunt!" he yelled. "Just try it and I'll rip your fucking face off!" He made his hand into a fist and threatened me with it, but I just laughed.
"You can shove it, buster!" I yelled back. He was going to shove it, doctor. Right into the back of my throat, and choke me to death!
"Get a taste of this, you hungry bitch!" the man screamed. Here I was, only seventeen years old, and giving head to a man I didn't even know. I didn't even find out his name, and he was treating me like some animal!
No, doctor. The didn't really hurt me, not as much as I had considered. But the humiliation that swept across my body, like cold, chilling waves, was enough to destroy me.
He grabbed the back of my head and pulled me hard against his crotch. I had to fight against him several times, and the fat man with the camera was blowing cigar smoke into my face the entire time as he shot picture after picture. Soon, before I knew what was happening, the ugly guy with the erection in my mouth crammed every last inch of it into my mouth. I had two alternatives: one, relax and let him fuck me in the mouth; two, lose my life!
Thank God, or someone, that he didn't last very long. In a split-second, he had come. At last I was free from his ugly pecker ... after I swallowed all of his nasty scum, at least.
Still, they subjected me to every perversity I know. They must have taken enough pictures to wallpaper the Astrodome when they finished with me.
And Mom! "See, we didn't hurt you," she said, when at last I was finally set free of my bonds. I was trembling and shaking, but Mom didn't seem to care at all.
She's made me do several other things, doctor. Including one big hit, the film that sent me to underground stardom. "Interstate Intercourse," was the name of it, doctor. I played a young runaway who loved to be whipped and humiliated by the police. They used real policemen, too. I had to take a billy club up inside my hole! While the camera's whirred!
But now, after I've been recognized, I have a little power myself. I've threatened Mom with exposing her to the authorities. I would do it, too. Except that she'd find a way to get back at me, even from the mental institution.
I'm not going to go on with anymore of this degrading filth. I wasn't out of this trash. But what about Mom?
She's not going to let me escape from stardom this easily. She's worked too hard to bring me this far. And she'll work even harder, with vicious punishment, to keep me there.
CONCLUSION
And so it goes. Parents, too often deluding themselves, live on vicariously through their children. Some of them want to relive the joys of being young. Some want the status of being parent to a child prodigy.
But others, and Carry's mother fits into this category, want to. feel second-hand thrills, sexual thrills, through their incestuous relationships with their children. This mother wanted to be the parent of a "star" more than Carly wanted to be one.
It would be a terrible shame indeed if Carly was never able to enjoy a normal, healthy relationship with a boy her age. However, she expresses an intense dislike in boys or girls, and is staying clear of sex. After what her mother had done, forcing her to appear against her will in pornographic pictures, It is no wonder she feels this way.
CASE HISTORY EIGHT
SUBJECT: Angie D. AGE: Eighteen
INTERVIEW ONE
The beauteous Angie D. was in tears when she first came to my office. After repeated attempts to consol her, I finally sent her away, scheduling her for another appointment. She broke this appointment, however, and I was not terribly anxious to begin working with her until she at least calmed down enough to tell me her story.
Luckily, Angie did return my secretary's call, and at last we were able to begin our discussions. Angie was very clear from the beginning that she hated living, at least in her present condition, and she expressed a strong suicidal tone throughout our conversations, which follow verbatim:
Doctor, what can I say about my situation. The outlook is bleak, indeed. I just don't know what to do with myself anymore. Once, I was just an ordinary teenager, with normal hopes and desires.
But now, I am a sex-starved teenage slut, doctor. Yes, that's what I said. A concubine-for my stepbrother's entertainment.
And I can't seem to escape from him. Because, doctor, I no longer want to escape. Whatever Bill does to me, I don't mind at all. Oh, doctor. He tortures me, he humiliates me, he degrades me like I was some sort of inhuman being, something to be treated with disgust.
I just love it! At least, until it's all over, then I become very depressed. The reason I sought treatment was because I have tried to commit suicide several times in the past three weeks. But I fail miserably, and if you must know the truth, I'm only doing because I'm desperate. I don't really want to die.
Why should I take my life so early? Especially, when the life is inside a body as voluptuous and as exciting as mine. Can you honestly look at my tits, my face, my impeccable body and not long for it? I knew you would tell the truth, doctor. And I respect you for that. I'm really going out on a limb when I tell you this, because if Bill ever knew that I was seeking therapy, he would kill me himself.
He has a violent temper, doctor. And to make things worse, he drinks and abuses drugs on top of it all. That makes him really evil, especially when he forces me into sex with ... with, oh I can't go on anymore! I'm going to cry, doctor. It's so painful, it really is.
How can I ever begin? Should I tell you about my family? Sure, I guess that's a good starting point. But you might not believe anything you hear, doctor. You'll think I'm a raving lunatic after I'm finished.
When I was sixteen, my mother remarried. My father had been ill for many years, in fact he was in a comatose state after a serious car accident. He was in the hospital for years, then finally passed away.
My mother had been seeing this guy, David, for about a year, even when my father was still alive. But Dad wasn't able to function, and when we'd go to see him, he wouldn't even recognize us. I remember one day when my mother told me that as far as she was concern, Daddy was dead. I didn't want to come to terms with that, not right away, but deep down inside I knew it was the truth. So when Mom married David, I wasn't in the least surprised. After all, he was a good looking guy, and Mom has needs like anyone else. I wouldn't like to spend the rest of my life in mourning, not if I were as young and as beautiful as she still is.
David and I got along really well. Until, and I guess this is really the beginning of the story, until his son came back from Europe, where he had been living for several years.
I hadn't met Bill before, but I knew that he was very handsome, from pictures that David showed me. I didn't at that time know about his character, nor did I know what a fucking ass he is.
David gives him all the money the kid could ask for ... he's only nineteen and he lives like someone who was independently wealthy. He has a lot of freedom, and he abuses that freedom quite often. Especially when I'm concerned.
I knew he was hot for me, and well. . . can you blame him at all? Most guys I know are always hot to get inside my jeans. And I like good sex just as much as anyone, I suppose. I like my lovin' hot and heavy, and I like my guys hung and ready for action.
Bill was ready for action, all right. Violent action. Humiliating action, and such torture that would make you literally sick, doctor. That's right. My stepbrother is a sadist. And
I'm his willing slave!
My first encounter with Bill was far from being forced, however. I remember the first evening we were home together, after Bill took over the guest room. He was still moving his things in, and making lots of noise. Mom and David were out probably at the movies or something. I knew they wouldn't be back very soon.
I also knew that Bill was looking for some good balling, just what I had on my mind! He's very perceptive, this one, and I knew that he wasn't hanging outside my door just to ask me where we kept the clean linen.
"Hello?" I said, "what is it?"
"Can I come in for a second?" he asked. I opened the door, and there he was dressed in only a towel. "I'm on my way to the shower," he said. "You want to get high?"
I hadn't smoked any good reefer in awhile, so I agreed. I was not much more modestly attired, doctor, in fact, I was only wearing my sheerest negligee. "Sure! Fine with me!"
"Does your Mom know that you get high?" he asked, taking a seat on the bed next to me. I could feel my pussy juices trickling onto my bush as my little crotch steamed with lust.
"Sure. I've even turned her on a couple of times. She--likes it!" I said, watching him roll a joint. I looked at his fingers, wondering all the while what they would feel like against my tits, or slithering inside my hot box, or just plain walking all over my tender, burning flesh.
"Well, this is pretty good," he said, offering me a light, "I brought it back from Amsterdam. Really makes you loony!"
I knew that I would probably get crazy after I smoked that joint with him. And I knew something else would happen, too.
I'd get horny as hell. Yes, doctor, it happens every time. Each joint I smoke makes me feel ten times more erotic and sensual-and I just have to have sex, good sex, to make the most of my being high.
"Sounds like your mother is all right, Angie," he said, flashing his white teeth. I saw the tip of his tongue and immediately lusted for him. I could already feel his wet, slimy tongue against my jugs, rolling all over the nipples and tit meat, and against my pussy lips. It wouldn't be too long before I was stretched out naked on the bed, with my handsome stepbrother pounding his crotch against mine, drilling me with his obviously stiff pecker.
Yes, he did have a hard-on, and I can't blame him. The grass was really good, doctor. I think it might have been the strongest I had ever smoked. I was so totally wasted, I couldn't think. But I could feel nonetheless, and what I felt was pure, unadulterated lust! Desire for Bill. Desire to be fucked!
His prick was poking so hard against the towel that I thought it might just slip from around his waist. It was tremendously long, and it throbbed and pulsated under the thin towel, while I yearned for his touch.
How it happened, I'm not really sure. One minute, I was staring at the blank wall, and the next I was kissing my stepbrother. I could feel his hot body against my own at first I thought he might be sick. His fever was up there, doctor, and so was mine! I just had to come, as many times as I could that night, when Bill slipped his long, wet tongue between my lips and kissed me passionately.
I didn't want to let go of him, never! Even if a fire broke out in the house, I wouldn't stop sucking on that tongue. I closed my eyes and felt it wiggling and writhing against my own tongue, and I just imagined that I was sucking on his prick. That made me even hotter. When I reached down to his crotch and touched it, the towel was already stripped away. I placed my hand on his cock and felt it all ten inches or more of stiff meat-destined to penetrate my hot slit!
"You sure are a hot little bitch," he moaned. And that's not all that boy said to me, either. He was murmuring a string of obscenities, doctor, some mat would make you blush if I repeated them.
And though I was somewhat disturbed, his obscenities just made me even hotter! When he whispered them into my ear, breathing hotly as his fingers clutched my tender tit meat, I was transported far away into a land of lust! And I never wanted to come back!
"Here, baby!" he said, pinning my arms behind my head, "now you're all . .set to get fucked! Look at your pussy, baby! It's melting like butter, isn't it?"
I didn't exactly understand why he pinned my hands to the mattress, but I did understand how urgent my situation was at that time. I needed to feel his stiff, hot cock inside my vagina, to tenderly massage and stimulate my cunt until I came like a volcano! "Yes, Bill! Ooooh, give it to me, baby! Let me have it!"
"Yeah, you really like to get laid, don't you?" he asked. "I bet you just lay around the house, bringing yourself off ten times a day, isn't that right?"
Doctor, no one had ever talked to me that way before. And I wasn't so sure I liked it anymore. "Oh, baby!" I said, "let's get it on!"
"Yeah, I can see you now," he moaned, grinning madly as he bucked his crotch against mine. I wanted to grab his prick and guide it into my hole, but Bill was holding me with such force that I couldn't move my arms. "I'd love to watch you masturbate sometimes, I think that would really turn me on."
While he continued to tease me, my body was consumed with an ever-mounting fever. My head was buzzing and my pussy purred away, longing for the friction of his tremendous pecker. "I can't stand it any longer, baby!" I said. "Please, let's do it! NOW!"
He got the message, doctor. I felt his huge, fleshy cockhead against my cunt as Bill pushed the long, thick tool into my hole. He didn't take his time, though. He more or less shoved it into my, stretching my cunt walls to the maximum! For a minute, I was worried! I was, for all purposes, being raped!
And I was getting off on it, too!
"I'm gonna burn you hole up, Angie," he moaned, ramming his prick into me. I just thought that he liked rough stuff, so I bucked my crotch into his with the same deranged speed, coming time after time while Bill muttered obscenities. He called me a slave, a cunt, a whore ... but none of that disturbed me.
Until later, after Bill had spilled his seed inside me, and I was totally wasted. Yes, it was hot, and it was satisfying. . . but it was cruel! When Bill left the room, to take a shower, I lay on the bed, wondering what kind of strange person I had for a stepbrother. "Angie!" he screamed. "Come here."
"What do you want?"
"Scrub my back, baby! I can't reach it!" He was sitting in a tub full of hot water, smoking another joint. Naturally, I grabbed the bar of soap and lathered him up good. But when I reached for the reefer, Bill slapped me across the face.
"Don't grab, Angie!" he said. "Did I ask you to take it?"
I was confused. "I thought ... "
"Never mind what you thought, baby! It's what I say that matters, from now on. Don't forget it, or you'll regret it!" Then he closed his eyes and zoned-out, like nothing had ever happened.
When I went to sleep that night, I knew that Bill would have to be dealt with on his own tearm. That was before I knew the depths of his perversity, doctor. If I had just an inkling of his nastiness, doctor, I would have told my mother about what he had done to me immediately. But the last thing I wanted was a family feud, especially since Bill had just moved in with us. Besides, I thought he was very sexy.
Even if he did threaten me and abuse me, like an animal.
We ended our conversation for the day, and Angie promised to come back the following Thursday. I was curious of Angie's motivations, as she left my office all smiles, and in good spirits. Perhaps there was a bit of masochism in her personality which she could not recognize. Or if she did, she wasn't about to admit it to me.
INTERVIEW TWO
Angie arrived late, and explained that her stepbrother had found out about our sessions.
"He'll kill me, doctor. I know he will. He threatened me this afternoon, before I even came over to your office. I don't know why he's so upset with me.
He's a very demanding sort of person, doctor. Anything he feels will excite him, or titillate him, I have to demonstrate. Even if it repulses me. Because Bill has complete control over my body-and my mind. I'm really nothing more than his slave and his sex-slave at that. Unless Bill is horny, he won't have a thing to do with me.
For awhile, I even avoided him. If I knew that Mom and David would be out for the evening, and if I also knew that Bill would be home with me, all alone, I would stay out of the house.
Expecting one night, when I had lots of homework to finish. So, I simply stayed inside my room. I kept the stereo up loud, so I couldn't hear him knocking on the door.
Bill wasn't into bothering me that evening, but in a strange way, doctor, I really wanted to be bothered, despite my actions. Whenever I thought of Bill's hot cock, wiggling up and down my hole, I felt dizzy and hot inside. And when Bill was in a loving mood, we would have great sex, tremendous orgasms all night long! I never really thought of our affair as being incestuous I mean, I'm not really related by blood to this guy.
But I did think he was sick. Sometimes, when Bill was drunk or stoned, or both he would take me against my will, and do all sorts of terrible things to me.
So, it was usually a matter of luck. If I went to him, hoping to get laid, he would make derisive comments about what a slut I was, begging him to ball me.
But if I refused his demands, he would call me a cock-teaser, or any number of nasty names when I didn't want to get it on with him. Bill usually won out, either by force or by, on very rare occasions, kindness.
When Christian, Bill's St. Bernard decided to scratch at my door, I was really unnerved. That dog was so big, and such a mess I didn't want to have him in my room. He was shedding then, I think, and I had no time to play with him.
Still, Christian kept clawing at the door, making a racket. "Goddamn it!" I screamed. "Bill! Take care of this dog, will you?"
Obviously, he didn't hear me, because Christian was still howling and clawing at the door. I couldn't concentrate with that racket. "Bill, will you do something about the dog? He's driving me up the wall!"
Finally, I got up from the bed and opened the door. "Christian, will you get out of my hair," I said, looking at the down at the hairy beast.
"Bothering you?" asked Bill. My stepbrother was at the door with Christian, smiling his deranged smile. "Maybe he just wants to see you, Angie. Maybe he's hot for you?"
"Buzz off, ass-hole," I muttered. "Take the dog outside, will you?"
But instead of leaving, Bill and Christian, entered my room, against my wishes. Christian climbed up on my bed and knocked off all of my papers and books. I was furious.
"What the fuck are you trying to do? Sabotage my homework?" I asked.
"You can't be thinking about homework, Angie. Not tonight!" I knew that Bill was up to something. He never came in my room wearing nothing but boxer shorts unless he wanted a quickie.
"Will you get outta here?" I was almost at the end of my wits. "Just take the fucking dog and leave!"
"Now, is that anyway to address Christian, Angie? You've insulted him!"
"I don't care. Leave me alone!" The next thing I knew, before I could even scream, Bill was on top of me on the floor. He tackled me quickly, pinning my arms against the carpet.
"Let go of me!" I screamed. "Leave me the fuck alone!"
"Shut up, Angie!" he growled. "You know what you want, and you're going to get it, too!"
Sure, I was horny, and I wouldn't have resisted him if he really wanted to get it on with me. But I knew that Bill was up to more of his demented tricks. Christian was knocking over stacks of books and clothes, knocking against my stereo and scratching the record.
"I'm not going to play this game with you anymore, Bill," I said, squirming under his hot, heaving body. But my stepbrother only grinned.
"This isn't a game, Angie. This is reality. This is the truth, cunt!" I saw a little trickle of drool escape his lips. He looked like a madman, doctor. An absolute raving psychotic. And I was alone, all alone, forced to do exactly what he wanted.
"Bill!" I pleaded. "I'm not an idiot. I know what you're doing to me, and I don't like it!"
"What will you do? Tell your mother?"
"Yes. I'll tell them everything about you. What a slob you are, what a pervert you are--and how you treat me when they're not around," meaning my parents.
"No you won't," he said. "And do you want to know why?"
"No!"
"Well, I'll tell you anyway!" Bill just looked at me, and I could tell by his bloodshot eyes that he was high or something. Not grass, though. Something really strong.
"I'm going to make you do something so nasty, something so embarrassing, that you won't be able to confess it to anyone, not even the priest!" His cock was growing by leaps and bounds inside his boxer shorts as he wallowed on top of me. "I'm going to tie you up, Angie. I'm going to tie you up real tight, and make you do things you'd never think of!"
I was so terrified, doctor. I could never distinguish his moods, so I had no idea whether he was serious, or if he was just trying to scare me. Either way, Bill was causing me a great deal of pain, especially when he threw me onto my back and lashed wrists together with Christian's leash.
"I'll be right back," he said, tying the knots until the leather leash cut into my skin. "I forgot something!"
He left me on the floor, crying. Only the St. Bernard seemed to have any pity for me at all, and Christian was licking my face with his big, sloppy tongue. It was then that I first realized what Bill had in mind this thing that was supposed to be so terrible. It was then that I first tried to escape.
With some effort, I managed to shimmy against the door until I was to my feet. I didn't know exactly how far I would get, but at least somewhere away from Bill, even if I had to leave the house.
"Going somewhere?" I heard his voice. "Going out?"
"Bill, I don't like this one bit. Now you just get over here and untie me this instant." I was very mad at him, so mad that I was sure he wouldn't go through with his disgusting, perverted plans for me.
"Angie, you've got to calm down," he said, grabbing my bound wrists and dragging me back into my bedroom. I fought against him, even tried to kick him in the balls. But Bill simply carried me across his shoulder, and dumped me threw me-onto the floor.
I saw what he had forgotten, doctor. Bill had more rope with him, and with this he tied my ankles to my hands. Then he set me down on my back, and in that position my knees were pointing up at the ceiling.
"I want to watch you get off," he explained, resting his hands on my kneecaps, "with Christian. I knew you want to do it, you're just too uptight, aren't you?"
"Bill! Please! I don't like this!"
"I know you want to do it. I know you're dying to too! Just relax, he won't bite you!"
Bill pulled my knees apart, and unsnapped my jeans. "Let's see how wet and sticky you cunt is, Angie. I'm sure you're hot-for a St. Bernard!"
He poked a finger into my slit and gently massaged my vaginal walls. I was wet alright, but why I don't know. I guess he really was, exciting me, and although I thought I'd pee in my pants, I knew he would never make me have sex with an animal. He couldn't be that sick, no matter what was wrong with him.
"Come here, Christian," he said, whistling. "Come here, doggie, and get a taste of something good."
Doctor, that big, lumbering dog walked over and stuck his cold nose up against my pussy! I shivered while Bill laughed. "Not a speck of cereal, is there, Christian?" he said, pushing the dog's nose even harder against my crotch. "Go on, don't be bashful. The lady here wants you to eat her!"
I tugged and twisted, hoping to escape from my bondage. My limbs were cramping, and my wrists were growing numb. When that dog began to lick my hole, slobbering all over my crotch, I felt waves of humiliation rush through my body. I knew from that moment on that Bill was a maniac a sick, sick person.
"He's got a big tongue," Bill chortled, "doesn't he? Go on, Christian. Ream her little slit!" And then, Bill fell backwards on the floor, laughing hysterically.
To add insult to injury, Bill decided to masturbate in front of me while the St. Bernard has his way with my cunt. I cringed as I felt the warm, slick tongue rolling against my hole, and all that dog saliva dripping down the insides of my legs. Some of it even slithered into the crack of my ass as Christian licked my pussy.
By this time, my humiliation was such that I was turning red all over. My body was aching, and so was my hole.
"I know you're hot, Angie!" Bill moaned, beating his meat. "And Christian's hot for you, too!"
"Stop it! Stop it!" T cried, wiggling slowly across the floor. But Christian kept following me as I crept into a corner. When I'd shut my knees, blocking off my crotch from his licks, Bill would be there to hold them wide apart.
"Don't you want to get fucked, Angie. Bet you've never been fucked by a dog before, have you?"
"No! I haven't! And you're not going to make me do it!" I knew that I could still hold out. This was just too repulsive.'
"And you know something?" he said, "I've never seen a girl get it on with a dog before. Yeah, that might not be such a bad idea."
"What are you doing to me?" I said lots of things to persuade him, even begged him to stop. I told him that I'd do anything he wanted, anything ... except the dog.
"At least," he said, guiding Christian into position, "at least he's a nice looking dog. I can gratefully say that Christian was not in the mood to mount me. However, Bill was. And what pain I was spared by the St. Bernard, Bill gave me with his brutal tool of torture-his massive prick.
This has been going on, more or less, for two years, doctor. And I can't say anything to Mom about it, because for some reason, I know that she won't believe a word of it. If only she could see what goes on when she and her husband are away. In fact, I wonder exactly what she and David do together. If father is like son, then Mom is probably frightened out of her wits.
I've been so depressed after sessions with Bill that I've considered suicide. I can't live with myself anymore. I'm not happy with sex unless Bill is controlling me, rendering me completely passive and helpless to his demented longings!
You have to help me, doctor. If I don't kill myself first, Bill might do it himself, when he's really off his nut!
CONCLUSION
The important issue in this case, and of most importance to Angie, was to make her admit her true feelings for her stepbrother. Obviously she was attracted to him, and felt very strongly for him, or she would have not let this madness, this perversion to continue.
I have told her repeatedly in our sessions that if she consents to his desires, and if Bill does not physically hurt her, then there is nothing I can do. The decision to break off their relationship will have to be made entirely by her. There are many ways of bringing this about, yet Angie refuses, under the guise of depression, to take any action herself.
Admittedly, she--likes to play rough. I can only hope that if indeed she does continue her relationship which she considers sick, now, with Bill, she will come to see it in a different light, for what it really is.
CASE HISTORY NINE
SUBJECT: Roxanne P. AGE: Fifteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Roxanne P., or Roxy as she preferred to be addressed, was an attractive, rather voluptuous young girl with a serious problem. Her father, a photographer, needed models for a certain client, and Roxanne was chosen to appear in his studio. Here is her story, unedited and uncensored.
Doctor, at first I thought my father was doing me a favor. I had always considered modeling, and in fact, my sister did some for a life drawing class at a famous art institute in the city. I'm sure you've heard of it. Sissy was very good-looking, and I've turned out even better than her, even at fifteen. So, when Dad offered me the chance to come to his studio downtown, and get some professional experience in front of a camera, I was eager to begin.
After all, the presence of a camera in the room, with all those hot lights and flashbulbs makes the situation more difficult than posing for an artist. The artist sees you in one way, but the film, it's a permanent image. At least, that's what my father told me, and I believe him.
I knew my father had lots of accounts that I didn't know about, but never would I have guessed that he did photos for smut magazines. Or that he was going to do the things to me that he did. I would have run out of there, naked before I let my father touch me! I knew I should have listened to Mom before I took him up on it.
They're divorced, my parents. I live with my mother, across town. I never knew what the trouble was between them, since they sent me away to a private school while they were going through the divorce procedures. Sissy never talks about it to me, and neither does Mom. But Mom doesn't like for me to visit my father alone, and now I know absolutely why.
I'm usually not inhibited about taking off my clothes or anything, doc. But then, I never took them off for my father before, either. I had smoked a joint before I left my mother's house, and I still felt up-tight about showing Dad my large, firm and ripe tits, or my creamy, furry bush. But once we got going with the cameras, and I was used to the whole idea, it was okay.
"I hope you brought lots of make-up," he said, "because I'm switching back from black and white to color." He wanted to try different effects, you know, so I got up from the couch he was using for a prop, and back to the bathroom, where all my stuff was.
When I passed Dad, I knew he was staring at me. It was probably the first time he had ever seen me naked before, since I grew up into a rather hot young teenager. But I never expected him to grab me, doc. Yes, grab me. He pinched my ass!
I ignored him, naively thinking he was just playing with me. He had the right ot pinch his own daughter, at least. Besides, I was mildly thrilled when he touched me. I liked the idea of appearing in Dad's work, since he's considered a pro, and highly-regarded.
But this time, when I came back from the bathroom, Dad was naked too! I wasn't ready for that, doctor. He was lying on the couch, where I had just been, with nothing on but a tee-shirt. "I just thought you'd be more comfortable with me if I took my clothes off, too. You know?" He grinned, flashing his white teeth.
"Okay, Dad. If you insist, I guess it's okay!" I knew he was excited, because I could see his hard-on poking up under the shirt. His balls were huge and swollen, doctor. And his prick jumped back and forth against his stomach!
"What should I do now, Dad?" I asked. I thought he would get up from the couch and set the cameras up again. But he didn't. He kept smiling at me, stretching his legs out as he slumped farther into the couch.
"Come here, Roxy," he said, waving his hand. "Let me see what I'll need to do."
I approached Dad, though a little nervously. "You sure have grown up, Roxy," he said, stroking my thighs with the back of his hairy hand. "You sure have come a long way in fifteen years. My, my!"
"Thank you, Daddy," I said, still uncomfortable. "I owe it all to you!"
Well, I did. I had all the best features of my handsome father, plus I had my mother's best too. Genetically, my parents were a powerhouse! I knew I was hot, and I knew my father thought so, too. But how would I handle this? I didn't want to become sexually involved with Dad!
"I've got some things planned for you that you'll really enjoy," he said, his eyes glued to my bush, which was level with his face. "I've got lots planned for you."
And then, doctor, my father did something I couldn't believe he had the nerve to do. He grasped my tender and creamy thighs, and stuck his face into my bush!
I was so startled, I couldn't know how to behave! While my father fluttered his tongue against my pussy lips and my clit, I kept thinking how Mom would react if she even knew this was happening between us. Of course, I would never have to tell her, but maybe she knew already. Maybe that's why she divorced my father!
"Daddy!' I said, feeling his tongue slither into my tight, teenage slit, "let's not do anything that we'll regret." I didn't want to take this any farther, since I have to admit that Dad's long, sloppy tongue was really making me hot. If I got any hotter, I would have to leave the room.
"Dad, I'm serious. I'm your daughter," I said, pushing his head away from my bush. "There are things that father and daughter just don't get into!" like incest, doctor. It made me sick to think about it.
But still Dad ate my wet pussy, until I was slowly slipping into a hot, sexy coma. I wanted to fall down on the floor and spread my legs. I wanted to let him into my hole, since I could see that Dad was very well hung. I wanted to let him do anything he wanted, and from the way he licked my pussy, wet and tenderly, I knew he could do it right!
But I didn't. My good conscience got the best of me, and I made an attempt to run away from him. An unsuccessful attempt, also. Pad grabbed my arm and pulled me back.
"No, Dad! I won't do this!" I said. "Let me go!"
"You knew what you were walking into when you came, Roxy. Don't play these games with me, or I'll show you some games of my own!"
"What are you talking about, Dad? Can't you see that I'm your daughter, and that what we're doing is wrong?"
"Yes," he laughed, "and that's what makes it so good! I want to sin with you, baby! Whether you like it or not!"
My father twisted my arm around my back, and then I realized exactly how twisted my father was. "Let go of me," I screamed. "I'll kill you!"
"You won't be doing much of anything, Roxy. Not after I'm finished with you. Then, the only thing you'll want to do, or be able to do is fuck! F-U-C-K! Got me?"
I tried to kick him, aiming right at his huge, swollen balls. But my daddy caught my leg in his hand, and grabbed my ankle painfully.
"Ohhhh, you're a hot little bitch, Roxy! It looks like I'm going to have to tie you down!"
"Leave me alone! Stop it!" But Daddy had me trapped in his powerful grasp. He was on top of me now, while I struggled against him. I made sharp jabs at his eyes with my fingers, but Daddy only took them between his lips and licked them wet. In other words, doctor, my father seduced me as if I were just another object for his pleasure, one of his many women. And I loved it!
No "one had ever turned me on like that before. My father is older, but he's not unhandsome or wrinkled. He knew how to treat me, hot and easy, to get me aroused to the point of exploding. I was helpless while he ravaged my body.
Helpless enough to let him tie me up, with heavy rope! With one length, he tied my hands above my head, then lowered my youthful body onto the couch. Then, with two more long pieces of rope, he bound my legs so that they were spread wide open, revealing even my slit! Dad was going to take beaver shots of me, and humiliate me like a piece of dirt! His own daughter!
"Great, Roxy," he said. "I'm going to have these framed and placed in my personal collection." I cried out for mercy, that he would leave me alone, and let me loose from my bonds. Those ropes cut into my tender flesh and tore at my nerves as well.
"Daddy! What is this, anyway?" I asked, hoping that all he would do was take pictures. "What is this?"
"Teen-age sex slaves, Roxy. That's what it is. And that's just what you are!" He clicked away, taking hundreds of pictures of me, in my bondage and humiliation, and I was powerless against him.
Well, I never told my mother about this incident, and she never knew that I went over to his studio in the first place. Mother has never come right out to tell me that my father is a dangerous man, but I'm wondering whether or not he really is sick in the head.
I love my father, even though he isn't too normal. He is very handsome, and I must admit that he turns me on better than any boy my age ever could. I've always been attracted to older men, doctor. like my teachers at school, or father's of friends of mine.
But never my own Dad. Until last week. I don't want to involve myself in a bummer relationship, but I don't want my father to lose an interest in me. I like what he does, when he treats me right. But when he makes me his slave, I feel uneasy. I feel cheap and sleazy . . .but do I ever feel hot!
Can't you help me, doctor? Dad's offered me another chance at modeling for him, but if involves leather and rope, or even chains, I'm afraid I won't be able to do it. Unless, of course, he makes me!
CONCLUSION
I tried to steer Roxy clear of anymore encounters with her father. This, as described by the attractive girl, was the first of such "modeling sessions," but there were many more afterwards. Each involved some fetish, or some perverse actions. In one instance, enemas were even employed for his pictures.
Roxy is still under my counseling, but only when she wants to see me. She is still confused about her father and his intentions. But she will never feel any less uncomfortable until she can realize exactly what he is doing to her, rather than for her.
GENERAL CONCLUSION
All forms of sex involve some sort of violence, no matter how implicit, as the act itself perpetuates the dominant/passive roles. In these eight cases, the passive roles were not always the one's chosen by the partners ... and the fact that these were children, tormented and abused by their parents, makes it even more interesting.
The damage these parents do to their children is regrettable, indeed. Marvin's stepmother, for instance, took out her frustrations on the boy, making him an all-purpose whipping post for her anger. Marvin saw it another way ... to him, his stepmother was a woman to be feared rather than trusted. How can he grow up to function normally with this terrifying paranoia; Not very well, I'm certain.
Or Krissy K. She almost didn't make it through the age of twelve, and because her mother and father were willing to sacrifice their daughter's life for their own twisted pleasure and personal lust for inflicting pain, both physical and psychological.
Debbie S. suffered greatly, but in a different way. Her own mother, convinced that her daughter was on the path to hell, kept her bound and gagged rather than see her "sin" against God. What the mother couldn't admit was her own "sinful', lust for Debbie. Now, Debbie cannot recover from the traumatic obsessions which haunt her, and she remains frigid, despite her attractive appearance and active social life.
In each case, these parents or stepparents should have been admitted to therapy, long before the symptoms of sickness were noticed in the children. But this is not always possible. Every day, parents, for whatever reasons they might have, beat, torture and humiliate their own children, and most viciously-for their own satisfaction. Sometimes this satisfaction is purely sexual, as in the cases presented in this publication. But other times it takes other forms. Sometimes it leads to death.
America is a violent society, admittedly, though there is little space to consider the different theories and implications of this obsession with violence. Flirting with sadomasochism may be fine for consenting adults who are using it to stimulate their sex lives. But to inflict pain, torturous pain on small children, and warping them possibly for life, is unexcusable, and deplorable.
