enovel Raped Innocents: Taken By Force Unknown [Future Story Codes]

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Raped Innocents: Taken By Force ....(71k)    by Unknown

GENERAL INTRODUCTION

Teenage girls, their pert young breasts and firm rounded asses peeking out of the abbreviated clothes that have become fashionable are vulnerable to the assault of the sexually depraved in our society. The incidence of rape among the teenage population is growing even larger. These patients of mine tell their harrowing stories of the brutalities they had to endure as teenage victims of rape.

Amy, age fifteen, was taken for a ride by a new school driver. "He threw me to the floor of the bus and knelt between my legs. In a flash he had ripped my panties off and was burying his head in my cunt."

Sue, age fourteen. "He took me to a secluded part of the school grounds and forced me to suck him off. He said he would kill me if I didn't do a good job."

Sprae, age sixteen. "He was the best and youngest teacher in the school. No one believed me when I told them that he raped me from the front and then ripped into my asshole."

Priscilla, age thirteen. "The boys forced me into the bathroom. While Tony and Bob held me down, the rest of them lined up, their cocks in their hands."



CASE HISTORY ONE

SUBJECT: Amy AGE: Fifteen

INTERVIEW ONE

When pixyish Amy walked into my office, I could see that there was a troubled fifteen year old behind those huge brown eyes. She was unusually tense and upset, which led me to believe that she had experienced something terrible.

She was to confess to me that she had been violently raped by her school bus driver. As she unfolded the incident for me, I came to realize just how brutal it was, not to mention traumatic.

It is presented here, verbatim, word for word.

Shit, Doctor. I don't know where the hell to start. I guess I should start when I began school this year, because that was when all the trouble seemed to start.

Let's see. Let me give you some background. I live in this small town, called Garrow's Mill. It's in Omaha. Anyway, we live about fifteen miles from the high school, so I have to take a bus. Most of the people do, as the population is so spread all over the place.

Being as I lived the farthest from the school in my area, I was always the first one to be picked up and the last one to be let off. It was good in the morning, because I wouldn't have to worry about a seat, same in the afternoon, except I got home the latest.

Anyway, the first day of school, as I was going into my tenth year, a sophomore, the routine was the same. I'd walk down to the road, almost a quarter of a mile, and wait for the bus.

But this particular morning, the bus was late, almost fifteen minutes. And when it finally came, there was a new bus driver on it. He smiled at me as I got on, and he was missing two teeth. He looked to be about forty or so, and he was tall and hadn't shaved in some time. He had a mean looking face, and when he smiled it sent chills up and down my spine.

"Hi, there," he said, grinning. "What's your name?"

"Amy," I said. "Where's Ralph?"

"He died over the summer," this guy said, referring to the same driver I'd had since third grade. "My name's Duke."

I nodded and searched out a seat. There were plenty to choose from.

I felt bad about Ralph kicking the bucket, I really did. He was almost like a friend to me, and sometimes he'd stop the bus when he got to my house and have coffee with Mom. He was a nice old man.

So school was the same that year. I landed a boyfriend not too soon afterwards either, a boy named Phil. We started to go out, whenever he could get his Dad's pickup truck.

The only thing that was bothering me was this bus driver, Duke. He smiled a lot, and he seemed to be trying to be nice, but there was something about him that I didn't like, something that scared me. I don't know what it was.

So one day, after he dropped off Mikey McAllister, who was the last one to get off before me, he took another route. I mean, it all ended up the same way in the end, but there wasn't any reason why he had to go the way he did. It just took him three miles out of the way.

"Where are you going?" I asked him.

"For a ride," he said. "I thought I'd drive us to the ice cream factory."

He must have thought I was twelve. I didn't want to go to any ice cream factory had there even been one, which there wasn't anyway.

I looked into the rearview and I saw him staring at me with those beady little brown eyes of his. He was grinning again, and I started to shake. I didn't know what the hell to think.

"I wanna go home," I said. "Let me off here!"

He didn't answer me, but instead kept driving. And he was driving further and further into the middle of nowhere, I mean out where there was nothing but hills, for miles around.

He turned down some side road that got bumpier and bumpier, until there wasn't anymore road left. Out in Omaha, most of the terrain is like that to begin with. A guy could walk around those hills and gullies for days without finding anything but more hills and gullies.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, growing frightened by this time.

"You'll find out, Sweetie," he chuckled.

"I'll have your job for this!" I yelled, through my fear.

"You wouldn't want my job," he croaked, and started to laugh. He sounded like a buzz saw when he laughed.

I don't know where we ended up. I felt trapped, helpless. As soon as he stopped the bus, I made a dash for the back exit door and started to push it, trying to open it. But it couldn't be opened unless he pulled some gizmo up front, which, all in all, made me a sitting duck.

He jumped out of the seat and started coming at me. I backed slowly to the back of the bus, walking backwards. He giggled as he came after me, taking small steps as he approached me.

"Wanna have some fun?" he asked through his teeth. "Wanna play a game?"

My lip quivered, sweat on my brow. I felt myself backing into the rear of the bus, Duke still coming after me.

"Leave me alone!" I screamed.

"I'm gonna bust your hymen!" he muttered, "and have a hell of a time doing it!"

"Help!" I cried, even though I knew there was no one for miles.

"Yeah, scream little creampuff, scream all you want!"

I tried to run past him, the only way out. He swung his arms out and scooped me into them, like an octopus. He pulled me into him and flung his arms around me in a bear-hug like position.

"I love little girls," he said, "that are young and juicy and tender pussies in my face!"

He threw back his head and laughed like the Devil. I started to shudder with mounting fear, my body literally quaking.

I started to flail my arms around. I was determined not to let him have his way with me.

"Hit me," he laughed. "Try and hit me."

So I hit him. I swung and caught him on the nose, poked him a good one. He grabbed me by the neck and started to choke me.

"Took me real literal, huh, Bitch!" he groaned, and flung me down on the floor of the bus.

I knew it was the end for me. I was powerless against him. I kicked out with my legs. Duke grabbed them and started to press down on them. I started to cry because I was so scared, and all he did was continue to laugh.

Then he pulled down his zipper.

"Surprise!" he said.

INTERVIEW TWO

Amy was still too shaken to continue her story. I suggested that she return to me the following week. I was not too sure that she would. She did however, much to my surprise.

So where was I? Oh yeah, now I remember.

So I'm on the floor, and screaming my head off. And Duke whipped out his cock and was waving it at me. It was hideous, all purple and hairy and all. And I started to cry again, tears steaming down my face.

"Like this?" he asked. "Like it, little girl? I'm going to stick it into you, little girl!"

I screamed louder and louder. He started to drop his pants and then his shorts. He sank to his knees and flopped down on top of me.

"Get off of meeee!" I yelled.

He just guffawed. He kind of wheezed when he laughed, and as I felt his unshaven cheek against mine, I could feel his bristles digging into it. It felt really creepy and gross.

And then I felt his hardened bulge against my leg. I started to scream again; I don't know why. It seemed like the only thing to do.

He started to rub my pussy. He lifted up my dress and pulled down my shorts, but not before he started to stroke it with the underpants on.

"Tender young snatch," he groaned. He put his nose up to it and began to sniff it.

Doctor, he rubbed his nose up and down my ditch. My panties were sticking to my pussy lips, they were so wet with slime. He kept snorting my panties, and really getting off on it, too. "Tender vittles," he laughed. "Not a speck of cereal!"

I knew I was in real danger. I also knew he was going to pop my cherry, and that made me really angry. The nerve of this guy, this ugly creep, to take me down on a fucking school bus and deflower my sweet hole! It makes you wonder just who your friends are, you know?

I knew he was no friend of mine. But he was acting like we knew each other since childhood! "Cutesy," he chortled, fingering my snatch. "Cute little pussy, all covered with cream!" He pulled down my panties, and . . . and stuck his goddamn tongue against my slit!

With his ugly face buried between my thighs, I could at least be spared the pain of actually looking at him. There was no use in fighting any longer, I knew. So, I closed my eyes and tried to enjoy it. I mean, I would have to have my hymen popped sooner or later. One cock is no different from another. Even this derelict might be able to give me pleasure.

Or pain! The thought of my little cherry being torn from my hole brought tears to my eyes. No matter how I tried to pretend he was someone else, Duke's slurping noises always brought me back to reality. His sloppy tongue was slithering up over my little clit. He was biting it! Electric jolts rushed through my teenage body, while my fists banged the floor of the bus.

"No! Don't! I'll tell my mommy!" I , pleaded.

"Your mommy won't give a shit," he laughed, then poked his tongue up into my cunt! He wiggled it to and fro inside my little tight twat, and the sensations that followed really got me hot.

I know it sounds strange, doc. But even though I was scared shitless, I was getting off on what he did with his tongue. No one had ever licked my little snatch before. No one. Not even my boyfriend! We hadn't progressed that far yet, though I was hoping we'd get around to it sooner or later. Now that I knew how good it felt, I couldn't wait!

He poked his finger into my slit. "Nice and juicy, the high-priced spread!" he laughed. His fingertip nudged my cherry! In desperation, I kicked at him, but he grabbed my ankles and spread my legs wide open. "Get ready for me, little girl!" he snarled, his brown beady eyes glowing. "I'm going to fill your little lust-bucket up with my scum!"

Oh, doc. I screamed. I hollered. I wept. No one could hear me, not even Duke! He seemed to think that I would love to fuck him . . . when I despised the very ground he walked on! I felt the hot cockhead nuzzle against my slimy slit. He pressed harder, and it popped right in.

Painfully, doc. I don't know how I can emphasize the pain I felt when his massive fuck-stick met the resistance of my hymen. "Stop it! Don't! You're hurting me!"

"That's the name of the game, baby!" he muttered. Drops of his spit drooled on my face as he spoke. I had to close my eyes to keep from puking, he was so hideous. I didn't know what was hurting me more-his thick tool tearing through my virgin snatch, or his pockmarked, ugly puss.

He didn't bust it right away, doc. He kept teasing me! I couldn't stand it any longer!

"Go ahead! Fuck me! Get it over with! I'm in pain!" My body was wracked with pain, so unbearable that I could scarcely breathe. He rammed it inside ... I could hear my cherry pop against the pressure of his plunging prick!

My pussy walls were tight, but not for too long. I thought he was going to snap me open with the pressure of his cock! It tore through me like a crowbar, prongs in first, and I cried real tears when he pumped it faster!

"Give me that snatch!" he growled. "Give me more!" He slithered in and out faster, harder, with brute force. This was not the way

I would imagine my first experience to be. I just wanted him to come, and take me home!

"Hot pussy!" he muttered. "I'm gonna fuck you till the cows come home!"

"It's getting late," I moaned. Now, the pain had diminished a bit, and I could actually breathe when he sent it up my twat. He grabbed my tits and squeezed them through my tight little blouse. I think he might have ripped it from my body, if I hadn't wrapped my legs around his dirty back.

Then, he really tore into me!

I hate to admit it, doc. But after awhile, I actually enjoyed the feeling inside my tight hole! It felt good and hot, and slippery when his thick, beefy tool slid in and out! It was like having someone tickle your insides, and I am very, very ticklish. I knew if he didn't stop soon, I would go crazy!

"Oh, you like it?" he growled, pumping it harder. If only he didn't have to talk, or make any noise. Then it would be bearable. But he kept moaning and screeching, and I was doing the same whenever I felt his fat cock slither up my cunt!

I opened my eyes! What a repulsive sight! His face was beet red, and through the gap in his teeth, the tip of his tongue was wiggling out of his mouth! His eyes were bloodshot and bulging out of the sockets. What was he doing to me?

"I'm gonna shoot my jizz, little girl. Right up inside your virgin hole!" I thought I would die. I was unprotected! What if I had a child by this man? The thought seemed unthinkable, but the pleasure I felt only grew stronger. He pumped me with fast, furious strokes of his dick.

Then he froze like a block of ice! His body stiffened, his muscles grew tense. Inside my freshly penetrated twat, I could feel something gooey and hot floating around. It was shooting from his cock! He was coming inside my hole, my virgin hole!

"There," he snorted, falling on top of me. I managed to crawl out from under him.

"You asshole!" I shouted. Blood was drying on my bush. "You should be shot!"

I didn't say anymore to him. I couldn't. He was lying on the floor, panting like a dog. A sick dog, at that. His face was blue, and his body was convulsing.

"Hey, wait a minute," I said. "Is this some kind of a joke?"

I jumped from the emergency door of the bus. Nothing around me but miles and miles of highway, and not a single car passed for five minutes. When finally, I flagged down a passing truck, I fainted on the shoulder of the road.

"Where am I?" I asked. "What happened?" I was sitting in a truck now, and the driver was holding something under my nose. I pushed it away.

"It's just to wake you up," he said. He pushed the yellow capsule up to my nostrils, and immediately my senses were restored.

"I'll call the police," he said. "Ill have to call an ambulance too. Your bus driver friend is dead."

"He was no friend," I snapped. "He ... " For some reason, doc, I just didn't want to hassle with telling him I had been raped. I think he probably guessed it though. Duke was lying on the floor of the bus, with his pants unhitched and his limp dick stained with blood. I sat in the cab and listened to the C.B. radio while this truck driver guy examined the bus.

"Here's your bags, little girl," he said. I had forgotten all about those books and things. "Say, what's a school bus doing out on the prairie, anyway? There ain't a school anywhere, for miles." He jumped in the cab and slammed the door.

Then he floored it. "We went to the ice cream factory," I said. "What a joke!" He might as well have told me he was Willy Wonka, or-Santa Claus.

We were heading east. "Hey, this isn't anywhere near my house. You're going in the wrong direction!"

"I have to get some gas," he said, smiling. "Don't worry. Ill get you home to your mommy and daddy, little girl." I had to return his smile, just to be polite. He was a mean looking mother-fucker, real burly with a fat gut from too much beer.

Well, doc. We kept riding and riding, and I started to count the lines in the middle of the highway, I was so bored. I didn't want to ask him again where we were going, because- I knew he'd think I was a real bitch or something. But when we passed a route sign for the Holland Tunnel, I had to speak up.

"Hey, listen. It's getting dark. I don't know where you're going, but that gas sure lasted awhile, didn't it?"

"Deisel fuel," he muttered. "Same as they use in moon rockets. It goes pretty far." I jumped when I felt something tickling my leg. It was him, doc. His beefy hand was crawling against my thigh!

"Let's pull over to this rest stop, little girl," he said. There were about five other semis parked there, and this truck driver guy said he had to use the bathroom.. I looked at his wristwatch when he left the cab. It was seven o'clock in the evening. My parents would really be worried!

"Okay," I said. Listen, doc. I'm not really dizzy or anything. I don't fall for just anything. I knew he had something on his mind. I didn't like the ring of it, one bit.

But where would I go? I had no idea. I was probably anywhere from Topeka to Omaha, it all looks the same to me.

I waited and waited. I saw him emerge from the bathroom, looking to either side of him before he came back to the truck. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and he looked pretty dirty. "Listen, if you take me home, my mom and dad will probably let you take a shower. They might even give you dinner."

"I don't eat," he said. "Affects my appetite."

"Wouldn't you like a nice shower?" I asked. "It'll make you feel real good."

"Can't bathe. Allergic to soap." He sat in the cab, motionless.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" I asked. "Let's go."

Doc, I was trembling like a leaf. You can imagine my predicament, can't you? I didn't know what he would do. He could have been an ax murderer or something!

There were lights shining through the filthy windows. Bugs were splattered all over the front of the truck! I looked at him ... he looked like a big, mean lunatic, the kind that attacks children and robs graves! I looked at his crotch! It was bulging stiff and hard!

"You know what that is, little girl?" he said.

"Don't pull this shit with me," I snapped. "I'm hip to this."

"Good. I love sloppy seconds."

He lurched forward, doc, Like a monster from Frankenstein's lab, or even Dracula! I reached for the door-it wouldn't budge!

"You're not going anywhere," he said, easing his hand under my halter. It was greasy and clammy, and my flesh broke out in goose bumps! When he wiggled his finger against my left tit, I knew I had to stop him!

My body was trembling! I couldn't breathe! I was shaking hard, but not hard enough to reach out and smack his ugly face!

"Sick little cunt! Can't you appreciate a favor?" He grabbed my wrist and twisted it until I screamed!

"Shut up!" he growled. "Or I'll fucking smash your face!"

"Yeah? Well, you just try, fatso! Everyone in this joint will wake up! They'll call the police!"

"Ha! The police! Forget about the cops, baby." He twisted my arm tighter, then pulled my halter over my head. My gorgeous titties, and he was going to eat them! Yech!"

"Leave me alone!" I shouted.

"Gimme those tits, little girl," he chortled. I was being pulled over to his seat. He crawled on top of me, probably two hundred pounds of repulsive beer flab were holding me down against the seat!

I put up a real fight. When he pushed his big, nasty tongue into my mouth, I bit it as hard as I could. I kept trying to knee his crotch, and hit him real good. I might have bitten his ear off if I could have reached it.

But when I spat in his eye, he slapped me so hard I saw shooting stars!

"You evil little bitch," he groaned. "You don't want to play, do you?"

The agony shot through my head. I couldn't stand him.

"Well, well see about that," he snarled, unhitching his belt. He snapped it from the loops and smacked me across the face again! With the back of his greasy, dirty hand!

He grabbed my arms and held them tight! I was crying so much I couldn't see through the tears. But I knew what he was going to do, doc.

He tied me up! With his belt! I was trapped with him, and he could do anything he damn pleased!

"Hot pussy!" he groaned, tickling my snatch with his ringers. I had left my panties on the bus. Duke, the bus driver, had put them in his pocket when he pulled them from my crotch.

One of his sausage fingers slipped into my twat! "Got your cherry busted, didn't you?"

He slipped another finger inside my tight twat. They were covered with calluses, and scratched my tender pussy walls! I was so frightened, I couldn't move! The belt around my wrists didn't help either. The buckle cut into my flesh every time I tried to escape.

He wasn't even going to play with me, get me wet or nothing! He was going to fuck me like I was . . . frozen stiff! Maybe he gets off on that type of thing, but I sure as hell don't. I knew he wanted to hurt me. He didn't even use spit!

His huge, ugly prick popped out of his jeans. He held it limp in his hand, and I watched in terror as it throbbed to full length and stiffness. The veins pulsed with blood, the cockhead turned dark crimson! He kept jerking his ringers around my hole, which was bad enough. What would that monster feel like tearing through my slit?!

"Let's see how you like being fucked by a truck driver," he grunted like a pig. He was a pig, doc. A pig who liked little girls! In his eyes, my voluptuous body was just another slab of bacon, a sow in heat! His fat, ugly cockhead popped in hard!

He slammed it into me, doc. All of his cock just tore through me with one stab! I felt like skewered pussy, teething on his hot, stiff prick!

Each time he pumped my twat, I gasped for air. My pussy was still tight, and swollen from the first painful rape of the afternoon. His pecker was really thick and long, and I didn't know if it was even going to fit inside me!

The heat was unbearable. His body stank like a sewer! Each time he pumped his cock, another wave of armpit stench hit me in the face like a hot, wet fist. His crotch was smelly, too. I could detect the sickening fumes wafting through the van. His greasy hair was hanging over his eyes! I had to close my eyes, he was so revolting!

Something wet hit my cheek! Something wet and nasty! I looked up at him, and he was drooling like a madman. Every time he bucked his hips, another drop of spit would dangle from his ugly chapped lips.

I screamed, I hollered every time his hot cock shot up my aching hole! You would think, that with all those other trucks parked nearby, someone would have heard me! But no one even bothered to knock on the door or look through the window.

He was fucking me so hard, I could feel the cab shake beneath me. That was a pretty heavy-duty truck, too. I wondered if I'd ever be able to ball again, once he stripped my cunt walls bare with his pumping cock.

I guess I was really turning him on, being so helpless, because this truck driver guy who raped me loved to hear me scream.

"Keep it up, babe!" he hollered. "I wanna hear you moan!" I couldn't catch my breath, much less make noises! But when he pinched my titties with his sausage link fingers, I gave him what he wanted-loud!

His cock grew another inch as it tore up my aching cunt! I knew he was going to come, because he was acting the same way my bus driver did. The veins in his temples were standing out like throbbing mountains! His teeth were chattering while he snorted through his nose! He put it to me faster than ever! I couldn't take any more!

"Hurry up!" I shouted. "Please hurry! Before I puke!"

He froze stiff- and shot his wad all over the inside of my pussy! The other jizz hadn't even dried yet, now my pussy felt like one big wet noodle. I groaned like a pig while he came. If I could have moved my hands, I would have plugged my ears, it was so hideous!

He lay on top of me for what seemed hours, catching his breath and drooling over my titties. Finally, when he did come to life, he grabbed another yellow capsule and snapped it under his nose.

"Please," I cried. "Let me go! You don't want to keep me here, do you? You might get into a lotta trouble, you know?"

He collapsed over the steering column. "Yeah, you're right," he said. My hands were soon untied, and I was free at last!

"Get out!" he muttered.

"You bet, asshole!" I shouted. "I'm going to stand here and scream until the police come by!" He threw me my halter and slammed the door.

I was standing in the middle of the parking lot. It must have been very late, because there wasn't any traffic on the interstate. I didn't even have a dime for the telephone! What was I going to do?

I had to interrupt Amy at this time, since our time was over. Another session would have to be arranged for the following week. While my secretary made arrangements with Amy's mother for last week's bill, I prescribed a mild tranquilizer for the voluptuous but traumatized young girl.

INTERVIEW THREE

When I asked Amy where she would like to begin, she seemed confused.

Doc, I'm not finished with my story, yet. You haven't heard the half of it, not at all.

Don't look at me that way, doc. You make me nervous, really. I'm trying to tell you exactly what happened to me that evening. I know it's hard to believe, but you've got to help me, doc.

I walked through the parking lot, around to the other trucks where I -found another driver ready to pull out. I reached up and knocked on his window, but I didn't trust him, either.

"What the hell? . . " he said, opening the door. "What are you doing out here? It's ten o'clock!"

"I'm freezing, mister," I said. It was the middle of September, and all I had on was my torn halter, "Can't you let me inside?"

"Sure," he said, searching his pockets for change. "I'll go grab you some coffee!"

I leaned back in the seat. "What have I got myself into this time?" I asked myself.

There was no telling what this guy would be like. But there was something about his face that made me want to trust him, even though I was scared shitless.

My twat was sore and stained with come. I remembered the numbers of the truck driver's license. Was I ever going to get his ass! I'd go to court, for sure, and tell everyone exactly what he did to me, just like I'm telling you now, doc.

This guy came back with the coffee. I decided to find out his name, in case he tried to pull any shit.

"George," he replied. "And you?"

"I'm Amy," I said. "I would really appreciate it if you called the police."

"What happened to you? You been raped or something?"

"Yeah. Right next to your truck, mister."

"I was crashed-out," he said. "I didn't hear a fucking thing."

"Mister, I know this sounds funny," I said, not really knowing how I'd finish, "but will you promise not to touch me?"

He nodded.

"Good." I felt a little better now, at least I could trust him. "We should get you to a hospital."

"No. I don't want to go to a hospital," I said. "Just call the police. I'll tell them who my parents are, and where they live." I knew that Mom and Dad were probably worried sick. My panties would be found on the bus driver's dead body. They had my name sewed into the elastic, too, from summer camp! They'd think I was dead or something.

"It's really lucky you're alive," he said. He took the coffee from a bag and pressed my trembling fingers around the steaming paper cup. "I'm sorry. You didn't want me to touch you."

"It's okay," I said. I actually liked him, doc. He was very handsome, a young guy. He might have been twenty or twenty-five. He had nice eyes, too. I knew he wouldn't hurt me at all.

"Where do you live?" he asked. When I told him, he shook his head. "That's a hundred miles from here," he said. "You have a long drive ahead of you." George told me he couldn't take me home, but he would call the police on his CB. "They'll take you home, Amy."

I sipped the coffee and felt almost human again. I heard the radio squeak and hiss when he called in the information. In fifteen minutes, the police were there. State troopers, even.

I waved goodbye to George, and he smiled. I told him I'd really like to see him again, but he didn't seem to think our paths would cross.

"Aren't you going to turn around?" I asked. "I want to go home."

"We're not going to take you home," said the driver, Sgt. Fairfax. "That's out of the question."

"Why is it? My parents are worried sick!" "They'll have to come and pick you up, Amy," said the other officer. I was sandwiched in between them both, and there really wasn't enough room in the front seat for all of us. I told them I'd sit in the back seat, because I was really tired and wanted to rest up a bit. But they both insisted that I take the front seat. "Where are we going?"

"To headquarters," said the cop to my right. His name was Fairchild, and I kept getting them mixed up. "What's your first name?" I asked.

"Bill," he said.

"And you?" I asked the driver.

"Will." I just gave up and called them "hey, you." The patrol car pulled onto the exit ramp and onto another freeway. The moon was shining bright, and all around the car I could see acres and acres of nothing.

"Listen," I said. "Can we stop to use the bathroom?"

"Sure," said the driver. "But you'll have to use the side of the road. Nothing around for miles and miles." He pulled his car over to the shoulder of the highway, and I climbed out.

It's really embarrassing, doc. They could see me clearly, no matter how far I moved from the car. They were watching me squat to pee, too. I knew it.

"Let's go, Amy," said Will. Or was it Bill? I don't even remember. Anyway, he got out to let me inside the car. I saw the two troopers exchange glances, and I thought something was up.

It was. I could see the erection poking against the driver's crotch when he turned the lights on inside the car. It looked big, all right, big and hot as it wiggled against his leg. I didn't like the looks of this one bit.

I felt something pawing at my tits. It was the other guy! He was wiggling the tip of his finger into my right boob. When I looked at him with disgust, he just smiled.

The car just sat there. The engine didn't even turn over! And when the lights went out, I felt two sets of hands probing my body. I was squeezed between them like a sardine!

"NO! LET ME GO!!!" I hollered. These were supposed to be the police! They were supposed to be my friends! I was supposed to be going to the station house!

But they were going to rape me!

I felt a hand tickle my pussy. This time, I wasn't going to put up a fight. I didn't have much energy in my body left to fight with, besides, it wasn't any good anyway. They were so much bigger than me!

"Cute little snatch!" he growled. "Nice and tender!"

"I like her tits," said the other cop. "Bite sized!" Soon, I felt one tongue lapping away at my slit, and another slashing across my tit meat! Can you believe it? The state troopers!

He licked my pussy, he licked my clit! He dug his tongue into my little almost virgin hole and wiggled it up and down my pussy walls. My screams turned to giggles and moans as he tickled my slit with his sloppy wet tongue!

The other cop was taking one of my luscious boobs in his mouth and licking them wet and slippery! I could feel it burning from the inside as he fluttered his tongue against my slick tit. When he sucked the other tittie and worked on it, I knew I was going to faint.

They had me, doc. They had my luscious fifteen-year-old body all to themselves. Not another car was on the highway that night. They even took me outside and did it to me on the hood of the car! They handcuffed me to the door and fucked me for hours! Even up the ass!

I just can't go on, doc. No more! I know I was just a victim of fate, and fate works in strange ways sometimes.

They didn't take me to the station house, either. When I woke up, it was morning. I managed to hitch-hike to Kansas City, and a place that took care of runaways. Please don't make me tell you what happened there. It wasn't exactly the best place to spend the night.

But they did give me some money, and some new clothes, too. They put me on the bus for home, and my parents were so overjoyed to see me, alive and breathing, that they haven't let me out of their sight for a month now.

But that isn't the problem, doc. The problem is with my boyfriend. I really like Steve, and I know he likes me. He's just as curious about my body as I used to be about his. He's been trying to get it on with me for two weeks now, and there's nothing I'd like to do but give him all I've got!

When he gets it up, though, and wants to ball me, I freeze solid cold! I can't seem to enjoy sex with him. I'm not sure that I could enjoy sex with anyone, after my terrible ordeal. That was the last bus ride I ever took from school. My mom comes after me now, in her station wagon. She even carries a mace gun, too. I'm not all that worried about being attacked again ... I just want to have fun, like any other fifteen-year-old.

But I went out with Steve last week, and everything seemed to be going all right! We went to the drive-in with his brother's car! It was really the first time that we had been alone together in days. I knew he wanted to get it on, by the way he kept tickling my pussy.

"Steve! That feels so good," I giggled.

"That's just so nice!" I wiggled my thighs together around his hand and clenched it with my flesh.

"Let me kiss your pussy, Amy. Let me, huh?" He looked at me so tenderly, I just had to say yes, even though I knew what would happen to me.

I was wearing blue jeans, but they had been pulled down around my knees since the time the movie began. I played with his cock while he licked and sucked my hole. He stuck his tongue inside my slit, and I really dug the way he made me feel. My twat was leaking with streams of my pussy juices, and Steve was so excited that he drank it from my slit! That felt incredible, doc.

But when he found my stiff, red clit, and worked on that - I felt afraid of him, doc. I didn't want to be with him anymore, and I almost jumped out of the car! Instead, I just lay there, and let him get worked-up over my snatch. What if he tried to fuck me? What would I do then?

"Let's do it," he whispered. "Oh, Amy. Let's do it, tonight!"

"Do what?" I asked. I tried to get him off the subject. "Why don't we go home instead?"

"Aw, Amy! Why are you doing this to me?"

"Do what, Steve?" I asked? "What are you talking about?" I tried to act innocent, doc. I really didn't want to hurt him. I knew he was excited over my gorgeous young body. I knew he wanted to ball me, in the back seat of his brother's car.

"You know, Amy! I want to ball you!" The words stung my ears. I didn't know whether to just lie there, or to climb out into the parking lot. Each time I thought of fucking him, my mind wandered back to that awful day on the school bus! Instead of Steve's face, I saw the ugly face of Duke, the toothless bus driver! Or the body of the truck driver instead of Steve's humpy physique! I could even smell the stench again, all over!

But there was something else that scared me more than anything! I wasn't a virgin anymore. Steve knew of my disappearance, but I was too embarrassed to explain that I was raped that evening-three times! I just told him that I had run away from home!

Steve was hot to bust my hymen, that I knew! When he stuck it in me, he would find out for sure that I was not a virgin. I promised myself to him, weeks and weeks ago. What would he think of me?

I could feel his cock up against my clit, rubbing past the pussy lips as it nudged against my hole! I wondered if I could enjoy sex with Steve, but I knew the answer when he slid his big fat penis in my cunt!

"Oh, Steve!" I moaned. "Steve! Noooooo!" It was crawling up my pussy walls, and all I could think of was the terrible pain I felt when the bus driver popped my cherry! It was horrible, doc, to lay there and watch him pump it to me.

"No! No! NO! STOP IT!" I screamed. Steve had no choice, I guess. He was afraid that the other people in the drive-in would hear me.

"I'm sorry, Amy," he apologized. "I didn't mean to hurt you or anything!"

"I'm sorry too, Steve," I explained. "But

- I just don't feel like it tonight! I have a headache. I think I might have a cold!"

He took me home, and we kissed goodnight at the door. "Can I see you again, Amy?" he asked. He looked so dejected.

"Of course!" What else could I say? Maybe next time I could feel the same excitement he felt. I thought about it when I went to sleep that night. What was I going to do?

The next time out with Steve was just as much of a disaster! "Baby, let me get into your pants," he moaned. "Let me, huh?"

"Oh, Steve! Why are you so impatient? You always want to rush things!" But inside, I knew that it wasn't Steve who turned me off. It was the lingering memory of the rapes that froze my body. If only I could make him understand my problem. But I didn't even understand it, doc. I still don't.

"I'm sorry, Amy," he said. "But when am I going to get to ball you? We've been talking about it for a long time!" Anxious Steve! He was such a virgin! I wanted to help him get over his condition. But how, when each time he touched me, I trembled with recurrent fear of brutal rape?

For a while, I felt really depressed. When I saw Steve at school, I couldn't even talk to him. I tried to avoid him, thinking that he would lose interest in me. And that worked for awhile, until he confronted me again.

"There's my mother," I said, pointing to the station wagon. "I have to go. I'll talk to you tomorrow, maybe." I hopped in the car and waved goodbye.

"Mom? I feel terrible," I said. "I just don't know what to do about..."

"About what, dear? Is something wrong at school?"

If only my mother knew what was wrong. It had nothing to do with school, either. "No, Mom. It's personal."

"Oh," she said. "Is it about - the accident?" That's what my straight-laced Mom called my rape. She can't even bring herself to speak of it, much less than give me advice.

"Never mind, Mom." On the way home, which is a long ride, I kept thinking how much

I'd really like to get it on with Steve. When I lay in bed at night, thinking about how nice he is, my pussy gets wet and my head spins in circles! I can masturbate perfectly well.

But when Steve gets near me with that prick of his, I can't even think of sex. I feel like it's something I don't understand.

That evening, I tried to talk about my problem to Dad. "Daddy, do you know what causes ..." But I couldn't say it!

"What, honey? What's the matter?"

"Oh, it's my boyfriend," I said. I didn't want to confess my problems to Dad. He might be upset if he thought I was balling Steve. Leslie, my best friend, told me that her father hit the ceiling when he found out she was pregnant. Daddy still thinks of me as his little girl.

"Amy, I think you let these things bother you too much," he said. "You're just young, and romantic. You'll learn to deal with it, though."

"Yeah," I said. "Some help you are, Dad." Well, he had been drinking anyway, like he always does after a day at work. I shouldn't have disturbed him in the first place.

I was turning around to leave the room when he called me back! "Oh, Amy?" he asked.

"What, Daddy?"

"Never mind."

I went up to bed. No use in doing homework this evening, I thought. I just wanted to go to sleep right away, and forget my problems. I fell fast asleep, all right. But I was awakened by the creaking of the door.

"Who's that?" I asked. "Who's there?"

No answer, doc. Just heavy breathing.

"Mom? Is that you?" I reached to turn on the light, and something grabbed my wrist. It was a man's hand.

My father's!

"Daddy! Why are you up so late?" I asked. "I was waiting for your mother," he whispered. "She's not coming home, though." "Oh? Where is she?"

"She had a flat! She's staying with her sister tonight!" He sat on the edge of my bed, still holding tightly to my wrist. "I told her I'd make sure you were all right!"

"Well, Daddy," I said. "That's very sweet. But I really want to go to sleep!" He didn't leave the room.

He just sat there, breathing loudly. I felt his hand fondling my tit! What was he doing to me?

You guessed it doc. He was going to rape me! He was drunk as a skunk, and acting like a gorilla!

"My little girl," he growled. "Give Daddy a taste of your tits!" I jumped from the bed, but Dad pulled me back. "Stay where you are, Amy. I want a piece of your ass!"

Oh, doc. How I fought him. It hurt me to see him in this condition, but I knew he was going to have his way with me, no matter what I did.

I kicked at him, beat him with my free fist (which he quickly grabbed), even howled so loudly that the neighbors could hear. But Dad could not be discouraged.

He tackled me on the bed, holding me down with his weight. "Little sugar drop, you sweet little snatch. I'll show you things your boyfriend hasn't thought of yet!" I could feel Dad's flaming hot cock against my leg, throbbing and pulsing with blood. He licked my titties wet and slimy with his tongue.

But this time, I didn't freeze up like I usually do. In fact, I was excited!

Yes, doc. My pussy was leaking like a faucet. Steaming cunt juice slithered down my hole and my pussy lips were glistening while they tingled! Daddy tickled my snatch just like Steve did, but I loved it! Even when he pushed his ringer into my hole, I was begging for more!

I can't understand it, doctor. I just can't! Why would I be hot for Dad, when the thought of Steve, or any other guy turned me cold? Why, after my rape, was I getting off on this incest?

I don't know. I don't care, either. I closed my eyes while Dad sucked my tit and mouthed it hotly with tender kisses. Another finger slipped into my snatch - and I saw skyrockets explode across the ceiling of the room! He found my red, aching clit with his thumb, and tickled it until I laughed myself sick!

"I'll show you a good time, Amy!" he growled, sliding his cockshaft against my pussy lips! "I'll take care of all your little problems, with my big, thick cock!"

I was so glad to hear those words, doc. But I was even more happy to feel it slide in, thick and hot, and slither up my wet, dripping pussy walls.

And I enjoyed it, doc! I really enjoyed it! He was drunk, yes, but it sure didn't affect his performance, not one bit! His ass rose and fell, each time thrilling me with his steaming thrusts of passion. I took it all gladly, thankful that at last I could feel what real pleasure was all about!

He kissed me while his hands squeezed my tits. I swallowed his tongue, too, all of it. It tasted of bourbon, but I didn't care, doc. I sucked his tongue like it was his prick! And when Daddy pulled it out from my mouth, he kissed my neck, my chin, even my eyes! I loved it!

I could feel something happening inside me! It felt weird, like tension. I thought I was getting sick or something, but I didn't feel the least bit bad.

Daddy's hot cock slid up and down faster and harder than ever! Now I realized what that feeling was. It was an orgasm. My first ever! It was coming on strong, and I didn't know whether to hold it back, or just let go!

"Oh, Amy! Amy!" he cried. "I'm going to come!" I knew if Dad was ready, I was too! I closed my eyes real tight, and let out a blood curdling scream. I felt my pussy erupt like a volcano as hot spunk from his pecker shot up my slit!

You might think that was terrible doc. But I sure don't. It was my first climax, and the first time I had ever enjoyed sex. Even though it is a taboo, as you say, it doesn't matter to me.

Daddy saved me from a life of frigidity - and I thank him for it everyday. With my hands, my mouth, and my sweet, succulent pussy!

Well, you would think that by the time I saw Steve again, I would be ready and anxious to finally get it on with him. We planned a big evening, and Steve spent lots of money on me, more than he really needed to. He wanted to impress me, and he did most of the evening.

Until he wanted to ball me! "Come on, Amy! We've been wasting our time! Let's stop fooling ourselves."

Doc. I felt sick again. Why, I don't know. But all the old fears and awful memories came right back to me when Steve touched my body.

What is wrong with me? I know that it isn't every day that a little girl meets so much trouble. I want to live, I want to enjoy myself like other fifteen-year-olds. Is that really too much to ask?

CONCLUSION

The important thing to emphasize in Amy's case is that this sort of thing is not the least bit uncommon. Many women, some older than Amy, experience sexual dysfunctions after the trauma of brutal rape.

But Amy, still in her formative years, still finds the experience so heavy on her mind, she can no longer even think of herself as a sexual being. I have tried to help her in any way that I can. If she continues treatment, she may find that sex with her boyfriend can be a beautiful thing. Something to treasure and enjoy.

I suspect that Amy feels some guilt over the death of the man who raped her. But with time, she will face up to her guilt.

CASE HISTORY TWO

SUBJECT: Carmine AGE: Sixteen

INTERVIEW ONE

When Carmine first walked into my office, I couldn't help but see that he was upset about something. He didn't come right out and say that there was something wrong, but I could tell.

He is a muscular yet lean young lad. His handsome face however, shows age that doesn't appear anywhere else in his anatomy.

His story, upon relating it to me, was one that I have to freely admit that I'd never heard before. And in this line of work, I come across one heck of a lot of sickies. I will, nonetheless, allow him to tell you firsthand, via a Panasonic recorder.

Thanks, Doc. Shit, this office is something else.' Why, I bet I could get ten bills for that clock over there. Better keep your eye on it.

Heyyyyy! Do I sound like the Fonz? He's my main man, see? I really dig the Fonz.

It's a long story, see? And I wouldn't even be here if I didn't have the choice, which I didn't. Who the hell wants to get his head shrunk anyway? What do I look like? One of them nigger natives what runs around with no clothes on?

I'm really confused. Mind if I smoke? No, these are just Marlboros. I wouldn't do nothin' like toking up in your office. That wouldn't be nice, would it?

So I guess you wanna hear about my story, why I hadda come see you. I didn't want to, but they made me. The cops made me come here, after what we done at that school that day.

I'm on probation, see, and I can't do anything to violate it.

So I guess I just hafta do what they say, and then maybe tell you why I'm here in the first place.

So alright, I tell you.

I'm sixteen, see? And I been a member of a street gang on the Lower East Side since I was nine or ten. I don't really remember too well. It ain't all that important anyway.

So the name of the gang is "The Paragons. We got, from what I hear, branches from all over the place, from Brooklyn (my cousin Frankie is in the Paragons of Bensonhurst) all the way out to Long Island, although I don't know no one who belongs to any of those.

We're punks, really. I'll admit that myself. All we ever did was steal fruit from Hobson's, down the street on Avenue A. That's where I live. It's the pits. I mean, what a shithole! Papa has an eight room apartment and he pays a hundred and fifty a month for it. So you can just imagine what the hell it looks like over there where I live.

And then once, about a year ago, old man Hobson planted some decoy cops near his store, see, because we was always ripping him off and I guess he was gettin' kinda tired of it. So that night when we're all on our way home, we stops there and steals some apples and stuff. And we start running.

All of a sudden we hear three shots fired, and someone yells, "Stop, this is the police."

I don't really know if they expected us to stop or not. But they wouldn't shoot at us anyway.

We was pissed off though! Shit, was we mad at Hobson. We never did anything to him except steal fruit. Shit, we even made a deal with him where if he caught anyone else stealin' fruit we'd go and beat their heads in. And this is how he pays us back, the basset.

We don't take no bull-sheet from no one, see? So that next day, just as he's getting ready to close up for the night, we all slips our knives into his belly. He falls to the ground and lays there, dyin' from losing too much blood. And he did die.

The cops couldn't do nothin' to us, because there weren't no witnesses. So we all got off.

But that's just an example. That weren't nothin' compared to what we done the week after that. I'll tell you about that now.

But before I do, I gotta tell you about Crazy Carl. Crazy Carl and me are real tight, what with growin' up together and everything. He's really something else, you know?

Anyway, Carmine has what they call, what is it, a photographic memory. He can remember what the winning hand was in a poker game that we played three years ago. I mean, this guy is really amazing.

And he's real good at cards. One night, about a year ago, we was having an all night poker game at Tommy Udo's house. We're playing for big stakes; dime a point. Don't sound like much but believe me, it adds up.

So I'm losing my shirt like you wouldn't believe. And we're playing this last hand before we call it quits. I'm down twenty, maybe thirty dollars, and this pot, the last one, is just about all anyone's got.

So Carl's playing at the table next to me. And his game breaks up, see, and he dallies over and looks at my hand, like he looks at everyone's hand. And he talks for a minute or two, and then he walks outside, and then he goes home.

Anyway, the phone rings and Tommy goes to answer it. He says it's for me. I picks up the phone and says hello.

"Carmine?" he says.

"Yeah?" I answers.

"Listen, Carmine," he says, "you got it sewn up! I mean that hand is yours if you play it right."

"Whaddaya mean?" I asks.

"Just throw away the three and the King," he says, and says, "and then raise Tommy thirty cents."

So I does what he says and sure as shit, when I put my cards down, I see that I won, and I haul in the kitty.

He memorized all the hands, that crazy bastard. He made me almost eighty bucks that night, and for what he done, I gives him twenty. Least I could do, don't you think so?

Anyway, down to business. The Paragons are tough. I mean, we defend our turf and when someone gets in our way, we let 'em have it.

We mean business.

We did these little stings, nothing much. A sting is another word for robbery. We robbed a lot of stores, and I done some time in juvenile hall for what I done. But when I get out, it's always back to the Paragons. Why shouldn't I? They're my friends, and us friends gotta stick together.

I think we should, anyway, and all my buddies agree with me.

Now, when it comes to chicks, well, that never were much of a problem, because there were always plenty around. But we gotta remember that Italian chicks are off limits. Why, I knew this one guy, Eddie Colletti. He was fucking some pretty Italian chick in her house one day, and her mother comes home, along with her three brothers, and they catch Eddie in beddie with this Italian girl.

Well, her old lady gets sore as hell. "Who's gonna wanna marry a girl what ain't a virgin?" she yells. And she carries on and rants and raves. But this girl's brothers aren't so nice. They take a kitchen knife and cut his cock off and then they threw him out the window. Eddie bled to death before they even cut it off anyway.

Gruesome, no? I think so. But that ain't nothing. I know if I hadda sister, and I caught her wit' someone, I'da done the same thing.

Puerto Rican chicks always fuck nice. They don't lay there and act like they're dead like some of the Italian chicks or some of the other chicks in the neighborhood. They're great, but they can be a pain in the asshole sometimes.

I was fuckin' some cutie named Consuela. I swear, that was her name. Right off of the boat from Rico, too. But she hardly don't speak no English at all, and I likes that. She yells at me and shit, but I don't care 'cause I never know what the hell she's talkin' about.

I met her in the park. She seemed to like me, and I asked her did she wanna fuck for awhile. And she nods, but I don't think she really understood what I was talkin' about.

So I takes her home and my brother Fausto got there first, 'cause he's already asleep in the bed. See, there's eight of us in that apartment, and whoever gets home first gets to sleep in the beds. But most of the eight are brothers, so most of 'em don't come home anymore anyway. So when I do go home, sometimes there's a bed for me, sometimes not.

Anyway, there he is, my brother Fausto. He's a pain in the ass anyway, 'cause he's going to college next year and he thinks he's hot shit, but I knows he ain't nothing but cold turds.

Consuela's standin' next to me, and I knows that she ain't never seen a house like mine before. There ain't much; Papa's been outta work for seven years, and all we got's welfare money, plus whatever the brothers can steal.

So I kicks Fausto in the groin and tells him to wake up. And he wakes up and tells me what I want, 'cause he's sleepin'.

So I tells him that I got me a cutie I wanna fuck, and I tells Consuela to say hello to Fausto.

"Come esta," she says.

"This one don't speak English either, huh?" Fausto asks.

"Of course she don't, jerkhead," I says. "Them that speaks English don't never want anything to do with me."

So Fausto and me makes a deal. He gives me the bed if he can have a crack at her when I'm through. That sounds reasonable, I tells him, and he asks me where did I learn a word like reasonable anyway?

I tells him to move, and he does, and then I throw her down on the bed and go for her clothes.

Well, she didn't know that this was what I meant before, and she starts to scream. But it's too late for that, 'cause she's in my house and there ain't a damn thing she can do about it.

And she knows it.

So, she lays there like a limp dick while

I'm dippin' my wick into her. And she seems to like it, but with spies you never can tell.

"No, se quenta!" she yells as I'm pounding my meat into her. I can tell that it's hurtin' her, and I likes that a lot, 'cause when it hurts the girl, you know you're doing something right, see?

Anyway, Fausto's watchin' us and he's gettin' hornier by the minute. And he comes over and asks me can he come into it too, and I asks him how he would do that.

Fausto don't say a whole lot though; he never did, even when we was babies. He's all action, Fausto is, and he never talks about what he's gonna do.

So he strips down naked and hops on the bed with us. This Consuela is still kickin' and screamin', and she didn't know that old Fausto had a treat in store for her.

He sticks his cock into her asshole, as deep as he can get it. She lets out a wail that'd curl your hair, but I can see that she's really diggin' it, more than she would have thought.

So I sticks it back into her cunt, and the three of us are layin' on our sides and Fausto's into her so deep that I can actually feel his cock rubbing up against mine, but there was something separating us, a wall like. But I can feel him in her, and he can feel me, and we both starts laughin' and then we both starts coming at the same time, and let me tell you, that was something else, something more than I could have asked for.

I fucked her a few more times, but it wasn't enough. She liked it nice and easy and gentle like, and that ain't the way I like to play. When I fuck, I like to send her bow-legged.

So that's about it for now. I can tell that it's time for me to go back to the hostel, or whatever they call it. I got me into a fight with some pussy down there last night, and the man who runs that dump wants me to leave, to go somewhere else. But that'd be fine with me.

So I'm going now. I'm supposed to come back next week, right? And I bet you think I won't come back. But I will.

INTERVIEW TWO

Actually, I hadn't really expected Carmine to return at all. But, to my surprise, he did with a smile on his face, something else I hadn't expected to see either. But he seemed to be willing to tell me everything, to "spill his guts" as it were.

The following is the conclusion of his story, one that will delight and maybe even give you something to think about.

So where did I leave off? Consuela, right?

Okay, so now I remember. So after that night with Fausto, I fucked her a few more times, but she didn't like the way I played the game, so she left me, not that I cared though. Chicks like her are a dime a dozen.

The Paragons decided one night at a meeting that it was time to start payin' society back for shittin' all over us. That was how we felt, that we was getting fucked up the asshole by the people. Society, Johnny called them.

I didn't know who or what he really meant when he said society, but I guessed that he meant society was someone who'd cheated his folks out of their rent or wouldn't give them any heat or someone who turned off the lights in Johnny's house.

Johnny said that society were the ones who told us what to do and how to live and how many kids we should have and all that. He said that society were the ones who were in charge of welfare money, and that it made them think they could walk all over us, I believe. We all wanted to go out and kill someone, kill them until they were dead. We didn't know who, but that never seemed to make any difference.

Johnny said that we should attack the school near the park. It was a junior high school. I suppose that it was the perfect place, because none of us had even made it to the eleventh grade, and we were all jealous I guess.

It seemed like just the right place for us to attack. I mean, what could stand for society more than a school? Where they told you what to do and how you were suppose' ta' live the way they told you to live.

So we attacked the school.

But this wasn't something we could just do, y'understand. We had to make all these plans, like we always seen in them war movies they'd show on Saturday afternoons. We all sat down and planned out how we was going to do this, and by that night, we knew and we were ready to attack them the next day.

And we weren't alone either. Shit, we called out the Omegas, and the Delta gang and the Red Fox gang and a few others, so all told there were about three hundred of us from all over the place.

I think though, that most of them just wanted to kill a few people, and not because they was gettin' screwed by society or anything like that. These guys were a little less than morons who'd kill anything that moved. I was considered a tough kid, and I was afraid of some of these guys. I was glad that they were on my side! So that next day, about one in the afternoon, we all assembled down by the pier. I'd never seen so many guys before, and they had all come prepared, what with the chains and the zip guns and everything else. Car antennas were also big, 'cause they could, if someone hit you in the face with one, leave a flap of skin hanging down, that used to be your cheek. I know; I seen it before.

"Okay," Johnny said. "Let's go."

We went in groups, so that the cops wouldn't think that we were plannin' a raid. Somehow, they always seemed to know when something was going down. I guess among us, what with there bein' two or three hundred, there was bound to be a stoolie somewhere with us. So we didn't say when or where we was going to attack until the last minute.

It was P.S. 45, over on First Avenue, between Eighth and Ninth Streets. It was perfect too, because no one there was older than thirteen, and they were all easy makes.

Half of one group went up Third, another went on Second, and another on First and another on Avenue A and all the way down the line. And we went in groups, say ten or fifteen to a group. That way, if one group was stopped, there'd be backups like.

We learned all about this when we'd watch those movies and see the Americans always knocking the shit out of the Nazis. I always liked when Nazis died, 'cause they're scumbags.

I was scared. I mean, we done this before, but these were little kids we was gonna attack, and they ain't never done anything to us before. Never, not once. They never did nothin' to me and so why should I do somethin' to them?

Anyway, it got me to thinkin' that what we was doin' was really wrong, that we shouldn't have been doin' what we were gonna do. I couldn't say nothin' though, 'cause then they'da come down on me.

I ducked into a pay phone on the way there and called the fuzz. I told them everything, and that if they didn't want a lot of dead people on their hands, they'd better get their asses down there fast, mighty fast, 'cause these things only took ten minutes or thereabouts. Really, that was all it ever took to wreck a school or a baseball game or something. Sometimes even less. Gang wars never lasted long, 'cause the cops would come and break it up.

We got to the school. Someone must'a tipped them off at the last minute, 'cause they were ready for us when we got there. All the doors were barricaded, but they didn't have enough time to get the kids out, 'cause we could see them.

We surrounded the school and moved in for the kill. I never seen anything like this before in my life, 'cause there were what seemed like millions of us, not them, but us. Hundreds, all carrying weapons of some sort.

We heard everyone scream as we broke into the school. They couldn't stop us either; it would have been like trying to catch a falling atom bomb. There was nothing they could do to stop us.

We smashed in all the windows and guys started climbing through. For some reason, I remembered learning about Max Houston and the Alamo when - he was massacred by the Mexicans. Remember that? That's what it looked like kind a.

I went in through the front door. The janitors had been guarding it, but they ran away when they seen how many of them there were of us! Was that funny!

Johnny was like a crazed dog, foamin' at the mouth. I really think that this was the way he managed to get his jollies all the time. By breakin' people's necks.

Which is what he did. Twenty of us stormed into a classroom, and to our surprise, the teacher had a fuckin' Saturday night special. That's a gun, the cheapest piece of shit they sell. But they don't cost much and they work better than zip guns anyway, which is about as crude as you can get.

Anyway, this lady teacher, she wasn't too old either and kinda pretty, points the gun at Johnny and me and tells us to stand where we are and if we dare lay a hand on her students, she'd waste us. That's what she said; that she'd waste us.

Well, old Johnny don't like some fat assed woman telling him what to do, and he dives at her and catches her when she ain't lookin'. She screams and he manage to wrestle her to the ground.

He starts punchin' the shit outta her, and all the girl students are cryin' and screamin'. And they didn't do nothin' wrong either, so I felt sorry for them, considerin' that we hadda beat the shit outta them.

Johnny gets the gun, and he sticks it in the teacher's mouth. Her eyes look like they can't open any further. An' she's so scared that she starts to wet her pants! Now that was funny.

"Take off your clothes!" Johnny says to her.

She tried to say something, but he sticks the gun into her mouth a little more so she can't.

"I said take 'em off!" Johnny snaps.

She looks at him like he's crazy, but she can tell that he means business. I know what he's gonna do also. He's gonna fuck her right in front of the class, like we read in the newspaper. Some guy did that, made the teacher ball him so her class could see.

You gotta remember that Johnny gets off on seein' people scared and the like. That's the only thing, and he says this himself, that can make him come.

Anyway, Teach starts to undress. She's been around, was a tough one herself once probably, and she knows he means business. She starts cryin' and starts to undress.

"Faster!" Johnny says, stickin' the gun into her mush.

She strips down in a flash, like you wouldn't believe. I can see the fear in her eyes, and in the eyes of the pupils, and I can also see that Johnny is really gettin' off on all this.

He pushed her down on the floor and mounted her. She had big tits, and I'm sure that her class had always wanted to see them too. They were all about eleven and twelve, and when you're that age, you don't get to see many real tits.

He whips out his cock and waves it in front of the class.

"Look at Melvin!" he says, and laughs his fool head off.

One girl giggled. Johnny looked at her and then looked at me.

"Go fuck that one," he says to me.

"You lay a hand on her," Teach warns, "and I'll kill you myself!"

Johnny slaps me a few times and she starts cryin' again. The girl that I'm supposed ta' rape is lookin' at me.

She's pretty. I mean, really pretty. I knew that I could get off on her, but I didn't want to. She wasn't like any of the girls that I hang around with, ya' know. She's different. It's like she could do soap commercials on TV. She looks like one of them actresses they always have.

I didn't want to touch her. She was kinda pure. And I was also a little scared of what the teacher said. But I knew that if I didn't do what Johnny said, I would be in worse trouble.

I went to her. She was sitting in the second row. She was pretty, with long blonde hair and reddish cheeks. She was so cute.

She looked at me with this look of real terror on her face. I looked at Johnny, and at the others in the room. They were all looking at me. I felt strange. I didn't know what to do. I knew that if I didn't do what Johnny said, that crazy fucker, that I was through, that they'd kill me dead.

"What's your name?" I asked her.

"Joy," she replied.

What did I say about soap?

"I have to rape you," I said, and started to do just that.

She started to scream bloody murder. I didn't like what I had to do, but there was nothing I could do about it. I grabbed her by her long hair and pulled her outta her chair. She was screamin' still, and I really wished that the cops would get there so's I wouldn't have to go through with it. I couldn't stand the thought of bustin' her cherry.

"Yaaaaaaa! Sheeeennnaaa of the Jungleeeeee!" Johnny screamed as he started to tear into the teacher. She was thrashing under him, really tryin' to do something about it, but when Johnny's mind was made up about who he was gonna rape, there weren't no stopping him.

I dragged the little girl to the back of the class. The rest of the class didn't know where the hell to look, or who they should be watching. It was like going to a movie with two screens and they're showin' different pictures on each one.

"What is that guy doing to Miss Smuff?" one little girl asked. She didn't seem all that scared really. Just a little confused.

So her name was Miss Smuff. We didn't know that.

Anyway, I dragged her kickin' and screamin' to the back of the room. She was something right out of The Mickey Mouse Club. She looked like a blonde Annette.

"What's your name?" I asked her, seeing the raw gut fear in her eyes, the kind that does something to you you can't control.

"Mary," she gasped.

"Mary?" I asked.

"Yeah, Mary," she replied, "Mother of Christ, you shithead degenerate!"

I threw my head back and cackled insanely. I really thought that I was flipping out right there. I felt like George telling Gracie to say goodnight.

"Keep your fucking hands offa me!" she snarled. And when she did, it seemed to mess up her pretty face, you know, like distorted, I think it's called.

I knew right then and there that it wasn't the life I wanted for myself. Look, I know that I ain't the smartest guy in the world, but I do have enough brains to know when I'm not cut out for somethin', and I wasn't cut out for this. I never was, when I get to thinkin' about it. I was always the one who ran away first after a rumble, an' I was always the one to break up fights. And I was always the one who kept sayin' that there shouldn't be any weapons when we have wars, ya' know.

An' don't go thinkin' that I'm pussy or somethin' like that, 'cause I ain't. I'd fight to the death if I hadda, if I seen one of my buddies gettin' sliced up or somethin'.

So I knew that I couldn't touch that girl. I would have liked to, but not there in fronta everyone. Johnny liked it, but it wasn't for me.

Meanwhile though, Johnny and old Miss Smuff were still at it. She was heavin' and still kickin' under him, but sure as shit, he was ballin' the shit out of her. I think she might have even liked it a little, from the way she was moanin'. It was probably the best lay she ever had.

Like outta nowhere, Johnny jumped offa her and snarled at me, tellin' me to start t'uckin' that girl, that he wanted to watch. I said forget it, and then he pointed the gun at me.

So what the hell was I supposed to do? I couldn't fuckin' believe it! I was the one being raped at gunpoint. It was usually the other way around.

I couldn't stand it anymore. I took my pants down, not carin' anymore who'd see me or my equipment.

The girl's eyes widened like you wouldn't believe. She saw what I had and where I was gonna put it, and she started to scream. Miss Smuff put her hand over her mouth and it was like she was bitin' herself. She started to scream also, I think because she couldn't think of anything else to do.

I dropped to my knees and waved it in her face. She screamed again and turned her head away so she couldn't see it. She'd be feeling it though, Johnny said.

"Do it, you bastard!" he snapped, his face all red. He pointed the gun.

I sank down on top of her. She started to punch me all over the back, hard too, and I whispered something to her.

"I'll just pretend," I said into her ear. "I don't wanna hurt ya'.

She didn't hear me though, 'cause she was screamin' her fool brains out. So I figured that as long as I had to, I might as well have a little fun with it. Nothing I could do anyway. At gunpoint.

So I rammed it into her, after ripping away her panties. They seemed to come off in my hand, and I brought them to my face and sniffed them and they smelled so nice; I'll never forget what they smelled like. It did something to me, you know. It smelled like, well, like this girl'd been screwing since she was nine. A virgin wouldn't smell like she did. Don't ask me how I know that, I just did, that's all.

Anyway, I ripped into her, shovin' it in hard. Like I mighta thought, she wasn't tight at all. I slid right into her with no trouble, but I made it look hard so's Johnny would think that she was a virgin girl.

"Aughhhhhhh!" she wailed as I sank deeper into her, pushing my hips at her and slidin' it in and out. She was as smooth as silk, goin' in and out like that and then she wrapped her legs around me and started to cling to me like she was hangin' off a fire escape.

"Pump me harder!" she whispered at me.

I thought for sure that I would burst out laughin'. But I didn't. One laugh and that crazy mother woulda blown our heads off. I seen him do it before.

I was still pumpin' her with all I had, but I couldn't come. Not that I really minded, but I could hear the damned sirens in the distance, and I cursed myself for callin' the damned pigs 'cause I was havin' a good time wit' that bitch and I'd be damned if I was gonna leave there with the lover's nuts.

She squeezed her legs around me and made her pussy tighter so it would scrape better. And it did. She was something else, this innocent girl.

I started to come, really hard too, and she thrust herself upward and swung herself into me as I started to shoot my wad into her for all it was worth. I screamed when she gripped my fuckin' hair and started to pull it. That was her way of havin' a good time. She was givin' me a run for the money.

The door flew open and there was Carl, a look on his fact that said, "Holy shit!"

"Pigs!" he snapped, and ran.

We knew it was time to go. I lifted myself off of her put my dick back into my pants.

"Eight, six, four," she said, "nine three one six. Call me sometime."

I kissed her quickly and lept to my feet. I couldn't believe it, but something good might just come out of that day.

The cops was bustin' heads when we charged out into the lobby. But Carl said that he was once a student there and he knew all the exits. We managed to find one that the pigs hadn't reached, and the three of us managed to get the fuck outta there just in time.

I thought a lot about that day last year. I mean, I'm sure that you musta read about that day in the paper. There were newsmen down there and everything, and it was real exciting. We all went down there afterwards and watched. The cops didn't even know we'd been a part of it!

Johnny got wasted last month too. He was robbing a liquor store; he'd been ripping off the same one for over a year, but this time the guy was waiting for him with a gun and he shot Johnny in the face and blew half of it away.

I don't have to worry about him anymore.

CONCLUSION

Although Carmine's story would make an excellent movie, I resisted turning into a film producer long enough to make something out of it as a medical man.

It would seem to me that he was able to pull himself out just in time, and leave his unhealthy environment. There is nothing wrong with him that a little civilized living couldn't handle.

CASE HISTORY THREE

SUBJECT: Sprae AGE: Fourteen

INTERVIEW ONE

When Sprae first walked into my office, I couldn't help but see that she was upset about something. And if Sprae seems to be an unusual name, than it is only because she is an unusual girl.

She is quite pretty, radiant as a matter of fact, and her very presence here seemed to illuminate the entire office. I was tempted to offer her a job as a fixture somewhere in the office but resisted.

She told me her story, which is to say that she cried a lot of it. It is not easy to understand, what with her being as beautiful as she is, long blonde hair to her waist, a high cheekboned face, and a smile that could melt an iceberg.

This is her story.

I don't know where to begin, Doctor. I mean, it all seems to damned scary when I think about it. It still haunts me, what happened that day.

I don't know. Sometimes I wish I could just go somewhere for the rest of my life so that I wouldn't have to think, or answer to anyone. Just live there for the rest of my life without anyone always telling me what to do.

I don't want this to sound like a sob story or anything like that. It's just that being pretty isn't easy. It never was. People always used to say, "Oh, look at her, isn't she pretty." It gets sickening after awhile. For once, I just wish someone would say, 'Little monkey want a banana?"

But they never do.

Do I look fourteen? Most people say I don't, and that's one of the reason's why I'm here, because I don't look fourteen. I look older than that, don't I? Some people say that they think I'm sixteen.

Or seventeen, and once, even twenty. So, now that we've established that I don't look my age, along comes the rest of the story.

I lived, alone with my parents, being an only child, in a small town named Swellingsburg. It's in Pennsylvania, about three hundred miles south of Pittsburgh. Swellingsburg was a real hole, being an industrial town with the mines and all, and all in all, it was one hell of a dingy town.

One day however, Daddy lost his job and couldn't get another one. Not that he wanted to; he didn't like Swellingsburg anymore than we did, Mom and myself. We hated it.

So, when Daddy said to hell with it, that he was taking his family to Miami, that he was tired of soot and fumes and the cold weather. No, he said, Miami's the land of opportunity. That he knew Miami wasn't a separate state didn't make any difference to him.

So we went to Miami. A section called Hialeah. Hialeah is a suburb of Miami, like, say, Brooklyn would be to Manhattan. Like that.

So, Hialeah wasn't all that bad. The people were more or less friendly there, moreso than in Swellingsburg, where people were all wary of other people. And like Dad had claimed, the weather was nice, although sometimes it got a bit warm, too warm for me.

But Mom seemed to like it, and Daddy found work in a factory there, making more than he had before.

So everyone was happy.

Except for someone. Me.

Why, you ask? It's fairly simple, when you think about it. I'm pretty, and I know it, know it well. What I wouldn't give to be a dog. Anything in the world. That's what I would give to be ugly, anything, my body, my soul, anything, anything at all.

But why? Aha.

See, being pretty is never easy. When you're gorgeous like me, you find that everyone hates you. Like, say, I can't be friends with any girls because they all considered me a threat. And all the guys want to do is get into my pants. I know that's what they want from me, and when I refuse their offers for dates on that reason, they think I'm a snob and leave me all alone.

So it's lonely. And disgusting too, when I'd be the prettiest girl in my class and still not be able to land a date for a dance or something. Gets me right in the gut.

So I stayed home a lot. What the hell else did I have to do anyway. It's sad, because I could have really gotten into the school, Miami-Hialeah Lakes Junior High. It was a nice school, but only if you weren't too pretty.

And it wasn't like I was the only pretty girl there. I wasn't. But it was just that they'd all grown up here along with the other students, so they had it made in the shade.

I'm serious too. People thought that I was a big swinger. How the hell could I be a big swinger, for Christ's sake? Jesus, I was only fourteen and in the ninth grade. How the hell high is your consciousness when you're fourteen like I am? Pretty low, according to what I've read. That's what I do in my spare time, try to raise my consciousness.

And I've got plenty of spare time, believe me.

But things changed a few months into the new year. There came along another new person. Sure, there were a lot, but this guy was something else. I mean, he was tall and handsome, in a boyish kind of way. Then again, he was only fourteen.

He sat next to me in class and smiled at me. I smiled back. He asked me what my name was, and I told him that it was Sprae. He asked me was that like Ocean Spray, and I said yes, but "e" instead of "Y."

His name, I was to learn, was Phil. Phillip, but he hated that a lot. So I called him Phil, because he liked that better.

"Hi, Phil," I said.

"Hi, Sprae," he said. And smiled.

Anyway, he started complaining right off.

"Florida sucks," he said.

"Why's that?" Me.

"I don't know. There's nothing to do here."

Him.

"Where are you from?" Me. "Brooklyn." Him. "How long you been here?" Me. "Too long." Him.

"What don't you like about this place?" Me.

"Are you kiddin'? They ain't even got a professional major league baseball, basketball or fuckin' hockey team here!" Him.

I could see his point. That was enough to make me hate it as well. Not that I had an interest in sports, mind you, but I did have an interest in him, so whatever he hated, so did I.

"I know what you mean," I said to him. "I've been here a month now, and I think it stinks too. Bored shitless."

"Yeah," he said, but he wasn't looking at me. He was staring at Amy Burns, who was the biggest hog in the class. How the hell could he notice her and not notice me?

"Is that Amy Burns?" he asked.

"You know her?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said, scratching his hairless chin.

He looked thoughtful for a few minutes, and then I saw a gleam of recollection appear in his eyes.

"Yeah," he said again, "I think we went to kindergarten together."

"You went to Kindergarten with her?" I asked.

"I'm pretty sure of that," he said, but he wasn't really talking to me. He was talking to the person sitting next to him, which is not always the same thing, He got up and walked over to Amy Burns. As it turned out, which I knew it would, he had gone to Kindergarten with her, much to my dismay.

Needless to say, I didn't much feel like learning in class that day.

Anyway, about two days later, while I was walking down the hallway, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I spun around, and there he was, Phil the Amy Burns lover. He was smiling at me.

"You're not very friendly," he said to me.

"Huh?"

"You heard me," he said. "You're not nice."

"What makes you say that?" I asked as we strolled down the hall.

"Well for one thing," he said, "you don't even know I'm alive."

"So I'm walking with a zombie then, eh?" I asked.

"How come you never talk to me?" he asked. "I mean, you're always like a clam."

"You've hardly given me the chance," I said. I felt it was true.

"Maybe so," he said. "But I was hoping you'd try harder, that's all."

So I tried harder. And you know something, it worked. Because he asked me out for Friday night.

Needless to say, I was ecstatic. And my happiness seemed to transfer all over the house, because seeing me happy made Mom and Dad happy. And seeing them happy made me happier, but I was happier about going out with Phil than I was happier than seeing Mom and Dad happy. If you get my gist.

So, we had a date for Friday, and along about Wednesday, I started getting ready for it. It never ceases to amaze me that women will spend days to impress a guy, and the way to impress a guy is to dress like a slob. I don't mean a real slob. Well, you know what I mean.

Have you ever gone into a jean store and when they asked you what you want, you tell them you want a pair of jeans that make you look like a slob. And you know what they said? They said that a pair of jeans that would make me look the way I had in mind would cost me fifteen dollars. That's got to be the first time I shelled out that much to look like I hadn't shelled out anything. That's the secret these days. Seems to be a double standard with me.

Anyway, by Thursday I was all set to go. Of course, our date wasn't until Friday, but I wanted to be sure that everything was all set to go. I mean, I was so excited about the idea of actually going out with someone. It was great.

In school that day, Phil asked- me where I wanted to go that night. It was like out of the blue he had finally noticed me, and you'd better believe that it did one hell of a lot for my ego.

"Let's see a movie," I said, "unless you have something else in mind."

I winked for good measure.

I rushed home from school that day and made my way into my room, where I slammed the door and went into temporary hibernation. I had a lot to do that day before my hot date for the night.

Phil was quite prompt though, I had to admit that. He came by just when he said he would, at seven-thirty. Of course, Mom and Dad insisted that they meet him, so instead of honking the horn and me coming out, I waited until I heard the doorbell ringing.

I flew to the door and then dashed into my room. I was leaving him at the mercy of my parents, but it had to be done. Of course, I didn't like seeing that happen, but thems the breaks.

I waited by the crack in the door, listening to everything they were asking him. Grilling him better still, like a cheese sandwich.

"So tell me, Phillip," Dad said. "Where are you taking Sprae tonight?"

"We haven't decided yet," he said.

Fortunately, my folks are fairly intelligent for being parents. I mean, they knew how to talk to dates, at least that much was safe.

"Sprae will be down in a minute," my mother said, taking Dad's cue. It was like a well rehearsed play. The fact that we lived in a one story house seemed to have slipped my by mother.

I could imagine Phil sitting there, wringing his hands, perspiration dripping down his armpits as he sat there waiting for me. I hated to think that he was going through all that misery, but then again, it was all for the better. I hoped. Dad really seemed to think so anyway.

I couldn't wait any longer. I burst out of my room and sauntered into the living room. What I thought would be a sweaty Phil turned out to be a very un-sweaty Phil. As a matter of fact, he was playing knock rummy with my father. Rather, I thought it was knock rummy. That's what we play. They were playing poker.

"Whaddaya got?" Phil asked my father in exotic Brooklynese.

"Three ladies," he said, putting down three

Queens.

"Read 'em and weep," Phil said with triumph in his voice. "Three bullets."

"Shit," Dad muttered and handed him a quarter.

They continued to play. Neither of them even noticed that I was there at all, until Mom walked in.

"What's going on here?" she asked, a little angry. She knew how much I was looking toward to this date, and when she saw Dad screwing it up, naturally she was upset.

"Cards, cards!" she snapped. "That's all you ever think about!"

She proceeded to stage a mock argument in front of him. I grabbed Phil and after seeing a confirming wink from Mom, we slipped out the door.

"I'm sorry if I started something," Phil said.

"Don't worry about it," I replied. "This happens whenever someone comes to pick me up."

I couldn't believe I'd said that. It just kind of slipped. See, I don't dig playing those kinds of games, you know, where I have to make the guy think that I'm some hot number. I don't get into that at all.

I waited for Phil to open the door for me, but I was waiting in vain. There are a few things that guys don't do. The age of chivalry is dead, and I'm pretty sure that I know the guy that killed it.

"Where to?" he asked me.

"It's your car," I said. "Make it go where you want it to go."

He smiled and we were off. I didn't have the slightest idea where he was headed, because he was headed somewhere into the back woods, or so it seemed. But he had a destination in mind, and I was dying to know what that was.

It was the drive-in. It was called The Arrow Drive-in, on State Road Seven in Fort Lauderdale. Try and imagine one drive-in, and then try and imagine the same drive-in, only with ten screens! That's how many there were. And still are. It's supposed to be the biggest one in the world.

Which made things difficult, because we didn't know which movie to see. There were ten to choose from. We couldn't seem to agree on one though.

"Let's see 'Love Story'," I said, hoping he would go for it.

"Okay," he said. "No, wait. I don't like the co-feature."

Damn.

"Alright then," I said. "How about 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre?"

"No," he said. "I don't like what's playing with that one, either. But 'Shaft Gets the

Shaft' looks good, and so's the co-feature."

"I don't wanna see that," I replied. "Let's see something else."

So we ended up seeing three cheapie skin flicks, but it got me to thinking, really hard. Who the hell goes to the drive-in to watch the movie anyway? Not me, for that matter. I was hoping that Phil didn't want to watch the movie either.

We pulled in and parked.

Phil placed the speaker on the window. I was a little nervous, trying to decide whether, seriously, whether or not I was ready to offer myself to him. I'd been giving it a lot of thought, you know, and I couldn't really decide what the right thing to do was.

I decided it would be best to play it by ear. See what happened. What's more, I'd read a million times in COSMO when the best time to offer oneself to a man comes. That was how they put it.

I snuggled up against him, but he didn't seem to notice. It was getting a little frustrating at that, because I was playing up to him and all he did was sit there and munch popcorn. And there was nothing up on that screen going on that couldn't have been done firsthand.

"What's the matter?" I asked, trying to get his attention.

"Nothing," he said, his eyes glued to the screen.

I reached up and kissed him. I thought that maybe it would help, seeing as he was shy. He wasn't shy.

I pressed my lips against his and rubbed his chest, hoping it would arouse him. It did.

"Compare that to 'Mama's Little Girl'," I said.

He smiled, and right after that I could feel his arms circling around me. He took me to his chest and hugged me, kissing me all over the neck. I felt a warm glow deep inside me. I liked him. I liked him one hell of a lot.

"Kiss me," I whispered.

His pressed his lips against mine. I embraced him as he did the same. My mouth opened slowly, like a draw bridge, and his tongue snaked into it slowly. We were taking our time. After all, it was a triple feature.

He caressed me all over as we sat there in a tight embrace, our mouths just about glued together. I'd never honestly done anything like this, and it was almost as though this was my coming out party.

We continued to sit there and smooch for what seemed like forever. I was getting somewhat horny by this time, taking into account that he was caressing me all over.

His hand traveled down to my blouse. He slipped it inside me, only to find that I'd discarded my bra before leaving my room. The mere thought of him running amok over my body made me decide I wouldn't need it.

For someone who claimed that he couldn't walk and chew gum at the same time, he was doing alright indeed. His tongue was all over my mouth, and simultaneously, his hands were cupping my breasts. He took them one at a time, taking his sweet time about it, knowing all along that it was driving me bananas.

I wished that we could have been somewhere else, that we didn't have to worry about someone seeing or discovering us. I was becoming more and more aroused by the minute.

"Make love to me," I whispered.

"What the hell you think I'm doing?" he asked, "playing Hide and Seek?"

I smiled with that. He had, in all truth, all the charm and warmth of a python, but to me it made him seem that much more macho. He didn't have to deck himself out in leather or anything to impress me either. He was macho the way Humphrey Bogart was macho in "Casablanca." It's hard to explain.

Anyway, we continued to sit there and pet. I could see that he was having a bit of a tough time trying to get my blouse off. I decided that it would be okay, because it was dark there and no one would see us.

I slipped it off faithfully. He sat back and admired my breasts. I must say, all modesty aside, that they were nice. They were small yet firm, pear-shaped and supple, not to mention desirably suckable.

He cupped one in his hand, a huge grin on his face, and his mouth opened a crack. His tongue flicked out at me like a snake.

He placed his wet tongue against my nipple. I threw my head back and moaned. It seemed that my breasts were quite an erogenous zone for me. Come to think of it, my entire body was an erogenous zone.

"Suck them all night," I moaned in ecstasy.

He could have too. He lapped at my nipple, and as he did, it started to grow erect in his mouth. His tongue, the mere feel of it against me, was enough to make me shudder with orgasmic delight.

My nipple started to grow erect in his mouth. He continued to suck it, and then he moved on to another one, the other one, I should say.

"You're delicious," he gasped.

I almost plotzed. He was paying me a compliment? I couldn't believe it, not from him, anyway.

INTERVIEW TWO

Unfortunately, Sprae's time ran short. I requested that she return to me the following week, and she did so, with no hesitation. She seemed eager to deal with her problem, and that's usually half of it right there.

The following is the remainder of her story.

Where was I? Oh yeah. So there we were. Phil and I were really going at it. He was sucking my nipples, and as I sat there and moaned again and again, his hand went down to my pussy. He started to caress me down there, and I could feel myself creaming wildly.

Despite my better judgment, my hand also went down to his crotch. I could feel the hardness of him in my hand, and I began to squeeze it. He jumped a little, as though he had just gotten a shock.

I wanted him to take me all the way. But I knew that if I did that, he would never want to see me again.

But that didn't mean that I couldn't go down on him!

I could see that there was some anguish in his face. And he couldn't have spelled it out better. I knew what he wanted. He wanted to come somehow, some way, because his cock felt, as I squeezed it, like it was made out of cement. He was as hard as he would ever be, I grappled with his zipper. I managed to get it all the way down.

I'd never seen a real cock before. Well, I had seen Daddy's, but that had been when I was five or six. I still remembered what it looked like, oh so vividly. It was long and hairy and I remember that it excited me a lot. Even then I knew where it was supposed to go, and ever since I wanted one in me.

I reached into his shorts and started to fondle his cock. He was erect by this time, and that was understandable considering the circumstances.

"Suck me," he whispered.

There was nothing I wanted more. I squeezed it again, and when I did, Phil moaned in pleasure. I knew what would make him happy.

I went down on him, taking the purple tip of his throbbing penis into my open and willing mouth. I flicked my tongue at it and rolled it all over the head, the head that looked like a bulb.

It fascinated me. And repulsed me, when I got to thinking what could be done with the thing I had in my mouth. But I pushed everything from my mind and just continued to suck on it, hoping it would last forever.

I quickly got into what I was doing to him. I took more of him into my mouth, making my tongue run up and down his towering shaft, licking it.

His balls seemed like they were swollen, and I knew I couldn't forget those. I left his cock for greener pastures.

I took one of his balls into my mouth and rolled it off my tongue. I also remembered reading once where they were quite sensitive, so I knew I'd better be careful.

I continued to suck on his juicy balls, loving every minute of it. Some of my saliva trickled down his cock and into his bush, and it matted all his pubic hairs together, I was getting more and more excited. But that was understandable, considering. I wanted to suck him all night long. I couldn't wait until he came.

I lapped at one ball, then moved on to another. I repeated basically the same process with that one, and then returned to where my heart was captive, his cock.

He had grown bigger by this time, if such a thing was possible. It must have been, because he looked like he had grown another foot in the time I'd been paying lip service to his balls.

I went down on his cock again, and I took him so deeply that I thought for sure I was going to gag. I almost did, but lifted my head from him before that could happen.

I lapped at it hungrily, still taking my time. But I could feel his pole starting to shake, and I knew that he was going to come at any time.

I threw myself into it, sucking him for all he was worth. I loved it; I really did.

"Oooooo, yeahhhh!" he moaned, and I could tell that I was doing right by him, making him happy. And seeing him happy made me ecstatic.

"I'm gonna come!" he wailed, and sure enough, it was like a volcano that was erupting. He started to pump, his cock swinging either way in my open mouth, and then he began to shoot his gism into me.

That was what I'd been waiting for all along.

I took his come in my mouth. He shot one hot load into me, and I took it quite willingly. I swished it around in my mouth and swallowed it, loving the creamy richness of it. It was a little salty, but what the hell.

"Yeah, yeah!" he croaked as I swallowed the product of his affection for me.

He continued to pump, one wad after another. I swallowed it all though and was there to catch the following load. It almost made me choke, but somehow I managed.

"Ooooooo!" he commented.

I smiled as he stopped coming. I thought that would never happen. I felt, and this is strange, full, stuffed to the gills. His wad had been that thick. I lifted my head from his cock and smiled at him, wiping my mouth.

I couldn't believe how excited sucking his cock had made me. I mean, it was a real experience to say the least. It was more than I could ever imagine it would have been.

"That was great," he said with a smile. "You give great head."

I didn't know quite how to take that. I mean, in some ways, it made me feel like a whore. I was shocked that he didn't tip me.

"Is that all?" he asked, seeming somewhat disappointed.

"Is that all what?" I asked.

"Don't you want me to fuck you?" he asked.

I didn't know how to reply to that either. I mean, what was I to say? I didn't want to sound all that willing, and on the other hand, I didn't want him to think me a prude.

"Well. . ." I started, but my voice trailed off.

"Well what?" he asked sharply.

"Yes, I want you to ball me," I admitted. "But not tonight."

"Why the hell not?" he asked angrily.

"Don't get upset," I said. "It's just that I hardly know you, that's all, and I don't feel we know one another well enough for that."

"I don't believe it," he said with a deep sigh. "The girls back in old Bensonhurst would never believe this. They like to fuck any time I want to."

"This isn't Bensonhurst," I said with a shrug. "Things are different here."

"I guess that they are at that," he said, and his hands went to the ignition key. The engine roared to life, and he threw it into reverse and backed out, and as he did, the speaker wires snapped and he drove away with the speakers still attached to the car.

"Where. . .what the hell. . ." I said.

"Shut up, bitch!" he snapped, snarled and barked.

I looked at him. There was fire in his eyes, something I couldn't seem to figure out.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"I said shut up!" he bellowed. "Shit, I don't believe this. You know what we do when someone won't perform for us back in Brooklyn?"

"Listen," I said, "this isn't Brooklyn anymore. This is a whole new. . ."

He drove off the beaten path and into the woods, a dense forest. And there aren't that many in these parts either.

He slammed on the brakes. I didn't know what was happening. He looked mad though, damned mad. I couldn't figure out, though, what was making him as mad as he seemed to be.

He stopped the car and turned off the ignition. Then he got out, slamming the door, and walked around to my side. The door seemed to fly open.

Then he grabbed me.

He grabbed me by the arm. And he pulled me from the car bodily, like it was on fire or something.

"Phil... I said quietly. "What are you doing . . . ?"

"Shut up, bitch!" he snapped again, and hauled off and punched me right on the bridge of my nose. He didn't break it. The punch wasn't that hard.

I was dazed with that, and disoriented. I didn't know what he was planning to do after that.

I found out though.

He threw me down on the ground. I struggled vainly to get myself up, but every time I tried, he would kick me down again. And it hurt, Believe me, it did.

He got off a good one to the ribs. I lay there and squirmed.

"Cry, you fucking bitch!" he snapped. "Cry, do you hear me? I wanna see those tears!"

I couldn't believe that this was happening to me. What could make him to do something like this anyway?

He must have been crazy.

Of course, we were miles from anywhere, so there was no one to heed my pleas for help. His eyes seemed to light up as he watched me there like that, screaming in pain.

My bowels seemed to be gripped together with fear, binding me and rendering me helpless. I tried to get up, but when I did, he would kick me down to the ground again. I could feel a trickle of blood where he'd split my lip.

He dropped his pants as I lay there, helpless and totally defenseless. I cowered with fear, my face glistening with sweat.

He looked over at the car. I saw that the speaker was still sitting on the window. It looked incongruous to me for some reason, and despite all else, I giggled at it.

Big mistake. Because that seemed to make him even madder than he already was, and he started to pounce on me.

"Lousy cunt!!" he growled, and started to paw at my clothes. I pounded my fists against his back, all to no avail. He was like a rabid dog, foaming at the mouth as he attempted to rip off my clothes.

He smacked me in the kisser a few more times. I was so dazed and shocked and stunned by this time that nothing seemed to register anymore. A total blank.

But I could feel my clothes being torn off, the same ones that I had bought to make an impression on him.

He got my blouse off first, with no trouble whatsoever. I could even see the buttons flying off of me, landing somewhere in the grass. For some reason, I worried that I wouldn't be able to find them.

Anyway, he continued to claw and paw at me, and I continued to struggle, for want of anything better to do. I felt compelled to get him to stop, even though I knew he wouldn't.

He circled his hands around my throat and started to squeeze. I felt like my throat was being cut off from getting any air, and I thought that my eyes were going to bug out.

I could feel his hot breath against my neck, making he shudder with impending doom. His bulge was against me, and by this time, he decided that I was out of it enough so that he could get me with my pants down.

I made no efforts to resist him as he went for my pants. He pulled them down slowly, admiring my body.

"You are a cunt," he said, "but a cunt with nice tits."

Fine. He was looking at my legs.

I twitched and even creamed a little. Despite everything else, I was still somewhat aroused, but not as much as I had been before. But I knew that what he was doing was wrong, dead wrong, and I knew that I had to stop him, any way I could. But I didn't.

I couldn't. How could I? It was impossible to say the least. He had the upper hand of me and there didn't seem to be much I could do to get myself out of this. I cursed myself for sitting next to him and luring him away from Amy Burns. She should have been the one that was getting raped and violated. Not me.

Amy Burns notwithstanding, however, he started to pull his zipper down. He whipped out his dong and waved it at me.

"This one's for my friends hanging out on Bay Parkway!" he wailed.

And then he plowed into me.

It hurt.

And the frustrating thing was, I didn't know why he was doing this to me. I really didn't. I could almost understand why he would want to. And I could also understand that had I led him on, maybe this could happen.

But I'd done none of that!

It hardly made any difference really.

I felt his slithery pole going into me, a fierce, stabbing pain hitting me deep in the groin. I winced in pain and agony as I felt him pushing his way into me.

He smashed my hymen and I started to bleed profusely. The pain was more than I could imagine. I felt consciousness slipping away from me gradually, slowly at first, and then it seemed, everything went dark.

But not before he raped me.

He continued to ram his shaft into me, his tool of the trade, so to speak. I could tell that he was really getting into it too. His cock seemed almost to disappear as he delved into me, moaning and groaning in ecstasy.

He was buried in me all the way to the base. I could feel a sharp, stabbing pain where he'd pierced me brutally.

"The blood!" he croaked. "I like the blood."

He liked it all right, maybe because it was mine and not his. Whatever, he still pumped me with everything he had, and believe me, it hurt.

"Stop, please!" I begged, but he wasn't listening to me, at all.

He pulled his cock out of me, and I swear, for some reason, I knew that he was coming. I could feel it in me, I really could.

But if raping me wasn't bad enough, what followed was.

He lifted his cock from inside me as he started to come, and his cock seemed to explode in me as he pulled it out. He started to come all over me, kind of humiliating me. That was how I felt, anyway.

He came like in bucketfuls. I know that sounds clich�d, but believe me, it was true. .

His hot come went all over me, splattering all over my anatomy. His hot come dribbled from him onto me, and some of it landed on my face. He laughed like a chicken with its head cut off. He thought it was a riot.

"Yeah, yeah!" he moaned. "Like it, bitch?"

I cried.

I became hysterical to say the least. I couldn't comprehend what he was doing to me now, as though he was really getting off on seeing me like that. It gave him satisfaction, but it didn't do one hell of a lot for me.

He stopped coming, and when he did, he slipped his pants back on and climbed into his car. And then the bastard drove away, leaving me there, still bleeding in several places. That creep.

I somehow managed to get to my feet and drag myself back to some phone booth, where I called my father. I wouldn't have done so, but my mind was so dazed and that was all I could think of.

He was down there in no time, demanding to know what had happened. I had no choice, of course, but to tell him the truth; that I'd been raped and abused and all that.

You should have seen the look on his face when I told him. His hands balled into fists and he pounded them against the hood of the car.

"Goddamned New Yorkers!" he wailed. "Been a thorn in my side ever since 1953!"

I didn't ask him what had happened in 1953, mainly because I was in pain and didn't care what happened anymore. All I wanted to do was go home and take a bath. My mind didn't seem to be registering anything anymore.

So Daddy took me home, and the minute I walked in I burst into tears. I still couldn't believe what had happened.

"Where does he live?" Dad asked, and I knew that if I didn't tell him he would go out and kill Phil. I didn't mind that either.

"Call the police!" Dad said. "Wait, don't call the police. I'm going over there and take him apart. When I'm done, then the cops can pick up the pieces."

He stormed out, without even waiting to get the address. Mom ran after him.

"Violence never solves anything," she said, grabbing him by the arm.

"My ass," he muttered, and got into the car. Mom knew better than to try and stop him. He didn't get this way often, but when he did, well, it wasn't all that pleasant for anyone.

He stormed back into the house a few seconds later though.

"All right!" he said. "Where does he live?" So I told him.

To make a long story short, Dad went to his house, where his folks were kind and patient. Dad told them what he'd done to me, and they told him that he had a long history of rape, and that he was mentally ill or something like that. It didn't mollify Dad though, and when Phil walked in bouncing his car keys, Dad took him apart, piece by piece.

Fortunately though, he was lucky. Both were really. The cops came and tried to straighten them out. And the Hialeah cops took Dad's side, and he was booked but they let him go. The chief said that he would have done the same thing had his daughter been raped.

I was really upset after that though, so upset that I couldn't go to school. It was never explained, either, what had made Phil act as he did. But you want to know a secret?

I enjoyed it.

Of course, I couldn't tell anyone that, but I really did. And it upset me when Phil was committed to the county mental hospital also. I missed him a little, and every night, as I lay awake and think about it, I wished he was there with me. Isn't that weird?

CONCLUSION

Yes, it is somewhat weird. But the claim still exists that every woman has a rape fantasy. Whether this is valid or not seems beside the point, however, and I felt that Sprae needed further counseling after this second session. She seems to be almost obsessed with this Phil, who is dangerous. I advised Sprae against seeing him, for her sake as well as his.

CASE HISTORY FOUR

SUBJECT: Geri AGE: Fifteen

INTERVIEW ONE

When fifteen year old Geri first walked into my office, I couldn't help but see that she was upset about something. She was, first of all, in a leg cast, which may or may not have been part of the reason why she was here at all.

She seemed dismayed about something, and like a clam at first. I couldn't get her to open up to me at the start, but as I made her feel relaxed, she didn't hesitate any longer.

I don't know where to start, Doc. I mean, who needs this shit anyway?

It wasn't my idea to come here, you know. I mean, the school made me. That's what happens when you go to a school where all the students' parents are bleeding heart liberals. You wouldn't think that it effected anything, but believe me, it really does.

I guess I should give you some of the background about this, huh? Okay. It all started when school started up again after Easter vacation. That was when I first met Steve.

Steve was a "Newie." That meant that he had just come to the school from some other school. We were both in the ninth grade.

He seemed shy and lonely. Not to mention handsome. He was really good looking, but he was the last person to realize it. He must have had some kind of an inferiority complex or whatever they call it.

Of course, the first time he walked into class, all the girls started to cream for him. I mean, they all flipped out when they saw him walk into class. He was tall and slim, built kind of wiry, but really cute when you looked at him for a long time. Not to say that he wasn't cute if you didn't look at him a long time. It was just that looking at him for a long time made him seem even cuter. You know what I mean.

He was seated right behind me, and that was good. All the other girls seemed really jealous about that. I was happy that I was going to get first crack at him.

So, when he was seated behind me, I turned around and smiled at him. He didn't smile back, though.

"Hi," I said.

"Hello."

"I'm Geri," I said, trying to spark some conversation.

"Steve," he replied. "Steve Carver."

Even his name was sexy!

"Where you from?" I asked, ignoring the glares from the other girls, most of whom had the same thing in mind.

"Oak Falls," he replied.

"Where's that?" I asked.

He looked at me like I was a moron for not knowing where Oak Falls was. But then, if that was true, then anyone who didn't live in Oak Falls was a moron.

"It's in Arkansas," he said, condescendingly. "I thought everyone knew that."

"Anyone who lives there," I said.

I don't know why, but he seemed to really get off on that. I mean, he smiled at me for the first time that day. It looked like I was making some headway.

But that was just the beginning. I mean, he was like a clam, and I knew that I was going to have to open up to him before he would open up to me.

I talked to him every day before, during, and after class. He seemed to be coming out of his shell, but the problem was, although he was coming out of his shell, it wasn't doing me any good. He seemed to notice all the girls in the class.

But a few days later, all that changed.

Our math teacher, Miss Onrot, was a true bitch if ever there was such a thing. First of all, she was single. Secondly, she was almost forty, and third, it didn't look like she was going to find a husband before fifty.

So she was jealous of her students. And contemptuous also. She really shouldn't have been teaching us at all, not with that attitude she had toward us. But she was, and she made her contempt for us show through daily.

Maybe she was jealous that we were so young and she was over the hill. But whatever it was, she was always riding us and what not.

We all knew that when she walked into class smiling devilishly, that she had some surprise for us. Like twenty hours of homework for the next morning, or maybe she had a pop quiz for us.

It turned out to be worse than that. Miss Onrot did pop a quiz on us, but it was one of the deadliest kinds there are! Oral quizzes.

Oral quizzes are the kind that really make one paranoid. The way they work is, she goes down the line, one student at a time, and asks him a question. If he answers it right, he passes. If not, he fails. Swim or sink.

She knew, the bitch, that we weren't ready for anything like that. Shit, it was Monday morning, first period, and whatever she tried to teach us on Friday was long since forgotten.

So she went down the line. Out of the first row, six out of seven failed. And when she got to me, I also failed. And then she went on to Steve.

He was panic stricken. I mean, he was from Arkansas, and it seemed safe to assume that when he'd left, the kind of math they were doing there wasn't much like the math we were doing. And he would have been the first to admit that.

"Mr. Steve Carver," Miss Onrot said with a sadistic gleam in her eye. "What is the square root of a squared triangle?" And she smiled again, the kind of smile that made me want to belt the shit out of her.

"Uh. .

Of course he didn't know the answer. Who would?

But I knew what it was. I'd already figured it out. It wasn't that hard either.

"Ten seconds," Miss Onrot said, counting down. "Nine seconds. . .eight. . . seven. . ."

"It's minus three squared," I whispered to him.

"It's minus squared three!" he blurted out. It was the right answer, but he just didn't say it right.

"That's correct," Miss Onrot said. She looked defeated, and ready to kill.

She went on to the next student, who failed.

After class though, as I was walking to my next, someone came up behind me and grabbed me.

"Hey!" Steve said.

"Hello," I said dryly, not giving him any indication.

"I just wanna say thanks," he said. "I mean, for helping me and all."

"It was nothing," I said.

"Yes, it was," he replied. "Sheet. Ever since we moved to this hog wild city, I been spinning like a top. But I wanna take you out sometime. Friday. Or Saturday."

Was that an invitation.

"You wanna take me out?" I asked. "I'd love to." He was so cute.

"Okay then," he replied. "Friday or Saturday?" "Swell," I said. "Football game's on Saturday night, so how's Friday?"

"Fine."

So Friday it was.

INTERVIEW TWO

For some unexplained reason, Geri broke into tears as she told me her story. Nothing had happened so far, but I think it was what followed that she was quite reluctant to talk about.

I requested that she return to me the following week, which she did, and with no hesitation. Frankly, I was surprised.

The following is her story.

Where was I? Oh yeah.

So anyway, I was all set for Friday. I mean, this was really my first real date. He had his own car, which led me to believe that he had something other than Oak Falls on his mind.

He came at seven, like we'd agreed on earlier. I was dressed really nice.

He'd never seen a brownstone before. It really flipped him out.

"Rooms ain't big enough to fart in," he said, before we left the house.

I'll get right to the point. We went to the movies. We went to see one of those black exploitation movies that are so popular here. Needless to say, he'd never seen one. Not in Arkansas.

So after that, we drove somewhere deserted, which isn't easy in Manhattan. But he must have been like a bloodhound, because he could sniff out a deserted place a mile away.

I don't know how he did it, but somehow he managed to find a part of the city that was deserted, which isn't at all easy. And it was a place that I'd never even seen before, and I'd lived there all my life.

Anyway, we started right in kissing and necking. He sure knew how to make me feel like a woman. I mean, he touched me in all the right places, but with sort of a respectful love while he did it. It's hard to explain, but he knew what he was doing, and it drove me nuts.

He tried to get my pants down but I wouldn't let him. After all, I had my honor to keep, and he wouldn't ever get it. Not on the first date, anyway.

"What's ailin' you?" he asked in the heat of passion.

"Nothing," I said. "It's just that I'm not ready to go all the way, that's all." "Sheet."

With that last "sheet," he attacked me. I mean really. Sex was just another football game to him.

He pushed me down on the seat and climbed atop me. I struggled against him, but he was powerful and I couldn't seem to get anywhere with him. He kissed me all over and pawed at me. I tried to get him to stop, but he was a maniac, with a glazed look in his eye.

"Please don't," I murmured as I felt him crushing my breasts as he lay against me.

We were parked on a slope. The only reason I mention it is so that what happened next will make some sense.

This is strange. So I kicked out under him, but his body was pressed firmly against mine, and it seemed that I was helpless. Somehow, I hit the emergency brake with my foot and it released itself. The car started to roll backwards, and we both freaked.

I reached behind me, sensing that this was the only way I could escape. See, I was unaware that the car was moving, being so scared and all.

I reached behind me and grabbed the door handle. I could vaguely sense that the car was rolling, but all I could think about was getting the hell away from there.

So, I tumbled backwards and fell out of the moving car. I heard Steve gasp as I did, and as I hit the ground, I landed on my ankle. I actually heard it snap, and when it did, I uttered a cry of pain.

I just lay there. Steve scooped me up and drove me to the hospital. I moaned in pain. I was sure that my leg was broken.

And I was right. It was.

Steve didn't know what to say to me. He told me later on that he'd just gotten carried away, that he hadn't meant any of it, that he was this, and he was that, and that he didn't know what to say to make it up to me.

Sure.

So they put me in a cast. And then they gave me crutches. I felt like a cripple, mainly because I was. But there came one or two advantages out of this whole thing. For one tiling, I was permitted to come to class anywhere from five to ten minutes late, seeing how my little foot was busted.

And for another thing, I was allowed to use the school elevator. There was only one, but it was for use only by the teachers and the janitor staff. But as far as students went, verboten.

But not anymore. I wasn't in any condition to climb stairs or anything, so I got a note saying that I had to use the elevator. So I did, every chance I got.

Really though, I could have made it to class quicker if I walked with the steps, crutches and all. But taking the elevator was more fun than walking any old day.

There was this guy who ran the elevator. His name was Max. He was short and bald, and remember that show, "The Adams' Family?"

Remember Uncle Fester? That's just what Max looked like.

I can't ever remember seeing him sober. He was the assistant to the head janitor or something, but most of the time he operated the elevator. And it wasn't like anyone was needed to run the elevator, because there wasn't. He was there so that one of the other janitors pulled out the emergency stop button and locked off the elevator on their floor. And when the others would try to use it, it wouldn't budge.

It wasn't, I imagined, a particularly stimulating job, but Max seemed well suited for it. In fact, he seemed to love the job. Maybe because it was so easy.

One morning, between third and forth periods, I hobbled over to the elevator and pressed the button. Max opened the door and I stepped in. Math was on the second floor.

"Mornin'," Max grumbled, and started up.

Although it was only one floor, any Otis could have gone to the tenth floor in the time it took that elevator to reach the second. It seemed to last forever.

Have you ever really stopped and wondered about the things you do when you're in an elevator. The object seems to be not noticing the other person. Max and I stared at the ceiling. I did anyway.

This routine went on for the next few weeks, three times a day. Max didn't seem like such a bad guy.

"I'm tellin' youse," he said to me one morning. "It's gettin' so a guy can't make a livin' these days."

"I know what you mean," I said.

"Huh!" he snorted. "You only know the half of it. I was tellin' me misses the other morning how's it's gettin' so youse can't make a livin' these days."

"Hmm?"

"Yeah," he continued. "I'm tellin' ya' 'dis: Ever since Roosevelt died, this country been shot ta' hell. Ain't wort' shit!"

I smiled, pretending that I hadn't heard "Shit."

Anyway, this went on. Max was friendly, but he was angry at the rest of the world. He never seemed to stop griping about something or other, and at the same time, I couldn't wait to get the cast off once and for all. For one thing, it made me itch like crazy, and for another, I couldn't stand Max's breath. He reeked of bourbon.

One morning, when I was stepping into the elevator, I could see (and smell) that Max had been on the bottle again. Only this time, he was stewed to the gills and he could barely stand up straight.

"Howwa you?" he slurred.

I didn't say anything to him. See, he kind of intimidated me. He made me really nervous when I was around him. Plus he smelled.

"Second floor, please," I said, seeing that we weren't moving.

He smiled at me.

"How about a little kiss," he said, and puckered his lips.

I was shaken, but only a little.

"Mr. Showalter," I said calmly, "I would appreciate it very much if you didn't make those kinds of offers to me."

"Bitch," he muttered, but I knew what he said.

He was cold to me for the next few days. And then the following day when I stepped into the elevator, something else happened.

We were going up, and then he flicked on the emergency button and the car stopped with a jolt.

"What happened?" I asked.

He was bombed. I knew it when I stepped into the elevator. But this was going too far. He'd pulled the button for no reason, it seemed.

"Been meanin' to talk to ya!" he said, his eyes red and bleary.

"Can we continue?" I said. "I don't want to be late for class."

He said nothing. Instead, he just leered at me, his eyes aglow. There was this glazed look in his eyes, something I couldn't describe. But it scared me; it scared the hell out of me.

"C'mere," he said, waving his finger at me.

I stood there, getting scared.

"C'mere, little one," he said with a drunken smile, and started to creep toward me.

I cowered from him. It was happening all over again. It was the first thing I thought of. I backed into the corner, never feeling so trapped, so helpless. My eyes darted for a means to escape, and there were none!

"I'm gonna give you something," Max drawled, and his hands went to his zipper. He pulled it down and whipped out his cock. It was all swollen and mushy looking.

And then I realized what he wanted to do with it.

I didn't have anywhere to go. I mean, you have no idea of what it's like to be trapped in an elevator. Nowhere to run, nothing you can do.

But there was something I could do. I picked up my crutch and poked him in his belly with it. He kept away from me, but it was just making him madder and madder.

I heard the last bell ring.

Then he hit me with the pipe.

"I'm gonna fuck your ears off, young lady," he said, and threw back his head and roared with laughter.

I poked him again and again, but I couldn't discourage him in the least.

I poked him again, and this time he managed to get the crutch away from me. He took it and smashed it against the wall of the car, right next to me, not an inch away. He could have bashed my head in!

But there was still another one, but unfortunately, he managed to smash that one also. I hobbled around, knowing it was all useless to try and resist him, as he had me where he wanted me.

"Please. . ." I moaned in fear. "Don't hurt me!"

"Tha's jus' wha' I'm gonna do!" he blurted, and lunged at me.

The first thing I could remember was smelling the stink of whiskey on his breath. And his laughing at me.

He wrestled me down to the floor, rolling around in the grease and the filth. I screamed, and as I did, he slapped me in the face. But that only made be scream even more because I yelled louder than before.

He stuffed his snotty hanky into my mouth so I couldn't scream. I still shudder when I think about it. He'd planned this whole thing out without me even hinting anything. I mean, I could have been anywhere, and he was thinking and planning on how he was going to rape me some day. It makes me want to throw up to this day.

"Ain't gonna hurt ya, little girlie!" he slurred again, and I almost passed out from the liquor on his breath. I turned my head away and refused to look at him as he grappled with my arms. He managed to pin me down by pressing his weight against me.

"Hmmmmmm!" I said through the hanky.

He yanked at my dress. I'd been wearing nothing but dresses since the accident, and now I would be paying for it.

I almost choked on the damned hanky, too.

I felt like I was a piece of meat. Really, that was how I felt that day.

So, anyway, he managed to get my dress torn down the middle. He managed to lift himself up on his arms so he could see what he was doing. I must say though, for an old man and a drunk, he was amazingly spry. He moved about easily and quickly. Maybe he took Hustle lessons.

Then I felt a pain like someone had stuck a needle in my groin. That's exactly what it felt like.

"Ooooooooo!" I cried, because it hurt so much.

"He he," he croaked.

Getting what you wanted, Mr. Showalter, that louse.

He rammed his tool into me, pounding it away and breaking through my tender vagina. And it hurt something fierce. I started to cry through the pain and the tears of sweat.

He got it all the way up me, I must say. He continued to push into me, as he smashed my hymen to smithereens. Blood began to come out, and when I saw that, I really freaked.

"GrmTrr!" he growled. He was enjoying himself. And when he got home that day and his wife asked him how was work, he'd smile to himself and say, "Oh, the usual."

He started to come in me. I could feel him in me, coming, shooting his wad. I winced and blanched, feeling his hot come shooting into me. He was grunting like a stuck pig by this time.

And then his fun was over. He put his cock back into his pants and stood, just barely. He pulled a bottle from his pocket and took a long sip. He pulled the button again and the elevator had stopped.

The door opened, and there it was. One drunk rapist and me lying there and bleeding, two crutches smashed against the wall. Max just walked out of the car and mixed into the throngs of students in the halls, never to be seen of again.

He's serving time now. He admitted what he'd done, and he says he's not ashamed about it. He said that he got it where he could. The end.

I wonder about him sometimes. He wasn't a mean man, but something must have gotten into him somewhere along the line.

CONCLUSION

Geri's case is indeed unusual. She seems not to have suffered anything for it except a few bad memories.

Certainly, men like this Max or whoever he was should be fired at once from the school board. Rather, the school board should fire them. This sort of thing has happened before, especially when there is a force that usually starts it, in this case, many pretty young girls. It was Geri's misfortune to be one of them.

CASE HISTORY SIX

SUBJECT: Mitch AGE: Fifteen

INTERVIEW ONE

Mitch seemed to be a chipper young lad the first time I laid eyes on him. He smiled a lot, and what's more, he didn't seem to have much of a problem.

But he did.

He didn't tell me right out what was on his mind, but in a matter of seconds, as he seemed so desperate, he started right in.

This is his story.

I don't know where the fuck. . .oops, pardon my French. I keep thinking that I'm in the locker room again.

Oh, so you wanna hear what happened. I'm telling you, this is still flipping me out. I mean, I can't believe some of the stuff that went on these last few months. And I bet you won't believe it either.

Let's see. Where to start. I guess when all this first started to happen.

Okay. This is how it all happened.

There's this new girl in Spanish class. I mean, she's one hell of a knockout. And all the guys at school, Wilson High in (name deleted), were also wild about her. Her name was Bonnie.

Let me tell you, she was something else altogether. I mean, she really had me getting hot for her. I wasn't alone either. All the guys were nuts about her.

Rumor had it that she was from the South. But then, anyone who was bom below Coney Island was from the South to us.

So she sat behind me in class. I'd always turn around and make faces at her. She laughed at that. I don't know if she thought that I was a fool or not, but she laughed at me, and that's always an in.

Let me tell you what she looks like. She has short brown hair, high cheekbones. I swear, she looks just like Natalie Wood. With a little Garbo thrown in.

So she doesn't say too much during class, and it doesn't look like she has many friends.

After all, she's only been here not long at all, so how's she supposed to meet people?

I think about it. It looks like a good way to get her to go out with me. And to tell you the truth, all I wanted to do was fuck her a few times. Yeah, I been fuckin' since I was twelve even. I learned young. You always do in a city like this one.

I don't know if she's a virgin or not. If she's a virgin, she probably plans to stay that way.

So I get to thinking. Turn on the charm. That's the way to do it.

"Wanna go to the hockey game with me tomorrow night?" I asked her.

She looked a little, you know, shocked. I don't think she was expectin' to go to no hockey game.

"What's hockey?" she asked me.

"What?" I asks. "You don't know what a hockey game is?"

"No," she says, and she means it.

"I can't believe this!" I says. "I mean, where you been all your life?"

"Rock Springs, New Mexico," she replies.

"An' you never heard of hockey?"

She shakes her head.

"Perfect," I says. "You go wit' me, and you'll find out."

I can see that she's thinking it over. And then she smiles, and I know that she's gonna say yes.

"Feb sorry," she says, "but I can't. I'd like to, but I'm not allowed to go out on weeknights."

"Tomorrow is Friday!"

"That's a weeknight," she said.

I didn't pursue it. I guessed that she just wanted to not go out with me, so that was all I cared about But I would give her one more chance. I think, from talking to my pal Mike, I knew what I done wrong. He told me that I shouldn't have waited so soon before the game to ask her. He said I should ask her three days in advance.

"What's the matter?" I asks Mike. "She all booked up?" So I figure that asking her on Wednesday is safe for Saturday.

"Wanna go somewhere Saturday?" I ask her, and she's got no excuse this time.

"I'll let you know," she replied. "Call me."

Just then, the bell rang and she left. Without, I should add, giving me her number.

I got her the next day though.

"How come you didn't call me?" she asked.

"How come you didn't give me your number?" I asked.

She smiled, like she remembered she forgot. She remembered that she had forgotten to remember to give me her number. Is that right?

So I called her. And guess what? She said yes. She said she'd be plum delighted to go out with me, and that cracked me up, 'cause her accent sounds so funny.

Anyway, she tells me where she lives. She and her family jus' moved to Ocean Parkway, between Avenue's H and I. Nice place. Means her folks ain't poor.

So I'm nervous. This is really the first time I ever went anywhere with a girl that had any class. The rest were real losers. Most of them, anyway.

I ring the doorbell.

Her mother answers. She's a tall woman, but slightly stooped over and kinda gray, getting on in years like.

"You must be Mitch," she says. "Come on in."

I can't believe that accent. I mean, she's really flipping me out with it, 'cause I ain't never heard anything like it before.

I go in. There's pictures all over the place, but of course I don't know who any of those people are, and I don't ask either. Because even if she told me, I wouldn'ta known who they was anyhow.

She tells me to sit down. So I sit. I twiddle my thumbs while I'm waiting. And Mama gives me the third degree.

"So," she says, "your name is Mitch."

"Right," I says.

"Is that short for Mitchell?" she asks.

I felt like saying, "No, that's short for Horatio."

But instead I says, "Yup."

"What class do you and Bonnie have together?"

"Mat'," I says.

She smiles a little. I show her that I'm trying to make a reasonable impression on her by straining to get everything right. Mothers like that. Shows that their daughter's dates care.

Then she hits me with a biggie.

"Are your intentions honorable?" she asks. Without battin' an eyelash.

I coulda said, "Do I have a choice?" But didn't.

"Of course," I lied.

"Just wanted to make sure," she said. "You must realize that from where we come from, a woman's honor means everything."

It didn't exactly mean nothing to me either.

"I know what you mean," I said. "I hadda fight for a woman's honor once."

"Oh?" she asks.

"Yeah," I said. "And it was more than she ever done."

She smiled again. She seems to know what's going on, which isn't easy when you come from Rock Springs.

There's something about her that I like. And I can tell that she liked me also. The vibes were good, you know? It's not easy to explain.

"So," I asks, "youse like livin' here?"

"Well," she said slowly, (they talk slow in the South) "yes, I suppose we do. Of course, it's not Rock Springs."

No, it was different. Indeed it was very different.

She's pretty, Bonnie's mother. And there ain't no father around either. I don't know where he's at, so I ask.

"And how does Mr. Parker like it here?"

"Oh," she said, the smile gone, "he's passed on."

So that was where he was at. Just wanted to get it straight.

"I'm ready," Bonnie says as she comes down the stairs. She looked great. I couldn't wait to dip my wick into her.

I had this friend once. He had relatives in the South, and he told me, Mike did, that he went to visit them once. And he said that the girls were really hot down there, that they'd go down on you on the first date, and they were great in a sleeping bag.

So I figure that this Bonnie has to be the same way, what with comin' from the South and all. And it makes me horny just to think about it.

So we leave. Mrs. Parker waves goodbye, and she's got this gleam in her eye, like she knows what's gonna happen and she doesn't say anything about it. Strange.

I had my Pop's taxi that night. Course, he was asleep when I took it, and when he wakes up and finds out, he's gonna get pissed and flatten me when I come home, seeing how he's missing work and all. But to get laid, it's well worth it.

We go to the hockey game after all. Pistons against the Red Aces. Good game

The goalie, for instance, belted a lineman with his stick, and they got into one hell of a nasty fight. It was a good game, but there was something that made it even better, She'd been coming on to me all night, from the time we got on the subway to the time we left the game. She'd squeeze my knee, or she'd even put her hand on my nuts. Subtle as a garlic sandwich.

"Where are we going after this?" she asked

I figured that we'd do it in the taxi. I mean, Dad's smart. He has a Checker. They're roomy as all, and they're great for fucking someone. Like sometimes Dad says that he picked up some broad who was horny or something, and he'd take her to under the Brookhaven Bridge and fuck her ears off.

So I figured that the Brookhaven Bridge would be great, in the back of the cab.

So we start to drive when we get off of the train. We hadda park downtown, on Fourteenth Street, seeing as it was cheaper down there.

So I didn't know what the hell to think by this time. I mean, shit, what the hell was I supposed to do?

I didn't know if she balled or not. I really didn't know. She didn't seem like the kind that did, but those kinds are always the ones that end up being hot little numbers.

So I decided to play it by ear. What else could I do? I'd make a few passes once we got into the car, and see what happened.

So we go to the car and get in. I didn't start it up right away, not at first, because she was smiling at me.

"What's so funny?" I asks.

"Nothing."

"Oh."

We start driving. I'm afraid to try anything, what with her old lady tellin' me about honor and all that shit. What was I supposed to think? I remembered once reading where some guy cut off some other guy's cock because this one guy fucked the other guy's sister. So what was I supposed to think?

I was gettin' nervous. And I also think that she wanted me to try somethin'. She didn't say that, but she had that gleam in her eye that said, "Fuck me!" Ever see that gleam?

We got to her house.

"Don't stop," she said.

"Why not?" I asks

"I don't feel like it," she says. "Let's go somewhere and make it."

Can you believe that? I couldn't. Because she was so quiet that night, and I didn't know what the hell to think and now she was asking me could we go somewhere and fuck.

Not that I minded though.

So we drove out to the park. It was either that or a parking lot, and I didn't like going there. I didn't like going there because it was good for necking, but fucking was usually done at the park.

I'd have taken her home but my folks were there. And what could I say to them? Meet my date, Ma. We're gonna fuck now.

So I couldn't take her home. So I drove fast out of the park, because I didn't want her cooling off on me. That always happened. They always seemed to cool off just when things were startin' to get good.

Anyway, we got to the park and before I could shut off the ignition, she goes down on me. I throw my arms up as she pulls down my fly. She whips my cock out of my pants and starts sucking on it, like never before. It was never before. I'd fucked a lot of times, but never got any head. And now I was!

She was good at it, let me tell ya. She takes it into her mouth, all of me, and I thought for sure that she was gonna choke. But this gal really knew what she was doing, I'll say that much for her.

I sat there and breathed real hard as she slid her tongue up and down my shaft. I mean, she was really something special.

"Ooooooh!" I moans, because her wet tongue feels great against my pole.

She was holding it with one hand as she slid it in and out of her mouth. I mean, I ain't never felt anything like this before, not even anything close to it. She gave great head. At least, in my opinion.

She continued to suck me, and I must say that it was almost as good as regular fucking. Because it took a lot longer for me to come, as she could only do certain parts of me at one time.

So it took longer.

I didn't complain though. Shit, who would, after something like that? She was slidin' it in and out of her mouth like she was sue kin' on a peppermint candy stick or something.

"More!" I snapped.

I wanted more, can you blame me?

She didn't. She kept on suckin' me until I started to shoot off in her mouth. That was it too. I mean, I coulda gotten head before, but none of the girls that I know who give it would let me come in their mouths, and what fun is that? Not much.

So I come. I'm shootin' off enough gism to choke a horse. But she's there to take it, and she smiles when she swallows it. I mean, I can see that' she really gets off on sucking me. Shit, I would too.

I mean, she was sucking the come right outta me. I couldn't wait to tell the guys about this one too, because they'd never believe it.

And then I thought, why the hell should I tell them that she gave me head and fucked me. She hadn't fucked me yet, but I just figured that she would.

Well, why not? What did she have to lose?

Anyway, we drove back to her house, and no, I didn't get laid, for which I was real disappointed. But then again, I hadn't come out a loser on this deal really, considering that I did make five dollars on the game (bets) and I did get sucked off.

So she asks me do I wanna come in for awhile. I didn't, but I couldn't just rush off like that. And I was also worrying about what the old man was gonna say when he woke up and saw his taxi not there. So I went in.

It was weird, let me tell you. I mean, I was flipped out when I seen what happened next.

Bonnie then told me I should sit and relax, that she had to talk to her mother for a bit. You know what her mother reminded me of? Scarlett O'Hara. Really. Just like I seen in that picture "Gone With the Wind." I seen it a few times. I seen it at the Casting Theater on Avenue J.

Anyway, five minutes later, Miss O'Hara herself comes out, only she ain't dressed like Scarlet would dress, She was decked out in leather!

No shit. She was wearing this leather outfit, and she was also wearing a mask, a leather mask, and it weren't even Halloween! She was also carrying a whip.

Something about what she looked like reminded me of something else. Tommy Buchman once showed me this magazine his old man had in his desk. It was called "The Lady In Red Leather." It had a lot of beaver shots, but all the girls were decked out in leather.

"What the. . ." I started to say. "Silence!!" she snapped, Bonnie's mother. "Be quiet and take what's coming to you." Funny, but her Southern accent seemed to disappear after that. She talked like anyone else.

"That ain't funny," I said, and rose to leave.

She dashed over and pushed me down into the chair. I started to shake. Shit, she was standing over me with a fucking whip!

Bonnie came out, and, you guessed it, she was also decked out in leather. Only she didn't have a whip.

Had I used my brain, I would have dived through the window. I mean, I read in that magazine where people who are into leather are really serious about it, and they don't take any bullshit. Plus, it said, they can sometimes be real, real, dangerous. And I didn't wanna get hurt or anything.

"You two are fuckin' crazy!" I said.

"Silence!" she snapped again.

She cracked the whip and struck me in the leg. I almost fell over. Shit, did it hurt!

"Come with me," she said, and I followed her to the cellar. I didn't know what she had waiting for me down there, but I could only guess.

I found out.

It was like Edgar Allen Poe's rumpus room. I mean, there were chains and whips and all sorts of screwy things like that layin' around. And there were these ropes that were for tying people up. I was, I think, the first to try them out.

Let me tell you, I was gettin' seared by this time, so help me I was. Shit, I didn't know what the hell to think. These fruitcakes seemed serious about all this, but I couldn't stop thinking that the whole thing was a joke.

"What the hell do you think you're gonna do to me?" I asks.

And then I felt something crack against my head.

Ever been knocked flat out before? Neither had I, until this time. It was that cunt Bonnie what smacked me over the skull, with some mallet or something. But shit, whatever it was, it hurt like a bitch.

I came to about an hour later. There was a lump on my head about the size of a fuckin' golf ball, I swear. And that meant that now I could bring criminal charges against them for salt and battery. I still never knew what that meant.

But when I woke up, I found that I was tied against the wall. I mean, my hands were bound by the wrists, above me, and I was almost hangin' from the ceiling. I couldn't believe it.

And those nuts had taken my clothes too. And it was chilly down there. I coulda caught cold.

"Sleep well, Little Prince?" Scarlett asked me.

"Let me outta here!" I wailed. I wasn't thinking straight. I was scared shitless.

"All in good time," she said slowly, "all in good time."

I just hung there. Then I saw the whip in Bonnie's hand.

Alright. Now try and figure this. There I was, all of sixteen years old, and these fruits are layin' this shit down on me. I couldn't handle it, I really couldn't.

See, I like to think that I can trust people, especially people like the ones that were about to whip the shit outta me.

I was wrong. So what.

So what? I'll tell you so what. So Bonnie gives the whip to Mother, and Mother tells me that I must be taught to obey, that she has to make me submissive so that I would be right for Bonnie.

What the hell kind of logic is that, I ask you?

She must have believed it, 'cause she started right into whipping me. Me, who thought whipping was something my father did with his belt, the same thing he would do to me when I got home with his taxi, if I ever got there.

I didn't think I would either. All of a sudden I felt this sharp, stinging like pain against my back.

She was whipping me!

I couldn't believe it! I mean, me, the King of Rock Springs is gettin' whipped by a couple of spaced out bitches. You figure it out.

Anyway, she continues to whip me. I can feel that hot leather strikin' me there, and I can feel the blood leaving me, and most of all, I can feel the pain, the really bitter pain as that damned whip hit my back.

"Stop it!" I wailed, but you think she cared?

"You must be taught to obey!" she snapped. Obey what?

I still couldn't figure it out, I swear. I knew that there had to be some fucked up reason why they were doing this to me, but even had I asked them, they wouldn't have told me.

I watched Bonnie. She couldn't look at me.

That cunt. This was all her fault, too.

Anyway, she keeps whipping me until I think for sure that I'm gonna die right then and there. And my head is still throbbing like I got me a Mexican jumping bean somewhere inside me.

It was like I could feel daylight kinda slippin' away from me, you know, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

So I wake up again. And I can see that I'm not tied up anymore, and that Bonnie and her crazy fucker of an old lady are also gone, and everything is gone, like the chains and the whips and everything.

I can hardly move. I mean, my back looks like a road map of Kentucky.

Somehow I managed to make it to the door, and then I passes out again. Boom.

Anyway, there's a couple of endings to this story. For one thing, I wound up in the hospital. Really, that was how bad they let me have it. And for another thing, Pop couldn't whip me with his belt any worse then he coulda without it.

So what happened to Bonnie? And her mother? No one ever knew, not me anyway. Those brilliant cops come in and ask me questions like what did they look like and all that. And they never found them again, and to this day I still don't know why they did that to me.

Any ideas?

CONCLUSION

It would appear to me that, although I have no real idea what happened, I can still speculate.

For one thing, taking into account that all was truth Mitch told me, it would seem to me that these people that did this to him are not well at all. There is never any explanation as to why this sort of thing happens.

As far as Mitch is concerned though, I don't really feel that he will have any repercussions about what happened to him. He is young, and will forget quickly. Not fully forget though.

CASE HISTORY SIX

SUBJECT: Priscilla AGE: Thirteen

INTERVIEW ONE

When thirteen year old Priscilla first walked into my office, I couldn't help but notice that she was upset about something. She is a pretty young thing, but her face seems to tell the whole story of her rape.

As I mentioned, to look at her, one would not think that she is what she is, so to speak.

But I will allow her to relate her story to you in her own way, and I hope that it clears things up.

Oh, fuck you, damned headshrinker. Think I'm opening up to you? Forget about it. I been to others, and they all tell me that I'm hostile and that I'm a louse, and some tell me that I'm nothing but a thirteen year old whore and that's all I'll ever be.

So what's wrong with being a whore? I ain't got nothing against it. I think it's fun; if you ask me.

I know, I know. You wanna know how I happened to get into this anyway. Well, I might as well tell you, because I ain't got nowhere else to go.

Let's face it. Life sucks, aside from being a pain in the ass. I guess I'm one of those cases people call "a victim of their environment."

That's horseshit.

It's horseshit because it's true. It's just that I wouldn't put it that way, that's all. I put it another way. I call myself a whore, because I'm a victim of my environment. I wish I knew whose fault it was so I could kill them.

So. Let's face it. You wanna hear about me on my back? Because whether you want to or not, you're gonna hear it anyway.

My sister was a whore. Mom kicked her out of the house a long time ago, when she first started.

Okay. Yeah. That's a good place to start.

I hadda fucked up childhood. Just like all the others I suppose. Dad was gone when I came outta Mom's womb, and she ain't seen him since. Not that it makes any difference.

He musta been a great fucker, because he left six kids behind when he flew the coop. There were four sisters and a brother, Eddie.

I was the youngest. Let's see. Eddie joined the Navy when I was six, and my other sisters all married and moved away. Shit, you oughta see them now. They're all fat and have a shitload of kids and only fuck when they feel like it. And when they do, they lay there like dead fish so their husbands can try and get off on it.

Home was a fifth floor walkup in the South Bronx. I mean, that's one rough place to grow up, believe me.

Anyway, about the time I was ten, my sister Clara was whoring for a living. He, and Mom thought that she was going to night school!

She never told me; someone else did. My friend Paulie. He said he knew my sister was a whore because she left at night and didn't come home until late and she looked like one.

So after punching him, he said that his old man had seen her down on Fourteenth Street and she was soliciting, whatever that means. He told me it meant she was a hooker.

So I followed her one night on the train.

Paulie was right.

I didn't know too much about sex in those days. Shit, I was only nine.

Paulie's mother, this Eyetalian halfwit, she tells me that my sister is sinning against Christ and she lays all this bullshit on me. I asked her what was so bad about it, and she told me that my sister was selling her body to men for money.

I still couldn't see anything wrong with that. She needed the money, I thought so she could pay for night school. Double ha.

So Paulie and I go down to the basement and we're'fnessin' around. I asked him what his mother was talking about.

"You're sister's a whore," he said to me.

"But how's it work?" I asked.

"Okay," he says. "I give you a quarter, and you have to let me do what I want."

"Anything?"

"Anything," he says.

So that didn't sound too bad. What was wrong with that?

"Okay," I said. "Give me a quarter and show me how it works."

So he gave me a quarter. I didn't think that he would, because that's a lot of dough when you're nine like I was.

So he gives me the quarter.

"What happens now?" I asked.

"Take off your clothes," he said to me.

So I took them off. There still didn't seem to be anything wrong with that, do you?

So I take off all my clothes.

"Lay down there," he said, pointing to the mattress.

That shit. He knew what he was doing all the time. He was taking advantage of me.

You know, sometimes I think that none of this would never have happened if he didn't give me that two bits. Funny.

Anyway, I lay down and he pulls his pants off. You gotta remember that he was eleven at that time, and at eleven, in the South Bronx, believe me, boys will be boys, and they know all there is to know at that age. He'd screwed before no doubt, and he knew well what he was doing. That shit.

So I lay there and I see, for the first time, what a cock looks like. I didn't know what he was gonna do with it though.

I found out.

INTERVIEW TWO

Unfortunately, Priscilla's time ran a little short that day, and as intrigued as I was with her, I had to tell her that time was up and she would have to return to me the following week.

She seemed reluctant to do so, but a five dollar bill solved that. You must realize however, that this is strictly against my usual battle plans; I do not like to bribe patients. But I felt that she needed help, and if that was the way I had to do it, then so be it.

You think I'm here because you slipped me a fin, don't you? Well, that's not the reason I'm coming back here. I like your office. I think it's neat.

Anyway, where the hell was I? Oh yeah, now I remember.

So Paulie gave me the quarter and I took my clothes off. He took his clothes off too, and for the first time. I saw what a man had hanging between his legs.

I loved it!

I didn't really know what it was. I mean, I knew what it was, I just didn't know what it was for.

I found out though.

Paulie told me to lay flat against the mattress. So I did. And he told me that he was going to show me what my sister did for a living.

He laid down against me, on top of me. I could feel his stiff dick against me.

And you know what? It excited me!

I loved it. And before I could do anything else, he was putting it in me. That hurt at first, but at nine, I couldn't tell between what was right and what was wrong, "I'm gonna fuck your ears off," Paulie promised.

So I lay there, forced to submit, as he slid his cock in and out of me. I don't remember how excited I got, but I do know how excited I get these days when someone sticks their pole into me, and I like it now, so I must have liked it then.

It was like he was sticking a pole into me. That's what it was really, but I didn't know that then.

"Like it?" he asked.

"Hmmm," I said, nodding, which wasn't easy because I was on my back.

He continued to do so, until I thought that he would split me down the middle. I think back about that day now and I realize that, although he was only eleven or twelve, he was pretty big in those days too. He's a lot bigger now though, believe me.

Anyway, he kept on sliding that greased pole in and out of me like clockwork. And I was bleeding down there and really crying because it hurt so much, but it was kind of like a pleasure with pain, or pain with pleasure. It doesn't really make all that much difference.

Anyway, he kept on doing it, and then he started to shoot this white stuff into me. He said it was called come. I didn't know what he was talking about.

"It hurrrttttss!" I wailed.

You think he cared? Hell, he didn't give a shit whether he was hurting me or not.

So that night when I went home, I went into the toilet and looked at myself in the mirror. There was some dried blood on my pussy, but I'd never felt better in my whole life.

So after that day, I figured that whenever I needed some quick money, I knew just how to get it.

Like one day at school. The teacher said that the class was going on a field trip. I didn't know what the hell a field trip was. I guessed that meant that you went on a trip to see what a field looked like.

Hell. I didn't need no field trip to see what one looked like. There .was a lot next to Mr. Jensen's hardware store. That was a field.

But Miss Craft, the teacher, she said that we were going to the Central Park Zoo, and that we would need two dollars. I knew that was bad.

So I went home and told Mommy that I needed two dollars, and she hit the roof. She told me that I couldn't go.

And I really wanted to go, something terrible too. I mean, everyone else was going except me, and I felt left out.

So I knew a way to get the money, even if she wouldn't give it to me. I could remember what Paulie told me back in the basement that day.

"Prissy," he told me, "anytime you need money, lay on your back and you'll get it."

At first, I remember, I didn't know what he was talking about. But then I remembered what my sister did, and that I would be doing the same thing. I seemed worthwhile, you know what I mean?

I went and told Paulie that I needed two dollars, and did he know anyone who would like to have some fun for a dollar. He said he did, and he told me to go down to the basement after school and wait there.

So I waited. And a little later he came in with three of his friends. They all had dollars.

"We split fifty-fifty," Paulie said to me. "That's two dollars each."

That was fine with me. All I needed was two dollars for the trip. So I stripped off my clothes, and I took on all three of his friends, one at a time. And you know something? The more I did it, the more I liked it.

So I went on the school trip to the zoo.

But I learned something else that day. I learned that this was a great way to make money any time I needed, and it got to the point where every guy in the class got some time with me.

I still didn't think that there was anything wrong with what I was doing. Why should I feel that way anyway? I didn't think that I was doing anything really wrong about it.

And it made me famous. I saw my name all over the place after that. My name was written in the bathrooms and even in the phone booths around the neighborhood. I was a star!

I liked it. I liked everything about it too. I mean, I still didn't think that there was anything wrong with what I was doing, because to tell you the truth, I was getting into the whole thing. I even asked my sister for lessons.

Then, one day at school.

"Hey, Prissy," Barbie Kent said to me. "I hear you're popular now."

I didn't like her; never had. She was a first class cunt, even at ten.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said to her.

"I think you do," she said bitterly.

She was angry because her old boyfriend was now my new boyfriend. And she wouldn't give him what he wanted and I would, and for free. Boyfriends got special discounts.

"You slut," Barbie said.

"What did you call me?" I asked.

"You're a whore," she snapped, "and a slut.

Slut! Slut!"

I didn't know what a slut was. It didn't sound nice though, and anything that Barbie called me wouldn't be nice.

"Stop that!" I told her.

Then three of her equally cunty friends came over, and all four of them began coming down on me.

"Prissy's a slut!" they said. "Slut! Slut! Slut!"

"Shut up!" I screamed.

I ran home, crying all the way. And I went home and Mom asked me what I was crying about.

"They called me a slut," I sniffed. "Who called you that?" Mom asked. "Barbie Kent," I wailed. "Why did she call you that?" Mom asked. "Because I stole her boyfriend, that's why. And because she said I sell myself." "What??"

"I sell myself," I told her.

"And just what does that mean?"

So I told her about how Paulie told me an easy way to make money and after that, how I was doing it all the time, and I told her just about everything.

And before I knew what was happening to me, she pushed me into the John and took off my dress and my underpants. She stuck her fingers into my pussy and she began to feel things.

"Your hymen is broken!" she said. "Who did this to you?"

I could see she was mad, and I could also see that if I told her about Paulie being the first, she'd yell at his mother and all that, so I didn't say anything.

And before I could spit she was dragging me down to the church. She told me that I was going to have to repent for my sins and all that horseshit, and she turned me over to Father Mulcahey and he locked me in the confessional and told me that I had to repent or Lucifer would get me. And I figured that he might as well get me.

And then he turned white.

"Are you sorry for what you did?" he asked me.

I told him I was, but I wasn't. Shit, I had a date that same day with someone from the sixth grade.

Anyway, he kept me there all day, and by the time I managed to. get outta there, it was too late to do anything else, so I went home. Of course, Mom was there and she wouldn't talk to me.

"I'm sorry, Mom," I said. "Father Mulcahey told me that I sinned and all, and I won't do it anymore."

She seemed satisfied with that, so for the time being, everything was cool.

But there were problems. See, Paulie told me that he was my pimp, whatever that was. I didn't really know what he was talking about. But he knew that I couldn't quite now, because he had a lot of friends who wanted me for that same day.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but business is over."

"What are you talking about?" he asked. "You can't do that to me. They'll kill me!"

So I told him that it was too late, that I wasn't doing it anymore because Father Mulcahey told me that it was a sin and that I shouldn't do it anymore. And Paulie got real mad but he didn't do anything.

So the next day, I was walking home from school when Paulie yelled at me from across the street in a vacant lot. He told me to come over there and I did.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Follow me," he said.

An d he led me deeper into the lot, and before I know what happened, I could see his friends waiting for me behind a shed.

"What's going on here?" I asked.

I found out what.

They all grabbed me and yelled at me. One of them threw me down on the ground, and then there were about three of them on me and they started to tear my clothes off.

"This is what you get," Paulie said, "for crapping out on us."

And Paulie went first. He ripped off my dress and then he went for my panties. They came off right in his hand that morning, and he dropped his pants and then he whipped out his dick and he started to shove it into me.

And one of his friends also dropped his pants and he sat on my chest and he snapped at me, telling me to suck his dick.

It was big and red and ugly, and I didn't want to suck it at all. But he had a knife, and I could tell that these guys really meant business.

So Paulie rammed his cock into me, and I screamed, not because it hurt, but because I was scared that they were going to hurt me.

And they did too. When I screamed, Paulie hauled off and slugged me in the mouth. I thought that he was going to knock all my teeth out.

So I kept quiet. The other two were holding me down anyway, so there wasn't anywhere I could go I was trapped and we all knew it.

After Paulie, went someone else. This guy, his name was Joe, was even bigger than Paulie was. He started to stick it into me, and this time it really hurt, and I cried out in pain and he seemed to really like that.

"Stooooppppppp!" I cried.

You think they cared that they were hurting me? They didn't give a shit! They were all animals.

"Leave me alone, y'animal!" I wailed.

So after Joe was done, then it was Bobby's turn. But he was the oldest, and he said that he didn't want it any old way, that he wanted to do something else.

And he told his friends to roll me onto my belly and they did. I was so shocked and all that by this time that I couldn't even tell what was happening to me.

So Bobby takes his cock and starts sticking it into my asshole. And that really hurt, more than anything else. I mean, it hurt so much that I passes out. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was being gang-banged.

"Leave me alone, please!" I shouted.

But that was whistling in the dark. They wouldn't stop, and they didn't until they all had gotten what they wanted. I was all bloody because they'd beat me up too, and I couldn't stand up because it hurt between my legs.

Anyway, I managed to get home somehow. I don't even remember getting home, but somehow I did.

Mom asked me what happened. I then told her what Paulie and the others did to me, and she got pissed and called Paulie's mother and called her an ignorant dago and they yelled at each other and everything.

So of course he denied it, as did the others. And there was nothing I could do about it either. They'd raped me, and with my past behind me, everyone said that it was my fault in the first place.

But I figured that as long as this happened anyway, I might as well become a whore. There was nothing Mom could do to stop them, or me, and she had to finally kick me out of the house, because she said that she wasn't going to let any damned whore live there.

So I moved in with my sister, and we whored together. And I didn't see anything wrong with it, and to this day, I still don't.

I just think sometimes what would have happened if Paulie hadn't given me that quarter. I still do.

CONCLUSION

Priscilla's case is indeed unusual, but not unlike a staggering amount of cases I see each week. She is not alone. Indeed, the city is a breeding ground for this sort of thing.

I suggested that she seek further help, that there was something in her that was well worth saving. Whether she will or not is another story, but I like to think that she will.

I hope so.

It seems that she is emotionally upset, something that is not easily rectified. But there is hope for her, and this hope looms, I hope, it not too far in the future. We shall see.

CASE HISTORY SEVEN

SUBJECT: Mickey AGE: Seventeen

INTERVIEW ONE

When Mickey first walked into my office, I couldn't help .but notice how very uptight he was about something. He didn't say anything out-right, but his manner, brooding and untrusting, seemed to tell the whole story.

It seemed that he was upset about an incident with a teacher at his school. At least, that was all I could get from the background of the case that he supplied me on the phone.

He sat down slowly and checked things out before saying anything, but once he did, as usual, I couldn't get him to shut up. So here is his story, and I'm also sure that it'll be the same horseshit as usual.

Shit.

I mean, double shit. I didn't wanna come here at all, you know? I mean, I was talked into it by my teachers. Not the ones who I came to see you about either. So I figure that as long as I have to, I might as well get this bullshit over with. How about it?

Anyway. I go to the Thomas J. Duncan school for boys. Does that make you wanna throw up? A stud like me, in a boy's school! I hate it, but my fucking parents made me.

Wanna know why? Because when I went to a regular school, I knocked up three chicks, that's why, and the school claimed that I was corrupting them and the other students.

Bull! I didn't do that to anyone. Shit, those girls almost threw themselves at me, for Chrissakes. It was never my idea. They were willing, so I figured, what the hell, why Wouldn't I be?

But that doesn't really have anything to do with me. I mean, it has something to do with me, but what I meant was, it doesn't have anything to do with this crummy story. I'll tell you about that now.

So after I got kicked out of school, it didn't look like I was going to be able to go anywhere else. And that didn't bother me either. I always said that high school was a crock of shit anyway.

Of course, Mom and Dad wouldn't hear of it. Shit, they raised hell when I got booted out. I think that Dad was proud of me though. Not for getting kicked out, but for why I was kicked out.

"That's your whole damned fucking problem!" he yelled at me when he found out what happened. "You moron! You think with your glands!"

Who could argue with that?

So what happened was, for weeks they tried getting me into another school. I didn't much care what the hell they did either way, because to tell you the truth, I didn't wanna go back at all.

See, I hated school, and I hated learning stuff that I would never use again, like math and all that bullshit. All I cared about was screwing. Can you blame me?

So finally, one day, they found a school for me. It was a private school, and it specialized in shit like what happened to me. They assured my folks that I wouldn't be able to knock anymore girls up because there weren't any to knock up, meaning it was an all boy's school.

The idea didn't appeal to me much. But I had no other choice. Dad told me, that shithead, that if I didn't go to this school and graduate, that he didn't care what happened to me.

So I went.

And I got into a fight my first day there. Most of the guys there were like me, tough and good fighters and good screwers. Had we been older, I'm sure that we would all have been good friends.

See, but there was too much competition between us to see who was the biggest stud and who was the best fighter and what-not, and I had to prove that they were all pussies and that I was better.

There was this other guy, his name was Mike, and I could tell from the moment I saw him that we were gonna rumble. And we did.

So I went to my class and sat down, and Mike told me that I was sitting in his seat. I moved, trying to be fair, and then he told me that I was sitting in his other seat.

"You sit in both seats?" I asked him.

"Yeah, what of it?!"

"You must have a big ass," I told him.

He didn't like that.

"You're a wiseass, aren't you?" he asked.

"I must be," I said. "Wanna make something of it?"

"Maybe," he said, "but not here. After school. We'll get chucked out if we fight here."

I nodded, and before the class was over, the news spread about the big fight that was going to take place there. I was real nervous about it, but on the other hand, I had to prove that I could stand up to him, even if I lost the fight.

So, after school, we went out into the lot and started to fight. It seemed like everyone was there from the school, and me being a newie, they were all rooting for Mike, their friend. Also, if they didn't root for him, he'd kick their asses.

He came at me swinging, but as big as he was, and as strong as he was, he was also heavy and not agile at all. That was to my advantage.

I ducked when he swung at me, and at the same time, I somehow managed to land one in his groin. That seemed to make him pissed, and he came at me again and he popped me a good one on the chin.

That made me madder. So I came back swinging, and I managed to get him a few times in the belly. But it didn't do anything to him there, so I knew that I was gonna have to aim for the face. He came at me with all arms and legs, and all I could do was duck. It didn't look too good for me at all, but I was going to go down swinging if I had-to. I was getting tired, but so was he.

And then I saw an opening between his eyes, and I hauled back, and with all I could muster, I swung and smacked him once on the jaw. His head snapped back, and when it popped forward again, this time I belted him three times in a row, in the nose, eyes and mouth again.

He staggered back, his arms weakening, and then he tried to swing again, but I let him have it in the face again, and twice more in the belly for good measure, and then he fell over, his knees buckling, and he fell to the ground, landing on his ass.

He sat there, stunned and bleeding. I sucked my cut knuckle.

Someone handed me my coat, and I grabbed it and walked away. I'm sure that they would have told me good fight, but they were all scared of Mike.

After I was out of view, I started to jump up and down like a wildman because I was so happy that I'd knocked the crap outta him like that.

You shoulda seen me perform that night. I went over to MabePs house. She lived about five blocks away.

Mabel was what I called my "security fuck." That meant that I could fuck her anytime I wanted, because she was always willing and I knew she'd be there if I wanted her.

"Hey, Mabel!" I called from the street.

The window flew open and she stuck her head out at me. "Whaddaya want?" she asked.

"I'm comin' up," I said, and she smiled.

So she was waiting for me. And the great thing was, both her folks worked at night, so there were times when we'd lay around and fuck our brains out I mean, Mabel was really nuts about me.

"Take off those clothes," I ordered.

She did.

"Lay down on that bed," I said. She did.

"Spread those legs," I said. And she did.

I stripped down and laid on top of her. She was something else. She was about sixteen, with long brown hair and brown eyes and high cheekbones and an ass that I loved sinking my teeth into.

And she fucked like a rabbit too. I mean, she had the tightest pussy in all of Bay Ridge, and I liked that one hell of a lot.

She would screw me anytime I wanted her to. That was what I liked about her. And she wouldn't screw anyone else either. She was like that, she really was. She was faithful to me.

So I start ramming it into her, and her arms curl around me and she draws me down on top of her, pressing my body against hers. And I can feel those nipples against my chest, and I can also feel that they're getting hard against me.

I really shoved it into her, and she liked that. "Oooooh!" she moaned, "fuck me deeper!"

So I really let her have it. I shoved my cock into her, and by this time, we're curled up on the bed like you wouldn't believe, my bush into hers, that was how deep I was into her.

And she started to wail because she was really getting off on it, and she said that I was the only one who could make her come, the only one.

So that day alone, my ego soars like a bird, because not only did I knock the shit out of that blubber bag at school, but now she's telling me that I'm the only one what can make her come.

I mean, that's something else.

So she's laying there and she's kicking her legs and rubbing them against my ass and pressing my crotch down into her, but I was as deeply into her as I could get, and I could tell that I was gonna come, because by that time I could feel it in me, and she's cryin' out and raising hell. And I knew what would make her really happy.

Just as I'm about to come, I pull out of her and let my come fly all over her, making my gism shoot onto her naked body. She likes that for some reason. And I'm beating my meat as I'm shooting off, because I can't just let it sit like that while I'm shooting, you know?

So she explains later that she likes me to do that because she's the submissive one and I'm the dominant one, and for some reason, she tells me that I'm the only man she'd ever marry.

And I asked her, what the hell does she mean about marriage and that, and she tells me that she always thought that we were going to get married someday, and I tell her that she's full of shit.

"What the hell does that mean?" she asked.

"Who the fuck ever said anything about getting married?" I asked.

"I always thought. . ." she says.

"You thought what?" I asked. I was pissed.

"I always thought that we would someday," she said.

So I told her that she was full of shit, that I never wanted to get married. And why should I? I mean, with all the chicks out there in the city, I'm gonna get married and just have one to fuck? No way.

And then she says that I'm not a good lay, that she lied because she knew that I was on an ego trip anyway, and that I never cared about anyone but myself, and she's never had an orgasm with me, but she never told me she felt that way.

So I belted her one.

She had it coming though.

Don't you think she did? I mean, shit, the only reason why she ever went to bed with me was so I'd marry her. That cunt. Women are all like that. They only have one thing on their brains.

It's their mothers' fault. I mean, their mothers tell them that they have to be housewives and shit, and that they can't do anything else, so of course that's all they want, because they don't even know themselves and in a few years they all turn into baby machines. I'm telling you, it makes me wanna vomit sometimes.

So I was a little out of it that day, but only for awhile. I get over that shit easily, and the next day at school it was like nothing ever happened to me. Mabel was dead as far as I was concerned.

The homeroom teacher, Mr. Carey, this big fucker, tells us that we're gettin' a new hygiene teacher that day, because the old one, Mr. Riley, was stabbed to death the week before.

None of us care either way, that was, until we seen what Mr. Riley's replacement looked like.

A woman! A fuckin' woman!!

You know what that was like? There we are, a bunch of horny and wild guys, and they send in a teacher, and she's the one who's gonna be teaching us about sex! And she's a fucking knockout!

She's tall and slim. She hadda be the best looking woman I ever seen in my life. And she beats the shit outta Mabel, but then, so would Godzilla.

"Good morning," she says to us. "My name is Miss Stevens."

Miss. She was a "Miss." That meant that she wasn't married. I wondered if she knew what she was gettin' herself into by coming to this school.

"I'm here to take over for the late Mr. Riley," she says. "But first, let's get a few things straight. First of all, I don't take any shit from punks. And I especially don't take any shit from punks like you guys. So watch your asses and we'll get along fine."

I'm sure that the principal wouldn't have liked that language, but fuck him. He never hadda teach in a school like this anyway.

She's tough. She looks petite and demure, but we can tell that she doesn't take any bullshit. And I like that about her, too.

"Let's get started," she says. And she starts to teach us about sex, as if we don't already know what she's teaching us.

So after school, we all sat around getting high and talking about who's gonna be the first to fuck her. Naturally, they all think it's me, because I was the hero now. I'd knocked the hell outta the other hero, and he was dethroned. So they all thought I was gonna be the one.

And I couldn't disappoint them, could I? I mean, they were counting on me.

And another thing. See, I couldn't let this teacher get the better of us, because then she'd think that we were all pussies and the like, and I couldn't have that happening.

So the next day in class:

"Okay," she says after she teaches us some bullshit, "any questions?"

I raise my hand.

"Yes?" she asks.

"Yeah," I say. "Whatcha doin' Friday night?"

That caught her off guard, but she's tough and she's been there before and she can take care of herself.

"I don't see," she sniffs, "where it's any business of yours."

"I know that," I said. "I was just curious."

"Let's get this clear!" she says. "I'm the teacher and you're the student, and it's my policy never to socialize with any of my students. So here on in. I would appreciate it if you'd remember that."

"I'll try," I said, only because I didn't want her to have the last word.

"Thank you," she says, because she don't want me having the last word.

"You're welcome," I say, because I don't want her to have it either.

"Anytime," she says, and smiles, because she knows I can't top that.

Everyone's looking at me and waiting for my comeback.

"Good," I said.

She looked at me, and if looks could kill, I'd be dead now.

I knew then that I was gonna fuck her.

INTERVIEW TWO

His time ran short that day, as it always seems to do, and I had him return to me the following week. I was curious to see what happened on his story, as it seemed to fascinate me. And here it is.

Anyway. Where was I?

Oh yeah. So like, I knew I was gonna nail her sometime or other, and I think that she knew it too. But she didn't act like she did.

So I had to work this out somehow.

I didn't know how the hell I was gonna play this, but I knew that somehow I was gonna get her into the sack.

I borrowed Billy's car one day and I waited for her after school. She didn't see me when she got into her car. See, I wanted to see where she lived, and I followed her all the way home.

She lived in Manhattan, on the West Side on West Seventy-Ninth Street. She lived in a small brownstone. I didn't know the apartment, but that didn't make any difference really.

So now what? I wasn't too sure what I was going to do at this point. I knew that I had to do something, but I didn't know just what.

So the next day, I borrowed his car again, and after school, I sped on to her apartment.

I brought some Formica with me. Any crook will tell you that Formica is what you use to break into someone's apartment. That way, see, you slide it between the lock and the door and the lock disengages itself automatically. And it worked, like a charm.

Real smooth.

I was waiting for her when she got home that day. The phone started to ring, at the same time I saw her get out of her car and head upstairs.

"Hello?" I said.

"Who's this?" some guy asked.

"This is Mrs. Stevens' fuck for the day. Who's this?"

There was dead silence on the line, and then it went dead.

"What are you doing here?" she gasped as she saw me. I hadn't even heard her come in!

"Hi," I said. "What's happening? By the way, your boyfriend called, and I told him that you never wanted to see him again."

"You little shit!" she shrieked. "How dare you. . .I'm calling the police right this. . ."

She went for the phone and tried to dial. What she didn't see was that I had cut the wires.

"Get out of here!" she snapped. "When I'm ready," I said, and went to her. She was ready though. She kicked me in the nuts.

I fell over and wailed. I mean, she kicked me hard and it hurt like a bitch.

"Okay," she said sternly, "Breathe deeply, evenly, and count to five. The pain will subside quickly."

It did, but it also made me a lot less horny.

"I want to know how you got in here," she said.

So I told her about the Formica and all that, and she almost smiled. She wasn't afraid of me, and that sucked. Shit, that was the name of the game.

"I came here," I lied, "because I think I love you."

She went for it! I couldn't believe it, but the bitch went for it. She got all glassy-eyed and everything, and she took my hand and led me into the bedroom.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" she asked, as she started to undress.

Something was wrong. I didn't know what. But something was wrong. It was all happening too fast for me. I was the one that was supposed to seduce her, not the other way around.

She stripped down to her birthday suit. I must say that she was really a fox. She had a smashing body, and her tits were making my mouth water.

"I always wanted to fuck you," she said, taking off my clothes. And she strapped me down and pushed me down on the bed and she climbed on top of me.

That was lousy. I wanted to be on top. That was the only way I'd ever done it. I couldn't perform being on the bottom.

She started to kiss my hairy chest. She nibbled at me, all over, at my nipples, doing everything to me that I was supposed to do to her. I couldn't believe what was happening.

' Somehow I managed to get it up. She started to suck me, and then when she was sure that I was good and hard, she clamped down on my cock and pushed it up into her. She was like sitting on her knees above me. She looked gigantic like, shit!

I couldn't come. Shit, I started to go limp. She'd had this all planned out, the bitch. I started to go limp on her, and I kind of just slid out of her and that was it.

She wouldn't let me get on top. She said that she couldn't do it that way, and I said that I couldn't do it that way, and then she told me I'd better go home.

So I left.

I didn't want to stay there anyway. She punctured " a hole in my ego big enough to drive a truck through. Oh shit. I can't look at her in class anymore, even when she asks me a question. And all the other guys know what happened. They must have guessed, because I didn't tell them and I'm sure that she didn't either.

Damn.

I'm gonna become a monk somewhere in Siberia.

CONCLUSION

This case is indeed unusual in the respect that everything happened in reverse. It has always been a male fantasy to have sex with one's teacher. I recall when I was in my first year. There was a pretty teacher that I felt the same way about. It is natural.

In this case however, he seems to have suffered for what happened, and I had to assure him that the trouble was in her, not him. It wasn't, but he seemed to believe it, and he left my office better off for it. Ah, if all my cases were this easy...

CASE HISTORY EIGHT

SUBJECT: June AGE: Fifteen

INTERVIEW ONE

When June first walked into my office, I couldn't help but see that she was deeply disturbed about something. She wouldn't tell me right out what it was, but I could only imagine.

She later confessed that much of her problem stemmed from a single experience she had at her high school several weeks before. She went on to tell me the rest of the story, which was recorded word for word.

Thanks a lot, Doc. I mean, I knew that I would have to come see someone sooner or later, so it might as well be sooner. I mean, this thing has been eating me alive, I guess I should start at the beginning. I mean, they tell me it's an excellent place to start.

I'm fifteen. I don't know if I told you that or not. But I am.

Okay. So it all started in my high school. I mean, none of it was my fault either. How the hell was I supposed to know that those guys were waiting for me in the locker room?

I'm getting ahead of myself.

I'll stop.

So I woke up that morning and Mom told me to hurry or else I'd be late for school. I looked out the window and saw that it snowed the night before, and there were almost eleven inches.

So since we lived a mile from the school, I was certain that it was going to be called off for the day.

Mom didn't think so. She came and shook me in bed again.

"There's not going to be any school today, Mom," I said.

"Get up," she snapped.

So I went to school. And it wasn't easy, walking a mile through the snow and all the slush. I had to take very big steps.

I mean, I could have gone back home. I heard the three short blasts on the town whistle, and believe me, everyone who went to school knew what that meant. Three short blasts meant that school was kibosh that day, and just stay home and play in the snow.

So I could have gone back. And I should have, as things turned out.

But I kept going. I figured that as long as I was almost there, and school was canceled for the day, I would go there just to mess around. Had I stayed in bed it would have been different.

So I figured that I'd have some fun with it. I'd never been to the school under those circumstances, and it sounded kind of neat.

So when I got to the school, as I thought, there wasn't anyone there. I mean, there were a few students like me who'd braved the cold and the snow for a crack at an education.

"Hey, Junie!" Ursula called.

I spun around.

"June!"

I couldn't tell where the voice was coming from. And then I looked up and saw that it was coming from the second floor.

"Hey, Ursula!" I called. "How'd you get inside?"

"From the cafeteria exit," she called. "Come on in!"'

So I went inside.

It was kind of creepy, what with all the lights being out and all. There's really something creepy about an empty school, you know? I mean, you expect it to be hustling and bustling and everything, and to see the hallways deserted is kind of, I don't know, unnerving.

So I walked to where Ursula was. She was in the Science lab, doing who knew what!

"Junie," she called from the room, and I ran to her.

"Will you look at this place," she said to me. "It looks like a rucking morgue!" "It does," I agreed.

"I've got a great idea," she said. "Let's go through the office and see our folders and all that shit."

It sounded like a great idea, so we left the Science Lab and walked down to the office.

"Because," she said, "my sister used to work in the office, and she knew everything about it."

So we went to another entrance to the office and when we got there, sure enough, the door was unlocked and we walked right in.

We opened and checked the files ourselves.

"Look," Ursula said, pointing to my records. "They have you down for cutting all last week."

"I did."

"Oh," she replied. "Well, erase it."

"What?"

"Sure," Ursula said. "Erase it. And that way, no one will be the wiser." So I erased it.

And then we heard footsteps, and when we did, we both froze like TV dinners. It was like getting hit in the face; neither of us knew what to do about it .

"Oh shit," Ursula said. "If they find us in here. . .well, they'd better not, that's all."

So we split. We dashed out the exit and down some dark corridor. Ursula ran one way.

So I ran another way. It was the last time that I was to see Ursula that day; the last time.

Anyway, I ended up down by the gym. We have a big gym at Dykeman High, a really huge one. And the men's locker room was next door.

I don't know why, but I was dying to see what a men's locker room looked like. I'd never seen one before, and the thought of it made me horny. It was so masculine and virile smelling, just from the outside.

So I went in. There wasn't any trouble about getting into the locker room. I mean, why would they want to lock that?

I went in and saw all the lockers. The place was a smelly mess, and it didn't do anything for me, not a damned thing. So I turned to leave.

And that's when I heard the voices.

I stopped dead. I couldn't believe that anyone would be in there, especially on a day like today. So I listened.

"Shit, is it cold in here," one guy said.

"Yeah, but we gotta hole out here until the heat dies."

"It smells," the first guy said.

"Hold your nose."

I knew they were hiding from the police. So I ran to the door, and it was closed. On the way though, I smacked against the row of lockers and made a racket.

"Shit, someone's in here!"

I hid behind a row of lockers. The two of them bolted out the door and when they did, I ran to the opposite one.

"Goin' somewhere, Sweetheart?" the guy asked.

I spun around, and he was standing there, along with another guy. They were both black, and tall and well built and scary looking as heU.

"Lookit that!" the second one said. "What's she doing in here?"

"Who cares?" the first one said. "I bet she's a virgin though."

I knew then that they were going to rape and probably kill me. They started to come at me with knives, and the other one had a lead pipe in his hand. I screamed in fear, and he started to hit me with the pipe.

He knocked me down to the floor and pounced on top of me. I could smell the wine on his breath against my neck, and I wanted to throw up.

"Stooooppppp!" I cried.

He started to paw at my blouse. It came off in his hand. He threw it into the corner.

"Atta boy!" his pal cried out. "Rape her ears off!"

They were crazy.

He managed to get my pants off somehow, I don't remember. All I remember is being scared and screaming bloody murder.

I hit him in the face by accident; I was swinging and his nose got in the way. That seemed to really make him mad, and when I did it, he hauled off and smacked me on the jaw.

He pulled his pants off and threw them aside. I was laying there limp. His punch had knocked me silly.

And then I felt a sharp, stabbing pain in my groin as he brutally pierced me. I cried out in pain and when I did, he smacked me again.

He kept shoving his hips into me, making his rod travel deeper into me. I was a virgin at the time; their calculations had been correct.

"It huuurrrrttttsss!" I wailed.

He didn't hear me, or he didn't care. Whatever, he started to pump me, again and again, and believe me, it hurt.

I started to bleed, you know, as he busted my hymen. He was groaning like a stuffed pig by this time as he started to come.

"Get off me, you babboon!" I cried.

He slapped me again, and again after that, but I still screamed. I wasn't going to lay there and let them do that to me; I would have rather died then to succumb to those sick people.

"Heeeellllllppppp!" I wailed.

He withdrew from me and motioned to his pal. His pal dropped his pants and mounted me.

"I ain't gona hurtcha," he said in my ear. Like hell he wouldn't.

He was worse then the other one. His cock must have been twice the size, and I suppose that the other one was his advance man or something. Like when they raped someone, the one with the smaller cock got things started, all stretched and stuff, and then the other one finished the job.

I wailed again.

"Junie?" Ursula called. "That you? Where are you?"

"I'm here, in the gym!" I cried. "Get help! Call the police!!!"

She breathed a heavy sigh that echoed through the whole school. She ran somewhere and when she did, they freaked out.

"Time to leave," the first one said, and made a quick exit. His friend followed.

So no one ever knew what happened except Junie. Because for one thing, it wouldn't have solved anything, and for another, who would believe it? I didn't even believe it, and it happened to me!

Shit.

CONCLUSION

Junie's case is indeed perplexing. That she didn't even tell anyone shows that she is secure about it, and has not suffered for it in the least. There's nothing wrong with her really, so I was forced to tell her so.

GENERAL CONCLUSION

Rape.

Not a pleasant subject, is it? This book has dealt honestly and openly with the problem, and now has come the time for you, the reader, to draw some conclusion.

With Priscilla, there doesn't seem to be all that much hope. But her mind can be changed, but only if her body will cooperate.

With Luther, love came easily, and it will leave the same way. He is young, and that's all that matters.

With Greg, it would seem that his ego has taken a beating, but a few good scores will clear that up.

THE END
Raped Innocents: Taken By Force ....(71k)    by Unknown





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