enovel Lady Dominant: Power-Hungry Pussy Unknown [Future Story Codes]

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Lady Dominant: Power-Hungry Pussy ....(70k)    by Unknown

GENERAL INTRODUCTION

There have been strong, dominant women all throughout time and history. It is only in our present time, since the Victorian lid of manners was put on all sexual activity and the sexual activity of women in particular, that any sign of sexual dominance in a woman was seen as sick or uncomely, "unfeminine" behavior.

However, there is a movement afoot today that begs us to look at and judge for ourselves the sources and the effects of sexual dominance in women. Often it is the result of domination perpetrated on the women themselves. But sometimes a woman's desire to be dominating sexually can be a healthy and enjoyable thing, for both the woman and her partner(s).

These seven cases, presented here, only touch upon some of the kinds of dominance women in our society experiment with.

Teresa M., twenty-six: "I wanted to make her writhe the way my grandfather had made me writhe, with fear but also with wanting. I knew she wanted to be raped by this brute and I only tied her up so that her fantasy could come true."

Lynn W., thirty-three: "He looked so funny when he came out in that little French maid's costume that I couldn't help laughing and when I saw him bend over to pick up my whip and expose his little buns, I felt a dizzying tingling in my cunt and I stabbed his buns with the heels of my boots. I saw his pathetic pee-pee cock bounce and that really disgusted me. All I wanted to do was snap my whip in his face and show him for the first time in my life, what I really think of men!"

CASE HISTORY ONE

SUBJECT: Teresa M.

AGE: Twenty-six

INTERVIEW ONE

Teresa is a very thin young woman. From the back you could mistake her for a child, a waif, as she is also not very tall. She's about 5'2". However she has two features which counterbalance the waif impression and they are her intense flashing green eyes and her extremely large breasts. She has the breasts of an Italian momma who's had a few children. It almost seems as if someone had perpetrated a bad joke on her by planting such huge mammary glands on her otherwise small body.

The first time she came to my office she was dressed in her work clothes. She was wearing a mauve body stocking, the nylon fabric immensely stretched out of shape over her chest, but fitting well elsewhere and tight purple pants and spiked red high heels. She was also wearing black seamed stockings under her pants. She wore a green fake fur jacket which fitted tightly at her waist and a brown plaid newsboy's cap. She wore a great deal of eye makeup too, very artfully applied to make her green eyes stand out.

She explained to me that she would never have considered therapy before. Her people were Catholic, working class and they just didn't believe in this sort of thing. But she had fallen in love and she blushed at this point and said: well, she wasn't sure if it was love and she was very confused because she didn't know what she felt for Jake. But in any case, she said she had met someone whom she trusted who had urged her to see me and so she had come. She made it very clear, with her eyes intensely on me now with no shyness or coyness, that she didn't put much stock in this kind of treatment and that she doubted she'd return, but she'd agreed to come once.

I told her I understood fully and asked her to begin. She crossed her legs and looked casually around the room. Then she began talking.

So, this is the doctor's office, huh? How come there's no couch? No, I'm comfortable here.

Well, I guess the craziest thing in my life is sex. That's what I'm here to talk about. Like I say, everyone's got some crazy sex in their lives too, but my boyfriend, this guy I've been seeing for about ... two months now, he told me that I was really fucked up by some early things that happened to me and that maybe that was why I like to ... need to do such crazy things with sex now, as an adult. My boyfriend, Jake, said maybe if I came here and talked to you I could get to understand myself better and even change.

Well, as you can see I'm what's called well endowed. Big tits. All my life, ever since the things first grew on me, I've heard men talk about my big tits, as if that's all they can see when they look at me. I mean, I can't help it if I got big tits. I didn't ask for them.

Anyway, I'm also a Catholic. We grew up in a very strict Catholic home. There were seven of us. I'm the third oldest, the first girl. My father is a night watchman in the same company he's been with for thirty years. He's nearing retirement now. My mother's just a housewife. My father was a rake when he was a boy, but he got very religious when he started to have a family. He's so full of bullshit.

I mean I used to have to make out a list of things I was going to do to become a better person and he would go over it with me and then he'd tack it over my bed. He used to slam me around a lot. That's his basic way of talking or expressing anger, you know. With his fist. If he ever tried to do that to me now I'd kick in his nuts so fast and he knows that and he's older now, so he hasn't hit me in a long time. But when I was growing up, he hit me and I would just have to stand there and take it. But afterwards, to keep from crying and to keep my anger in or to express it somehow, I used to go into the bathroom and lock the door. I'd take the razor out of his shaver and I'd slash myself, usually on the belly.

I wasn't trying to commit suicide or anything like that. I was just trying to do something to show how much I hated myself. How much I hated my life.

He used to beat me for little stupid things. You know, like if I talked back to my mother or him, or if I wanted to wear stockings or go out with boys. We had a lot of fights about that.

My big tits made their appearance on me when I was pretty young, about thirteen. My mom's got them too, so that's where they come from. Well, my whole family's so goddamn pious, they'd have a shit fit if they knew how any of us turned out. I mean me and all my younger sisters have worked as whores. I'm working in a house on 43rd Street now but these days I just answer the phones. I'm trying to change.

Well, the incident that set all this off was what happened to Patty. I mean, what I did to her. What I made other people do to her. I guess it's really sick but the really sick thing is, I really enjoyed doing it. But I have to explain to you first my own first sexual experiences so you'll understand about me and Patty.

My grandparents lived down the street from us all the time I was growing up. They're both dead now, thank God. My grandfather was a disgusting old man. He never paid any attention to me, I don't think he even knew my name, until I was thirteen. Then he started to take a lot of interest in me. Now, I don't know what's wrong with the women in my family. Dumb, or something, because the most incredible things were always going on right under their noses and they never seemed to notice: my mother and my grandmother. My mother always used to send me over to my grandfather when Nana, my grandmother, was going out shopping for the afternoon or going to play mah-jong with her friends. And Nana would always leave me a plate of cookies and a glass of cold milk in the refrigerator for when I came over to "sit" with Poppy, as we called him.

Poppy. Ha! He was supposed to be sick or something, ailing. He had some kind of heart condition and stayed in bed a lot. You know, I was reading this book in a bookstore the other day and it was talking about the fairy tales and how far out they are. I mean take Little Red Riding Hood. What kind of mother would send her little child out into the woods alone unprotected from the wild animals? Just like that my mother and grandmother sent me to my grandfather.

The first time I was really innocent. I mean I really thought of him as a kind old man who appreciated my company because he was sick. I used to sit on the bedside and read to him from my books, or talk about school or something.

One day he said to me, "It's awfully hot in here. Aren't you hot Teresa? Why don't you take off your sweater?"

Well, it was very hot. They lived in one of those old damp tenements that always have a lingering smell of cabbage in them, you know? And in the winter when they turn the heat up you can get really uncomfortable wearing wool. Well, all I was wearing underneath my sweater was a bra. I'd just grown into an extra large E size-you have to go to one of those specialty shops for them.

I must have blushed and I said, "But Poppy all I've got on underneath is my bra."

He said, "That's all right child. I'm your grandfather. It doesn't matter."

So I took off my sweater. I continued reading the storybook out loud, but I became aware that the old man was staring at my tits and I became uncomfortable. I told myself that I was probably just imagining it and tried to ignore it. Poppy said he was really thirsty and asked me to get him a glass of juice. I went out to the kitchen and when I came back he was sitting up in bed with his knees raised and I noticed a pointed thing poking the blanket up between his legs. I just noticed it but I didn't think anything about it. Again, I told myself I was just getting paranoid or something. I knew the general idea of what men and women do together, but here I kept deluding myself about what was happening.

Poppy was sitting in the middle of the big double bed and I stood at the side and held out the glass to him. He said I shouldn't just stick it in his face that way but lean over and give it to him. So I leaned over and held the glass out to him.

He said, "You know what would be a lot of fun, Teresa? Let's see if you can balance the glass in the middle of your bra. You're such a big girl, you know. I bet you can do it."

I told him that was silly but he said I should be nice and try to please him because he was a sick old man. So I sighed and said okay and started to try to balance the glass in between my tits.

He said, "Come sit between my knees while you do it."

So I climbed up on the bed and kneeled between his knees and started concentrating on holding this damn glass of grapefruit juice between my boobs. I mean can you imagine? How innocent can you get? It makes me laugh.

Well, I actually got the glass to stand there.

Then Poppy said, "Now bring it to my lips. Bring it to me, girl."

So very carefully I inch forward on my knees, careful not to let a drop spill and I'm feeling all proud of myself and totally unselfconscious when I get the glass right up to his face, when suddenly he's sticking his big warty hairy hands inside my bra. I mean he's got me by the tits and he's squeezing my tits and juggling them in his hands, pulling at my bra.

I screamed of course and the glass spilled and wet us and the bedsheets and all, but he didn't stop. He had me by the boobs and he just wouldn't let go.

I kept screaming but now he revealed his true nature. He put his thick blue lips to my ear. I had long hair at the time and he pushed it aside with his nose and whispered very clearly in my ear:

"If you don't stop screaming this instant I'll twist your tits so hard you won't be able to even look at a bra for days."

I shut up then, because I knew he'd hurt my tits, which are very sensitive, but also because I realized I was in trouble and I had to play along with him before I could get away. At least that's how I thought.

Still holding onto my knockers, with my nipples sunk into the palms of his hands and his fingers trying to stretch around the whole bottom curve of my tits, he told me to reach behind me and unhook my brassiere.

I did this and then my boobs fell out. I just watched his ugly face light up. He had big bushy eyebrows and black eyes and grey hoary hair that fell over his forehead.

He shoved the sheets down past his knees and I saw that he was naked and his cock, I thought of it as his thingie at the time, was stabbing into the air. I'd never seen a real one before, not hard like that, though I'd heard about it. So I just sort of stared at it hypnotized-like. He roughly pulled my face down to the big reddened thing by giving my tits a jerk down. His cock just kept stabbing me in the face, the eyes, nose, lips and I didn't know what he was trying to do.

"Open your mouth, idiot," he said and he gave my knockers a twist.

I opened my mouth and was horrified to realize that he intended to stick that thing in my mouth. I have a small mouth and he stuck his rock-hard prick into the little hole my mouth made and I thought that would be it.

Ha-ha. It went on for hours. By the end of that first session I'd had my first lesson in how to suck off a man's cock. I learned you didn't just open your mouth. You had to lick sometimes. Sometimes you had to slide your mouth up and down over it very hard and fast and how you swallowed your saliva was your own problem. And of course I learned about the worst part: the end.

By the end I found that his cock had grown in the course of our little hour together. It was even bigger than when we started out and this big blue ugly vein that wound over the top of his penis and down the shaft had also grown even bigger and was throbbing. He had wound his legs around my back by now so I was really locked on top of him and he pressed my boobs under his thighs so the nipples were twisted under him and then he put both his hands on top of my head and pushed my head down real hard over his bulbous prong. I swear, his shaft sank halfway down my throat. My mouth was stretched way out of shape, open wider than I would ever have thought I could open it. But then I felt this disgusting shit, I mean this cream spurting out of the tip of his cock into my throat, so deep that I had to swallow it. He kept ramming his prod into his cream in the passage of my throat and then I felt his hands relax on top of his head and I started to lift my head up but instantly he forced my head to stay where it was. He always liked me to stay open around him after he had come, stay that way until he was soft, or else hard again. Some men like you to come off right away afterwards.

Well, that was just the first time I had sexual intercourse with Poppy. We did it all the time, after that. Every time I came over. He didn't always have me suck him off. The next time I went over he fucked me. That was how I lost my virginity.

I was afraid to go over to his house after that first time, but-- can you believe it? I said to myself that maybe I had just dreamed what happened that time with the grapefruit juice. Or that since we'd played that game once, he wouldn't want to play it again.

I didn't tell anyone what had happened. Before I left, Poppy took out his big Bowie knife. He had a collection of knives. He told me if I ever told anyone that no one would believe me and when he got me alone again, he would fix me so no man would ever want me. I didn't really know what he meant, but I was sure he meant what he said and I was afraid, so I never told.

I complained to my mother that I didn't want to go see Poppy anymore, but she said nonsense, he was a sick old man and I was his granddaughter and I had to go see him. She asked me if there was any particular reason why I didn't want to go see him and I said no, so she said I had to go.

So, like little Red Riding Hood, I went to visit my grandfather, the big bad filthy old wolf, every Sunday for about two years. After two years he had another heart attack, a pretty bad one and he was almost totally paralyzed. I loved it when that happened. I was so happy. He couldn't even talk. I used to still go see him still every once in a while. I'd just stand over his bed and look at him and sneer at him. He'd be looking at my tits but there was nothing he could do about them. I was going out with boys by that time and so I knew what was what by then, but I never stopped hating him. When he died we all had to go to his funeral though I don't think anyone wanted to. I think we all hated him. In fact I found out that he'd done the same things he did with me with another cousin and he'd even raped his own daughter, not my mother- her sister. So all the women in the family knew about him and still they pretended like he was just a nice old man and they sent their daughters to him.

My family's really sick, wouldn't you say?

INTERVIEW TWO

The second time Teresa came to my office was almost six months later. Although she'd really opened up in the first interview and spoken quite frankly, she apparently still felt uneasy about telling someone about her personal life and about seeking professional help. She still felt she could handle her own problems on her own. But she did come back six months later and she was totally changed. This time she was wearing hiking boots and tight blue jeans and a loose Indian blouse of a very thin fabric with embroidery on it. She was no longer wearing tight tops to emphasize and call men's attention to her large chest. But the thin fabric of the blouse still left no doubt as to the large jutting jugs underneath.

She'd cut her red hair very short and choppy and she was only wearing a little eye makeup and long dangling gold earrings. She told me she'd broken up with Jake and had moved in to a house of just women. She said she thought she was a lesbian now, but she wasn't really sure how she felt about men.

I could see the doubts in her mind in the cloudy look in her eyes. She no longer had that intense flashing stare. Slowly she began to tell me what had happened in the last months.

***

I've changed again. Ha-ha. I've gone through so many changes in my life, it's like I've been lots of different people. Maybe I am lots of different people. Maybe everyone is. The women in the house where I live now say I've been a very sick woman, very exploited and scarred by society and by men. Maybe that's so. I don't know. Anyway all I know is I feel pretty rotten and I really hate myself and I always have. I felt better after I talked to you last time, six months ago, but then I convinced myself it was really stupid to come and see you so I kept away. But now I need to talk to someone again.

I never told you what happened with Patty. Patty's dead now. I think I contributed to her death-isn't that horrible? I'm not even sure. I mean I feel very guilty about it, even though it wasn't my fault and there was nothing I could do about it. I was just as helpless as she was. Maybe that's what this is all about.

Anyway, I was the first to initiate Patty to a way of life, I should say a way of sex, that started her out on the wrong path that led to her tragic death.

Patty was a girl from school who I befriended. And I mean befriended. I mean I made her my friend. I didn't have many friends. I went to Catholic school of course and for some reason, I really don't know why, I just didn't have any friends. All the other girls stayed away from me like they were afraid of me and I pretended like I didn't care. In fact, I pretended that I wanted them to stay away from me because they were too stupid for me. I was working afternoons in this room on Fifth Avenue in Brooklyn. One of my boyfriends had set me up in this little room and he would bring his friends over or just get guys in the street to come up for me.

Al was my boyfriend. He was seventeen and a real greaser. You know, slicked- back hair, leather jacket, all that shit. I thought he was the hottest thing I had ever seen and I'd do anything he said. Plus I really sort of enjoyed fucking guys for money. It made me feel important and grown up. Womanly, you know. But I was actually very lonely and one month, December it was, when Al seemed not to be showing up very much anymore I was even lonelier so I chose Patty at school and I decided she was going to be my friend.

Patty was a very meek, unsophisticated girl. I knew it would be easy to make her like me because she didn't have many friends either. All the other girls were surprised when Patty and I became tight because everyone looked down on her. She had long thick mousy hair that she wore in pigtails on either side of her head and she had a mouthful of braces. She was a goody-goody. She never rolled up the waistband of her uniform skirt to make her skirt shorter and she never wore stockings instead of knee socks. She always did what all the sisters said and she had never been in trouble.

I asked her over to my house after school and brought her cookies at lunch and asked her to sit with me in chapel and she was overwhelmed. No one had ever paid so much attention to her before. She never expected one of the really cool girls, for I was considered to be really cool, to take an interest in her.

I just liked to have Patty around because I could always look at her and think to myself, at least I'm much more attractive than she is. At least men would always go for me before they would ever look at her. At least I'm better than she is. Plus she was sort of a good slave. She would change the channel on the TV, or get up and fix us snacks even though we usually watched TV at my house after school. She would deliver notes to boys for me and even put my stockings on for me. I liked to feel her pulling the shivery nylons up over my thighs and I started to get ideas about her.

I started having fantasies that sort of scared me, you know, about how maybe I'd like to fuck her or something. This was when I was still in high school, you have to remember. I'd vaguely heard the word 'lesbian' and I knew it meant women who fucked women, but I really didn't know how they could do it and plus I thought it was disgusting. At least I'd been trained to think of it as disgusting. And I thought I liked men. I didn't seriously think of trying to make her do anything to me when I could get some man to do me.

Anyway, Al started showing up in the schoolyard to pick me up after school again like he had before. I asked him where he'd been for a month and he just said he'd been away.

I told Patty I couldn't spend the afternoon with her that day and she got this really dumb sad expression on her face. She was looking at Al and her tongue was sort of hanging out. I don't think she'd ever gotten so close to such a good-looking guy. It really made me sick to look at her and think how dumb she was and she wouldn't go away so I just told her in plain language to get lost.

"Aren't we friends, anymore or what?" she asked me, following behind me and Al.

"Go fuck yourself," I called over my shoulder to her and saw the pained expression on her face. Al laughed when I said she should go fuck herself and I laughed too and the next time I looked back she was gone. We had shaken her loose.

Al took me up to the apartment over Fifth Avenue-in Brooklyn that is. It was a dingy sordid little place with nothing but a bed in a room. A flophouse, you know. He said he had a really special customer for me that afternoon and not to worry because I would have a really good time. Well, I could feel something starting to happen between my thighs just walking on the street while he was talking. It had been a month after all and I was really hot to get some good cock in my pussy.

I kissed Al and told him I loved him and that he was so good to me. He said he would make a nice little bundle on this John too and he would give me a little money later. I told him he didn't have to and he laughed.

Anyway, he kissed me goodbye at the door and told me he'd come by the pad later to pick me up and I went upstairs to prepare myself.

I put on my black net stockings and garterbelt and my new see-through black bra with holes cut out so your nipples stick through. My nipples are large and brown and they spread over two or three inches of my breasts and men really like them.

So I was waiting there for this extra special guy who was supposed to be coming up to see me. The bell rings and I buzz the guy in except it's not any guy, it's little stupid Patty, looking like a monkey who can see no evil, hear no evil, smell no evil.

She looked at me and the way I was dressed with her eyes bug-eyed. I pretended to be very cool.

"Well, come in if you want to come in, but you better be sure you want to come in because once you come in you stay," I said, smoking a cigarette.

She practically fell over walking to the one chair in the room but she managed to sit down.

"Whose place is this, Teresa?" she asked me.

"My boyfriend's," I said.

"But where is he?" she asked looking around like he might be hiding in one of the walls or something.

I said, "He doesn't stay here. He just keeps this place for me."

"What for?" she said.

I looked at her mouthful of braces and I laughed.

"You'll see," I said.

She sat there in the silence uncomfortably. She kept shifting in her chair and looking at me without really looking at me, you know. Avoiding my eyes.

I started to hate her watching her sit there twisting and shifting. I felt very calm and restful. I put out my cigarette and told her to lie down on the bed.

"What for?" she said.

"I think you'll be more comfortable," I said.

She lay down on the bed, very prudishly arranging her little Girls' Catholic High skirt around her knees so nothing naughty showed. She made me so sick. I wanted to see someone fuck her. I wanted to see someone rape her.

I took an extra pair of stockings out of my bag and walked over to where she lay looking up at me with this goofy smile on her dumb face. With one movement I whipped both her hands together over her head, tied them together with one stocking and tied the stocking to the headrest of the bed. It was a big old bed with an iron backboard.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she began to say.

"Shut up," I said and I went to her feet.

I tied the first one very tightly to one bedpost and started tying down the other foot.

"Hey I don't like this. I changed my mind, Teresa. I want to leave," she said.

"Stupid cunt, it's too late now," I laughed lightly in her ear. "Little girls shouldn't come to bad places if they don't want bad things to happen to them."

I tied her other foot to the far bedpost so her legs were open wide apart. I was looking her over thoughtfully and she started to whimper.

"What's going to happen," she said and tears started coming out of her eyes.

"Patty better be a good girl and not make any more noise or Teresa will have to tie up Patty's mouth so she can't talk," I said lightly into her ear.

She was quiet for a moment again, but when I pulled up her skirt to look at her panties and saw the white waistband underpants she was wearing I laughed and she started whimpering louder again.

"Shut up!" I said savagely and I stuffed another stocking deep in her mouth and tied it tightly on with my own panties. I was just in my garter belt and heels and stockings and I paraded myself before her, running my fingers through my perfumed pussy hair, which glinted red and strutting my tits before her eyes.

The bell downstairs rang for the second time that afternoon. I watched her pupils dilate with fear as I walked over to the wall and buzzed the guy up.

He was a real hunk of a guy and I almost regretted setting up the situation with Patty. Any other day I would have loved him for myself. He had that mean-streak look in him that I like in a lover and he had thin lips with big thumbs which I could tell meant he was well-hung.

"What's this?" he said pointing at Patty in her panties with her skirt up and her eyes bulging tied to the bed. "Al didn't tell me about no second school girl or nothing," he said.

"This is Patty," I said like I was introducing them. "Patty," I called, "this is the customer Al sent up for you. Patty's never been fucked before," I returned my remarks to Al. "But she told me she had a little fantasy. She was embarrassed to tell me, but I made her come here and whisper it in my ear. She was very embarrassed but she confessed to me that she'd love to have a man rape her. She said she'd love to have the biggest, hardest dick shoved right up through her loveknot into her cave."

I was watching the man's prong grow under his pants. I eyed it outright. "That's quite a load you got there, mister," I said. I said, "Anyone other time you know I'd love to take you on myself." While he watched I tweaked my pussy lips with my fingers. I had long red fingernails in those days, they used to drive men crazy. Then I opened my cunt and let him see how wet it was. I put my fingers in it and rubbed them back and forth through the wet slash and I put out my tongue and pretended to try to tickle him with it through the space that stood between us.

He started to come towards me-he was panting by then, but I put out my hand and held him off.

"It's Patty's turn today," I said indicating the bed. He seemed to agree but then he came over to me again and I pulled him against my tits and let him touch them, sink his mouth over them, fondle them and handle them and suck the titties while I masturbated. He tried to put his cock in me. He had unzipped his pants and taken it out and I felt it sticking into my belly and flop into my thighs like a sword that was jabbing my flesh. I indicated Patty on the bed again and kissed him lightly with my tongue.

"Please?" I said.

He went over to the bed.

Patty was starting to toss and turn, shaking her head wildly from side to side so her two long pigtails were whipping across her face. That seemed to turn him on and he took off his pants and shoes and mounted the bed, kneeling between her legs. I came around to watch more closely. I even sat down on edge of the bed near Patty and put one leg up so I could play with my own pussy while I watched. He could see my pussy and he could see me sticking my fingers in it and opening it up to him.

His cock was quite large, one of the larger ones I'd ever seen at that point. He was quite well-developed, a full man, with a well-developed chest and broad shoulders. He had a rough unshaven face and his hands were dirty and the fingers were very broad and thick. His cock, as I say, was a big wide red prod, with very large and well-developed balls.

Patty was staring wild-eyed at his sexual apparatus which he seemed to be displaying for her. She had never seen a man's sexual organs before, probably not even in a book.

The man tore Patty's white school shirt in two and the two halves lay on either side of the bed. He ripped her bra in two also and looked at her breasts. She had large well-developed tits also, not as large as mine, but very healthy-looking. They were soft and about the size of cantaloupes. He hefted them in his hands while she was trying to scream "No! No!"

Then he ripped her panties off her and looked under her skirt. There lay her well developed pussy mound, full of hair, perfectly ready for use except the dumb girl was too dumb to know what to do with it.

He laughed and then cruelly pulled her cunt apart with his fingers. He stuck his forefinger straight into her. She writhed and he laughed and took it out and stuffed three fingers into her. His fingers were very fat and short.

There were tears coming out of her eyes again and he saw them and he slapped her. She tossed her head more and cried more and he slapped her face harder and again and again and harder and harder. Her face was all red because all the blood had rushed to it and there were his fingermarks across her cheeks.

"You keep still, girlie, cause you like it. Admit you like it." he commanded her.

She looked straight at him wide-eyed and the tears started falling out of her eyes again.

He slapped her head back and forth again for a few minutes and then he jumped on her stomach and pulled and pinched her tit-nipples for a while, laughing and then he said, "Admit you like it. Ill keep beating you until you do."

She looked as if she weren't going to do as he said and his hands went for her irritated nipples again and gave them a good hard yank.

She nodded her head up and down very fast, admitting she liked it.

He got in between her legs again, pulled her cunt open with his fingers so he could stick his cock right into the wet part and he took aim and rammed.

You should have seen her ass jump! God, it was so funny I thought I would die laughing. Her eyes too looked like they were about to leap out of her head.

Well, he broke her cherry with the first try and red cherry-blood was flowing down around her thighs like someone had just bitten into one of those chocolate candies with the soft insides and the inside had just bled out?

Well, anyway, he stuck that prong in her so many times she and I both lost count. I mean, he fucked her so royally. He rammed it all the way in, deep inside, each time, each time he took aim and went straight through like there was a target deep inside her cunt and he was making a bull's eye each time.

Each time he rammed his dick in her cunt her ass would jump and her whole body looked as if it had just gotten juiced with electricity, or she'd just been shot.

Then he really started going fast. He was pumping cock into her like a fucking cowboy pumping bullets at Indians or something and when he creamed he kept on pumping it into her. When he stopped his cream flowed out all over her thighs too mixing with her blood.

He jumped off her like he was jumping off a new bike he'd just tried out or something. He put on his pants again and told me to stick around-maybe we'd run into each other again and he left.

I closed my eyes on the bed and kept masturbating for a while remembering his huge cock jamming into that pussy, but I had entirely forgotten about Patty.

After about half an hour I looked over to where she lay and saw she was looking straight at me with these dumb pleading eyes, like a begging dog. Her arms must have been aching at the sockets from being tied to tightly over her head.

I untied her and ungagged her and told her she better get dressed and leave now before she stuck around too long and some more action started. She didn't say a word but silently got dressed again in her little schoolgirl's outfit. There was cum and blood dripping down her leg that you could see under the plaid skirt and I threw her a kleenex and told her to try to clean herself up. She obeyed me and then she went to the door, avoiding my eyes again. I was sitting on the bed coolly smoking a cigarette and waiting for her to go.

At the door she turned around, but before she could say anything, I said, "You admitted you liked it and you were telling the truth, weren't you? So don't go around crying to everyone in school that I brought you here and made you do it. You came here on your own and if you know what's good for you ... " I turned and she left. I didn't have to make any direct threats about my boyfriend Al or anything. I knew she was afraid of me and I knew she knew I'd really kill her if she ever got me in trouble in anyway.

Well, the end of this story is that Patty went on to become a hooker. I mean she was really even worse than I was. She dropped out of high school and got started with this really heavy duty disgusting pimp in Times Square. I saw him once and I wouldn't trust him farther than I could throw him. I could probably have thrown him a couple of feet because he was a miserable, pimply emaciated guy, on horse for sure. I know he made Patty do all sorts of really disgusting things. He got her into S&M. Anyway, she got into trouble with him. His name was Larry, or that's what he told her, and she tried to run away from him. She was really in this game way over her head and she didn't understand that you don't just run away from these guys. They come and find you.

She came to me one day, just a week before she died. I hadn't seen her in a couple of months. This was after I talked to you the first time. She told me how she was afraid Larry would really hurt her the way he was threatening. She said she didn't know what to do. Well, I told her to get out of town for a while, or, if she couldn't do that, then quit that kind of life. Call the police and tell them a man's threatening you. But she was afraid to do that because then her parents would find out about her. And she wasn't grown up enough yet to leave town.

I told her she could come over and stay at my house anytime, but we weren't very close anymore and I was seeing Jake then and I thought I was in love with him, because he just wanted to fuck me, he didn't want to pimp for me. I'd pretty much left the business and Al then. So I forgot about her.

Then I read in the newspaper the next week about this girl who'd been found in a hotel room with a stocking around her neck, choked to death and bruises all over her body like she'd been beaten with a baseball bat. There was a picture and it was Patty.

I went to the funeral and saw her parents. They were interviewed in the news and all and said they couldn't imagine how their daughter had ever ended up that way. I thought of going up to them and telling them what I knew, but I never had the courage. Or maybe I just have the smarts. I mean, what good would it do if they knew?

Anyway, I'm not into that shit anymore. Patty's not really my fault, is she? I mean, I'm not responsible just because I introduced her to sex?

CONCLUSION

Teresa is an interesting case in many ways. She has a very strong will, strong enough to allow her to feel totally cold about what happened to her friend Patty. Teresa has put an enormous lid on her guilt feelings and this is also evidenced by the fact that she has tried to put an enormous lid on her sexual desires and her appetite for men and lovemaking with a cock, by moving into an all-women's house and becoming asexual.

Yet she is able to admit and see that she is very vague about her feelings. She said she didn't really know what her true feelings for her boyfriend Jake were and she didn't really know how she felt about being a lesbian or trying to be one.

Eventually she will not be able to control the unconscious power of her repressed feelings and they will erupt. Her early childhood experiences with her grandfather have probably marked her sexual psyche for life and the sooner she is able to look at this experience and admit she enjoyed it as much as Patty probably enjoyed being fucked by that first man, the sooner she will be on the road to therapy.

No one really likes to be raped, but in both these cases, where the virginal girl was really sexually and emotionally ready for sex, the sexual act was desired. The girls simply didn't have the societal go ahead that they still required in the matter. In another society where early sexual initiations for girls is not frowned upon, these ravishments would not have happened under such frightening circumstances.

Teresa agreed to return to me for further treatment and I have every confidence that as she talks and listens to herself talking, she will realize that rape is a terrible thing and that she probably seriously damaged the emotional state of Patty. But that she was getting her revenge on her grandfather by hurting someone in the same way that she had been hurt.

There is no future for Teresa. She is one of the tragedies in our society, whose case comes to us when it is already too late. But there is every hope that Teresa can become a well-adjusted heterosexual woman with a healthy sex life with a man.

Possibly even to the extent of marriage and children.

CASE HISTORY TWO

SUBJECT: Lynn W. AGE: 33

INTERVIEW ONE

Lynn W. asked me to call her Madame Lynn. That was the first thing she said when she came to her first appointment. She was only coming to my office because it was one of the stipulations of her parole that she seek professional therapy. She made that clear right away too.

She always came accompanied by her doberman pincher, a huge, frightening beast that sat silent at her feet throughout each interview. The dog responded only to her voice, rising or lying still at her command. She had trained him herself, she told me.

Madame Lynn was very youthful looking for her age. She had a well-developed figure, large hips, ample breasts, long thighs and she moved with total control over her body and the utmost grace. She seemed totally sure of herself. She had long thick blonde hair with a lot of body to it. She wore black makeup around her eyes and she had full rounded lips on which she wore red make-up, very artfully applied. She looked like she could have been a model in any of the most sophisticated fashion magazines. In fact she had been a model at one point in her life, I learned, but she had been sent to prison in a scandalous case that filled I the papers last year. She had castrated a man.

As for her clothes, they were not flashy. They were excellently tailored to show off her mature body. Generally she wore some kind of tight-fitting pants in brown or black, often leather and high heeled leather boots. She wore cashmire sweaters in vivid colors which set off her own beautiful coloring very well. She had no embarrassment about talking totally frankly and freely with me.

***

I hate men. I don't mind telling you even though you are a man. In fact I think I will enjoy telling you. And since it's paid for by the state, why shouldn't I enjoy it.

Men make me sick. I look at them and I feel like throwing up. To look at their timid little expressions. Yes, even the toughest looking guy can become a little fishy under my gaze. I can stare any man down and I do, I like to look at them until I see their eyes sink and their thoughts turn inward and I see their dicks harden and know they're about to go pee-pee in their pants and I really have to laugh.

Like I say, they make me sick.

But they seem to like me. Hey, I don't force any guy to do anything he doesn't want to do. I mean, I don't force anyone to come home with me. Everyone comes on their own sweet accord. They love what I do to them. They don't care that they make me laugh and that they make me sick. They come back for more. So who's in the wrong, doc, hey?

The incident they sent me up river for, Jimmy Lowenstein. Yeah, I hacked his balls off. He was no different than the rest. I guess you could say he was sort of the culmination. He was the last in a long line of men and in a way I'd been building up to him for years.

I don't feel bad about what I did. Plenty of shit was done to me. Men are nothing but beasts, worse than pigs and dogs combined. Pigs are just filthy. Dogs are just wordless creatures that can be guided by a loving hand to perform just as you wish them to. You can train an intelligent dog in ... oh, two to three weeks. In a month you can have a dog be perfect, but a man can take a long time. A really stupid man might take a whole year to erase all his prior training and get him just the way you want him. That's an extreme example, of course and requires total isolation of the man.

My mother was a very submissive woman. I grew up in a farmhouse in Pennsylvania, among the Pennsylvania Dutch. My folks were Amish. You know: no zippers on your clothing, only handmade bone buttons. No electricity or money, or cars, or sex.

No, no fucking. Nobody fucked in our happy little community. That is, nobody talked about it, except at church where, in the most tittilating details you can imagine, our preacher Mr. Ames, spoke very graphically about the sins of the flesh. You'd be surprised, really, if you could hear this guy. He could make a buck on 42nd Street, but of course, no one thought of him that way. He was a minister of god warning us away from damnation, which he had to describe in great detail so that we would recognize it in case we ever came across it.

Yeah, I knew all about God and how he had given us everything we had. So I didn't see any reason to be ashamed about the body God had given me. They told me God was good and he had been very good to me. As you can see I have a very strong healthy well-developed body and as a girl the sexual urge grew in me as it should in a strong healthy girl. I rode horses, until my mother made me quit saying it wasn't proper for a girl whose busts were starting to grow to ride a horse alone in the country. I didn't see what my busts, or bosoms, as my mother called them, had to with our horse. But after that I had to ride secretly.

I didn't enjoy disobeying my mother, but I just couldn't see how she knew what was best for me. I figured God and I could decide that on our own without help from her.

I loved my mother and I thought she knew right from wrong in most matters, however. And as much as I loved her, I feared my father. My father was a fierce-looking man with a face weathered by long years of walking behind his plow and trying to wrest a living from the poor soil of our farm. He didn't communicate much with me except with a cane of hardwood that he would apply to my bottom at regular intervals. There were always infractions of his rules that I was guilty of, no matter how hard I tried to be good. I had spilled the chicken feed in the barn, or let the cow's pail tip over. There was always something he was angry at me for. Mostly I just tried to stay out of his way.

For I had dreams. I liked school and I liked to read books and I read of the big city and all the attractions and sights and temptations that were to be found there. I knew by my folks' standards the big city was sinful.

My first sexual experience, my deflowerment as they say among God-fearing people, was at at the hands of Mister Ames, yes, Mister Ames.

Mister Ames made the rounds of all the families throughout the year, having dinner at a different house every Sunday. The winter I was sixteen he came to our house and I knew he had noticed me for the first time. I was aware throughout the meal that his eyes constantly returned to my tits under the modest broadcloth dress that my mother had made. I wasn't afraid of him and returned his stare with mild questioning eyes. I was amused. He was the preacher-what was he looking at and what was he going to do about it? Was I about to find out that our sacred preacher himself had sinful thoughts and urges. I certainly didn't lead him on, I simply sat at the table. I couldn't help it if I had grown breasts, could I?

Mister Ames came back to our farm on Monday, when my parents were at market and I was home tending the house. He just walked in through our front door-he knew no one else was home. He walked into the kitchen where I was baking bread and he grabbed me from behind and put his hand over my mouth. I wasn't frightened but I was angry. How dare this pig think he can get away with this and call himself a man of God. Already I was sickened by the hypocrisy of men.

I knew what he wanted and I was damned if I was going to let him get it. I had been masturbating for many years already and I knew how to get pleasure for myself. I also didn't long for any man's cock. I had developed some very good dildoes and I felt fully capable of, allowing them to satisfy and resisting the temptation of New York City or somewhere where I could experiment with men. I had no desire of getting knocked up in my own home community and incurring the wrath of my folks.

So I fought the good Mister Ames, which I guess he didn't expect. Maybe he got pussy easy off lots of those women back in Perryville. I kicked him hard in the shins and once in the balls but he jumped aside that time and I didn't get him full force. He was very strong. In addition to being a preacher he was also the champion hay pitcher in our county and he often performed feats of strength at our county fairs. It didn't take too long for him to overpower, for though I was a strong young woman, I was no match for him.

I'll never forget the brutality of that man and the first time he took me. He took me many times, regularly after that, but the first time I remember the best.

This pious preacher of hell-fire took me by the hair. By the hair he dragged me though the kitchen, through the living room, down the stairs and out the hall. I was screaming like all hell, but it didn't matter and he knew this, for our closest neighbors were miles away. I think I was practically unconscious by the time he got me in the barn. My head had knocked against everything in thy house, I think, on the sink, down the stairs.

He took me in the barn. I mean he took me. He lifted my skirt after throwing me down in the hay. I noticed blood on my dress and felt an aching in my thighs and hips, but it wasn't until later, after he had gone, that I realized I had suffered large gashes in my legs from the way he had pulled my body across the rooms, knocking against the furniture.

He lifted my skirt, pulled down my homespun underpants, unbuttoned his trousers and took out the ugliest looking cock I swear I have ever seen in my life. It was hairy and rock hard. It didn't even look clean. Mr. Ames didn't wash too often I had found out.

He rammed his cock into me. Just like that. With no evidence of feeling pleasure. Just as if he was petting a dog or throwing a bale of hay, like he was just performing a simple action he performed everyday, as natural as breathing, he stuck his prong into my pussy. I was totally dry. The pain was the dry painful friction of unsensual fucking. I've always wondered what possible pleasure he could have had from ramming into a totally dry cunt, but he just rammed and rammed and rammed, shredding my hymen.

The he stopped and jumped off me, buttoned his trousers and walked away. I lay there for a while wondering if he was still on the premises and if I should worry about his coming back, but there was total silence on the farm except for the clucking of the chickens. I got myself up and saw his semen on my pussyhair along with my own virginal blood. I think I even laughed to myself then, bitterly, at the piggishness of men. I guess I only expected men to be brutal insensitive pigs, like my father.

Anyway, I went back to the house and cleaned myself and applied warm water to my torn cunt. He had really left only a few shreds of flesh hanging and I tried to carefully remove these, for they only aggravated the rawness of the wound.

I changed my dress and combed my hair, and got the straw out, but there was nothing I could do to cover up the bumps that were growing on the back of my head which was clotted with blood. The rest of my body was covered by our modest clothing, but even my hands were bruised, sticking out of the sleeves of my dress. I knew my folks would ask what had happened. It never occurred to me to tell them anything but the truth.

That is, to tell the truth to my mother. In fact, my father sent my mother and I away into the kitchen, when they returned from market. She was the one who asked me questions and talked to me and then she reported back to my dad. Funny to think of him as someone that you could call a dad, like other girls.

Anyway, I told her.

I said, "Mister Ames came here this afternoon while you were gone. He walked into the house without knocking or asking, hit me to the floor and dragged me by the hair out to the barn. He forced me to have sexual intercourse with him. The bruises on my body are from being dragged through the house by my hair."

I saw my mother's face grow pale. Her thin country lips tightened and her blue grey eyes looked at me very carefully.

She then told me about a woman's duty. A woman's duty is to service a man, she said. She said, "Lynn, you've now found out the extremes to which the lustful desires can drive a good man. And Mister Ames is a good man," she told me.

"He's the preacher and a man of God and like all men of God he has a body and lustful needs. If God has chosen you to be the receptacle for Mister Ames' needs then you must submit. That is a woman's only duty in life and when you have only one duty, then you know that God is not asking very much of you. You know that with all that God has given you, you can do no less than fulfill your one duty to him."

I was staring aghast at my mother. I looked at this woman and wondered if she really believed what she was saying. Was this how she saw her marriage to my father? Had she ever really experienced any pleasure in her life? Did my father take her as Mister Ames had taken me and was this all I could look forward to in this existence?

My mother considered our little talk over and I heard her going back to the dining room where my father was waiting for his dinner to be served to him. I heard her tell him that I had fallen down the stairs while carrying the wash up, but that I had promised to be more careful in the future.

I heard my father growling displeased. It was just such "infractions" as these that he felt the need to punish me for. And sure enough, that evening after dinner, my father told me to finish up the dishes quickly and that he would be waiting for me at the shed. He never said what my crime was or why I was being punished. It was simply expected that I knew what I had done wrong.

There was also no question of my not going out to the shed after finishing the dishes. Who could I look to for support or help? I looked at my mother as I went out the kitchen door and she just kept her face to the kitchen window. She didn't say a word as I went out back to be paddled for being raped by Mister Ames, though my father didn't know that that was what had happened.

He never even saw my bruises, for he paddled my on my underbritches, never once lifting up any piece of clothing that would reveal my skin. My father was such an honorable man, wasn't he? He beat me that day until the blood ran down my buttocks into my white stockings.

I tell you the blood filled my homemade shoes that day and still he didn't stop. He had me lie down across a barrel as usual and he beat me with a stick he used to train the horses with. I think that's how all our men saw women. As farmyard animals, no different than the horses. But on the other hand, what could you expect. With my mother's words still ringing in my ears, I sadly lay in the straw again after my father had left me.

I had fallen off the barrel. That was when he knew he had beaten me enough and stopped. I hadn't screamed or cried or begged him not to do it. I had learned long ago that all that was useless. And so, I guess, had all the women there. I had never heard a woman cross her husband, never heard a woman raise her voice to a man or disagree with one. As she had explained to me, it was simply a woman's place to submit.

The blood not only dripped in my shoes that day. It rose in my head too. My brain was filled with bloody images, of whips and lashes. The fumes from my anger continued for days and I became more silent and reticent and apparently submissive than ever. But all the time I was thinking, oh no. Not me. I don't know how or when but I am not staying in this caveman's burg.

All this is just the background story about how I came to be Madame Lynn, dominatrix. I had been working as a model in the city for quite a few years, living in a filthy tenement, running around trying to convince magazine editors and agency pencil-pushers that my looks were right. It was utterly thankless, but I was young and believed in the future.

I had many lovers and many encounters with men and I fared better than I had with Mister Ames you can be sure. But still I think my mother's teachings and the residue of my upbringing hampered me from becoming the truly dominant woman I am today. It was not until I met Ginnie, to whom I owe all me present happiness, that I changed my life.

I met Ginnie in a singles bar. I was trying to pick up a guy for the weekend because my lover of six months had just walked out on me. I was all teary and lonely and desperate for any guy who was willing, to come home with me. I would have done anything for the guy- I was that blue.

Well, the action wasn't really happening that night, or maybe I had circles under my eyes or something, because the fish just weren't biting. I'd had a few drinks too and well I started crying right there in that East side pub.

This very foxy lady was sitting beside me watching me. She wore a leather jumpsuit that fit very tightly and she wore chains, around her neck, wrists, waist, ankles. I had noticed her when I first sat down and just passed her off as another weirdo. But when she inquired with great feeling and solicitness what was wrong I warmed to her and told her the whole story.

She told me her name was Ginnie and she invited me to her apartment for the weekend. She said she was having a little party that she thought might really interest me. She said she might be able to teach me a whole different way of handling men.

I thought she was coo-coo, but I went anyway. Her apartment was a beautiful pad in the upper seventies: it was palatial, with five bedrooms, two full-sized bathrooms with gold faucets and sunken tub, a huge living room with a great view of the river. She immediately got on the phone and called some people. Pretty soon I was being introduced to Liza and Frank. I liked Liza right away. She was very pretty with cute short dark hair like a pixie and long black eyelashes. She was short, about five feet tall and she had rather large breasts. She was dressed all in black. She was very friendly, asking me all about myself and seeming very sympathetic.

Frank, meanwhile, didn't utter one word. He merely stuck to Liza's side, but without ever touching her and I began to wonder if her were mentally retarded or something. Frank was of medium stature but he looked to have a pretty good body. He wore jeans and a motorcycle jacket. He looked very macho. He had slicked back hair and dark fierce-looking eyes.

When Ginnie suggested drinks Frank immediately jumped up and fixed them. He served them to us and they were very good.

Ginnie said, "Frank, don't you think it's time to change into something more comfortable?"

Ginnie and Liza exchanged looks and I saw a slight smile pass between them. Without uttering a word Frank disappeared into one of the bedrooms.

"Have you ever thought that, in the battle of the sexes, the roles could be reversed?" said Liza to me.

"What do you mean?" I asked. I had never thought of life as being a battle between the sexes.

"Oh Liza, you're such an intellectual," interrupted Ginnie. Her long red hair was truly magnificent as she uncoiled it and let it hang down across her leather suit. "Lynn," she said. "All your life, from what you've told us, you have allowed men to dominate you. It doesn't have to be that way. Men are really pussycats and I think you know that. All a good man needs is a women with a whip standing over him and hell toe the line. And if he doesn't ... Well that can be handled too ..."

I was still mystified, though intrigued. Just then Frank came out of the bedroom in the most amazing costume. He wore a little black dress with ruffles around the edge. The dress came down to the top of his thighs. Over it was a little white ruffled apron and he wore a little white cap like a maid. He also wore black net stockings held up by garters and black high heels. I noticed his legs were shaved like a woman's.

"This is Francine, our maid. She comes in once a week and cleans up on the weekends. Are there any questions you'd like to ask her?" asked Ginnie.

Frank had also painted his eyes and put on long false eyelashes. He also wore a ridiculous blonde wig, curled in a flip.

"Francine," I began, just barely controlling my giggling, "how long have you been in the service of these ladies?" I asked.

He looked at Ginnie as if for permission to speak.

Ginnie said crossly, "Francine, speak when you are spoken to!" She seemed very annoyed at his reticence and though he started to answer my question, she got up and left the room.

"About a year," stuttered the poor bewildered maid.

"And do you like working for them? Do they treat you well?" I asked

"Very well. Oh, yes, very well. Much better than I deserve," he hastened to reply.

"Why much better? Are you unworthy of them?"

"Oh terribly unworthy. I am nothing. They have made me what I am."

I was stopped in my questioning by the reappearance of Ginnie in the doorway. She was standing tall and proud, beautiful in her Amazon-like beauty, with a long black whip in her hand.

"Francine," she called. Francine turned around and saw her and nervously dropped the tray of glasses he was holding. Ginnie's eyes grew even darker and she stood waiting for her clumsy servant to approach.

She snapped the whip in the air and it whipped across his thighs. He screamed and went down on his knees.

"Francine, don't be overly dramatic. I barely even touched you that time. He is just trying to get your sympathy I think," she added talking to me.

"How could I have sympathy for the paid help when he's breaking your glasses and playing up to the guests. I think that sounds like terrible behavior for a maid," I said.

Liza smiled and she and Ginnie exchanged yet another glance.

"Come with me. We have lots of clothes here. Perhaps you'll find something you'd like to wear for the evening?" said Liza.

I followed her into another bedroom and looked through a huge walk-in closet of clothes. With Liza's help I chose a black leather corset that uplifted my breasts without covering them up. The corset fitted tightly around my waist, emphasizing my beautiful model's body. I let my long blonde hair loose and was about to hook up my stockings to the garter belt.

Liza said, "Wait. Francine should do that. Let me call him."

Ginnie stalked into the room followed by Francine. Ginnie and Liza reclined on the large plush double bed. It was covered with a gold bedspread.

"Francine, do my garters for me," I said. I didn't ask it forcefully enough though I think because Ginnie and Liza started laughing.

"That's not the way to talk to a servant," they said, but they told me not to worry-I would learn.

Francine approached me. He bent down and I could look down the bosom of his dress. I really had to laugh when I saw his hairy chest and the little nipples without any tits behind them.

"You've really got a terrible figure, Francine," I said. "You are lucky that Ginnie and Liza put up with you."

"His legs aren't bad," put in Liza.

"But look at his chest," I said. "He doesn't have any breasts."

"It's an inferior species," agreed Ginnie.

Meanwhile, Francine was fumbling with his large clumsy fingers with the hooks of my garters. He caught one stocking with his fingernail and a run started in the nylon.

"Look what he did!" I said jumping up indignantly. I showed them the run.

"Francine, bend over," commanded Ginnie, standing up on the bed with her lash.

Francine bent over, his high heels making his ass stick up way high in the air.

His little skirt fell up over his head and I could see that he had no underpants or panties of any kind on. There, revealed to us, was the ugly fact of his genitals. The huge hairy balls, the thick unfeminine tops of his thighs. Most ridiculous of all was the cock protruding from the balls. Under his skirt Francine had had an erection.

Ginnie slashed him once, twice, three times on the buttocks. "This is for causing a run in our guest's stockings and for having an erection without permission."

Each time the lash fell he winced and his grotesque face under the wig looked all the more ridiculous as I could see him trying to take the pain and be brave. By the end of the third lash he was whimpering.

"He really is a sissy, isn't he?" I said, hooking up my own stockings. I stood up. I was getting the idea now and we were all three of us, Ginnie, Liza and I, ready to get down to more interesting action.

I was starting to feel horny. I thought of Bill, the lover who had left me and I really didn't feel the pain I had been feeling earlier. In fact, I felt as if some kind of revenge on him were very close at hand. But most of all, I wanted to be made love to. I went over to Ginnie and whispered in her ear. She smiled.

"Why sure honey," she said. "That's Francine's specialty."

I lay down on the bed to make myself more comfortable. Ginnie and Liza were reclining too. We made Francine join us on the bed. We made him get on his hands and knees so we could see his funny reddened cock and hairy balls under his uniform. I was on my back with my knees up and my hand slipped down to my cunt.

The corset I was wearing didn't have any crotch so I could play with myself and I couldn't get into it at first.

Liza was saying, "Here Francine, look at this. What does this do for you?"

She was spreading herself right before his eyes. We laughed as we watched Francine's eyes grow wider as he watched Liza's cunt grow wet and taut. He blundered forward toward her on the bed on his hands and knees with his tongue hanging out like a dog. Ginnie brought the whip down across his buttocks again before he could reach Liza.

"He's not drooling yet. You can't get any closer until you drool," she said.

Liza put her head back and sighed and opened her pussy with her hands. She had a large slit, surrounded by blonde hair. The hair on top of her head was dyed black, I realized. She played with her cunt, touching the labia and running her index finger up and down the love channel that ran wet and wild and dark into the vortex of her cunt. �' Francine started to drool. Drops of saliva fell from his mouth onto the gold brocade and Ginnie brought the whip down across his neck for soiling the bedspread.

This time her whip knocked his wig off and we were treated to the sight of his bulldog's neck at one end and his cock and balls at the other and to the sight of this formerly fierce-looking man drooling for pussy, but afraid to go for it.

I thought of Mister Ames and how he had knocked me down and dragged me out to the barn without a word. My own cunt was now becoming moist.

"Francine, stick your index finger in my cunt. I need someone to stir it up a little."

Francine lumbered around on the bed and crawled over to me. He stuck out one thick blunted finger and we all shook our hand over its lack of delicacy.

I sighed and said, "It's so hard to get good help these days," and patiently spread my legs and lay back on the bed. I felt Francine's finger in my cunt. He crooked it and slid it along my slit.

"Tickle my pussy hair," I commanded.

Instantly I felt four fingers tangled in my pussyhair. The index finger kept applying itself to my wet twat. He did seem to know what he was doing, which was nice for a change, because he diddled with the little point of flesh that lies between my labia, which really turns me on and then, alternately, he slid the same finger suddenly and deeply into the hole of my cunt.

"Keep doing that," I commanded. And then I was treated to his thick index finger dipping relentlessly into my hole, taking care to slide across my clit each time.

I swiveled around to watch his cock and balls which were bouncing in the air. He looked like a dog trying to please its master. I loved to watch his aching pointer bounce uselessly in the air, while only I felt the pleasure of his thick finger funneling my love juice all over my cunt so that every atom of my cuntflesh was electrified.

Suddenly, as though he couldn't control himself any longer, he bounded on top of me, still like a dog and began to sink his hands into my luscious tits which were billowing loose on my chest above the bondage of my corset. I felt the tip of his cock on my wet thatch and I screamed. I felt as if I were being mauled by a mastiff.

The sound of the whip's lash flying through the air was like the singing of birds in spring. Again and again Ginnie brought it down on the nasty Francine, beating him until he relaxed his grip on my boobs and rolled over, crushing me in the process. He lay on his back now, with his knees up over his chest protecting his balls, which still bobbed in the air ridiculously. They looked so dry and hard as if they were dying to explode in some wet pussy.

"Dog! Pig! Less than dog or pig! From now on, for the rest of the evening, you will answer to the name of Dogpig!" Ginnie was standing over him now. She had pumpkins. Her twat, which was revealed as she stepped out of the jumpsuit, was also monstrous, about seven inches long.

She handed the whip to me as she strode over the body and preceded to sit down directly on Dogpig's head.

She practically smothered him when she did this, for he tried to turn his face away for air. But with her strong hands she held his head still between her thighs and encompassed his nose and mouth in her cunt which she had pulled wide open with her fingers.

"Eat, Dogpig," she said. "I'll let you come up for air when you've eaten me out well."

I meanwhile had pulled my hair out from under his heavy body. I was almost hysterical with fear, for when he had jumped on top of me, visions of all the former treatment I had had at the hands of dominant men had returned.

I was angry. I noticed that though Ginnie had his head still, the rest of his body continued to writhe. So I lightly flicked the tip of the lash across his cock and balls until he stretched his legs out straight and tried to control the twitching of his limbs. The pain must have been very piquant. He had tried to cover his cock and balls with his hands, but Liza had taken care of that ruse by pulling one of his hands to her cunt and making him understand that he should play with her cunt until she said to stop.

Looking at the erect red prong, standing there so useless and idle and without a face to identify it with (Ginnie had taken care of that by covering the face up with her pussy) I sat on the prong. It went all the way in me, right up to the hilt. It felt really good. I just sat on it for a while, bouncing up and down when I felt like it, really ramming it way down deep into me the way I like. My clit was like butter and the prong was like the knife that was spreading the butter all over the bread. The cock was still entirely hard.

I could feel Francine's loins try to establish a rhythm for the cock inside my cunt, but I instantly stood up and stepped off, leaving the bulging dong still flying in the air unclaimed, unsatisfied.

Liza and I giggled as we watched the cock search in the air for a good deep soft dark place. We let him get a taste of our holes every once in a while, by dropping in on him, sitting on the poor fucker just long enough to pleasure ourselves for, of course, we didn't want the long red prong to go away, to die down or lose interest. We wanted to keep him in this one single hard-on all weekend.

And we were almost successful too. For two days and two nights we tormented the inflamed triptych of his sexual equipment. When we had tired ourselves of satisfaction and needed to give our fulfilled cunts a rest and a chance to recoup for more action, we kept him hard by teasing and gently scratching his cock with long backscratchers. We had shifts set up to watch him and make sure his erection didn't go down and we made sure to parade our cunts and breasts in front of him. We brought our boobies to his lips and let him suck and touch. We rubbed our boobies up and down his cock to let it get a feel of what it couldn't have.

By Sunday night, Ginnie had found a cock ring for him, to help him keep his erection up. She had attached a rope to the ring and at the end of the rope was a bell. Even in the next room, we could hear if his dong started to deflate and we would run back in to rouse him with our hands. Ginnie and Liza showed him their asses and let him stick his fingers in their cunts from behind. And then they let him watch them go down on each other, parting their cunts with their lips and tongues and exploring deep into the fragrant flesh that he was only allowed to taste only occasionally when we felt like it.

I returned to my own dreary apartment on Sunday night, with my twat still alive and tingling between my thighs. I could hardly walk straight, I had been so well turned on and satisfied, as never before.

Finally we had had to tie Francine's prong up against his belly and put a trainer on him, in order that he be able to walk home through the streets without embarrassing himself with the hardon that he couldn't make go away.

I was so exhilarated after this experience. I felt happiness. I realized I never again had to be the plaything of men. They would be my playthings from now on and they would love it, they would pay me for it and they would consider themselves honored for whatever little privileges I bestowed on them.

I realized that men are slaves to women's cunts. They want women's cunts all the time and it is a woman's duty to regulate when and how men may have access to cunt. Men's appetite must be curbed and trained or else the man never really thinks about or develops his technique for satisfying a cunt. Only men who realize that the cunt comes first, last and always and the cock is but a mere tool, like a kitchen utensil, while the cunt is sacred, only these men are worthy of having access to my cunt.

INTERVIEW TWO

Lynn revealed a great deal about herself and her condition to me in our first interview. I admired her frankness and complete lack of self-consciousness or shame. I also felt that she did not pity herself and was a strong person with a strong sense of self.

Her initiation to sexual intercourse with men was certainly a brutal one, but it seems that her attitude towards men was already formed and she had almost expected to be used by the minister as she was ultimately used. She didn't try to cover her mammary glands while he stared at her across the table and she didn't take the precaution of having someone stay with her, another girlfriend for example, or a friend's mother, when her parents went out to the market the day she was raped.

The second time Lynn came to see me she was accompanied by her doberman pincher as usual. This time she was wearing a lowcut revealing gown that seemed just about to allow her tawny nipples to pop out. She seemed to really want to make me look at her ample upper form. The dress was bright green and clung quite close. It had a large slit up the middle which revealed her slender thighs. Her long hair lay loose on her shoulders, sometimes curling down into the low bosom of her dress. She also wore a trinket which on closer inspection I saw to be a little gold miniature of a cock and balls and this little charm which hung around her neck on a gold chain, fell directly in the cleavage between her ample mammary glands.

I didn't have to say a word this time, for once she sat down she took up her narrative immediately, if not a bit feverishly too.

***

Once it had been revealed to me the true slavish nature of men, I found I could admit to myself how much I hated the stupid creatures. All the injustices that had been heaped on me by them, all the humiliations came back to me and my anger burned with an even stronger flame.

My cunt was literally on fire from that time on for a man who could serve me as I deserved to be served. I also realized that I was humiliating myself by living in such sordid surroundings which did not do my beauty justice. And my tawdry life of making the rounds of modeling agencies was also not worthy of my superiority.

Well, I've found that when you know what you're looking for, you're likely to find it. It didn't happen immediately, but I did meet a man who shared my views about the proper relationship between men and women. He was very wealthy and lived in a penthouse overlooking the Hudson. He was looking for a woman to live with him and keep him in line and after a trial period together I moved in.

He liked to dress up like a woman which was really absurd because he was a small sort of round old man, bald, with a grey mustache. He loved to crawl at my feet and beg me for pussy. I let him rub his bald head against my cunt and he really liked that. We were very happy for many years.

He was sixty-five when I first met him and when he turned seventy he really started to look decrepit. He had brown spots all over his skin and his breath began to stink with the smell of age.

Often he brought men to me for I was soon no longer satisfied with training one man and I often enjoyed having a classroom of three or four men at a time.

Baldy, as I called him, had turned one of the rooms of his penthouse into a schoolroom complete with blackboard and chalk and erasers and little desks for my students. I enjoyed playing the teacher. My students were often unruly or ignorant and then I had to punish them severely with a rod or one of my whips or other punishments I had devised. But there were no overwhelming disciplinary problems.

One night, however, Baldy brought home a very pretty feminine-looking man. He was very young too and his name was Jimmy. He had a slender, sensitive face, light eyebrows, thin but sensual lips and he was dressed in an exquisitely cut evening suit. They were returning from, the opera. I had not accompanied Baldy to the theater that night because I was suffering from a headache.

Baldy indicated to me delicately that Jimmy was very interested in seeing some of my talents in discipline. I looked him over once again and decided on the kitchen. Sometimes I taught my little classes in the kitchen- cooking and such.

Baldy readily agreed and went to put on his French maid's costume. I decided Jimmy would look well in a ballerina's outfit and instructed Baldy to help him pick one out of our selection of costumes.

The two of them disappeared into the men's changing room, while I retired to my boudoir where I donned my chef's outfit: tall white hat, white leather apron and high white boots.

I saw Jimmy's eyes bulge right away when he got a good look at my buns behind me, utterly exposed by the backless apron. My boobs too were not covered by the front of the apron. I was all curves.

Baldy dick was already hard and he was hopping up and down on the parquet floor of the kitchen asking when the lesson would start.

Well, the first time with Jimmy that night went well. Jimmy was totally obedient though Baldy proved to be a little feisty that night. I had to run the long knife I use to cut the French bread with up and down his hard cock to calm him and make him more attentive. We succeeded in whipping up some fondue, as well as a spray of prematurely ejaculated cum from Baldy, which sprayed all over the lower cabinets. I made Baldy lick it up with his tongue before going back over the whole area with a scrub brush. We also succeeded in making myself feel quite cosy and home as my cunt responded to the admiring stares of the new man and Baldy demonstrated some of the things I had taught him to satisfy me.

It was when Jimmy showed up one day at the apartment while I was home alone that the trouble erupted.

I opened the door and saw his beautiful feminine face and said, "Yes?"

He asked if he might come in and I nodded and allowed him to enter.

Before I had turned around again to close the door, I found myself being dragged to the floor by the weight of his body clinging to my waist. I had to fight him off and I shouted at him that I would have to severely punish him for such totally disrespectful behavior.

I was surprised at the strength of this slight-looking young man and I was thinking to myself as I headed for my whip in the boudoir that I could really get into punishing such an audacious young man. But he had followed me into the boudoir and again he knocked me off my feet when I wasn't looking. That day I was just lounging around the house in my panties and heels.

Jimmy was wearing heavy oxfords, very well polished and an immaculate business suit and he carried a well-polished black hardwood cane. His size did not prepare me for his incredible strength, but apparently he was all very hard muscle.

He had thrown me on the boudoir floor but I scrambled up and escaped him, running into the kitchen.

"You disgusting bitch!" he was screaming like a queen. I had gathered by this time that he was gay and that he hated women as much as I hated men.

"Ill teach you to degrade a man's spirit. Ill show you what a real man's spirit is made of. Ill fix you so you never feel the joy of having a man's cock rammed down your cunt again." He was coming at me with a knife from the kitchen drawer.

I kept him at a distance with my whip but I was totally naked and felt my test had come. If I could not triumph over this man, if I could not even defend myself against his bestial anger, I would never again be able to hold my head up high and call myself Madame Lynn.

I slashed out at his pants and ripped them to shreds. The expensive fabric was hanging in tatters around his loins and I could see his cock rising. Still he came forward with his knife, letting my blows fall about his head and shoulders with no concern.

Jimmy was making jabs at my panties and thighs with his knife and when one time one of his blows came home and I saw and felt the thick blood falling at my thighs, I saw red. I don't even remember what happened after that.

Baldy came home and found the body of Jimmy, unconscious and in agony, with his genitals mutilated. Baldy called the ambulance and had the boy removed. There was blood all over the apartment as our fight had apparently gone on for some time.

I was found in my boudoir on the floor, also bloody and unconscious. Baldy paid all my lawyers' fees and testified in my behalf, saying I had always treated him well and giving his opinion that Jimmy was a woman-hating faggot who had intended to kill and maim me. I was convicted of course, as you know, but my case is being appealed by the National Council of Women. I am going to plead self-defense again and I am confident of winning and clearing my name in the future, for I am totally innocent.

CONCLUSION

Lynn's case is a sad one. Lynn, or Madame Lynn, as she insists on being called has been severely damaged emotionally by her early experiences with men and by her last experience with the man named Jimmy. Love and hatred are so confused in her mind, that it is doubtful whether she will ever recover a sense of values that would allow her to have a normal and fulfilling life.

It is true that she was first abused by men and that her violence in response to that abuse was natural. It is also true that she described herself as feeling sexual pleasure in disciplining men and this too is something that is not necessarily bad, although it is not generally acknowledged as acceptable behavior in our society.

If Lynn could find another situation in which only men who liked her style were free to visit her, who would treat her well and heel to her, she might be able to live a life outside of an institution. However, from here on in, it is always possible that she will at any moment interpret the moves of some man to be threatening, at which point her rational behavior would cease and she might deform someone else. Though with Jimmy she was indeed acting in self-defense, in another case, she might unjustly commit violence on someone, merely because of her unbalanced mind.

Further therapy will undoubtedly help her, but her improvement is by no means a surety.

CASE HISTORY THREE

SUBJECT: Bettina M. AGE: 18

INTERVIEW ONE

Bettina is a young girl suffering from severe overweight. She came to me the first time on the insistence of her mother, to seek help for her overweight problem. She could have had quite a nice body, for her breasts were very well-formed, lying like little pomegranates on her bulges of flesh beneath. She wore a shapeless dress that day which was bright red with green flowers on it which only accentuated her huge size. Her arms were round and chubby and her legs and thighs enormous.

Her dress kept riding up her thighs and she had to strain and huff and blow to keep pulling her skirt down again. Her most shocking feature however, was her head which was shaved entirely bald except for a long pony tail which hung down in back from a spot on her scalp. This pony tail she twisted nervously throughout the entire interview. From this one spill of hair you could see that she also could have had an attractive head of hair. The color of her hair was dark brown and it was very thick and straight.

She found it very difficult to talk to me and several times throughout the first interview she broke down in tears and it was several minutes before she could continue.

***

I've been fat all my life. Fat and ugly ...

My mother made me fat. She forced me to eat. She thought a chubby little girl was cute and she loved to bake me cupcakes and cookies. She fed me on a diet like that for as long as I can remember. My mother is thin as a bird. She hardly ever eats herself. I rarely see her eating. Just to look at her makes me feel hungry and I run to the refrigerator and look for a big greasy chicken wing to chomp on or some beer or cookies ...

I've never had any friends except for one other fat girl once in grade school. And we were only friends because we could be fat together. I knew that. She knew that. What kind of a friendship is that?

My mother's always said she wants me to loose weight, I mean she sent me here now after all. And she's always said she wanted me to have friends. She says she wants me to be happy and she says she can't understand how I can accuse her of making me into the miserable person that I am when all she ever lived for was my happiness.

My father died when I was two and he was skinny too as I have learned from photographs in my mother's album which I look at when she's not home. She doesn't like me to look at pictures of him because she says he was a wicked man and he is better off dead.

Lately now my mother's been picking on me because I don't have any boyfriends. I ask you now, what boy would want to go with an ugly old tug like me? But aside from that, I don't like boys. I never have and I never will. I mean, maybe they're okay for friends or something. I'd take anyone for a friend. But I mean I like girls. I like to do ... you know. Sexual things with girls.

Early on I found that the only thing aside from food that could make me feel good was playing with myself. Of course, I thought it as a very nasty thing to do and I tried not to do it, but often, every night when I had to look down at all that blubber as I sat in the tub, or when I lay in bed beside my mother and heard her drop off to sleep while I still lay there, miserable and awake, my fat fingers would drift down to my crotch. There's where being fat can pay off, you know? My labia are thick and spongy and I believe it enhances my sexual pleasure.

My mother first started giving me enemas when I was about, four or five years old I believe. She claimed it was for my own good because I was often constipated. I suppose that may be so, I don't remember those times so clearly, but when I grew older and so much bigger than my mother, she couldn't make me submit to that kind of treatment anymore.

The first time I saw Suzy I believe I was already in love with her. She was such a little tease. She was in my music class in junior high and she was everything I had always wanted to be. She had a blonde pony tail and a cute, pert, hard little body. She had blue eyes and she was always laughing and she had thousands of friends. Everyone wanted to be her friend. All the boys wanted to go out with her, of course, but she was a good girl and got the reputation of being a terrible prude who wouldn't even kiss.

I used to dream of Suzy when I masturbated at night. I locked myself into our bathroom and sat in the tub with the hot water on and trained the flow of water from the hand shower into my cunt. It felt so good and I dreamed of Suzy kneeling there in the water in front of me, her cute perky little breasts which I saw so often when we changed into our gymsuits for gym, dangling in front of me. I dreamed of her long blonde hair, wet, clinging to her breasts and of the smile on her face when she lavished all her attention on me. I imagined her saying, "Let me do that Bettina," and she would take the shower head from my hand and gently push my legs wider apart in the tub.

She'd be looking at me with her bright blue eyes to gauge the degree of my pleasure and ecstasy as the hot water shot into my yawning cunt, flooding past my clit and filling my womb with its mysterious pleasures.

But of course, all that was just dreams. I never thought I would ever have Suzy for my own.

But Suzy filled my dream life so you can imagine my disgust when I found her fornicating with a boy. It happened on the night of the ninth grade prom. I had gotten into a big blue dress with ruffles that my mother had made for me. I didn't want to go but my mother insisted that I did and when my mother gets an idea into her head there's no stopping her.

So I was there, but inside it was hot and all the kids were drinking from bottles in their jackets. The more they drank, the more my ridiculous figure seemed to inspire them to ridicule me and finally I wandered outside miserably. Of course I didn't have a date for the evening. I was one of the extra girls.

I wandered out to the soccer field where I could at least be alone and fantasize. I saw two figures on the grass behind one of the benches and I hid behind a tree on the outskirts of the field to watch them and listen and see who they were. Maybe I could collect some information that might be useful to me.

I heard Suzy's voice.

"Please, Teddy, I can't."

"Why not? How long are you going to save it? Until Judgment Day?"

"Please, don't make me."

"Just let me put it in, for a little while, I promise."

I watched as the boy, who I didn't recognize, stood up and pulled down his trousers. He kneeled over Suzy and pulled her white dress up. I saw his cock sticking out like a silhouette in the night against the background of the school field.

"But I don't know what to do," Suzy whined.

"Just put your knees up like this and open your legs," said the boy.

Then I saw him going up and down on her and I heard her crying afterwards.

"You said you wouldn't and now look at this white stuff all over my dress. You've ruined my dress!" she wailed. "Now I can't even go back in to the dance. I hate you!" she cried.

I had seen enough. I realized I knew a secret now that could be very useful to me. I stayed behind my tree and waited for them to pull themselves up from the ground and pull down their clothes. They started to wander back towards the gym with Suzy still crying.

He convinced her to go back in to the prom with him, but she fled first to the girls' room to wash off her dress and face and I followed her in.

"Get something on your dress?" I asked. She was vigorously washing at some grey stuff on her white dress.

"No, oh, I mean, yes, I fell and ..."

"Fell behind a bench?" I asked.

"What?" her face turned pale white, almost as white as her dress.

"Fell behind a bench on the field, with someone on top of you?" I asked.

Her jaw dropped and she looked at me with terrified eyes.

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me, if you'll come to my house tomorrow after school. I just want to talk with you. Maybe we can be friends," I said.

I held out my hand to shake her hand but she was still looking at my dumb-founded.

"You little sneak! How dare you spy on me! You make me sick!" she shouted impotently.

"I'll wait for you after school. We can walk to my house together." I left her crying alone in the girls' room, Suzy was obediently waiting for me the next day by my locker.

"Look, I'll be glad to be your friend," she said trying to be nonchalant. "In fact for a long time now I've thought you were really neat but I thought you didn't like me."

"Let's go," I said, slamming my locker door and taking off down the hall. All I could think of was visions of Suzy in my tub with me.

My mother wasn't home that afternoon. She had one of her bridge affairs that day. I let us in and offered Suzy some cookies and milk. She seemed to relax after a while and she turned her bright smile on me.

"You really are nice, Bettina," she said. "I have to admit that I was sort of exaggerating I guess you knew, when I said last night that I had wanted to be your friend for a long time. You always seem so unfriendly that you scare everybody off. I'm almost glad you saw me and Teddy if it means that now I can come over here in the afternoons and spend them with you. You won't tell anybody what you. saw, will you? Please? Promise me. If anyone, like my parents ever found out they would murder me. If the other kids at school found out they'd never stop whispering behind my back. Oh, I just couldn't take it."

I had been listening to her chatter on without saying anything one way or the other. I had a breast of roast chicken, a cold baked potato, some potato chips and a couple of cupcakes and now I was having a few candy bars.

After I finished these I said, "I'm going to take a bath now. I feel all hot and sweaty from school."

She said, "Oh do you want me to go home now?"

"No," I said. "I want you to come in the bathroom with me. You can scrub my back."

"But I don't know if I should. I mean, well, I guess it's all right."

Again I hadn't said a word but I could see that she was remembering at every moment the dreadful information I had against her that I could use at any time.

In the bathroom I filled the tub and started to undress. I locked the door when she wasn't looking. I saw her try to avert her eyes from my huge naked body, but I didn't feel ashamed of it.

"Maybe you'd better get undressed to now," I said, climbing into the tub.

"Me? Why?"

"Because I said so."

She looked at me and tried to smile and she started taking off her clothes.

She took off her blouse and underneath I saw she was wearing a white bra. Then she bent over and unzipped her skirt and slid that off. She was wearing a white slip underneath and after looking at me questioningly a second she slid that off too. She was wearing white waistband panties. She bent over to take her socks off and as she bent over I stuck my hand in her crotch. I could feel her juicy mound through the panties and I really couldn't wait.

"What? How dare you? What are you going to do ... " She started to cry.

"Take off your clothes and get into the tub," I said patiently again.

She was sobbing now as she unhooked her, bra and modestly turned away from me. She was still facing away when she pulled her panties off. Her buttocks were beautifully shaped and they curved under to reveal the pussy hair.

"Get in the tub," I said, preparing the shower nozzle and getting the water exactly the temperature I like it which is hot-warm.

Suzy was shivering and crying when she finally stepped into the tub. Still she had her back to me and she was coyly holding one hand over her pussy and one hand tried to cover up her tits.

She was sitting with her back to me so I figured that if that's the way she wanted to play it we could start that way. I told her to get down on her elbows and knees and when she had done that I had a great view of the crests of her ass and the jumping flesh around her anus and then the curve of her labia and the pussy hair hanging down wet all around it.

I wedged my finger into her cunt and felt her up while looking at the adorable curves of her ass.

She was crying out, "What are you doing? What are you doing?"

I didn't answer. If she wanted to see what I was doing she could have turned around to see me fingering myself pretty mightily. My legs were spread apart and my big twat was wide open and gaping in front of the lovely vision of her ass and my finger in her cunt really turned me on.

But after a while that got old and I made her turn around. She was still holding her hands over her pussy and tits and I told her to quit that or I'd go straight to her parents and tell them about their daughter's nonexistent virginity.

I gave her the shower nozzle and spread my legs. She was so dumb she didn't even seem to know what I expected here. Her eyes were bulging as she was forced to look at my naked rolling flesh.

I held out my hands and fondled her titties, so full and weighty, hanging over me in the tub, just as I had imagined!

Her pussy from the front was a turn-on too. She was on her knees and I could see her pink labia hanging down in the water. She sprayed the water in me while I lay back with her boobs still in my hands.

I felt the warm water trickle over my labia, penetrate into my lovehole and slide over my clit. My inner cave was flooded with the warm liquid while my whole being felt joy at being able to knead Suzy's knockers and have her serving me on her knees.

Then I wanted her pussy. I wanted Suzy's pussy so bad I could practically taste it and I made her stand up in the tub with her legs spread.

"Oh! This is gross! This is disgusting! Help! Help!" she cried out.

Her pussy looked to me like a bunch of hanging grapes as I reached for her hips and brought her cunt to my mouth. I had never tasted cunt before, only dreamed of it. It smelled partly of the bathwater and partly of roses. I guess she had some kind of cologne on. I slowly parted her pussy with my fingers and slid my fingers deep inside her until I could feel her juice flowing against her own will. Then I raised my head and I plowed my face in her cunt.

"Please! Please! I don't like this!" she begged me.

I stuck my tongue into her cunt and felt her big wet clit and I knew she lied. I slathered my tongue all over her cunt and all in between her buttocks. She was trying to move off me but I held her firmly by the hips right over my mouth.

Next I knew exactly what I wanted. I had given to her and now I wanted her to give to me.

I sprayed the nozzle up her cunt and laughed to see the way that made her jump. I was going to do her so well that she would see it was only fair that she return the favor to me. I liked to spray the water into her pussy which I held open with my fingers and then tilt it up so that it sprayed on her titties which bounced charmingly as she tried to get away from me. She was crying all the while. The droplets hung on her upturned boobies and her nipples were standing up and they were hard.

I made her get out of the tub and lie down on the floor. I sat on her face. She didn't know what to do and I had to get up and spread my cunt myself and command her to put her tongue in it and move it around.

This time she was compliant figuring I guess that if she just did what I wanted she would get away faster. I loved looking down at her perfect boobs, they were like spheres and the water on them made them slick and shiny.

She was sucking very accurately at my clit which made me realize that she wasn't half as ignorant as she claimed to be.

I reached across her body and twitched her labia with my fingers and pretty soon her legs had fallen open of their own accord and I was able to play freely in her odorous pussy.

Finally I lay down on the floor and made her lie on top of me. She was so light. She seemed disgusted by my size. I made her examine my body from head to toe. I made her kiss me all over. I made her kiss every inch of my flesh, under my arms, in between my buttocks and all the while I ran my fingers over her firm flesh. She was on her hands and knees before me again and I fingered her from behind. I really did love the shape -of that girl's ass.

For the first time in my life another person had made me happy and I hated to let her go home that day. I threatened her well and I knew she would never tell anyone what had happened. She came from a very strict family and she had always been a model daughter. She was not the kind of girl who could bear the shock of being revealed as being a bad girl.

I didn't think of what I was doing as wrong. I was getting pleasure and I was sure by the size and moisture of her clit and the way her titties stood up to my attention that she had had her pleasure too though she wouldn't admit it.

I looked forward to many long afternoons of fun with her and I really was happy that my mother had forced me to go to the prom after all.

I really loved Suzy ...

INTERVIEW TWO

On Bettina's return visit I noticed immediately that she had taken more care with her appearance, almost as if she were trying to impress me with her progress, or please me, turn me on. She was almost trying to be seductive. This time she was wearing a tight sweater which outlined her breasts which really were a pleasant shape. They were quite large and they were pendullent. The neck of her sweater was cut very low to reveal as much of them as she could. She was also squeezed into a pair of fashionable jeans and the moccasins of her previous visit had been replaced by high heels.

A thicket of fuzz now covered her head and she had put the lone ponytail up in a bun in an attempt to be feminine.

Her nails were polished and she was wearing a little eye make-up, though it was clumsily put on. She had on lipstick too. She was under better control this time, she didn't break down into tears except once or twice. But she had grown very shy and coy as if she had some secret, that she wanted to tell but was embarrassed about. I encouraged her to speak freely and slowly she began but gradually she did become relaxed and related her story quite openly.

***

I dropped out of high school and enrolled in a vocational school I saw advertised in the subway. You know, one of those schools that are going to make you happy and glamorous and give you a good job as a court stenographer.

My mother had just about given up on me at that point and we barely spoke to each other anymore. I had bought some books about mothers who wouldn't let their children grow up and left these lying around and she got the message and she laid off me. She had her own little world of socials and teas and mah-jong.

She was ashamed of me now and always hoped I would be out when she had people over. She didn't want people to know that that fat hulk lying around the house was her daughter.

Every night I came home and practiced the short hand I had learned. They were also giving us lessons on personal appearance and all that. My efforts to look better only made my mother laugh.

One day, I failed the final exams of the first semester. I felt so terrible I wanted to kill myself. Once again I had no friends. Suzy had moved away with her family long ago and though she had promised to write me she never did.

I went to the Port Authority Bus Terminal with twenty bucks on me. I had some vague idea of getting on a bus and getting off wherever it stopped and finding some truck to jump in front of or something.

I was wandering looking like a crazy I suppose, when this girl comes up to me dressed in sort of a white sac and sneakers. She had a big smile on her face and blue eyes just like Suzy's. She also had a red dot in the middle of her forehead and all her hair was shaved off except for one ponytail which hung down her back ...

Anyway, I started to talk to her and when she seemed so warm and friendly I told her all my problems. How I had failed my exam and had no friends because I was so fat and ugly. She told me that Rinta, which was what she called God, loved me and I should join her community where I would know true love and happiness.

I found myself going back with her to her place on the lower East Side. Her name was Sita, it seemed to fit her, anyway, she took me to the place that she and the other members of her religious cult shared in a basement flat. The others weren't there yet, though. They were still out on the streets collecting money for the day.

Sita sat me down and made me some tea and started showing me pictures of Rinta, her God and telling me all about how we can only find happiness if we renounce the pleasures of the flesh. She showed me pictures of Rinta the god making it with Rinita the goddess and Sita said only the gods were allowed the ultimate carnal pleasures which we are not fit for and all the while she was talking and showing me the dirty pictures I was getting horny as hell.

Sita's eyes did remind me of Suzy, bright clear blue they were. And her bust was very big and firm under her white get-up. I could see that. She took my hand and held it while she looked into my eyes with this brightness and kept talking about the happiness she had found with these people and I just wanted to get on top of her and bang it out with her.

I said I would join up with her just to put her off guard and she jumped up pleased and ran out to the kitchen. When she came back she had a pair of scissors with her.

"Hey, what's that for?" I asked.

But before I knew what she was doing she had started to chop off my long hair. It was really my only good feature ...

I grabbed her around the waist and threw her to the floor knocking the scissors out of her hand. She was so shocked she didn't cry or move, but just lay there with her mouth open, like a fish.

That made me mad. I hate these prissy little girls, whether they're cheerleaders or religious nuts, or what, who are so pure, they're too good for you. Too pure to have sex.

I threw up her skirt and saw that she wasn't wearing anything underneath but a ragged pair of cutoff shorts. Her ass stuck out from them in a real cute way and I could smell her fruity mound. I wanted some cunt so bad I think I could have strangled her if she had tried to resist. But she was too chickenshit to resist.

Maybe she really wanted it. I mean, she was of age and she wasn't a virgin.

That I found out as I ripped off her shorts and parted her legs. She was moaning and sort of crying but I had her pinned down by the arms. I think she could have gotten away if she wanted but I guess maybe she was afraid of me because of my size.

I stuck my nose in her fragrant cunt and savored the aroma. Her clit was wide and wet. I began licking her and feeling her ass at the same time and she tried to whip her white thighs around me and kick me, so I took some rope that had bound together the pictures she had been showing me and quickly tied her legs to the feet of the sofa. She was looking at my really wild-eyed and she looked like she was working up to a big scream so I picked up the scissors.

"Just shut up," I said, brandishing them before her. But I really didn't ever intend to use them or anything. Really. I tossed them across to the other side of the room afterwards.

I pulled her white robe all the way up over her head. I couldn't see her face this way-just her body. She had beautiful tits-massive and spongy with big nipples on the end as if she could give suck to a regiment.

I sat on her stomach and I could feel her tits with my ass. That felt good, to feel the huge moons of my ass riding the huge moons of her tits.

I went down on her and sucked her out until I had felt her come many times. Then I pulled back her dress so her head was free again and I sat on her head until she finally started to eat me. She stuck her tongue straight up in me while I was looking at her mound dripping sticky wet with her feet tied to the sofa so that her legs were spread apart.

It was real good. I mean- that's what sex is for- isn't it? To make you feel good? And I didn't really hurt her. I didn't hurt her at all She even came I mean. So I don't think I'm really a sick person, doctor. Do you?

CONCLUSION

Bettina is an interesting case in that she is very much aware of the factors that have gone into making her unhappiness while at the same time she cannot change or exorcise these factors. Her weight problem is something she can work on and she can become independent and gain self respect for herself in that way.

Her lesbianism is probably the sexual preference she will have for life. The fact that the two lesbian relationships she described so far were both eases in which she forced, or dominated, another younger, less experienced girl does not indicate a lifetime pattern, hopefully. Bettina's extreme loneliness and isolation from all other people makes her think that the only way she can get what she wants from another girl is to force the girl.

She chooses as targets, or victims, girls who are going to be surprised by Bettina's actions. Girls who are not initiated into the rites of lesbian love. This probably gives Bettina an added sense of power and superiority which she needs to feel. Especially since the girls she abused were all-American types, in looks. Pretty, thin, with large well-formed breasts, popular-everything Bettina wanted to be, as she herself admitted.

Bettina shows a healthy sense of doubt and guilt about the methods she used to seduce the two girls and so she probably will respond to therapy quite well and will be able to find a normal, healthy happy lesbian relationship.

CASE HISTORY FOUR

SUBJECT: Lorelei R. AGE: 20

INTERVIEW ONE

Lorelei gave the appearance of being much older or much more mature than twenty. She was expensively dressed, in a fur coat and expensive designer clothes and her shoulder length light brown hair had been frosted at the hairdresser for it had highlights of blonde in it. She sat and moved with the authority of an older woman who is accustomed to getting everything she wants.

Lorelei's breasts were large, her smile was perfect, her eyes were brown and she had a way of talking to me that was a kind of flirting as if she were used to being considered attractive by all men. She had great poise and self-confidence and often shook her shoulders as she talked which made her breasts move under her expensive blouse. She talked to me as if we were conspirators and she was telling me secrets that would be the property of only we two. However she probably talked that way to everybody and gave everybody the same feeling.

Her daddy was sending her to therapy on the threat that if she didn't go he would cut off her allowance. She said she had come to try to save her marriage.

***

My daddy's one of the biggest bankers in Jackson. I grew up mostly in our country house in the delta-that's where we'd go every summer and I swear I sigh when I think of how happy I was in those days. Just being a kid and playing with other kids in the fragrance of those summers ...

Well, I had everything I always wanted of course. You know, cars, clothes, friends, all that stuff. Well, I was the eldest daughter and beauty of the family of the richest man in Jackson and I had an image to live up to as they say. I was born and bred to play the role, says Hank. He's my husband.

The first time I met Hank was at a ball given in honor of my father when he was made bank president. Hank was the youngest man to sit on the board of the bank and I had heard about him in advance. How he was such a lady-killer and playboy and how he had broken all these hearts in Jackson. I was interested. I had a record of broken hearts myself.

Well, I had this real cute little gown on that evening. I had to fly all the way to Paris, France to get it. There just wasn't anything in the stores in New York, not to mention in Jackson of course. The theme of the ball was Martin's Silver Palace and so you see I had to have a silver gown.

So I was wearing this really cute silver lame slinky gown, real low-cut you know. And I came in on Daddy's arm. Little sister was there too, looking cute in a sort of tacky silver jumpsuit. She's two years younger than I am and she's not half as pretty. She's never had as many beaus as I have and she had her eye out for Hank too. But I got to him first.

That is, he came over to me and asked if he could sign my card and dance with me. I let him of course being real charming. He was cute! A real he-man type, just about busting out of his tuxedo. His shoulders and chest were so broad and yet he didn't look low-class. He looked real good in a tuxedo. He was a self-made man, Papa said.

I hate timid men, so I wasn't disappointed when Hank danced with me in such a way that let it be known that he liked the way I was endowed and he liked holding it all in his arms. He was real cool, hardly even glancing down into my cleavage though most of the other men there that evening made me laugh. When they came up to me to speak to me, their eyes kept dropping to my tits- well I did have them on display that evening and they are really magnificent. My gown sort of pushed them up and together. I love to watch men squirming when they are turned on but don't know what to do about it. Or else they're turned on but they know they can never have what they see.

Well, I wasn't entirely sure about Hank. I didn't want to let him get a piece too easily. And yet I wanted him. I decided I wanted him to marry me and I figured out a way to make him do it.

He was really getting hot with me. When we danced I put my leg between his and nudged up against his balls. I could tell they were quite big and I could feel his cock getting hard sometimes, but I really admired him because he wasn't so desperate that he had an embarrassing hard-on right there in the middle of the ball. '

We left the party early and I let him drive me home. I have this nifty little duplex, it's not much, but it's where I make pit stops when I'm in Jackson. I told him I wanted to change into something more comfortable and fixed him a drink. I left him waiting for me in the living room and I went into my dressing room next door. There's a large, wall-sized mirror in the living room which is a one-way mirror. Hank could see into my dressing room which he suddenly became aware of. I pretended that I was unaware of anyone watching and I stripped.

I made sure to bend over many times so he got some idea of what the daughter of the richest man in town has got between her legs. My cunt is fine, the hair a fine reddish color. I combed my cunt hair and perfumed it. I exposed my long silky white breasts and shook them in front of the mirror as if I were fretful.

I even put one leg up on the dresser and masturbated for a while and he could see everything. I imagined him watching me, drink in hand. Perhaps he was touching himself too. The door to my boudoir was locked though, I heard him trying to turn the knob.

"Hey can I come in, Lorelei, baby?" he called.

"I'll be out in a minute!" I called. I heard him return to the living room and I preceded with my show. I put on long black stockings on my legs, sticking my tongue out a little bit between my luscious red lips as I did so. I have beautiful long legs, I was Magnolia Queen at the Magnolia Festival in the delta you know. I pretended to have dropped my comb and I bent over for it and parted my ass. My cunt was really wet by then and so I had some really soft wet flesh to show him. My cunt was all hot, as hot and wet as if I had been having foreplay with him and now we were ready for him to stick it right in me, because I was so wet and ready. But still I hadn't even seen him once.

I imagined what his cock would be like, the big head, bulging out over the shaft. His balls bouncing against my ass as he rode in and put on top of me. I got on the bed on my hands and knees and parted my ass again, looking over my shoulder as I did so, as if I were looking back at a lover who was ramming it into me good and I slowly, lazily, poked one finger in me, dipped it really and brought it out and up so he could see the come on it. I dipped it in again and kept dipping for a while. I wanted him to be wild with desire.

Finally, I allowed him to watch me stepping into my high heels and then pulling on, over my stockings and garter, a chastity belt I have. It's really very pretty: it's black leather with metal locks at the hips and one right over the pussy. I twisted a little gold key in one lock, over my hip, in the other lock at the other side. And then I lifted one leg on the bed again and inserted the little gold key in the last lock at the pussy. I put the keys in my dresser drawer and left the boudoir. I had thrown a silk kimono on, but my tits were still free beneath the delicious silk. My boudoir door locks automatically and it has a speak-in lock like the kind they have in banks, where only one person's voice will open the door.

Well, Hank was sweating. He had droplets of sweat on his forehead and his tongue was dry. I made him another drink and pretended that I didn't know what he was sweating about.

"That's quite a little setup you've got here. Turn the man with the one-way mirror and then pretend like nothing happened."

I like it when a man forces an issue. I hate mealy-mouthed men who are afraid to acknowledge what's happened. So I merely said, "It's a turn-on isn't it. I like to spend money on turn-ons."

"But you're not going to let me have any tonight, right?"

"Right," I said, unveiling my boobs. I opened his pants and took out his cock which was hard and throbbing. I went down on him that night. I took his cock between my boobs and I bounced it back and forth and then I beat his cock with my tongue until he couldn't stand it anymore and then I stuck it deep into my mouth.

I felt the movement in shaft which meant his cum was on the way so I took his shaft out of my mouth and his cum gushed out onto my boobs. He really liked it and he wanted, twenty minutes later to stick his dong in my pussy. He tried to tear at the leather panties. He tried to stick his finger under them and he managed to get one finger a little under. He pushed his way through my pussyhair and touched my labia which were soft and wet and that made him get hard again. This time I just let him fondle my tits. He said he really liked women with big tits and he admired my long legs and thighs which he ran his penis up and down on. I played with his dick with my toes and the little red toenails really turned him on too. In fact I did everything I could think of to make him real hot again that night, but I refused to get the key to my belt or to put my mouth back over it and he went home with an aching bulge between his thighs, having been able to shoot his rocks only once that night. He told me four or five times a night was not at all unusual for him and to do it only once really left him in pain.

I refused to go see him at his house. I only allowed him to come see me at my house. I continued to turn him on by allowing him to watch me dress and undress through the mirror, but I never let him stick it in me. He was so hot for me he couldn't work anymore, he said. Finally he asked me to marry him. Daddy was so happy and little sister was so jealous.

We were married last August and I must be one of the few girls left in the south who actually felt her husband's cock in her pussy for the first time on my wedding night.

INTERVIEW TWO

I couldn't help admiring Lorelei's appearance the next time she came to see me. She had phoned me the day before to cancel her appointment for that day. She had a luncheon to go to. She asked if she could have a quick session with me the next day on her way to a party. She was wearing a white sequened dress, very low cut, which displayed her soft pliant tits. Her hair had been cut a little shorter and was set so that curls framed her face though her roots were looking a little dark. She had circles under her eyes and seemed very tired and depressed.

She was on her way to a party for her husband, who had just been promoted to Vice-President of the Bank.

The first thing she told me was that she was pregnant.

My husband fucked me and I got pregnant. Funny, isn't it. He fucked me once and now I'm pregnant. If you could know the living hell that my life is now. Husband and wife, ha! More like the devil and his consort.

On our wedding night, my husband finally got to insert the hot head of his cock into my soft quicksand. He was so hot for me that night that I thought happily I would have him totally under my control. But you don't know the lengths I've had to go through to maintain the little control I still have.

I am still his wife and I have the power and prestige that that brings. And if he wants to divorce me, I'll be able to get him for everything he'll ever have.

But after our wedding night he no longer showed the slightest interest in fucking me. He ignored me during dinner and he seemed to take me for granted, as a shadow. I watched him closely and decided that he was merely playing cool now to enhance our sexual game.

He wanted me to woo him back, I decided. I always dressed with the greatest care, always looking very sexy. Many of his friends go away panting when I am out with my husband and everyone assumes that we are desperately happy and in love and fucking like dogs, but he hasn't touched me.

Finally last week, I arranged for him to come pick me up at my duplex apartment, which I have retained as my own, for when I want to be alone. I had hired a black maid named Lily. She was a young girl and I chose her especially for that. She had tits like magnolia blossoms and a beautiful, radiant face, like a mysterious flower. Her body was strong all over, muscular, with a hard tight ass and a mahogany stomach.

She had no idea what I intended for her. She agreed to come in and work for me afternoons. She was the maid.

Hank came to pick me up. I told him I had some clothes I wanted to transfer over to the house we lived in together. Hank was always deferential to my needs.

Lily let him in and he was surprised to see her. She was a polite girl and she explained that Mrs. R-had hired her as a maid. She said would he sit down, I was dressing and would be right out.

Now Lily had of course remarked on how strange it was that I kept this one-way mirror on the living room wall, where anyone who sat there would be able to see right into my privacy. I laughed it off by saying that it was a very expensive antique mirror and that was simply the only wall it would fit on.

I had asked Lily to come in to me after she let Mr. R-in. She came in and asked what I wanted. I was in the closet, my arms full of dresses. I handed an armful to Lily and asked her to put them on the bed. When she had her back turned I locked the boudoir door.

Lily turned to me and asked what could she now do. I had lifted my skirt and put one leg up on the bed. I opened my cunt before her gaping eyes and made it wet with my fingers.

"Come lick me," I said.

"But Ma'am!" she was really shocked.

"Do what I say, Lily." I was speaking in a very calm voice.

Lily ran to the door and found it locked. I was walking forward toward her. I pulled my dress off over my head and was walking toward her in my stockings and black and red garters. I had my high black leather pumps on and I had lipsticked my lips, nipples and pussy.

Lily was running from me in confusion and fright, knocking against one wall and then the other. She kept looking up at the wall which she knew Mr. R-could see through. He was there on the other side of the wall, looking in on us.

My breasts were riding freely as I pursued the poor frightened black girl around the room. She was wearing jeans and a blue-jean jacket. They fit her well. She looked lithe and slim as a seal.

I said, "Lily come here and lick me. The sooner you do it the sooner you'll be able to leave. Now come here," I spoke very low and slowly as if speaking to a child hypnotically.

I stood at the foot of the brocaded bed and put one high-heeled shoe up on the bed, so that my mound was open. Again I parted my cunt with my fingers and waited for her to come.

Slowly, as if operating under a different kind of logic, suddenly, she came forward staring at the spongy pink wet flesh I held open to her. When she came up to me I opened her jacket and made her take it off. I touched her smooth uplifted tits, like two hard oranges. I helped her out of her jeans though she was starting to whimper.

"There, there, dear. Come along," I said.

"That's right. Your panties too," I watched her toss off the pink spandex briefs.

I lay down on the bed on my back and made her lie on top of me. Her legs lay stretched apart on top of mine and our two pussies lay one piled on the other, my white mound with the soft blonde hair beneath Lily's cocoa cunt pink on the inside brown on the outside. I reached with my hand and stroked her cunt and then moved down to mine and then back to hers and then back to mine, as if I were stroking one long cunt that went from body to body.

Lily's body had the tremors. Her eyes were closed and her lips were trembling.

Next I had her put her mouth to my cunt and drink me. I allowed Hank to see me with my legs spread wide, my tits high in the air, my head thrown back, my hair flowing, while the little black girl kneeled in between my legs, the line of her back curving to my cunt like a mahogany statue.

Then we went down on each other, mouth to pussy, twice. Lily's aroma was dusky sweet and heavy. Her buttocks like rocks. When she came she came heavy, the coming milk flowing down heavily from all the walls of her cave. I came right after her, short and sharp.

When it was over, I unlocked the door and let her leave. She rushed out with her clothes to redress in the bathroom. I sat there smoking a cigarette still in the nude.

I heard Lily rush through the living room and slam the front door. I heard no sound in the other room for a long long time and I made no sound as I just sat there thinking about what had happened. I just smoked a cigarette.

In an hour I got up and put together the dresses that I wanted to take with me to our house I went out to the living room where Hank had been waiting for me. He helped to carry the dresses out to the car and we didn't speak of what had happened. We just pretended that nothing had happened. And he's never spoken of it, though I know he really liked it.

He hasn't touched me at all since then either and it's been about a week. I know what's happening. He expects me to continue to perform scenes for him in the boudoir and he just wants to look on.

It's just the weirdest situation, doctor. All my friends are always making lascivious remarks about us and yet we're not fucking. I wanted a man I could dominate but I think I've gotten stuck with some kind of weirdo. My father sensed that everything isn't cool between me and Hank and my father wants me to stay married to the dude. Hank's Vice-President of the Bank after all now and my fat scandalous divorce all over the papers. So my father blackmailed me into going to therapy. He threatened to cut off the allowance he's still giving me and I couldn't live without it. Hank doesn't give me all that much money, either. He's very stingy.

Personally I think I need to be seeing a lawyer, because I have to figure out a way to get rid of this schmuck I married. So what do you think?

CONCLUSION

Lorelei's manipulative personality will not allow her to realize that she is in many ways responsible for the situation she now finds herself in. She is a woman who has always been accustomed to getting her way and now she finds she is up against someone who is just as well practiced in the art of manipulation.

She seems very closed to the possibility that therapy could help her, so there may be nothing I can do to help her look in a mirror and see herself. Her total lack of feeling for Lily and her total belief in the necessity of doing whatever she needs to do to meet her own ends, suggest a certain inflexibility.

Although she is very beautiful and intelligent, I would almost suggest that I see the beginning signs of schizophrenia or split-personality. There may be two personalities expressing themselves here: the normal healthy girl who fits right in and always follows the pattern expected of her and the woman who lives in world totally by herself.

CASE HISTORY FIVE

SUBJECT: Michele A. AGE: Forty

INTERVIEW ONE

Michele is black and very beautiful. She had large eyes that sit right under a row of beaded bangs and she has even white teeth and a beautiful smile. She wore a black blouse threaded with gold and black tight pants. She said she owned a disco boutique, which she had spent many years earning the money for. Her business was doing well and she seemed very confident as she told me the background details. However, when I probed a little deeper and asked her to tell me about the area of her life which was troubling her and which had sent her to me, a worried look passed over her bright eyes, she shook her shoulders sadly and her breasts beneath her fine Indian blouse shook back and forth gently.

***

I was in the store one day and this white boy walked in. He was thirty-one I think he told me. He was pitiful looking, I thought. He had pock-marked skin on his face and sort of dried puckered-up lips and real vague green eyes. He had his hair cut like a fag- sort of shaped, like a cone or an egg, I thought. Blonde hair. He talked to me real seriously. He was looking at the leather belts and vests.

He was wearing a leather vest himself, a real nice on that had a hand painted design on the border. So we got to talking.

I don't even know how it all happened. We went out into the street and it was getting dark. He asked me out for a drink so I said sure.

I wasn't at all turned on to him. But I was tired of going home alone and I hate the bar scene. Really, you might laugh, a disco store owner not wanting to out discoing. But I was tired that night, like I say. It was a Friday. Mel, my kid was at Herb's- my ex-husband's for the weekend. I just wanted to have a couple of drinks to warm me up before I had to walk to the subway and take the cold train home.

I go to a bar with this guy. His name is Pete. He's thirty-one and he works for a corporation on Fifth Avenue. Some kind of flunky, I suppose. He's a dumb guy, he still lives with his parents in Queens. But he thinks he's real sexy. He's trying to come on to me. I mean you can see that a mile off, but his technique is pathetic.

He thinks he's suave and cool, but I end up paying for my own drink. I really want to laugh to myself and chalk this one Friday off to what feels like the flu coming on and I'm not at all interested in this guy.

I say, "thanks for the drink," and I'm getting up to go.

He says, "No, I'll come with you."

"Thanks honey, but no."

We're out in the street by this time and it's damn cold and the wind is whipping down the avenue like a damn glacier.

So I think about some warm arms to get into bed with when I get home and I almost consider taking this guy on.

He leans over and whispers in my ear, "You really turn me on, honey. I love black meat. I want you to take me home."

I look at him with disgust. This slob, this pathetic white boy coming on to me like I'm going to be glad I ran into his cock, I really wanted to chuck up.

But, he leans over again and whispers, "I like domination. Have you ever done it? With a white boy? You could dig it. You could do anything you want to me."

"Go fuck yourself," I say and just leave him standing there. I couldn't think of anything I would want to do to him. Like I say, I go for a pair of warm loving arms of some man I love and respect, not the asshole of some asshole.

But he follows me all the way home. I felt he was pretty harmless and I just ignored him the whole way home on the train. He followed me out at my stop and through the streets home to my door. I opened the door with my key and he followed me in.

I turned around to look at him as if I was just noticing that he was still there.

"Oh hello," I said. "Still tagging along, are you?"

He said nothing, just looked down and blushed, his ugly scarred face looking dumber and drier than ever.

He had a good body, I could tell. I mean, he was young and well-shaped, with a thin sort of hunched over chest, but good strong hips and thighs. I could tell that by the way he stood, legs apart, his hands behind his back. He was wearing tight black pants and button-down shirt under his black raincoat.

He was waiting. I didn't know what I was going to do or what was going on.

I looked through the open door of the bathroom and saw the enema bag and tube, lying clean and shiny where I had left it after I washed it out. I had had to use it on Mel a couple of nights before. He has some kind of problem and has been constipated a lot. The doctor recommended using an enema when Mel didn't respond to prune juice.

"Would you like an enema?" I said very coolly.

To me this whole thing was sort of a big joke. Sort of a game we were playing.

The idiot just stood there blushing and grinning and nodding his head though he was too embarrassed to say anything.

I thought: Wow! This white boy's really stupid. This dude's is really nowheresville.

I prepared the bathroom for his enema.

First I put on my white terrycloth bathrobe over my clothes so I wouldn't get anything dirty. I rolled up my sleeves and found some rubber gloves. That's what I do with Mel, poor baby, who's so frightened. He's only six.

Anyway, this guy comes up to the bathroom door and stands in front of the door starts doing some kind of snake dance or something, that I guess is supposed to turn me on. He swiveling his hips and unbuttoning his black shirt. Then he slowly unzips his pants, with his eyes on me intently. I'm watching him, but like from a distance. He thinks my eyes are glued to his cock or something, because he waits to see my reaction as he pulls out his erect cock.

I look at it but I've seen bigger and I'm not impressed or interested.

He's stepping out of his pants now, completely naked except for the necklace he's wearing. It looks American Indian, with turquoise and a white thunderbird.

He's crossed his arms and is looking at me coyly. Waiting for me again.

I feel like a nurse. I just say, "Lie down on the floor."

I have put a rubber sheet on the floor and he lies down on top of it. He looks at me with a smile on his ugly face as he moves his hips around, trying to let me know how big his cock is and how uncomfortable it is for him to have to lie down on top of it.

I'm just waiting. I look at his long body, sort of orange in color he was. He's got a tight muscular ass though his body isn't really all that strong looking.

So I say, "Well, time to open up, white boy," not really believing that we are going to go through with this.

Suddenly he acts like he's had a change of heart.

"Uh, um, er," he starts to say.

I just slap my rubber-gloved hand down on his tight white ass and try to part the moons with my hand. In my other hand, raised high above him, is the rubber mouth of the enema tube.

He's starting to squirm and I bring my hand down hard on his buttocks many times to beat him to be still. I kneel on his legs to keep him from squirming and the heels of my shoes dig into his flesh.

He's lying still again and I get the halves of his ass apart and see the anal flesh like a little pocket and I massage it to make it wet.

He starts to whimper and say in a little high voice, "Ah, miss? Ah, miss? I think I've changed my mind, I don't think I want to do this."

I laughed. "It's too late for that now, honey. What are you doing, trying to make a fool of me?"

I shoot the hard rubber mouth of the tube into the slit of his anus and he shouts with pain. I shove it in harder and suddenly my pussy is wet. I feel come between my legs. He is squealing more than ever now and I really purposely shove the heels of my shoes into his legs and he shouts and yells with pain.

When I've got a good six inches of the tube firmly whacked into his as hole tube, I walk over his body, I walked on his body, doctor! Oh God!

I walked over his ass and down his back with one final step on his neck as he screamed and I reached for the hot water.

It wasn't hot at first, it was cold. It takes a while for the hot water to come on in our building.

I sat down on the edge of the tub with my heels in his back to keep him down, but so that I was away from the back area of his body where I might be liable to getting dirty.

I sat down on the edge of the tub, doctor! and I, oh God! I opened my pussy up and masturbated!

I was so into it I forgot to turn the water off and when he had filled up and then gone beyond being filled up, the tube shot out of him and his shit was flying everywhere. The stupid filthy bastard just let himself flood out all over the floor.

But the water hadn't even gotten hot that time. It was hot now and I just stood up and delicately retrieved the tube with my gloved hands, carefully making sure my robe touched nothing.

I jammed the tube back in him, hard and then crammed in as much as I could and then I turned on the hot water and this time it was hot!

He screamed with pain as he felt the scalding liquid now and again I just let nature take its course. Again I was milking my wet pussy on the rim of the tub. The tube came flying out again! Oh God! It was so disgusting! What I did!

That disgusting man liked it! When he stood up he proudly but shyly showed me how all the come had come out all over his stomach and he smiled this disgusting toothy grin and dressed and thanked me and then he left and the thought of the whole experience makes me sick, but I keep thinking about it and I can't even think about two warm loving arms anymore. I mean, I feel so sick and disgusted all the time and I think I must be sick or something because I felt so good when I masturbated. The only thing I could think of was to come to see you.

INTERVIEW TWO

The next meeting, the beads were out of her black hair and had it combed out as a big fro. It seemed to me that the change in hairstyle emphasized the large strong features of her face. She no longer looked like a gentle passive female looking out from behind a shade, but she looked like a strong self-confident woman. Her blouse was a tight-fitting electric purple disco jacket and she wore tight disco jeans in black. She also had on high-heeled sandals. I was impressed. She had a small waist and big round hips and a nice big ass.

But all her self-confidence melted away and she seemed uneasy and hesitant about starting up again. The details of what she told me hardly shocked me but she felt embarrassed about telling me. I told her what she was telling me was strictly confidential and finally she began.

***

You know after I talked to you last time I felt much better. I felt that at least I wasn't keeping all this fear and frightened feeling inside me. At least I was getting it out, telling someone about it.

Well I went home with that feeling, but on my way home, I passed a newstand in the subway station. My eye passed as usual over all the magazine covers but this time my eyes stopped and lingered on all the sex and nudes stuff. In particular I found my eye went to the cover of the D&P Circular. I'd heard about discipline and punishment- wacko people who got their rocks off hurting themselves and each other and all this time I'd just dismissed the whole thing as nuts. Like I said, up until now, anyways, I've always preferred the warm pair of arms conception of pleasure.

Well anyway, I bought the newspaper and took it home in a paper bag and spread it out on the living room coffee table.

I looked at all the pictures and found that some of them turned me on. Not all of them. Particular ones. I remember one of a beautiful black bitch in a big black wig and a leather sort of outfit, mostly straps and thongs. She was wearing high- heeled boots and was sticking the spiked heel into the neck of a thin-haired white man, while she pulled at a collar she had put around his neck. Her leg was up and her cunt was showing.

Another one that grabbed me was of the same black chick and a white chick with long blonde hair and a long black whip in her hand. The two of them were standing together with their feet on the man, as if they were showing off a piece of game they had just shot down in the forest, or something.

I mean I started fantasizing about this kind of stuff. I would dream myself to sleep on all kinds of wild images. You know having a man in front of you like a circus animal-a white man of course. And me with a whip and a wild costume like that. I had wet dreams for nights.

I just happened to mention something about domination to the girl who works in my shop.

She said, "Oh yeah!" She didn't seem to think it was horrible or sick or strange. I mean she acted like she knew all about it and didn't think it was strange.

I started to put together a costume for myself from the merchandise in my store.

I had a leather jerkin that just barely tightly fit across my breasts. It tied in back with leather thongs. Then I found a leather garter belt that was very tight and cut into my flesh. I went out and bought black net stockings. I got my hair done at a fancy place. I felt as if I were giving myself a present. But still, every once in a while I would stop and ask myself what I was doing. Again, I had no real plan in mind, but I was just taking the steps I knew of and seeing where they would lead.

Gradually the idea of a white man faded from my dreams and was replaced with the image of a black man. Pete, the enema guy, came by my store and tried to ask me out for a drink again, but I told him I would call the police and have him arrested for shoplifting or molesting or anything. I told him coldly, haughtily to take his disgusting ass away and never show it in my store again and I saw his white tail slink disappointed, away.

So now I was on the lookout for a suitable partner in my lust for domination.

I found him in Lance, a really fine looking black dude. Just to look at him made my mouth water, but I didn't let on. I picked him up in a bar. I went out one night looking foxy! I think when a woman goes out looking like that, a man can smell her watering cunt a mile away.

This guy sitting next to me was about 5'10" tall, very black and muscular. He wore a big black felt hat with a red feather in it and his smile was broad and he winked and licked his chops. We were on the same wave length and he paid for my drinks and we left.

"Your place or mine?" he asked. He had a fine white Caddy out in the parking lot with "Black Dude" written in curvy letters on the driver's door.

"Mine," I said.

I seated myself in the bucket seat beside his and gave him directions how to get to my place. Again, Mel was away with his father for the weekend.

We didn't talk although he tried to ask me some questions.

"Who are you baby? What's your name?" he asked.

But when I didn't even answer those questions, he just whistled and shook his head and drove on.

He found a parking space on my block and we got out. When we were inside the apartment he seemed to get a little uneasy.

"Nice place you have here, baby," he said walking around.

I still said nothing. Again I felt how the whole responsibility of the situation was with me.

"Fix yourself a drink, if you'd like one," I said. "I'm going to change."

I left him whistling at the bar.

I came out in the outfit I'd prepared. He was sitting on the couch now with his drink and he whistled long and slow when he saw me. I came out in my high-heeled leather boots that went up to my mid-thigh and seemed to serve up my afro-cunt like a delicacy on a dish. My boots were black. My leather jerkin was tightly tied, making my boobs bulge and jut. I had pulled it down over my hips so that it let my boobs flow out on top. My hips arched out from the leather and then the leather thongs of the garter belt were taut as they traveled from my hips to my thighs. My black net stockings just stood out on top of the boots.

He stood up.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmm," he said. He had a big broad grin on his face and his cock was pushing out against his tight black pants. He was unbuttoning his already mostly unbuttoned black shirt with confidence as if he knew this scenario and he already knew the performance he was going to give.

I picked up my whip, which had been lying on the chair. He hadn't noticed it before.

This time, his expression changed. The whites of his eyes widened and he stopped in the middle of unzipping his pants.

I smiled.

"Not quite what you expected? Mr. Playboy?" I asked. I ran the lash of the whip through my hands.

"Well, er ... ," he said.

"Don't you want my pussy?" I whispered. I stuck out my red tongue invitingly and put one foot up on the arm of the chair so he could see my wet pink flesh.

"Oh, shit," he said licking his dry lips. He had his cock in his hand and I was glad to see that it was good healthy-sized black cock. The rim of the plunger was all wet and steamy already, I could tell.

Again he started forward toward me, his eyes just hypnotized by my cunt.

I put my leg down and said, "Take off your pants." I brought the lash of the whip through the air and it snapped right in the air over his cock. He pulled his cock away, very surprised.

"You're not really going to use that thing on me?" he asked, trying to be light while he took off his trousers.

I said, staring him down until he was looking at the floor, all ears, just listening to me: "Don't talk. Don't speak unless I ask you something, or until I give you permission to speak again. I'm not interested in your jive bullshit. Spare me the sweet nothings. If you want me you come to me the way I tell you to and don't say nothing before, during or after. I'm not interested in you. I just want the hide off your body and maybe I'll give you some pussy in the end."

He seemed to be thinking, considering something. Like maybe running for the door.

I went and got the collar. I first bound his hands hard behind his back and he was really frightened. Then when I put the dog collar on his neck- it was black leather with amethysts in it and told him he looked real pretty in it, he was about to say something, so I stuffed one of my bras in his mouth and tied his mouth up with a rag.

I had him by the rope on his collar now and I had another rope connected to his tied hands. I made him fall to his knees and then I put one leg up on the chair again and let him look at my spongy pink flesh that was so wet and hot that all I had to do was put my leg up and my cunt was wide open. The pussy lips pulled apart on their own as if begging a big fat black cock to enter.

My man, if you can call that a man that lies there on the floor staring up at what it wants but not knowing how to get it, this dude lay on the floor staring up at my meat. He was rubbing his cock on the carpet.

It was just what I wanted.

I saw that and immediately I raised and brought my whip down on his tight black buttocks. I saw his ass jump and his whole body leaped.

He looked up at me. "No rubbing your little cocky on the floor. That makes it feel too good.

The man's entire expression had changed. It was almost as if his face had changed. Before where there had been the confident self-assured smile and composure of a tough black man who thinks his cock ever complaining about the service he could give her.

And now, here I had transformed that man into the thing that lay slavishly before me, looking up at me in awe and wonder, looking at my cuntflesh without being able to touch and feel it, knowing that if he had to look at it any longer and stay away and not find some way to ease his own untouched lust between his thighs, he'd go crazy.

Now I jerked on the collar and he came stumbling forward on his knees. I lowered myself into the chair with my legs still spread wide and I let him come to me like a dog. With his hands tied behind his back he couldn't touch himself. I made him rest his erect cock and balls on the chair right in front of my cunt so that he was forced to look at the prospect of what his itching prick would like if it could get into my pussy. My pussy was open just out of reach of his prong. He was looking at this image and swallowing hard and I laughed and brought the whip down on his shoulders and the strong muscular biceps of his arms.

Then I pulled the collar again before I allowed him to eat me out for an hour. Even after I had come and then come again and again and when my twat was so open and wet and flabby that I knew further licking wouldn't excite it anymore until it had some kind of rest so the lustful tension could start building up again, even when it didn't excite me anymore I made him lick. I figured that he had gotten what he wanted, so let him have it.

He was getting tired and whenever I felt his tongue slow down or stop moving in my pussycave, I'd give him a good hard kick with a spiked heel that took his breath away and got his tongue going again.

I made him eat me out for an hour. It was so-o-o good. It was so good to see this strong black dude looking like a shrimp, like a bashful little boy who always thought he was the teacher's pet until he found out that as far as the teacher's concerned, her standards are much higher than his and she doesn't think he's shit.

When I was through with having him lick me I felt unclean and I wanted to go and wash before we started some other project. So I put his gag back on (I had removed it of course so he could eat me) and tied him firmly to the couch. His cock was still enormous, it looked like it had swelled and was looking painful. He had tried to rub it against me when I was tying him up and I had severely whipped his ass for that. It was so funny to see this proud black man's ass looking like the ass of a little kid who's been spanked. He got this shameful, apologetic confused look in his eyes.

When I came back in I laughed to see him trying to bounce up and down as he sat on the floor tied to the couch. His cock was bouncing in the air for there was nothing for it to rub against, but still I guess it made him feel better having it at least bouncing in the air.

I had washed my cunt and perfumed it. I felt refreshed.

I tied his feet tightly too now so he wouldn't be able to surprise me and I got on my hands and knees. I let him see how my boobs looked hanging down. They are big and soft with big soft dusky nipples. I shook them and I watched his big red irritated dong in agony.

Then I turned my ass to him and showed him my cunt. I looked over my shoulder to see his tongue hanging out. So I backed down his body, turned and undid his gag and then forced my ass against his face. Again he was forced to lick me and eat me for another hour. His tongue stopped frequently from exhaustion and when I turned around every once in a while to smile at him, I saw the fatigue in his eyes. Sometimes I put my fingers behind me and let them slip in to put before his mind tantalizing pictures of what his own fingers, bound behind his back, could not do and of what his prick might look like as it slid in to my wide hole the way my fingers were doing.

After another hour of this my cunt was really on fire. I was ready for his thing.

I just lowered my ass from his face to his lap and sat right down on the pole. It went in like it was going into melted butter. It was so hard and thick that it pierced me right through to where the only place he hadn't managed to pierce me to with two hours of licking and I joyfully came.

I pulled off his pole to his horror and went and got dressed and then came back and untied him. "You can go home now," I sneered.

"You're not going to leave me like this!" he gasped.

His cock was still hot and quivering. He hadn't even started to work on a rhythm that would allow him to get close to coming, but his prong was huge and not likely to go down in a second after all that titilation.

I still had the whip and I used it on him, letting it just singe his cock and balls

"I didn't say you could talk again. Now get dressed and get out of here!" I commanded.

Quick as a bunny he was on his feet. He had difficulty getting his pants zipped up over his huge unsatisfied organ and then he had trouble tucking his shirt in around it and he was shuffling out the door with his shirt unbuttoned, hat in hand, still getting dressed almost, while he hurried for the door. Shit, I laughed and laughed after he had gone. I had really pulled it odd!

I mean I was so proud of myself, doctor. Do you think that's sick. I mean, I swear to you I have never done anything like that before in my life, but I also tell you something else, I never felt so good after sex. I mean I got myself some fucking royal treatment.

The way things are today, a girl's got to get everything for herself and she's got to take all she can get. Money, a living, some loving. I had roped me in some of the most interesting sex I have ever had and I got it all myself ...

CONCLUSION

Michele is a fine example of a young woman who is discovering new forms for expressing her sexuality. Twenty, even ten, maybe even five years ago, Michele might not have acted on her sexual urges. She might not even have ever been able to find a name for what she wanted to do. But female domination can take the form of the best sexuality for some women.

Michele obviously has had other so-called "normal" sex with men. She was married for a long time to a man. Her desires now, her wish to dominate men, may be the expression of a lot of anger she has at men. Anger at the men who don't know anything about the female anatomy and who fuck without any foreplay to soften and wet the cunt. Anger at men who don't know where the clit is and that it likes to be stroked and licked. Anger at men who think fucking is just going up and down, until THEY come.

With the role given her by female domination, Michele was able to get a man to do as much as she wanted, while denying him the pleasure of his sexual apparatus finding fulfillment, as so many men have done to women.

This may merely be a phase Michele is going through, after which she will return enriched to sex between equals, or she may develop her role as a dominatrix. The important thing is that she is not as afraid now as she was when she first came to see me about her desires to dominate a man.

CASE HISTORY SIX

SUBJECT: Natalie J. AGE: Twenty-nine

INTERVIEW ONE

Natalie is a small woman. She must be no taller than five feet in her stockings. In addition to being very petite and feminine she is also very pretty. She has a smooth round face of a fine pink complexion and bright blue eyes. She has long brown hair which is extremely thick which she wears parted in the middle. It hangs down like a curtain and curls around her breasts which are very ample for a woman with such a small frame.

The first time she came to see me she was dressed very quietly, in a khaki green skirt and a brown sweater which outlined the charming shape of her breasts, which were round and full like her face. She wore silver bracelets on her arms and a minimum amount of eye makeup. Her hair was scented, I believe, or perhaps she had just washed it with one of those scented shampoos, because even from my desk where I sat I could smell the odor of her hair wafting across the space whenever she shook her head, causing her hair to shake too.

She was very articulate and familiar with the procedures of therapy. She told me she had been in therapy before, when she was in college. Her natural modesty, however, I soon saw, made it difficult for her to talk about her problem. First of all, they assume I'm a lot younger than "I really am. Now, is that my fault? Is it my fault that I look young? I wear make-up, I dress like an adult, I speak and think like an adult, yet men always assume they're looking at a young girl when they look at me.

Bruce was no different. He took one look at me and decided he was in love. It's because I seem so nice too. And I am. I'm a nice person. I'll do anything not to hurt someone's feelings. I'm very considerate.

Well, anyway, Bruce and I met at a party out in East Hampton last summer. It was my first time out there all summer. I'd been very studious all summer, devoting myself entirely to my career as a writer. I hadn't had a man all summer and I can do that. Sometimes I go for six or seven months without a man, but by the end of that time I am pretty desperate.

Well, that's how I was that night I met Bruce who is a tanned, handsomely built guy who works for his father in the family's military hat supply company in the city. Bruce is an ex-Marine and very forceful. He kept me supplied with drinks all that night, (he made me martinis) and by the end of the night when we went to take a walk on the deck of the house where the party was happening, I was perfectly ready to kiss him. We walked down off the deck and out onto the dunes and it was very romantic of course.

He kneed me while we kissed and I pressed my body against his groin where I could feel a hard lump. I'm no virgin you know. So when he suggested going back to the house where he was staying and spending the evening together, I said sure.

He was renting a house with about six other people and they had designated one room of the house as they room for sleep over guests. I mean there was one room in house that was just mattresses on the floor and it was the room for fucking.

Bruce and I went into this room. It was quite late, about three in the morning, I think. We had to step over all these other sleeping bodies in the dark, holding our shoes in our hands. We found an empty space by the window and fell down onto it, clutching each other. In this crowd scene you felt a real special pull toward your partner. It was like being in a crowded station in the time of some kind of disaster.

Bruce, who is forty-three, by the way, pulled me close to him, on top of him.

"One second," I said, putting my bag to one side where I would be able to find it again easily. I pulled off my dress and discreetly removed my bra.

Bruce just about went wild. I don't know. He thought I was so cute, the way I methodically undressed for him. He sank his hands into my tits and I thought he was a little rough. He really liked my tits. I mean they're big and soft the way many men like them and for a long time he seemed to have forgotten me while he just kneaded my titties with his hands, sometimes sinking his chin or whole face into them, kissing them and putting the nipples to his lips where he seemed to try to suck the whole tit into his mouth.

I just lay there and let him do it. It felt nice and he seemed to be so into it. I would have preferred after a while that he move on to more interesting areas, but I didn't say anything because I didn't want to hurt him.

I guess he hadn't had a woman as young as I -am in quite a while. I told him I wasn't all that young. I mean twenty-nine is no spring chicken, in fact I'm freaking out about turning thirty. But I'm sure that in his mind he kept pretending that I was about nineteen or twenty. People often take me for being nineteen or twenty. I guess it's because I'm short and because I have a baby face and a baby voice. But that's not my fault, doctor, is it?

I was rubbing my leg against his cock, keeping it hard and I let my hands slide up and down his body from his cock to his chest hairs and back to his cock, sometimes slipping down around his thighs. I love to touch people.

As I say, I wasn't really attracted to Bruce. He's not my type. He's too chauvinistic. I prefer more intellectual, sensitive men. But, as I say, I was desperate that night, not having had a man all that summer.

Finally I gave him the idea that another part of my body besides my tits were wanting some attention. He had been kissing the back of my neck and letting his hands slide all over me, but still he avoided touching me anywhere between my navel and my thighs. I grabbed one of his hands and put it right between my legs which I had opened and then closed on him. He was forced to feel the stickiness of the slit and the dry silkiness of my pussy hair.

He moaned when I made him do this and one finger rose out of his palm and began decking me out, sinking straight into my hot cunt like a can opener. All the while I had him by one hand and I was stroking his palm with my index finger while his index was mapping out my pussy.

Our moans and sighs had roused some of our roommates. The couple nearest us on the floor rolled over and the woman got on top of the man. She started to ride him, his cock already hard and stuck right up her. He supported her with his hands and she slid up and down on his cock standing straight up inside her like the Empire State Building.

I was wild for the same treatment. Bruce wasn't getting hard though, so I decided some more drastic method of arousing him was called for and pulled myself off his probing fingers and moved my behind around so that I was kneeling between his widely spread legs. He just lay there with his eyes closed, his broad chest heaving up and down with panting sighs. I encircled his cock with my fingers, making a sort of cockring. I squeezed the base of his cock and tickled his cockhairs.

I played with his cock, tickling it lightly for many minutes. I began to feel the hardening in his spear. He got very hard then and I played like I was going to jack him off for a while, with one hand, while the palm of the other hand I held right over the tip of his cock so that his prickhead could feel the softness of my palm and be reminded of the interior softness of my pussy.

He asked me to shift around a little so he could see my legs. He really liked legs and so I sat with my legs stretched out across his thighs so he could see them. My legs and feet arch while I'm touching someone and so he was treated to the sight of my legs stretching and arching while I bent over and took his penis deep into my soft throat.

I've been told by many men that I really give good head and he seemed to agree with the others. He moaned and writhed like a woman when I beat his cock with my tongue for a while, then suddenly inserted the whole thing deep into my throat and sucked it for a while as if I were trying to swallow it, then started beating it again with my tongue.

The couple beside us was in a real frenzy now and they had wakened up yet another couple, who were on top of each other going at it like a couple of pistons.

I'm no glutton for punishment and I'm also no inexperienced little girl. I mean I know when I'm not getting any and I also know what to do about it. With all this good head I was giving Bruce's dick, I still wasn't getting any strokes myself, so I got up and sat down beside him and began masturbating so that he could see me. I was still giving his dick licks, but also now I was opening my own twat up with my fingers so he could see the pink hot flesh above my black stockings. He saw me insert my own small fingers madly, as if in a frenzy for something I had lost. He saw me itch my cunt as if I had an itch that wouldn't go away. I rubbed and sank into myself and he reached over and felt the moons of my ass while I stuck my fingers up my pussy trying to get off.

I moved on top of him now, with the silhouette of the woman riding the man like a little kid riding a hobby horse. I felt his fleshy pole bend. It was still hard but it wouldn't go straight in and I was so frustrated that I tried to hold it up straight and send it in my cunt, but it kept bending away.

"Well, this guy's got problems, or maybe he's just had too much to drink tonight. His eyes must be bigger than his stomach at this point, or his imagination bigger than his cock, because he's not going to get it up inside me tonight." Those were my thoughts as I felt his cock go limp inside me though I tried to squeeze it with my pussy muscles. I felt like waiting for the girl beside me to finish on her man and then jump on top of him myself.

Bruce pulled me close to him. He was trying to laugh. "Guess I had a little too much to drink tonight. I just can't make it baby. Will you forgive me?"

I said, "Sure," not wanting to hurt the guy's feelings of course. Of course the fact that my own feelings were rather hurt, or rather, my own feelings were just dying to be felt, so to speak. '

I thought I'd just better lie down next to him and we can go to sleep in a friendly fashion and I'll leave him in the morning. I was cursing myself out. I figured I was probably the only person in East Hampton that weekend who didn't get what she came for.

But Bruce seemed to feel guilty about not being able to service me. He was plying my cunt with his fingers and I opened my legs wide and then I turned around so my cunt was closer to him and I just spread right open and let him do what he could with his hands. To tell the truth, rarely have I had such good treatment by someone's hands alone. I was quite impressed.

He pulled my hips towards him and then my cunt was at his face. I lay on my back on top of him, my legs spread wide, my knees bent. He sucked me until I thought my eyes would pop out. He knew how to do it too. First he beat the flesh between my labia with his tongue. He concentrated on that one particular area without touching any other part. My labia were sending out S.O.S. signals, they were pulsating from all the attention and they were peaking with delight. All the rest of my cunt was crying out from neglect and just when I thought I couldn't stand it anymore, he switched, letting his tongue slide down my love canal to my hole which he dipped into for the first time, sliding against my clit love-knot. Then he was dipping into me for an interminable time, each time sliding against the loveflesh and sending a chill deep into my vagina. The labia-flesh had time to stop vibrating and cool off while the clitflesh became hard and trembling with desire. He was sliding against it with a flat tongue and just when I was about to come he switched back to the now-cool labia. Well, the clit got a breather while the labia again were brought to the screaming point.

He went on like this for some time, shifting the center of attention back and forth never allowing any climax, but always bringing me just to the point before climax. Finally, I was all set, all hot to trot and ready to let go at the next touch. His tongue was in my hole, doing service to my clitflesh while one finger kept stirring things up between the lips of love which were curled back in total submission to his finger now, revealing the little bud that was so hot between them.

He stuck one finger down my hole to accompany his tongue and at that moment, with the attendance of his tongue on my clitflesh, his finger sliding in and out for some home runs and another finger making love with my pussylips, I got a hold on all these fingers rippling me and let loose with a blast of earthquaking love that sent me into a few moments of anonymity and mindlessness while my lover plied me with his fingers.

The girl beside me was still riding her man, but now that sort of up and down, ride-a-pole sex looked so primitive to me. I had just been brought off in the subtlest of ways but the sensitive coordinated fingers of my new lover and I was so happy. Long after I had relaxed out of the come and he had withdrawn his fingers he kissed my pussylips. He just kept kissing the entrance to my cave over and over again, very gently, with his lips. And after a while he started making love to me again, with his tongue and mouth and fingers. He just couldn't insert enough fingers in me. He seemed to be in a frenzy. I could tell he really wished he could put his dick in me, but he just couldn't get hard that night.

He told me over and over again, assuring me, that this was not a usual night for him and that normally his performance was very different. I believed him. I had no reason not to. And I woke the next morning, surrounded by bodies moaning out of deep peaceful, sexually fulfilled sleep. The sun poured in on us and the smell of frying bacon in the kitchen brought us to our senses. We looked around shyly, to see who had shared the night with us in such close quarters and together with our dates, each couple rose and dressed, taking a last feel perhaps. Men gratefully slid their hands all over the breasts of their dates. All over the room men were kneeling to pop warm, sun-browned tits with reddened tips into their mouths one last time. Girls were stooping to put cocks into their mouths one last time, or feeling between their guy's knees with their toes to play with the cocks as if they were toys.

Bruce had slept with his tongue in my cunt. I have never had that done to me before. You can't know what that's like until it happens to you. I mean, you can imagine it, but you can't know what it's like, for an entire night, to have a little worm, like a little tadpole or pollywog, lie in your sexual opening, in my pussy, giving little twitches constantly all night. I woke up feeling as if I had slept all night in an environment of clouds. All night long his tongue had been moving gently in my cunt!

Well, doctor, I agreed to see Bruce when we got back to the city. I'm a very trusting person and I'm always telling everyone all my problems, so Bruce soon knew how I had to find a new apartment because my rent was going up and I couldn't afford to stay where I was. He knew I was living on a very limited budget, while I was trying to get my career going.

He lived in a big loft on Mott Street and he asked me to move in with him. I hesitated for a long while. I was afraid of becoming too dependent on him, of accepting charity. I wasn't sure how I felt about him. He was already telling me how much he was deeply in love with me.

Now you see? Another man fell in love with me. He wanted me to move in with him even though he knew I didn't think I was in love with him. He didn't care. After a while, I gave in to him. I moved in and he wouldn't accept any payment for rent. He was well off and he didn't need my money. So I was staying for free in Bruce's loft. I had my own little room, partitioned off from the general area of the loft. But Bruce and I slept together most every night.

I thought, well maybe this can work. Maybe I do even really love him. His sexual performance did return to normal and he was able to get hard and put his cock in me several times a night. I figured I had it good: I had a good, hard cock waiting for me when I got home every night, I had a rent-free place to live in, I even had a man to tell me he loved me without asking me to say the same in return.

Then I met Ronald.

Ronald is a playwright. I met him when I went to review his play for the Downtown Times. He seemed to fall instantly in love with me too. No, I mean it doctor. I feel really conceited talking like this and it must sound as if I'm making it up or imagining it, but I'm not. Ronald asked me out for a drink later on that same week. I wrote a glowing review of his play, because it was really good and I really liked it. It was a work which borrowed freely from the tradition of German Expressionism: Ronald saw life as a backdrop for our inner emotions. We project all our sexual and emotional anxieties and wordless fears onto the landscape of everyday, mundane waking life.

We went back to the theater after having a few drinks. He wanted to show me the scenery for the play up close. I had admired it at great length in my review.

Up close I saw that the scenery had been painted with enormous zebra stripes that came together in points. It was done so that the characters were often standing in the middle of a convergence of lines, as if they were standing in a ring of knives. In the scene when the virgin goes to the window to call for her lover, the actress playing the virgin stands in the center of a backdrop that looks like erect cocks, as if she's fenced in. Dildo-like objects are all over the set too and the sexual tension of the scene is really incredible.

Well, the sexual tension of our scene was pretty incredible too. The drinks had started my cunt ticking like a time-bomb. I was itching and prickling down there while I managed to keep up an intelligent conversation. I think that's why Ronald was so taken with me. He was turned on by the combination of my intelligence, my large tits and my girlish appearance.

"You seem to me to be so much younger. You seem like a little girl to me," he kept saying. I giggled and blushed, but assured him I was twenty-nine.

We were walking through the backdrops in the almost completely dark theater. The theater was empty except for us. He was leading me by the hand, but at one moment my hand slipped out of his and I was lost in the dark. I reached out wildly for him and my hand fell on his crotch. I could feel the big hard bundle under the zipper.

I blushed again in the dark and he laughed.

"Whoops, excuse me there," I said.

"Not at all," he said. "Just don't stop."

That's what we both kept saying all night long: Don't stop.

For we fell in a tangled heap among the cables and props right after my hand had felt the hardness of his cock. He couldn't wait to get into my panties and was pulling them down under my skirt as we fell to the floor.

I was unzipping his pants. Sometimes sucking cock really makes me want to upchuck, but sometimes I have an appetite for cock and this time I could see and feel the shape of the dick that I wanted to swallow with my mouth. The bulbous head of his dick was slithery wet. My tongue guided it in me and I tested the hardness of his cockshaft with my fingers. He was so hard! Much harder than Bruce ever got!

Ronald was sitting up cross-legged and I lifted my skirt and sat down in his lap and his pole went straight up me. He braced himself against a backdrop painted with the forest of cocks. As I went up and down like a horse in a carousel going up and down on its pole, I watched the strange zebra landscape sliding up and down too and I felt as if I were coming in a jungle. For he kept tweaking my pussyhair with his fingers, pulling me back down onto him every time I lifted myself up off. He pulled me back down and I sank onto him with a satisfying thump, then I rose off him as if I were levitating and the pressure eased, but another pressure of anticipation built up as we both readied for my descent again.

I could feel his cock stiffen inside me, as if it were standing up still straighter and I quickened the pace. I don't know- I think the shape of his cock suited me much better than Bruce's did. Somehow, Ronald's cock went into me at a much better angle. It sort of curved up inside me and it was able to get deeper into me.

"I'm almost ready," I said. He has asked me to tell him when I got close to coming.

"Okay," he said. He was helping me go up and down by lifting me with his hands on my hips. My tits bumped against his arms every once in a while, which caused him to bring me down for a landing on his cock even harder than before.

He started to moan and I saw in the dark that his face was contorted and I closed my own eyes and saw in my head his big-headed cock arching into my wet cunt and I squeezed his cock with all my might, my pussy tightening around him like around a tight screw and suddenly I felt his cock plunging into a fountain of cream deep inside me. He continued to plunge and ride into his own foam, pumping it all out.

Meanwhile, I had been convulsing involuntarily for quite a few seconds. We had both come.

"What did it feel like, when I came. Could you feel me coming?" I asked. I was stroking his hair. I was still sitting in his lap but his cock had gone soft and slipped out like a little worm.

"It felt like an earthquake- a trembling in your cunt," he said.

Well doctor, I really liked making it with Ronald. I went back for more many times. We always fuck in the theater, late at night after everybody's gone home. Ronald has the key of course. He knows I'm living with another guy but he says he doesn't care. My problem is that I feel so guilty. I mean, here I am accepting the charity and generosity of Bruce, who's putting me up rent-free, who loves me. I don't love him. I mean, I feel a great deal of affection for him. But I don't think I love him the way he loves me. I mean, I think he'd marry me if I would.

Meanwhile, Ronald has never said he loves me, but I go and fuck him three times a week. I haven't told Bruce about Ronald, but he knows something is going on. Anyway I'm trying to be fairly cool about it.

The thing is, I really need to stay at Bruce's now. I gave up my other place and I really can't afford to take on my own place again. Especially since I'm spending so much money going out in the evening with Bruce. I mean I feel like a real shit, doctor. I feel like I'm just using Bruce and I don't like to feel that way. I've always thought of myself as a nice person and I don't like to feel like an unnice person. But really when I think about it, Bruce is getting his part of the deal too, isn't he? I mean he's getting fucked well five nights out of the week.

Is it really fucked-up of me to be seeing someone else without telling him? I mean, he is paying my rent.

INTERVIEW TWO

Natalie was dressed in black high heeled pumps the second time she came to my office and this seemed to symbolize a new kind of image she was trying to project. She also wore a sexy silk blouse that revealed some of her cleavage and a tight straight skirt with a slit up the front. I doubt that she was aware of it, but from where I sat I could easily see up the slit of her dress. I could see the tops of the stockings she wore and whenever she switched her legs and recrossed them, I could see her black lace panties. It was as if she had decided to try to look more grown up but hadn't really learned how to carry it off yet.

She kept switching around uncomfortably too as if she couldn't sit still. She wore more make-up than on her previous visit and she had been partially successful in making herself look older. But her face still had that innocent youthful look even with the worry written across her eyes.

***

Doctor, I feel guiltier than ever. I mean I really don't know how I let myself get into this situation, where I'm actually taking advantage of two men at once. I mean I feel like I'm using them both, one for his money and one sexually. I feel so immoral, so degraded and yet I can't stop. I love fucking with Ronald and I love living in Bruce's loft. You should see it. It's so beautiful! There's so much light and space and he loves having me there. He says he likes to live with a woman. And I don't mind fucking him once in a while either, as sort of a thank-you for letting me stay there. But I feel so guilty all the time!

Let me tell you what happened this week. I went out and bought all these clothes and some expensive new make-up. I figured maybe they were both letting me take advantage of them because I'm so young and innocent looking. Or maybe I feel so guilty all the time, in a situation where anyone else would just be congratulating herself, because I feel so young. I thought maybe if I felt older and could make myself look older, I would feel more arrogant or something.

Friday night I didn't have a date with Ronald because he was out of town on business. I came home early and got ready to take a shower. I'd had a long day, of one rejection right after another from all the publishers in town. I really didn't feel like talking to anybody, much less Bruce. Plus I was really pissed that I would have to spend a whole weekend without getting fucked by Ron.

So when Bruce slipped into the bathroom while I was undressing and asked if he could get into the shower with me, I really wasn't too wild about the idea.

"Bruce, look. I'm really tired. I've had a long day and I just want to be alone for a while. Maybe later. Okay?" I said.

I was clutching the towel around me. I knew if he saw my big boobs in the flesh there would be no stopping him. My hair was down and I was trying to comb it out before I got in the shower or else it's impossible afterwards. The light from the skylight overhead beamed down on my hair and the steam rose from the hot water falling in the tub.

"Bruce, leave," I said.

He said, "Please, just let me watch."

"What's there to watch?" I asked. "I'm just going to take a shower, the same way you do."

"But you have different things to wash," he grinned seating himself sort of permanently on the toilet seat.

"Okay, watch, see if I care," I said.

I let the towel drop and pulled back the shower curtain. I leaned over into the tub to feel the water and make sure it wasn't too hot or too cold. He could see my mound appear like the moon from between the two half-moons of my ass as I bent over the tub. Suddenly I felt very mean.

Bruce thinks he's so macho, being an ex-Marine and all. He thinks his dick is God's gift to the women of America and every time he sinks it in me I feel like I'm doing a service to my country by allowing this dope to get his rocks off in me. I mean, he doesn't even turn me on anymore. I think he's such a Whimpy creep. I mean, sometimes, you know, when someone loves you, it makes you hate them. Bruce keeps telling me that he loves me and he doesn't care if I don't love him, as long as he can have me around. He says he can have honest fun and honest sex with me, whatever that means.

Well, I figured it was time I had some honest sex with him. That is, sex that tells him what I am honestly feeling, which is contempt.

So I just pulled the shower curtain all the way back giving him a full view and stepped in. The water was fine and hot, the way I like it. We have a good shower head that sends a hard, well-distributed rain of water down on you and the first thing I did was turn around and bend over so the water fell on the small of my back which was all tight and tense.

I could feel Bruce's eyes on my tits, hanging over full like ripe watermelons swinging on the vine. I grasped my boobs in both hands and hefted them and rubbed the nipples until they got hard and the beads of water that sloped down my boobs stopped for a full moment while they tipped up over the tit-ends before splashing to the floor of the tub.

Then I took the soap and soaped my hands. Still leaning over I parted the moons of my ass with my hands. My fingers found the parting of my cunt and slowly, slyly with intent to incite sexual feeling in Bruce, I stuck my soapy fingers one by one in my cunthole. I bent over farther so he would be treated to the sight of a beautiful girl's ass, with her cunt open to him, her fingers rousing herself and her long wet hair flowing over her gleaming hanging boobs. My labia filled with love passion at my fingers' own touch and it wasn't just the soap that was making everything slippery.

Finally I stood up and looked at him. He was leaning toward me, his lips parted, his tongue sticking way out as if he were imagining putting his tongue right in same place my fingers were touching. When I stood up suddenly, he jerked up too and saw me looking at him and blushed.

That only made me hate him more. I really wanted to turn him on without letting him be able to do anything about it. I soaped my boobs and stomach and thighs and arms and underarms. I had him soap my back, rebuking hands curved too far around my waist or hips or when he strayed from my back to down over my curvy butt. I could tell his hands were arching to squeeze my ass but I took back the soap.

"Thanks for doing my back," I said, opening the shampoo. I soaped my hair into a foamy cone. Too much shampoo had poured out of the bottle and I had too much foam on my head, so I started playing with the foam, scooping it off my hair and applying it to the tips of my boobs. The soap bounced on the tips of my boobs. I put some of the foamy soap on my ass too, making more curves back there. Then, while he watched, I bent over and ringed my cunt with the same soapy foam.

Bruce had taken his cock out of his pants now. It was hard and large, but I really wanted no part of it.

"Please," he started to whine and beg like a little boy begging for cookies.

His whining and begging really made me sick.

"You can touch it with your fingers, but that's all," I said very magnanimously. "If you touch it with anything else, that's the last pussy you'll be getting off of me," I warned him.

He grinned a big grin as if I had just granted him the biggest favor in the world and I leaned over and parted my ass and he stuck his fingers in me one by one. It didn't do all that much for me but he seemed to like it a lot. He was touching his own cock while he did it. I got bored.

I stood up but he still had his fingers in me My thighs had closed and I ordered him to remove his fingers. He had to wiggle his way out.

He was still sitting on the toilet seat, panting, all hot and bothered and I wasn't even aroused. I really had to laugh.

"Please let me put it in you. Just for a little bit. Just to touch, you know. I want to feel your pussy lips close around my dick, just a little, please. I won't come, I promise."

"I've heard that before," I said, thinking of many high school days.

"No I mean it," he said. "I realize you're tired from work and you don't really want to be bothered with me right now, but please just let me put it in a little?"

"All right," I sighed.

So I bent over again while standing in the tub and the water came splashing down on my hair, rinsing the shampoo out, as Bruce put the head of his cock to the lips of my cunt. My cunt eased open for the entrance of the mammoth prong gently pushing in. Slowly his prong disappeared inside my lovehole. I was all dark and wet inside as I felt him pushing in.

Once he started to bounce and I almost slipped and fell in the tub. I pulled right off his cock and said, "Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Can you believe I said that, doctor? I mean, I can hardly believe it. I seem to be getting much pushier and maybe that's better, as you said. Maybe I am learning to stand up for my own rights and desires and feelings.

But even though I realize it, I can't push aside the feeling that I really am being a bitch to Bruce.

I haven't allowed him to come in me all week. Every night, I've let him just put it inside me, under the condition that he doesn't move it at all. He just has to let his big cock lie inside me. I've found I really like that. I can just squeeze and squeeze on it and there's no friction and I don't have to worry about keeping up with or getting into somebody's rhythm.

Last night I made him sleep with his cock inside me all night. You know, it felt so fantastic, but then I think, what is this doing to Bruce. You should see him. He looks so ridiculous. He's so hot for me he can barely breathe regularly anymore and his face is white and drawn and he wakes up more and more tired each morning.

I lay on my back last night and he inserted his hard dick into my cunt and we slept that way all night. I had taken the precaution of tying a string from his balls to a heavy alarm clock on the table at the bedside so that if he tried to go up and down on me at all, he would knock the clock over and wake me up.

He said I was really cruel to do this, but the crazy thing is, I think he likes it. Why else would he put up with it?

Oh, but doctor, you don't know how good it is to sleep with a hard prod up your pussy all night long. All night long, in my dreams and in reality, I was holding on to a pole. My pussy muscles just kept clamping and quaking and coming all night long while his pole was dutifully inserted into me without moving. It was soooooo goood. I want to sleep like that every night. Maybe I'll let him come in me once in a while. Or maybe I'll just let him come on my stockings. I hate to have his sperm in me. I'm waiting for Ron to return for that.

Do you think I'm a really horrible person? I don't know. I've never done anything like this before and I just don't know what to think of myself anymore. I mean, I don't think I'm the nice person I used to be.

CONCLUSION

Natalie is an example of many young women I see these days. In former times she probably would have gotten married and had children in her early twenties, never questioning the pattern and certainly never examining her own amount of pleasure, or weighing her pleasure against the man's.

But today, Natalie, like so many young women, find themselves released from the code they grew up with, that the only behavior a woman should worry about is being nice. What does "being nice" really mean?

Well, to Natalie, it seems to mean doing what the man wants or what she thinks the man wants and not doing what she wants. She now identifies doing what she wants with "being not nice." She feels guilt for not being nice and so is unable to enjoy her new behavior to the hilt.

In fact, as she herself pointed out, the men in her life seem to be enjoying her unnice behavior even more than they enjoyed her nice behavior. Natalie must learn to redefine her terms and understand that her understanding of nice and not nice come from other people probably from her parents and not from herself. She must learn to accept her own desires as adding up to nice behavior, or else accept the fact that by her own standards she now wants to act in an unnice way for a time. She is not perfect and this is what she must also recognize. Nobody said she has to be nice all the time.

CASE HISTORY SEVEN

SUBJECT: Lindsey P. AGE: Fifteen

INTERVIEW ONE

My mom and dad got divorced when I was thirteen. It was no big shock to me because they had been fighting and hating each other for years before they finally went ahead and cut the knot.

My mom's a lesbian. She used to have her girlfriends over all the time, while she was still married to my dad. I used to come home from school and find her and some girlfriend of hers naked on the living room coffee table, or on the couch or on the floor, licking each other's pussies like it was the end of the world, or something. They used to let me watch. I think they sort of enjoyed it.

Well, pretty soon, of course, they wanted me to join it. My mom really wanted me to be a lesbian. She thought lesbian women were stronger and more stable than straight women.

Anyway, I still preferred cartoons at the time, but they conned me into letting them lick me out by calling me a chicken and saying they just wanted me to try it and see how I liked it.

I remember it was mom's girlfriend named Mindy who was there on the afternoon when I finally gave in to my mom. Mindy was a new girlfriend. She was real pretty. She looked like one of those girls who see in the centerfold of those girlie magazines that men read. She had long blonde hair that was real straight and came down to her waist. She could fold herself in it when she was completely naked and not let anything show. You know- like Lady Godiva.

Well, I must admit she really did sort of turn me on. She was a dancer and she had a long smooth muscular body. She looked like an alabaster statue, you know? Like the sort of thing that rich people would put in their gardens- a beautiful naked maid. But she was so much older and more mature than me. She was twenty-seven. And I felt embarrassed because it was my first time and I didn't know what to do.

My mom bowed out of the scene to let us play and get to know each other. My mom is beautiful too, with long black hair. She's thirty-three and she still has a pretty good body for an old lady who's had a baby.

Anyway, mom just sat on the couch smoking a cigarette and watching us with this tender loving, motherly smile on her face. Mindy was looking at me real seductively just like you see in the movies and I gulped and sat where I was on the floor. I had just agreed to try to see what lovemaking was like, but I was beginning to feel like going back on my word.

"Mom, I think I've changed my mind," I started to whimper. Mindy and mom looked at each other and laughed.

"Now, Lindsey, don't be such a bore. You said you would now do what you said. And don't be so chicken, honey. It feels great, like nothing you've ever felt before."

I stood up. "No," I said. "I just don't want to."

"Tackle her!" cried my mother jumping up and bringing me flying right back down to the ground.

Mom and Mindy were laughing as if some great funny joke were going on. Mindy pulled out from her back these silken-like cords and before I knew it they had undressed me and tied my hands up over my head and to one of the legs of the coffee table. My legs they tied wide apart to the legs of two different chairs.

"What are you doing? I'm going to tell on you! I'm going to tell Daddy on you!" I started shrieking. I wasn't really so much afraid, as just insulted and hurt that they didn't respect my own decision and feelings.

But they were laughing and kissing right over me.

"Now just lie still and shut up and enjoy this!" my mother said.

"I won't shut up and I won't lie still and I won't enjoy it!" I said. I was close to tears with frustration.

Mindy said, "You won't shut up? But if you talk too much, or say the wrong things it ruins everything. I know how to keep you quiet," her eyes lit up. She had green eyes and she was naked now except for her black lacy panties. She had a beautiful body. It really intimidated me. She looked me straight in the eye as she stood over and slowly lowered her panties. I tried not to look at the wet mound, her pink pussylips just jutting out of her bush, as she lowered her panties the whole gleaning length of her thighs and calves.

When she had gotten them off, she slowly lowered her ass to my chest. My breasts were hardly developed at all in those days. I was only thirteen then remember. I just had two hard little tits like green apples that hardly filled up the training bra I had made Mom get for me.

I was afraid that Mindy was going to lower her bush on my face, as I had seen my mother do to many of her girlfriends. But Mindy only perched on my greenapple tits and smiled at me lasciviously.

"Open your mouth," she said in a low seductive voice.

"No!" I said moving my head from side to side.

My mother came over and held my head straight and Mindy put the tip of her tit to my mouth. She just held it there, bruising my lips with the weight of her large melon. I wanted to reach up and touch it with my fingers for I had never felt an adult woman's boob before. It looked so soft and squeezable.

Slowly my lips parted to touch and taste what my tied hands couldn't reach. As my lips parted, she inserted her boob into my mouth. Soon my mouth was yawning open trying to see how much of the luscious fruit it could take inside it, while my tongue was tickling her nipple. She groaned and smiled on top of me.

Suddenly she eased her boob out of my mouth and quickly stuffed her panties in my mouth. I could taste the black stretch lace and I could also taste and smell the pussy odor she had left deposited on the crotch of the panties. I felt nauseated.

Mindy wiggled her way down me, dragging her big boobs across my thin body. When she got to my cunt she looked at me over the length of my body. She was really a minx. She arched her body and her boobs stood up like heads and she pulled and stretched them while I watched. Then she dove down between my legs searching out my hole.

I was still able to whimper and make noise even with the panties in my mouth. This infuriated my mother. She jumped up from where she had been sitting. She too was all naked. She and Mindy had been making love when I arrived home from school that afternoon.

My mother stood with her feet on either side of her head. Slowly, while looking me straight in the eye and while pulling and stretching her breasts as Mindy had just done, she lowered her butt down to my face. She plucked Mindy's panties from my mouth and threw them aside.

I tasted cunt for the first time that day. It was sour and sort of gritty tasting and I realized that I was being forced to lick out of her the come that had oozed from her under from before when Mindy's mouth was occupied at her pussy the way mine now was.

My mom had really spread her pussylips way back wide open and my mouth was forced to accept her genitalia. I was breathing through my nose but the odor of her crotch was so wretched to me-my own mother!!!

Oh god.

It was really disgusting, but I started to lick her out. I mean I forgot it was my own mother forcing me to do these things and my tongue just naturally stretched out and began sticking deep into that pussymeat. My mother loved it. She kept cooing and ooohing and ahing and shaking back and forth on top of me.

"Oh, honey, that's the clit!" she sighed when my tongue grazed by a thick wet wad of flesh. "Suck it," she commanded and I did as she said.

Meanwhile, Mindy was sucking me out in between my thighs. She had her nose and her tongue in me and she stuck some fingers in too. Oh, God, I felt pleasure for the first time, in my life- sexual pleasure I mean, but at the same time I felt so humiliated and embarrassed because my mother had set the whole thing up and made Mindy do it to me. I mean, maybe Mindy didn't really want to fuck this woman's daughter but felt that she had to.

I felt a thrill throb through my whole cunt and thighs when she started licking my clit. I knew immediately what it was. My mother had described the feeling often enough. And sure enough, it did feel pretty good to have this beautiful maiden lying like a slave between my thirteen year old legs touching my clit every other moment with her experienced tongue which acted on me like a live wire.

I was just quivering with the final throbs of my first orgasm when the front door opens and in walks Daddy.

He's a small man, about five feet two, I think and he's bald, but he's not weak. He used to be a wrestler and he's still all muscle. He took one look and hit the ceiling. He threw aside his attache case and tackled my naked mother. He sent her to floor with so much force that she got a gash on her head and had to go to the hospital for stitches. But that was later. Then my father threw himself on Mindy with all his strength. He yanked her by the hair so that her head jerked back and out of my cunt.

"Let go! Let me go!!" she screamed.

Then my father was untying me and telling me to please get dressed.

I mean, I was sort of glad that my mother and Mindy got beat up a bit.

But I was so humiliated to have my father come in and see me like that. I mean he saw me lying there, tied down, with my mother's cunt over my face and Mindy's face in my cunt. And he saw me naked. I was never so embarrassed and humiliated in my life.

Well, it was soon after that that they got the divorce finally. I mean that scene with Mindy was the absolute last straw for Dad. He had known about Mom's lesbianism for some time, but after that, he sued for divorce on the grounds of his wife's mental instability. I had to testify at the divorce hearings, right in front of everyone, about how my mom and her friend had raped me. The lawyer for my mom made out like I had asked them, begged them to do it to me and he kept trying to trick me into saying I really liked it by asking me what it had felt like.

Anyway, my dad won custody over me. I haven't seen my mom since then. My dad and I moved out to Arizona. He wanted to get as far away as possible from New York and my mom.

INTERVIEW TWO

When Lindsey came for her second visit with me she asked me again if it was true that everything she told me was strictly confidential. I assured her it was. She was looking ravishing that day, in a tight pair of beige jeans and a matching beige top that fit quite tightly around her growing young breasts. She was no longer the little girl she described herself as being in her first visit, with "little breasts like green apples." She had filled out quite nicely since she was thirteen and her outfit today showed off her lovely young woman's body.

She wore pretty white sandals and her well-shaped toes were painted with red nail polish. She wore lots of gold. Gold bracelets jangled on both wrists and she wore a gold chain around her neck and a gold anklet chain and gold earrings.

She also carried a little gold disco bag. She had just washed her long black hair and she had to arrange it around her so that she wasn't uncomfortably sitting on it. While I watched she rouged her lips with some red gloss and then snapped her compact away into her little bag and looked at me pensively, as if she were sizing me up. I folded my hands and waited for her to begin.

***

She eyed my tentatively for a long time. She looked like she was ready to walk out the door.

Lindsey is a precocious fifteen year old who is very good-looking and already knows all the mannerisms of an older woman. She knows how to walk and talk like a mature woman. She was still dressed like a child, however, in paint-speckled blue jeans which revealed the ripening shape of her hips and ass. She has very womanly breasts already, filling out her white schoolgirl's blouse.

She seemed petulant and angry. She was reluctant to talk, not, it seemed to me, because she was embarrassed about the story she had to tell, but because she regarded me as a grown-up and she didn't seem to trust grown-ups.

She sat with her legs wide open throughout the whole interview, like a young boy. Her thick black hair swings all the way down to her buttocks and she likes to float her fingers in her hair, weaving or unweaving a braid.

***

Well I guess you've heard all about what happened in school out here and about a terrible person I am. That's why they're making me come see you. Because I got caught. I'm not a bit sorry for what I did. That stupid prissy little girl, Betsy-wetsy, deserved every bit she got. And don't tell me she didn't enjoy it because I know she did. I'm just sorry I got caught, that's all. And I'm sorry about what happened to Pete.

Pete was my best friend. He was really my only friend. He was new in our class too, so I guess that's why we became friends.

At first we were invited to all the parties just like all the other kids. Boy-girl parties are the big thing and if you don't get invited to them, boy, you are really out of it. Well, I though I was going to be real happy in Tucson, because I had this neat friend named Pete. He and I didn't do anything sexual, you know. We just were friends.

Well the richest girl in the class- that's this Betsy I was telling you about- she starts circulating all these rumors about me. She says her mom read about me in the papers and I did all sorts of nasty things with my mother and I probably do them with my father too, because I live with my father now. I didn't say anything back to her, ever, but I could feel all the kids looking at me funny.

But she invited me to her sweet sixteen party anyway. Don't ask me why. It was a boy-girl party and her big boyfriend, this guy who's in college, came back home especially for Betsy's sweet sixteen.

Now there's this game that everyone, except me and Pete, play at all these dumb boy-girl parties. It's called "Seven Minutes in Heaven" and the way it goes is a boy picks a girl, or a girl picks a boy sometimes and they have to go into the bathroom together and lock the door and stay in there for seven minutes. They don't have to do anything, as far as everybody else knows, but everybody assumes they go in there and kiss and the boy feels the girl up or the girl takes out the boy's dick and plays with it or whatever. Everybody else waits outside the bathroom door keeping track of the time. You're only allowed seven minutes.

Everyone yells when your time is up and then the door is unlocked and the boy and girl come out locking real bashful and stupid, the guys take him to one side and ask about how far she let him go. And the girls gather around and whisper and giggle about what she got him to do.

It's all so silly, it really makes me sick. These kids think they're so grown up and sophisticated when they don't even suspect the kinds of things I've seen. Of course I've only mostly seen women fucking together, although once I came across a man and a woman fucking on a beach and I sat on top of a dune and watched them. But I'm not as experienced in the ways of fucking that a man and woman do. I just know what I used to watch my mother do with other women.

Anyway, Pete's older brother knew this guy Jerry that Betsy was nutsy-wutsy over, and Jerry told Pete and me that he knew for a fact that Betsy let Jerry get inside her pussy with his cock. Although I had threatened Betsy many times on the playground, telling her that if she kept going around telling people nasty things about me, I would beat her up. But that didn't stop her. So Pete and I figured out a great way to get revenge.

Pete brought his father's camera, a real nice instamatic-you know the kind that gives you developed pictures in seconds?

Pete and I had been to Betsy's house before, for her other parties. We had discovered that there was a closet right next to the bathroom where she and her friends usually played "Seven Minutes in Heaven." There was also a little hole in the closet wall which came out right beneath the medicine cabinet. Pete and I had checked it out and you could see through it pretty clearly. He didn't know if he would be able to get clear pictures through the hole, but we decided to try.

Betsy was all dressed up in this ridiculous dress. I mean, no girl with any self respect would get herself up the way Betsy did that night. She was wearing a blue dress that had about three or four white petticoats underneath and the blue dress itself was all ruffles, from her knee to her waist. The dress was also pretty low-cut. Betsy was trying to show off her tits to Jerry. She was trying to seem sophisticated because he was a college man. I just thought she looked like an ass-hole, although she did have pretty nice smooth round boobs, I guess. Her hair was all in these doody-roll curls and she was wearing lots of make-up. She couldn't sit still all through the dinner. It was like she had an ant in her pants, the way she kept wriggling and giggling all over Jerry and everybody. She was really disgusting.

Jerry was a linebacker for his college team. He was a real big meaty guy, not too smart either. He kept looking kind of confused every time Betsy threw herself into his arms and rubbed her titties against his chest. She started to unbutton his shirt and rub her boobies against him right in front of all us after she opened his present to her: an autographed framed photo of him with his arm around his coach. I nearly threw up.

Finally came the moment that Pete and I and Betsy and Jerry and probably lots of the other kids too, were waiting for: Seven-Minutes-in-Heaven time. Betsy's mom was upstairs, while the party was going on in the basement den. The den was pretty fancy with a bar we were allowed to use. A black bartender made us watered down drinks. Betsy's mother believed in letting kids grow up at their own pace.

CONCLUSION

There is basically nothing wrong with Lindsey. However, there will be a great deal wrong with her in the future, if a great deal of care is not taken with her damaged ego at this point. She was abused by her mother at the tender age of thirteen when a girl is just beginning to have sexual thoughts. Fortunately, in this case, the court awarded her to the care of her father who seems to be a sensitive man.

GENERAL CONCLUSION

Many women wish to be the dominating partner in the accomplishment of the sexual acts, but this behavior is so contrary to everything women are taught that when they discover these desires in themselves, they do not know how to handle them.

Some women are motivated by a hatred of men in their wish to dominate men. Such women have often been sexually abused by men in their youth and seek revenge as grown-up dominatrixes. However, often these women can find willing partners in men who enjoy being dominated and in fact can achieve orgasm only in this way. Women who enjoy being the mistress in the sexual encounter should learn to accept their desires and try to find willing partners to act out their fantasies with.

Other women may find themselves only once or twice in their whole lifetimes in a position of sexual domination. Often they are seeking revenge, usually for an abuse performed on them by someone else. There are many cases of women presiding over the rapes of young girls. Often in these cases, the dominating woman here is reenacting the time she herself was raped. This is not healthy behavior and such women should be helped to overcome their traumas.

THE END
Lady Dominant: Power-Hungry Pussy ....(70k)    by Unknown





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