In all sex there is some small amount of sadism. Even so little a thing as being nasty and unpleasant to one's spouse or partner, is sadistic in nature.
Sadism results from the desire for a hurt person to retaliate. The larger the hurt ... the deeper the scar, the bigger the retribution the victim desires. Sometimes, one sufferer wouldn't be enough and the sadist becomes real in his earnest desire to injure the one who had affronted him and his dignity.
He often does this through providing a series of incidents in which the masochist is compelled to do something that he could not do if his life depended on it-which in certain types of sadistic ingenuity, it might.
On the other hand, the punishment-desiring masochistic doesn't really want to obey.
He wouldn't begin to receive the punishment he had decreed for himself if he didn't disobey and thereby incur the sadist's wrath.
The sadomasochistic cycle is also the way that both of the people receive their attention. The sadist gets his from beating and torturing the masochist into attentive submission, while the masochist gets his thrills from the attention given to him in trying to give, or force a giving, of his attention to the sadist.
These are the stories of some of my more interesting cases in over twenty years of psychiatry. The names of the people and the places have been altered to protect the innocent and to preserve the identities of those who wish to remain anonymous.
CASE HISTORY ONE
Name: James F.
Age: 19 Sex: Male
Marital Status: Single
Interview One
On his first interview, James came in with a black eye. He was a clean-cut and nice looking boy with blonde hair and a winning grin. He sat down on the edge of the chair, nervous as though he were afraid of me.
He waited patiently for me to address him. I decided to be direct. "How did you get that black eye?" I asked him.
Quickly his hand went to his face and he blushed. "I ... I fell down some steps and hit my head."
"How did you fall down the stairs?"
"I guess I was clumsy."
"You don't know how it happened, then?"
"Well ... I ... Actually, I . ... "
"You what?"
"Well, actually, I was pushed." He got the words out in a single rush of speech, blushing furiously.
"Who pushed you?"
"Sandy did."
"Who is Sandy?"
"You want me to start at the beginning?"
"Yes, I think it would be helpful, if you did."
Sandy is my lover. He's very big and strong and I love him awfully. He's the head of the 'Cocksuckers.' We're a motorcycle gang and he's the boss. I guess that makes me the second guy in the group.
Anyhow, Sandy loves me very much and sometimes, I guess, just a little too much-like the other night when he pushed me down the stairs and I got this eye.
I didn't get this eye except as a renewal of what I already had from Sandy because he's jealous of me and anyone I talk to. He's especially jealous of any big man or boy he sees me with. He doesn't hurt them, just me.
But on this occasion, I fought back because the man I was talking to was my brother, who is a big man. Sandy didn't like us talking and he got mad.
I came in later than usual this afternoon and he was waiting for me-Sandy, that is.
"Where the fuck have you been, you little cocksucker?" He slapped me right then, before I knew what was happening.
Sandy is always slapping me and shoving me around. I think maybe that's why I like him so much. He won't take any shit from anybody.
I don't really care if he hits me. It makes me feel good that he cares enough to get that worked up about me that way.
Sandy is the boss of our gang and he wears the biggest and heaviest of all the leather jackets in the gang. Right on the back of the jacket it says in big letters, "Lord Sandro."
Sandy always wants to be called Lord Sandro and I try to remember. When I think about Sandy, though, I always call him Sandy. That trips me up because Sandy just slips out when I talk to him.
When I call Sandy by that name instead of Lord Sandro he slaps me most of the time.
Sandy likes to think that I belong to him. He doesn't like me to talk to anyone else even when he's not there.
But now Sandy was mad at me. I had been talking with my brother and was later than usual. I could tell Sandy was mad with me when I walked in because he was sitting waiting for me and he had a mean look on his face.
I knew he wasn't going to take any excuses for my being late. I wasn't going to lie. I was going to tell him where I was. But then he slapped me at least three or four times before I could open my mouth to say where I had been. It bled where my tooth cut through my lip.
"I was seeing my brother, Sandy," I replied as soon as I could.
"Don't give me that shit, bastard. You ain't got no family, hear?"
"But, Sandy...."
I rocked backwards as his hand smashed into my jaw again.
"I said, stupid little fuck, you ain't got no family but me! None."
I hung my head. Now, I didn't have any family but him as he said, and simply because he said it. I mean, even though I really did have a family, I didn't because he didn't want me to have one.
"Yes, Sandy," I whispered.
"Yes, what?" His hand was back ready to smash into my face again.
"Yes, Lord Sandro," I reiterated, using his self-given title.
"That's some better," he said, relenting some. "Now," he continued, "who were you with this afternoon?
What did you do?"
"We fucked." I had to say that because if I didn't he would have smashed my face again ... and again ... and again until he got the answer he wanted. I was tired and saved time and added torture by just saying what he wanted to hear.
"So! You admit your complicity!"
"Yes. I admit."
"You have disobeyed. You know the punishment."
"Yes. I know." I shuddered at the horrible thought of what was coming next. I could tell from the look in his eye.
Sandy's dark brown eyes had turned a sort of black and when they did that, I was in for the worst of times-females. I shuddered again, just thinking about what he was probably going to put me through tonight.
There was a new guy in the bike gang and he had a girl. We were going to his pad soon to test her.
Now I knew that it would be tonight.
"How did this guy fuck you?" Sandy asked, getting back to the fellow he'd seen me with this afternoon.
"He fucked me in the ass," I replied. "It was just like all the other times. Nothing special."
"Nothing special, huh?"
"No."
"You're lying," he snarled at me. "You're lying and I can tell it. Now admit it, he did something special with you."
"Yes," I said, "I suppose he did. He bought me a drink."
"What else?"
"Nothing except he fucked me. That's all."
His hand smashed into my face again. This time, the force of it knocked me down. My head struck on the side of the door, which was open.
I lay dazed as flashes of brilliant light fled through my head and before my eyes. Suddenly, I felt myself being hauled into the air by my shirt collar.
My eyes flew open only to stare directly into Sandy's pale eyes. His eyes said I was going to get some fiendish type of torture. It would be particularly degrading and I shuddered at the thought.
"I'll punish you for your disobedience." He laughed and dropped me onto the floor. "Look at you," he snarled, pointing to my groin. I had hoped that for once he wouldn't notice. But, he had and was enjoying my torment.
Involuntarily, my hand flashed to cover my stiff prick that plainly bulged against my tight jeans. But, his huge hairy paw grabbed my wrist and then he reached for my belt.
Whipping it open, he yanked the zipper down, exposing my cock. Free from confinement, it sprang into view and waved its rounded head in the air.
His hand closed around it, squeezing hard.
I screamed with the pain even as I felt my prick becoming stiffer than before. I began to pant and sweat popped out all over my body.
"Sandy," I whispered, "Sandy, let me fuck you." I was pleading with him. I knew I was but I couldn't help myself. Every time he slapped me or hit me I got stiff and wanted to fuck him. Yes, I fucked Sandy. Sometimes, though, he'd fuck my ass. But most always I'd fuck his ass. I guess that's because he couldn't fuck anyone. No, not really. His cock never developed. Oh, he's capable of getting hot and all that. He gets a kick out of my sucking his balls. But he ain't got a cock to fuck anyone with. He always makes me fuck the new girls in his stead. As leader, he can change the rules to suit himself.
Shuddering with anticipation and desire, I lay on the floor where he'd dropped me after exposing my rampant cock. "Please, Sandy," I whispered again, my breath coming in ragged gasps. "Please, let me fuck you."
He stared at me for an instant, then he smiled. "You'll let me fuck you."
He stared at me for an instant, then he smiled. "You'll get your chance to ball later. It'll make your night!" He laughed again, nastily.
Slowly, hesitantly, I climbed to my feet. Shakily, I stood by the still open door, wondering if he was going to hit me again. At this point, I didn't care, if only he'd let me ball his ass. He could beat me black and blue, or even cripple me. But I needed to screw someone. Panting, heavily, I crept away from his heavy hand and slouched into a corner to recoup from my blows.
Shaking with desire and fear, I stayed hunched over in the corner of the living room until he called for me to come. Unthinkingly, I followed him out of the door. We went down the steps and he unlocked his bike from the front of the building where we lived.
He mounted the cycle and stepped on the gas pedal. Hurriedly, I mounted behind him, leaving my bike behind still chained to the building.
The wind blew over my hot and still stiff prick and I realized that I had come all the way downstairs without closing my jeans. With both of my hands occupied in hanging on, I didn't have a free hand to hide my stiffness.
But, in a few minutes we were at Briney's. As he halted the cycle, I quickly shoved my cock into my pants and zipped my fly shut. After a short wait for the rest of the gang to collect, we were off again.
Roaring through the streets in the darkness made the long journey seem shorter to me. I was thinking about the unknown girl I would have to fuck. As the leader's second, I would have to go first.
I found myself looking forward to fucking the chick. Usually women made me shudder with fear and hatred, but in my state, I would have balled anything to get relief.
With a resounding roaring, the gang pulled up in front of the modest store, above which the lights of an apartment were shining. Parking and locking the bikes, all of the gang began going up the stairs. I was the only one who had ridden double. In fact, I was the only girl there.
I went last behind Sandy.
We entered a small room in which Tommy, our newest member lived.
"Where is she?" Sandy asked.
"In there," he said, nodding toward the kitchen door.
Sandy sat down and relaxed as a thin stick of girl came into the living room carrying drinks. She would have been pretty if she had had more flesh on her body. As it was, she was not ugly, just too thin.
With downcast eyes, she served everyone a drink and then quickly retired to the kitchen again.
I sat beside Sandy, saying nothing and holding the untasted liquor in my hand. Finally, Sandy gave the nod and we all trooped into the bedroom, bringing chairs.
We had hardly gotten settled when Tommy brought her in. She looked almost as scared as I felt. I would have to go first.
She lay down on the bed and spread her legs apart. I could see that beneath her dress, she was naked. I looked at her furry cunt and began drooling with anticipation.
Slipping my belt loose, I opened my fly and lowered my jeans. My prick, stiff and raging with unspent desires, snapped into the open and waved violently for an instant.
"Further apart," I said gruffly.
She complied with instant movement as I knelt between her legs and took my weapon in one hand.
With hate filled urgency, I thrust my aimed cock into her waiting twat, not even waiting to check and see if she was lubricated.
My red and swollen cock hit her twat and rammed itself into her body with savage force. Grunting I forced myself into her tight hole. She screamed from the pain and jerked back, snapping her ankles around my hips.
Straining, I began humping her. As her legs were not locked around my back, I could still work into and out of her body easily. She continued whimpering pathetically. But I had no patience for her female hang ups. I needed relief and fast!
I knew Sandy was watching closely to see how long I humped her and what style I would use. He would probably slap the living hell out of me later, but now, he was waiting to get his thrills from watching this chick being balled by the other members of the gang.
I felt the fires gathering in my cock, near the base. Groaning, I slammed my weapon into her. The head of my cock snapped against the back of her twat, throwing her back slightly.
Then, I felt the boiling of my gism as it forced its way down my tubes and shot into her twat, drenching her body. I felt her body going limp as she came as well.
Through with her, I drew a shuddering breath and pulled out of her. "Take it easy," I whispered quickly at her fear-whitened face.
I climbed off her and pulled my cock into my pants, closing them.
"She'll do, Sandy," I commented as I went back to my seat. The next guy, Briney, stood up. His face was split from ear to ear with a big grin. He, at least, was going to enjoy this.
I sat down and deliberately focused my eyes on the girl's hair which lay splayed out over the pillow. I could see her pale face tensed with fear and terror. I hoped she would relax. It would go easier for her, if she did.
"What happened later?" I asked James when he stopped talking.
"Oh, well Sandy got excited, of course and I sucked him off. But that's another story because I think I've talked for an hour, already."
"Yes," I said. "Next week?"
He sighed. "Yes." He rose and, smiling slightly, quizzically at me, he left.
James was a slender and finely built man with small bones and almost girlish features. I wondered if he would be back. It would be interesting. He was the first homosexual who took the major role under the influence of being tortured.
INTERVIEW Two
James still had the black eye when he came back the second time. He was also walking with a limp. Two of his fingers were bandaged from the tip to where they joined his hand. They were the fingers of his right hand.
"I'm tired," he said as he sat down, "of the whole fucking mess. I want out, but I don't know how to escape."
"Can't you simply just walk out sometime when you want to?"
"I wish I could. I keep thinking about it, but I never seem to get up enough nerve to leave. I guess, I'm tied to Sandy by many small ties...." He sighed again.
"What happened later that night-the night of the initiation?"
"Oh, that. Well, we left, of course, as soon as the last of the fellows had fucked the plain-jane little female, and Sandy and I were the first to go. I don't know how many didn't leave right away. Maybe all. Anyhow, we went straight home. Sandy locked up the bike while I went upstairs to open the apartment.
"He was stiff. His tiny prick, which I couldn't see because of its diminutive size, was erect. But I could tell because of his eyes. They were dilated with distraction. He was thinking about being balled and sucked off again."
I unlocked the apartment and hurried into the bathroom. Stripping off my clothes as I went, I ran into the shower and turned the water on. I was sticky with scum and her juices.
Standing under the shower, I let the steaming water pound over my flesh. I had inadvertently burned myself on several occasions while trying to wash my body clean ... of what my mind found to be filthy.
But I couldn't clear my mind of the picture ... her thin pale face and her scared little features. I could clearly see her trembling little cunt with the thick bush of short curls and her pink and blood-gorged pussy.
This had been the first time I'd ever seen a chick more afraid than I usually was. I thought about that for a while ... maybe she had been terrified of being gang-banged like I had been afraid to fuck her and touch her. I wondered if she was sick, herself, that night.
Even as I continued thinking about her, I shuddered with reactions of total repugnance mixed with a little shame ... real honest shame at having used her body, at having violated her.
I can't stand women-any of them. I remember my mother and her six sisters. When I was a child, I would run and hide when her sisters would come for one of their visits.
All seven of them were the affectionate type and I was the only male child any of them had-the rest of my cousins on that side of the family with the exception of a single brother, were girls. And they always had made a lot of my girlish looks. But in later years, they thought it was sort of funny in a nasty way. Sometimes, a single touch from one of them often sent me reeling into the john to puke my guts inside out.
Even to this day if I have to touch a female-child, adult, animal-I take a complete bath just as soon as I can. And once when I could not reach a shower, I jumped in a rather polluted river, clothes and all.
It's like a real compulsion. And the longer I have to go without cleaning my flesh ... removing the soiling scum ... the longer I will stay under the water and the hotter I try to get it. I've gotten a couple of annoying and embarrassing burns from too much water at too hot a temperature.
The first time Sandy forced me to fuck a female, I was sick for a week. I puked whenever I put anything in my belly and practically lived under the shower head.
And he didn't help matters any, either. Sandy beat me at least twice a day for the whole week. I learned to be more afraid of Sandy's clever fists than of any screw-happy slut he ordered me to fuck out!
But this time there was a difference ... I had liked this thin little chick. We hadn't exchanged a single word. I knew I didn't want her in this group. She was a nice kid, not at all like the usual sluts I had to ball. Those whores stepped out on their 'daddies' for a little on the side.
She wasn't that kind. She was a straight kid.
And, I think, because she didn't have that kind of brass in her, she appealed to me and I wasn't nearly as sick as on the times before. At least, I wasn't as sick in the same way. My body felt less dirty while my mind kept saying that this was worse because it was rape instead of fucking.
She was the sensitive type. She would be badly hurt when Tommy found himself another chick-as those bastards always did.
I stood there, just thinking about her and remembering her little and helpless figure. I hadn't seen her tits, but her flat little belly and dark-haired cunt had been invitingly clean, for one thing. And, she was just the right size for me, too. She had roused the long sleeping protective instincts in me. And I had realized that, here was a female whom I could protect and cherish because she was not bigger than me.
The curtain was viciously ripped back. Sandy stood glaring ferociously at me.
"I wanna get it," he snarled at me. His eyes ran down my slender body, lasciviously. He reached out with a hairy paw and turned off the cold water faucet.
Scalded, I leaped out of the spray and slipped on the wet and slippery tiles. He caught me, breaking my fall. I screamed as his hand closed around my stiff cock, keeping me from splattering my brains across the hard tiles.
He had realized that I wasn't stiff thinking about him, but about her. He was jealous again. He took his envy and insecurity out on my prick, which got stiffer and hotter as he twisted it around, shaking me like a leaf on a branch.
His other hand came around my ass and snagged a hold on my balls. In screaming pain, I was thus carted out of the bath and thrown onto the bed.
His hand came down across my ass, smashing into the flesh of my ass. I gasped and jumped ahead out of the bathroom.
In the bedroom, we lay down on the bed before he rolled over onto his belly and spread his thighs, giving me access to his well-developed balls.
Lowering my head, I opened my mouth as I approached his prick.
"No!" he yelled suddenly. Whirling around, he slapped me again. "That's not what I want this time. I want you to make me hot ... hotter than I am." And his hand smashed backhandedly into my face again.
My prick rose and became stiffer. My breath began coming in gasps. Sweat broke out over my flesh and I felt hot all over. My groin was burning madly.
"I'm going to fuck you." His leer was dangerous. I wondered how he would accomplish that.
Getting off the bed, he walked over to the dresser and opened the top drawer. From under a cloth he took out a length of chain which had been welded together link by link so that it was stiff and stood up on its own. My eyes widened as I saw the intertwining strands of barbed wire wrapped and welded along the length of the links.
"Turn over," he ordered me.
When I hesitated, he smashed the thing like a stick into my flesh. I screamed as the little pieces of wire tore through my skin and the blood flowed from the open wound.
Crying with the flashing pain, I rolled over. Bringing my knees together, I stuck my ass into the air. I stiffened as I felt the first gentle touch of the cold metal against my asshole which was now exposed.
He thrust and the barbed chain shoved itself into my ass, tearing my flesh. I screamed as my legs flew out from under me. The added weight of the linked chain behind my ass pushing, flattened me out on the bed. The breath was knocked out of me.
Then he twisted it inside of me and I felt the tearing of my muscles where the little pointed barbs dug in and ran through my guts. As the muscles in my ass tensed from the vibrations of pain that shot through my body, I felt the squishiness of bloody liquid as it welled out of my tortured ass.
"I don't think you'll be wanting anyone else to screw your ass for a long time," he cackled as he withdrew the makeshift prick. "Will you, sweetheart?"
"No!" I gasped, "no!" My prick was tight and swollen against my belly. Because of Sandy's terribly beautiful torture and all the wonderful pain, it lay there throbbing viciously. It was demanding-not asking-but demanding-my attention now that the first bursts of pain were slowly subsiding.
My prick and ass were throbbing and jumping in tune with the quivering of the rest of my shaking body. I felt the last of his weapon withdraw from my ass. Panting with desire, I rolled over. I winced as my ass hit the more solid flatness of the mattress. In fact, I cried just a little from the sudden jets of pain that shot through my back and raced along the cringing line of my guts.
"Sandy!" I screamed, "Sandy! Fuck me!" As my agonized cry rang out in the small room, I felt his hands move away from my bloodied ass and I heard the chain clank onto the bare floor. I barely had time to sigh before I felt his diminutive prick feeling at the door to my ass. As bloodied and as painful as the chain had been, I was still sensitive enough to feel his smallness hanging away at me.
In fact, I couldn't help but feel his prick as he took what seemed like forever to get himself into my ass. Even as slippery as it was from all the red liquids that flowed from it, he still had a tussle getting his cock into my ass.
I was crying with the agonized thrusts of pain by the time he got his cock into my ass. Then he began humping me. I gasped each time his body closed against mine because his wiry bush rubbed against the bleeding flesh of my scored ass where the spiked links had gouged the outer flesh.
"Sandy," I cried again. "Sandy, stop!"
His laughter rang out loud and crazily. "Stop! Stop!" He screamed back in mime of my high-pitched squeals. "Sandy," he continued imitating my voice, "stop!" And he began banging me harder.
With each new stroke he lifted me just a little off the bed, tearing my flesh a little bit more. I bled a little bit more.
I screamed with the pain as each new wave crashed over my quivering body and spread through my flesh, making it crawl with shivers.
Then, the agony was turning into delight as desire overcame the intensity of the pain I had been feeling. I moaned with growing pleasure as I felt his small cock working itself in and out of my asshole. I was glad he was fucking me.
He kept moving in and out of me, slowly increasing speed until he was whipping almost faster than seemed humanly possible to be moving. And still, he had not come. There had been no scum shooting from his stiff little prick as yet.
But, as I well knew, Sandy was an awfully slow starter. It would often take him two hours of banging at my ass before he could come, and then, sometimes, he didn't always make it.
Sometimes, nothing happened. But he usually compensated for that in ugly ways because he felt that he had to. I was wondering which way it would go this time....
I had lain there for what seemed like hours, although it couldn't have been more than an hour, at the most when I felt him stir slightly against me in a motion different than all the previous motions.
He was throwing himself sideways instead of back and forth on me. He was getting ready to come. I felt his prick stiffen and he began groaning-louder and louder, and more and more painful his animal noises became until they filled the entire space between my ears with their depraved humming.
Then ... fire erupted with the excruciating pleasure he gave me as he pissed into my ass. Now, I thought, I have my answer-he's going to piss into me tonight.
Wiggling from the burning heat of his piss as it flowed into my asshole and into each cut, causing the blood to flow faster, I impaled myself even more fully onto his pecker. Then, when the flow of pee lessened into a tiny trickle, I felt the itching begin. Trying to alleviate it, I began wiggling and squirming my ass. He took it that I wanted more.
"So, ain't had enough, you little bastard," he cackled at my thrashing ass. "Okay," he continued, "I'll give you shit."
And with a violent pull, he yanked his cock out of my ass and whipped me over onto my back. I cried as my ass hit the harder surface of the mattress again and then he jumped over my prone body. His ass landed hard on my face with his asshole square onto my lips.
He heaved and grunted as he tried to force himself to shit immediately. I felt with my lips, his ass moving. I knew he would shit soon and so I opened my lips to receive his crap.
Grunting and straining over me, I felt his guts move and in the next instant, I was tasting his mushy shit as it fell onto my waiting tongue.
Rolling it around in my mouth, I savored it before swallowing it. I had always liked Sandy's shit. It had sort of a bitter-almond flavoring to it. And this time, there were little chunks of solid material that I was able to chew up before swallowing down my gullet.
When he was done, he levered himself quickly off my body and walked across the room.
"What is it, Sandy?"
He stopped at the sound of my voice. His head whipped around. Across his face was split a nasty grin. He came back to the bed. "You address me as Lord Sandro, slut," he snapped at me as his hand came back and slashed across my face.
The force of the blow knocked me off the bed and I landed on the floor with a painful thump, head first.
The stars whirled around and the sounds were distant and tinny. I know I cried from the ache in my head and the bruising my neck took when I landed straight down onto it, rolling sideways.
As I lay on the floor gasping for breath, my shoulders felt as though they had been pulled out of joint, they ached so from the fall off the bed. I could hear a person's breath rasping hoarsely in his throat as it rattled through swollen vocal chords.
Then, I realized that I was hearing myself and that Sandy was still standing there watching me. In that instant, he turned and walked out of the room.
He was gone for several minutes, returning with a weird looking contraption of some size in his hand.
"Get up," he snarled low at me. I tried to obey, but couldn't.
When I didn't get up, his foot snapped into the side of my body. Through the waves of pain that flashed before my eyes and tore the breath from my lungs, I felt my cock becoming stiffer.
"Get up!" he screamed again. "Get on your feet, you lazy bitch!"
Now, I knew he was very angry and upset because he had called me a bitch instead of a bastard or just simply no good, like he'd said slut before instead of pig. I tried to rise. The scream tore the rest of the breath from my lungs and I fell back breathless and in tearing agony as I felt the ribs on that side of my body give way. There was now, I knew, only the flesh holding them from popping through my skin.
I tried to breathe and found that only if I confined inhaling to the top of my lungs was I all right. The minute I took a deeper breath, the pain emptied my lungs faster than Sandy's foot could have.
Somewhere in there, I blacked out because I knew that night had fallen before I could understand anything else and, besides that, I was no longer in the apartment. I didn't know then, but I was in a hospital.
And the first thing I saw was Sandy's face hanging over the edge of my limited horizon. "Sandy," I whispered, "Sandy...."
"Hush," he said as his fingers came across my lips, "hush and don't try to talk. Okay?"
I nodded my head, not speaking.
"I hurt you badly," he said. There were tears in his eyes, at that time and he looked like he would cry at the least provocation. "Let me finish," he said as I made a move to intervene. "I brought you here because you blanked out on me and I got scared. I done wrong to be like that to you. According to the doctor, you almost went."
My hand came up and my fingers went across his mouth. I shook my head from side to side, disregarding the pains that shot through my shoulder. I couldn't talk because his fingers were still over my lips and it was too painful, as well. But, I wanted him to know that he was my lord and master and that whatever he did was all right with me. He didn't need to explain anything-literally nothing needed to be explained to me.
I knew all those answers already.
But he didn't quite understand, so I knew I would have to speak.
When his fingers came away from my lips after several minutes in which we looked at each other and nothing more-no sounds at all-I tried to say his special name he had given for me to call him: "Lord Sandro."
I could only form the words with my lips, his eyes smiled and I knew he understood at last.
Sighing deeply, I choked as the pains shot through my chest. Immediately a nurse came through the door and showed Sandy out of the room. Deftly she stopped my choking and lay me back onto the raised pillows.
"No more," she said. "You have to rest. That means no talking, no visitors, no anything. You had a close shave-what with that bike and all."
I looked at her puzzled. What bike, I wondered, and all....
She must have sensed the questions in my eyes, for she began telling me what had happened.
"You were unconscious when your friend brought you in. He had you across his motorbike and it almost killed you with your ribs being in the condition that they're in.
"The doctor had to put three of the broken ones back through your flesh and one of the others pierced your lung. You don't feel anything now because of the drugs that are in your body. But you will."
She stopped and looked at me for a moment. "He-the doctor-will be asking you all about that later." She smiled. "But you just rest and sleep for now."
To show her that I understood, I nodded and almost started coughing again. I suppressed it long enough for the desire to cough to leave my throat and then I lay back. Shortly, with all the drugs in my system, I did sleep.
"You mean that you're just out of the hospital?"
"I was out on the day I came to see you the first time. I was just out a couple of hours." I shook my head at him. "Why ... I suppose you went right back to him, again. To take more punishment."
He smiled. "Yes, and no."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well ... yes, I did go back with Sandy. But not to take more punishment." He swallowed. "It was because of the little girl ... but I see that the time is up again...."
I looked at my watch. "So it is." I looked at him.
"Next week?" he said, rising from his chair.
"Yes."
He left, smiling to himself.
I wondered what the following week would reveal. Had he decided to repay Sandy for all the torment given? Or had he found a new lover? Or had he gone back to the same old thing, concealing it from me?
Any one of the three was possible, but the second answer was closer to the truth than I imagined. Closer, but not totally accurate or even nearly complete in scope.
INTERVIEW Three
On his third-and as I learned later, his final interview-he brought a skinny little girl with him. Taken aback for an instant, I then recognized her as the girl he had screwed for Sandy a couple of months ago.
There was that same little monkey's face and skinny body facing me as he had described at that meeting. She was scared, as well.
"What's up?" I queried of him.
"Sit down," he said to her.
Waiting until she had seated herself in the chair before my desk, he leaned against the back of the chair. I could still see the discoloration in his eye from where he had been slapped by Sandy. But it didn't distract at all from the wide grin that split his face now.
"I've overthrown 'Lord Sandro.' And it's all because of her-or rather my need for her."
"You're your own man, then?"
"Yes. Now that I've got Candy, I'm free."
"How did it happen? Want to tell me about it?"
"Sure do. I guess, I'm kind of proud of what happened."
I was discharged from the hospital, as I said, on the day that I first came here to see you. But last week, after I left you, I met her on the way home.
I was cutting across the square when I felt a hand on my arm. Whirling around, instantly on guard, she stood there. Tears fell from her eyes.
"What's wrong?" I asked gruffly, looking around to see if any of the gang-especially Sandy-was in sight. Seeing nobody I recognized, I turned back to her.
"I ... it's Tommy." She paused and bit her lip with her teeth.
During the pause, I gave her a good looking over. She was thin and nervous-a wiry type. She appealed to me as a man.
And it was funny, but suddenly, I felt as though-no joke-that I was a man. A real man. I'm taller than she and a bit heavier and lots stronger. My original reaction to her was growing stronger.
"What about Tommy?" I asked her. Then I saw the black and blue marks. I got mad "What did he do to you?" I whispered, grabbing her chin and turning her face so I could see the discoloration on the side of her head next to her temple. It looked as though he had tried to beat her skull in and had failed. It was a huge patch crusted with blood and black with dirt as well as bruising.
Her eyes filled with tears. "He ... he doesn't love me, anymore." She gulped back the tears and the sobs.
"He's got another woman ... I don't know who . .
. just another woman. He spends all his time with her and when I asked him if he would be home for supper, tonight, he hit me ... and hit me ... and hit me...." Her tears won and she broke down and sobbed.
Before I could even think, my arms were around her and I was holding her in my arms. My trembling fingers slid gently over her face, tracing the outlines of her features.
"It's okay, baby," I heard my voice saying. "I'll take care of you. You'll be safe with me."
I felt her lean into me and, if I hadn't tightened my hold on her, I'm sure she would have fallen on the cement, she went so boneless.
Taking a grip on her, I led her to a bench, where she could sit down. She continued to sob and I continued to hold her in my arms, gently rocking her back and forth and stroking her hair with a hand.
Finally, she stopped crying. I began making plans.
"Is Tom going to be home, tonight?" I asked her.
"No. He's spending his time with her. She's got him firmly under her thumb. He comes home to change his clothes and beat up on me and sometimes, to bait me and taunt me with my emaciated looks." She sighed and I squeezed her shoulders.
"Okay," I said, speculating, "this is the battle plan. We'll go to Tommy's place and pick up all your things. Then I'll get a room for you at a place I know about where they won't think to look for you."
"But where will you be, if not with me?"
"I have a couple of things to attend to this evening."
"Like what?"
I looked down at her and smiled. "If I thought you would be aided by knowing, sweetheart, I would tell you. But you won't understand my reasoning. And you'll worry. Besides," I said grinning, "if you don't know, you can't tell, right?"
"Don't you trust me?"
"Not entirely. But that will come."
"Oh," she said, looking crestfallen.
"But "
"This could be a trick of Sandy's or of Tommy's to catch either you or me-or both of us."
"Oh," she said again, "then I shouldn't trust you, too far, either."
"I would be on my guard if I were you," I said. "After all, I was the first to fuck you that night. And often, the first is the most eager."
"But," she countered, "you didn't enjoy it.
I know that."
"How do you know I didn't enjoy the fucking of you?"
"Just because ... well, a girl would know if a fellow liked screwing her or not. She'd know by the way he fucked her."
"But I did enjoy the fucking, itself."
"Yes. But not fucking me." She ran her finger across my lips. "Fucking in general can be fun. But when it comes down to a particular partner, one becomes choosey."
"True," I acknowledged.
"Absolutely true," she corrected gently. "All right, then. We go to Tommy's place and then to your hideout?"
"Yes," I answered, as I pulled her to her feet. "And then I'll be back sometime in the night."
We walked to Tommy's apartment, got her things, and left. I put her in the hotel and left her there. Then I went back to Sandy's place.
He wasn't home, so I began packing. But first, I put the chain on the door. I'd never done that before, and if he came in, he would wonder what was happening. But it couldn't be helped. I would need a warning if he did come in-besides the bike, I mean. And the chained door would give me the time I was going to need.
The packing wasn't hard. I got it done in jig time. Then I sat in the darkened living room waiting for him to come. I did remember to take the chain off, though. Now I was ready. All of my things, and some other things we would be needing were all packed and ready to go-
I was going to give Sandy the beating of his life. Then, if I was still alive, I would leave him lying in his apartment and take his bike with me. She and I would need some transportation.
When Sandy came in, he was not alone. Tommy was with him and they were discussing, heatedly, where Candy might have gotten to.
I knew I couldn't handle both of them. So I would have to wait. I was glad that I had hidden my bundles ... just in case something like this happened. Sandy had the habit of bringing people home without telling me a word. I would only find out we had three for dinner when he walked through the door.
"Sandy," I said as they walked through the door. I was standing and switched on a light as they opened the door to the apartment. "I just got in."
"Then get cracking, bastard, and get something for us to eat."
"Yes, Sandy," I said submissively as I ducked into the kitchen.
"Well, Tommy, what do you think the little slut did?"
"I know what she did," he replied, "I'll kill the little two-faced bitch!"
Sandy laughed. "Need any help?"
"No," was the sour reply. "I think I can handle it myself."
"Of course, but after...."
I could never let them get their hands on her, now. She'd be torn to pieces by the whole gang-male and female members-as a deterrent to others who might think to leave the gang at a later date. And if they caught her, they'd make her talk and talk plenty. My life wouldn't be worth a plugged nickel.
"Hurry up, bastard," Sandy yelled into the kitchen absentmindedly.
"I'm coming," I called back. "Lord Sandro," I added after a pause. He had been drinking and didn't mark the special title any more than Tommy did. But he was pleased about it. I heard him relaxing back into his comfortable seat.
In a few minutes, I brought them food and drink.
"Put your hand in the cup," Sandy ordered me. "I'll show you how obedient he is," he said to Tommy.
I put my hand in the cup-my left hand-because I knew what he was going to do. Gritting my teeth, I took a deep breath as Sandy picked up the coffee pot and emptied half of the steaming blackness over my hand.
Agony!
Searing pain shot through my hand and up my arm. I barely kept the limb from instinctively jerking back. I had a lot to lose by disobeying Sandro that night, so I kept my hand in the liquid until he said I could take it out.
He looked at me, funny. "Well," he said sarcastically, "where did you learn such good obedience? Has someone besides myself been schooling you?"
I had in my desire to please and lull him, made a bad error. I always had to be forced to take his little ways before, unless, as he suggested I had a reason. Now, his mind-befogged by alcohol as it was-was beginning to function. He eyed me speculatively.
My nervousness showed now. Sandro knew that I was hiding something from him. But, strangely, he didn't ask or try to dig it out of me then.
"Get out of my sight, pig."
I went back to the kitchen. I left them sitting and eating. At least, Tommy was eating. Sandy sat lost in his special world of thought wondering about what I was hiding or what I had been doing.
After what seemed like hours, I heard the talking cease and the door slam. Shortly, I heard the roar of a bike-no, two bikes-they were both leaving.
My hand had been throbbing and my prick was stiff from the pain he had caused me. I needed sex and needed it badly.
Before my eyes rose a picture of Candy's lovely cunt on the single night I had been so far privileged to see it.
Clumsy now, between my swollen hand and cock, I began cleaning up the dishes. I was only trying to give myself something to do until he returned for the night and what he would be kiddingly calling to himself, his killing. He would try to worm whatever he thought had made me obedient out of me.
This time, though, he would get the beating.
Again, I was waiting in the dark. I heard one cycle cut out downstairs and I heard him coming alone up the stairs.
"What the...." He groped for the switch as I stood. I had not bandaged my hand and my ribs were still aching from their recent breaking.
I took a deep breath as the lights flashed on, blinding me for an instant. "Sandy," I said carefully so he wouldn't misunderstand, "I've taken Candy for mine."
He stared at me, unbelievingly. "You've what?" And he threw back his head and laughed. "That's a good joke...." His voice trailed off as our eyes met. "You really have," he concluded.
"Yes, Sandy. And tonight, I leave you."
"Why, you dirty little bitch ... I'll...." I couldn't wait any longer. While he was still off balance, I went for him. The fight was short because I brained him with a china figurine that landed in my hand from the instant I started for him. I had to win or die.
"I don't know whether or not I killed him. And I don't care, either. Tonight, Candy and I are leaving town."
"So, then you're running?"
"This is a time when discretion is the better part of valor. If I was alone, I don't think I would mind staying and battling it out with the whole gang. But, Candy could get killed-or I could get crippled-during the whole thing. And that would be bad all the way around."
"Tell me," I said, "what did you do about your hard-on that night?"
He smiled and his hand came down gently on her shoulder. "That's another story, sir." His fingers squeezed her thin shoulders and she, too smiled.
"Perhaps sometime, say in a couple of years, we'll drop you a line and let you in on a couple of secrets."
"Good luck," I said, holding out my hand as I rose.
I shook hands with both of them and they left, Sandro recovered from the blow to his head. But he had lost face and lost the gang leadership. He dropped from the group and took another lover, later ... almost two years later. The twenty odd months were spent, so I found out, searching for James.
He and Tommy both spent the time looking for James and Candy before finally settling in together as lovers.
Under the new but not so brilliant leadership of Briney, the gang was wiped out within a year with most of the members going to prison for various crimes.
I got a letter from James about three years later.
"I'm sorry I didn't write in such a long time. But we've been awfully busy. First Candy and I got married. Now we have a girl and a boy, just born a couple of weeks ago.
"I have a job and she works, too-as wife and mother. But as long as I can provide for my little ones, she won't have to go out in the world again and be at the mercy of others.
"We spend every Christmas with her parents and family because I really don't have much of a family anymore. Anyhow, her parents are most happy for us. And we're kind of pleased with ourselves, too!
"Thanks, sir. And all luck. "(Signed) James and Candy. "P.S. We gave both kids name-yours."
CASE HISTORY TWO
Name: Lucretia D.
Age: 25
Sex: Female
Marital Status: Married
Interview One
I jumped slightly as the office door smashed open against the far wall and the big black-haired man strode in. Behind him, he brought-or rather dragged-a small dark girl. She was beside him a mere slip of a female. As he let go of her and thrust her toward the waiting chair, she stumbled.
"Get up, you slut," he snarled at her. The kick he launched at her side connected with her ribs and she groaned.
"Just a minute," I interposed, rising. "What you do in your own home and in your own time, is your business. But here in my office, you will conduct yourselves as civilized people."
Startled at my outburst, the tall man stood staring at me for an instant. Then he shrugged and turned and walked out, saying over his shoulder that he would be back for her in an hour or so.
The door closed behind him with a resounding crash.
Trembling, the young woman seated herself and commenced to shake as though with a form of ague or influenza.
"Didn't you want to come?"
"No." Her voice rang out with greater strength after he had left. "No, I did not want to come. He's the one who should see the doctor, not me especially."
"Want to tell me about it?"
Ross, he's the one who was just here, and I have been married for only a couple of years. And in that time, I've learned to hate him-I hate him thoroughly and I love him completely.
I found out about him on the night of our honeymoon. We went to the ritziest hotel in the state and stayed in the honeymoon suite. I thought he was just the world, then, and I suppose that I still do. But, even so, it's not quite with the same eyes that I see him, now.
The valet delivered our suitcases while he escorted me up to the room. When we reached the door, he grabbed me in his arms, bruising them and carried me over the threshold of the suite.
"Ross," I cried, "what are you doing?"
He threw me on the bed and came down on top of me. "I'm loving my girl," he said back and his face crashed down into mine, crashing his mouth down onto mine.
I struggled and it did no good. I didn't know hen what it was all about. But I soon learned.
His hands came down and over my shoulders, his fingers biting into my flesh. Even as he was hurting me, he got a pleasure out of it. The more marks he could leave on my flesh, the stiffer he got until I thought that he was going to fuck me on the spot without letting me get used to the idea.
Instead, he began ripping the clothes off me. As the seams pulled against my flesh, they left welts where he pulled the dress off me. And when I was naked, he began to make a fierce kind of love to me.
His hands clawed and pummeled at my body, until I was well bruised and crying.
"Ross," I cried, despairingly, "what are you doing? Don't! Stop that! You're hurting me."
He ignored my protests against being raped-even by my own husband-and continued to carry on until he had stripped me naked and then he continued with the beatings. I screamed and fought back-to no avail. The harder I fought, the more he seemed to like it and the fiercer he got.
He laid me out my length of the bed and forced my legs apart, thrusting himself onto me dressed. His hand went to his pants and he undid them quickly. I'm sure my eyes started from my face as I saw his monstrous cock bound from its confinement and wave in the air in front of his exposed crotch.
Leaning his weight on my thighs where his hands pressed into my yielding flesh, he thrust his quivering red and swollen prick at my exposed and virgin cunt.
"Virgins!" he exclaimed. "That's my meat." And then he humped his thighs into my pussy. I screamed as I felt a hot sword-like knife burrow itself into my body.
Screaming from the exquisite pain, I arched into his body, trying to make the torturous agony go away. Instead it got worse and more fiery until I thought I was going to scream my way into Hell still living. I screamed for him to leave me alone. Ignoring me, he continued humping me with his weapon.
Then, because he was that way, half-way through the whole thing, he reached down and sank his teeth into my shoulder, drawing blood and lapping it up as fast as it welled from the wound he had made in my shoulder.
I cried out, writhing from the pain he was giving me. He ignored my cries and bit me again. Drawing new blood, he began licking that up too, groaning and moaning while he did it.
"Ross," I cried, turning as I could under his strong grasp, "Ross, please, stop it. You're hurting me."
"Shut up, bitch," he cried at me. He withdrew. But his strong right hand swept back and slammed into my unresisting face and my head whipped back and forth from the strength of his blow. Tears sprang into my eyes. Fearfully, I waited with bated breath to find the wonderful man whom I had married. But that Ross had gone and was replaced by an animalistic Ross who delighted in torturing me.
Even through my shaking fear, I could see that the pain he was causing me was making his prick stiffen. It had been swollen and red before, but now it became even more swollen and purplish in color. He moaned and plunged his thighs down onto mine, coming closer and closer to my pussy.
Then, I felt the heat of his cockhead resting lightly against the entrance to my body. I began trembling with fear and anticipation as well. I wanted him. I wanted him to fuck my cunt with all the force of his powerful body.
"Fuck me," I groaned. "Fuck the shit out of me, Ross."
Suddenly, his hand came back down across my face and waves of pain shot across my lips as his hand-backside first-smashed into my opened mouth.
"Speak only when you're spoken to, bitch. Understand?"
Dumbly, I nodded at his question, my eyes weeping tears of fear and love.
Then, when I did not expect it, his cock slammed itself into my tensed body, clearing a passageway for itself through my tensed muscles. The force of his entry took me by surprise and made waves of pain leap through my guts. The muscles were slashed back by his vicious onslaught.
Screaming, I humped into him, trying to ease the pain he victoriously gave my body. But that motion only made his pleasure keener and drove his cock harder into my body.
Grinning, he grunted and encouraged me to heave into him as much as I could. As I did, he timed himself so that he came at me as I came at him and we crashed together in the middle and up in the air. Each new stroke shoved me back down onto the bed and panting and sweating, I always came back for more.
Suddenly, I could feel his body relax and then tense again. I waited, knowing something special was about to happen. I didn't know what-just that something good was going to happen.
Then ... I felt like his cock was going to keep swelling and explode inside of my body.
For suddenly, it kicked at my twat, pushing into the taut flesh that lined the passage into my body and I felt the influx of a fluid from his throbbing prick into my pulsating twat.
Startled, I cried out and then . ... I felt inside of my body ... I felt a similar thing happening. From down in the area of my diaphragm, I felt a growing ball. Its hardness kept growing until I thought I, too, should burst. Instead of bursting, it just suddenly became a cooling liquid that flooded his prick, making it go temporarily limp.
I could feel the liquids as they mingled and flowed down my twat and over his cock, cooling and soothing both of us. I took a deep breath of pleasure and felt the pains he had caused me melt away.
Further, I could feel his valiant efforts to sustain his cock inside of me. I smiled openly as he began failing, even though my body was rhythmically closing around his member now, it did no good. And slowly he slid out of my passage until his still red, but limp, prick slid out of my body and lay lax on the sheets between my thighs.
Seeing my smile, he smiled in return and his hands again took care of me. First his hand kept smashing into my face, again and again. Then, his other hand went for my unaroused clitoris and he began pinching it with his thumb and forefinger until I was screaming with pain and the little clit was heavily erect with desire.
Ripping through the pain that kept flashing across my face, making it hot with a heaviness, I felt myself gasping with latent desires. Yes, I wanted him to continue smashing his hand into my face.
In me in that instant was born the desire for pain to precede the pleasure of the flesh.
"How long has this been going on?" I asked, breaking into her monologue.
"A couple of years," she replied. "But when he began getting too brutal and when he began stepping out on me, I didn't want to take it any more. I found a hatred that was greater than the original love growing inside of my heart for him. And, now I want to hurt him more than I can love him."
"You mean he has been unfaithful to you?"
"Yes. I do mean that. And other things, as well."
"Like what?"
"Come here," he shouted at me, wielding the heavy but short whip. It was not really a whip but a special belt that he had had studded with hard brass nails that cut the flesh.
I cringed from him and whimpered wit! fear. When he had come in that night, I had confronted him with the evidence of my findings-that he had another woman hidden away.
"I'll take just about anything," I screamed as soon as he came through the door, "but not infidelity. You'll pay for this." I slapped him as he divested himself of his overcoat, for it was winter out.
As my hand cracked across his face, he reached for my wrist. Grasping it, he flung me down onto the floor.
"How dare you? You dirty little cunt," he screamed at me. "I command here, not you. I do as it pleases me. Not as it pleases you. I am answerable to no one but myself."
"That's what you think, sweetheart," I retorted from the floor. My slender ankle snaked out and I clobbered him with the heel of my shoe. He stumbled slightly and cursed ferociously.
Leaning over, he grabbed me by the hair on my head and dragged me up. His hand slapped my face, whipping my head back and forth. Between direct slaps, I saw the blood on his hand and felt its saltiness in my mouth from the cuts on my lips where his hands had cut my skin. I felt a tooth go loose and the sharp pains rocket through my head like a razor's edge of pains-slight but annoying.
Then he threw me across the room. Landing with a sickening thud, I felt the blood within me beginning to boil with desire. I wanted him! Now!
"Love me, Ross," I screamed at him. "Make all of it a lie. Love me and fuck me so that I know all the rest is a nasty lie."
He stared at me. "You slut," he screamed, coming toward me with great menace. I knew, then, that all I had heard was true. He was not one to deny it when it was true. I felt myself sicken inside. And I hated him as I had loved him.
As he came toward me, he was taking off his special belt. It was studded with the little brass nails that could tear the flesh. Reaching out with a free hand, he grabbed me and hauled me up by my hair.
Not bothering to take the clothes off my body, he began striking me with the multi-faceted studs on the length of the belt. Within seconds I was screaming as the hard little points tore at my flesh, having taken the clothes off my back.
I screamed with pain for each strike and felt myself growing hotter and wanting him more each time the belt struck me. Soon, I could smell the scent of fresh blood that he drew from my back and now naked ass with each blow of the whip.
Arching, I spread my legs and tried to get him to cut between my aching thighs. "Here, Ross," I screamed as I wiggled my body around so the belt was snagging between my thighs. But he ceased as soon as I got myself into position.
Jerking me around with my bloody ass toward him, he began beating me again. If I hadn't wanted it that way-if I had wanted him to not hit my pussy, he would have beaten me unmercifully there. But because I did want him to hurt me, he soon stopped.
Instead, I found that his pants bulged hugely before my eyes. He was fucking hot and would not be able to stop himself now.
As soon as he let go of me, dropping both me and the belt, I scrambled into the bathroom and began cleaning myself up. In a matter of seconds, he was banging at the locked door, screaming for me to come out instantly.
"I'm coming," I called out as I reached for the towel to dry off my wet and still weeping flanks and ass. "I'm coming."
I opened the door and stepped out. He stood before me, naked with his cock standing rigid in the air. He grabbed me the instant I opened the door and took me into his arms.
His powerful shoulders crushed me into his caress and his mouth bruised down onto mine, hurting. I responded with my nails in his heavy shoulders, their tips grooving down through his flesh.
We tore at each other until he picked me up in his arms and carried me to the bed in the other room. Throwing me down onto the softness of the mattress, he threw himself on top of me and I could feel his prick poised at the entrance to my twat.
With a heave and an animal grunt, he thrust his hips forward, charging into me until his cock was buried to the hilt of its length, for he had been thoroughly roused by the beating he had given me.
And because I was going to punish him, I let him hump himself into me until he lay still, sweating with exhaustion. Then I clasped my ankles around his thighs, locking them tightly.
And, I refused to pump him.
"Pump you bitch," he screamed at me as I lay absolutely still, "pump, now."
I did not answer, but lay completely still, letting him know that the muscles were there, but I was not using them.
He tried to back out of me and found that he was trapped inside of my encircling legs. He began bucking and still I clung to him with the inner muscles relaxed, lb-became more and more frustrated.
"Let go of me or fuck me!" he screamed.
"Do like I say."
When I didn't his hands closed around my throat. He began choking the life out of me. But I held fast and kept quiet until I passed out.
When I came to, I was spread-eagled on the mattress with my hands and ankles tied to the four corners of the bed. There was a cord passed around my neck which would choke me unless I held my head up.
The instant I stirred, I felt the cord tightening around my throat until I had to hold my head back to ease the choking strain.
I was on my belly and the instant I tried to turn or duck my head, the cord tightened and commenced choking me. So after a couple of experimental attempts, I kept my head up and my face pointing toward the head of the bed.
I wondered with shaking fear what he would perpetrate on my defenseless body ... I was soon to find out....
"What happened next? Did he beat you? Why did he feel he had to beat you?" The question fled from my lips. She didn't have any noticeable marks on her face or hands. But then her clothes covered her-clingingly, I admit-but covered her completely from her neck to her ankles. Any welts and bruises she might have had were hidden. Yet, he had smashed her face around....
She smiled as she noticed my close scrutiny of her well-covered body. She had a well-shaped body, too. Even under the clothing she was noticeably rounded and curved in all the proper places. In fact, her curves were very full, making her quite desirable to a certain type of man.
"He didn't beat me for a while-two days to be exact. He left me there, tied to the bed without food or water. And just to rub it in, he ate and drank in front of my helpless eyes.
"When I closed my eyes and refused to open them, he propped them open with toothpicks."
"With toothpicks?" I know the horror crossed my face at the mention of them.
"Open your eyes, slut," he screamed at me. "Open them, I say!"
When I didn't because of the desperate need for food and especially water, which he was consuming before me, he reached over and slapped me viciously across the face.
He had pulled the bed out from the wall so that he could sit before me eating. I was still on my belly and had almost choked to death a couple of times when I had fallen asleep from the exhausting strain of the cord around my neck.
Smiling grimly at me, he left the room for a minute. Returning, he carried a package of wooden toothpicks.
"With a little help," he said with a lecherous smile, "you won't have much trouble keeping your eyes open at all."
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he opened the package and extracted a toothpick. "Because you refuse to voluntarily watch and be disciplined, I will give your eyes a little help. I think the business of keeping your head up is alone enough to expend your energy on."
He leaned toward me and taking his thumb and forefingers, held the lid of my further eye open. Quickly, he inserted the pointed end of the pick into the tiny lip of my tear duct.
I screamed as the pains shot through my face and rammed into the back of my head. Through the tears that flooded both my eyes, I could see the grin on his face as he wiggled the wooden pick around, grinding it into my tender flesh. Then, with a flip of his thumb, he lowered my upper lid down over the other end-the blunt end-of the wooden stick, so that the toothpick supported my eye lid and forced it to stay open.
Quickly he worked a pick into the nearer eye so that both of my eyes were forced open.
Then he put the rest of the picks to one side.
Smiling even more broadly, he resumed his seat before my opened eyes and picked up his glass of water and began drinking again.
Thirstily, I ran my tongue around the edge of my drying lips and my eyes pleaded with him for mercy.
"You know," he commented when he was through with the water, "somehow the toothpicks make the pleading that is there, nonexistent. You look helpless, of course, but I am not in the least moved by your plight." Rising he smiled broadly as he exited the room.
He left the props in my eyelids until I began going blind from the inability to blink and wet my eyes. After about three hours, he came in, ate in front of me again, and removed the picks. "Just so you won't go blind permanently," he commented.
Then, I knew he was going to do this again.
A glance at my watch-and a silent prayer that I could help her before her husband went too far and harmed her permanently-told me that our time for this session was through.
"Is it ended," she asked. "Do you want to see more of me, or what?"
"Yes," I replied, "I would like to see you next week at this same time-if you can," I added.
"I can. In fact, I will have to or he will drag me in as he did this time. You see," she said, "my husband believes that I am crazy or something. I can't be sure which he believes."
"Until next week, then," I said rising.
We shook hands. It occurred to me that she was acting a little as though this were a conspiracy of some sort and we were plotting against her husband. I let the thought ride for the moment as she left.
Yes, I thought, going back over the attitude she had fostered, she did act as though this were something to be kept from her husband. Even though he had dragged her into my office by main force, she felt as though she did not want him to know we were doing anything ... or was it more likely that while he would know generally what we were discussing, she did not want him to know exactly. It was as though she were trying to protect herself from him.
I decided that I would wait and see her the next week. She might give me more indications of what she was up to. I found that I did not trust her motives ... not at all....
But, I had managed to get a close look at her eyes ... she had small scabs and several white points of scars. They could have been from toothpicks.
Interview Two
Her husband did not have to drag her in the next week. She came in on her own. But her face showed new bruises-she had said she had them on her body, the last week. Now, they were there on her facial skin.
From the angle of some of them, I could tell that they were not self-inflicted. That ruled out one thing-what ever happened, she wasn't making this up out of whole cloth.
She looked tired, very tired. She had circles and her blue eyes were bloodshot.
"What happened this week?"
"The usual, but in a different caliber. I liked-no loved-it just as much. At least, he's told me why he's dragged me here."
"What's his reason for your coming, then?"
"He says I'm sick for wanting to take this torture from him. I suppose he's right, of course. But I love him and what he does to me-whatever he does to me. That is, except ignore me. I hate that!" Suddenly, her beautiful face contorted.
"He's been ignoring me more and more of late. It's as though he doesn't love me anymore."
Suddenly, she bowed her head and began crying great racking sobs. "He doesn't love me, anymore. He's going to kill me with not loving me. He sits for hours and broods about us. Then he gets up and walks out of the house and leaves me alone. One of these days he'll go once too often and he'll come back to find me dead. "Then he'll be sorry!"
"Will he be? Do you really think that?"
She sobbed harder than before. Then she shook her head. "No. I know he won't be sad. He'll just go out and get himself another wife. He doesn't care about me at all. Not at all!"
"What are you going to do about it?"
"What can I do?" She raised her head and looked at me. "Kill him, maybe?"
"What does that prove?"
"Shit! Nothing, I suppose. But it would prevent him from getting another woman."
"Why," I said to change the subject, more than anything else, "does he want you to change?"
"He says he doesn't want a willing victim in battle. He says he wants a willing wife in bed."
"So, is it that hard?"
"Yes. I married him because I suspected that he was a man and would take me instead of asking 'pretty-please.' "
"Then you want to be conquered each time anew?"
"Yes. Otherwise, it's no good."
"Did you ever have relationships with any other person before you married him?"
"Oh, no more than the usual...." She stopped abruptly and her face turned very red. She lowered her eyes.
"You're lying," I said with stern accusation.
In an instant, she was down on her knees, begging for me not to hurt her. She said she hadn't meant to lie, but that she must not tell ... and then she stopped ... dead.
"I shan't tell your husband. But I do think I should know what you're afraid to tell him."
I didn't know what she had done or been involved in. But whatever it was, she was deliberately punishing herself for it by having a husband who would beat her and hurt her.
"And this time," I admonished her with sternness, "tell me the whole truth. I don't want any little lies to cover up some small detail. I want the honest details. I will know when you are lying to me because you, yourself, will tell me."
She gained control over her emotions, slowly. Finally, she sat, gulping the rest of her tears and pleas back in her throat.
Papa was the total autocrat in our home.
He ruled all of us with an iron hand. And when he said jump, we jumped and in the direction he indicated. When I was twelve, he fucked me.
He came into my room after dinner one night in his usual unannounced way. I was undressing and I was bleeding that day.
"Oh, Papa," I said startled by the sudden opening of my door.
"Why did you go upstairs early?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Papa. But...." I felt horribly embarrassed because, well, he could easily smell and see why I had to hurry upstairs. He had gone from the sitting room and it didn't look as though he would be back for a while because he had taken his jacket with him.
"You were gone. I asked Momma if it would be all right."
"She does not give permission, I do."
"Yes, Papa." I shivered with terror before him because he would punish me for being disobedient. Many times before I had slipped from the room and changed quickly. But this time, he had forgotten something and had come back while I had been gone.
He walked over to me and his hand came back level with his shoulder.
"Disobedient daughters are punished. They know why, in my house." His hand smashed into my face, sending me reeling across the room.
I fell against the bed, stumbling down on my ass. But with the force of his blow, I was knocked down onto my back, my legs spread open and he could see my bleeding twat.
In the next instant, before I could even think, I felt his weight coming down onto my thighs.
Then, he picked me up, naked from the waist down, and walked over to the desk chair in my room. Sitting down on it, he pulled my frightened and unresisting body down into his lap. My legs were spread apart and they came down one on each side of his thighs, so that my entire cunt was exposed.
He sat me down on the outer side of his long upper legs, next to his knees-closer than to his crotch.
I watched fascinated, as his right hand went to his pants' fly and he undid it. I kept watching as his red and swollen prick leaped from between the folds of his pants.
"There," he said, "now you will be punished."
He lifted me up again and moved me into his groin so that I was poised over his rampant cock. I started to open my mouth when he cut across me, telling me to keep quiet or he would beat me.
I wondered what type o f punishment this was going to be....Trembling, I hung suspended in the air for a long instant before I felt my stomach descending quickly down over his raging cock. Then, in that instant, I knew what his punishment was going to be.
I recalled my mother telling me that for a man who was not the husband of a woman to penetrate or even see a woman's body from the shoulders down in nakedness, was the most horrible sin for the woman to commit.
I was wondering, too, how this could be the woman's sin, but if Momma said it was, then, Papa was forcing me to commit the sin of sins.
Despite my father's warning on silence, I opened my mouth and began screaming as loudly as I could because I felt something like the curling iron Momma had downstairs for our hair on early school mornings, sizzling into me.
But, just then, I landed with a burning thump on Papa's dark curly bush and his hand smashed into my mouth. I had just barely begun screaming when my voice was effectively muffled by his hand. The shock alone was enough to stop me momentarily.
"I told you that you would be silent. You disobeyed me."
I trembled with fear as his eyes kept mine with their straight stare. I began crying. I begged him to relent. I felt the fire inside of me and the sin weighing down on my head.
He threw back his head and laughed, long and loud. And I shivered from the blood-curdling sound of his voice.
"For your disobedience, you sharp little slut, I will have a great punishment. You will never forget it ... not ever."
Then, I felt his hands come to my undeveloped waist. Clasping his hands tightly around my waist, he lifted me up off him. And in the next instant, I felt my body being plunged back down onto his monstrously huge and stiff weapon.
Heedful of his dire warning as to what would happen to me if I opened my mouth again, I only groaned, for I could not suppress that much sound, no matter how hard I tried to remain silent.
I felt as though another knife blade had seared itself into my flesh. I wanted to scream and cry ... but this time, with pleasure.
I shook myself mentally ... with pleasure? Yes, I knew, now. I was enjoying this. For that moment, the pain was pleasurable. I loved having his cock ramming into me and I wanted it to go on forever.
"More, Papa," I cried low in my throat, "More! More!"
And, as though in complete agreement to my desires, he began thrusting me up and down on his prick with even greater ferocity. He kept me going on his cock, until I felt something inside of me snap and his cock became even stiffer than I had ever thought possible.
"I'm coming," he called softly.
For that instant I wondered what he was answering to as he almost calmly said again, "I'm coming."
I was fearful that Momma had heard us and was coming to investigate ... but he made no move to release me. Instead, I felt as though boiling water had been suddenly thrust up into my guts.
I screamed because I could not keep silent. His threats beside this wonderment, meant nothing. Anyway, he didn't seem to notice. The stickiness, that I had just noticed, spread all down across my thighs and his crotch.
His prick went slightly limp within me ... only to become stiff again in a moment. I could smell the strong odor of musk and I guessed that it was his smell in some way extraordinarily strong. At any rate, it did excite me more.
Blood coursed through my veins and pounded behind my temples. It had been long since pounding in my cunt and it became even more pronounced as I became even more excited. I was gasping for breath and stars fled across my line of vision, limited by Papa's face hanging just before my eyes.
I cried with the excess of passion that I felt when he was within me. I felt hot all over. My hand lightly ran over my body, confirmed what I suspected ... I was wringing wet, covered with a film of sweat from the exertion and the desire.
But, I felt marvelous!
His cock inside of my twat, was making my surrounding flesh hum with the vibrations. The feeling was good ... very good to me. I wanted it to go on forever.
Then, I felt a tensing within my guts. Not knowing what it was, I nevertheless enjoyed the building pressure that was steadily rising to the screaming point deep inside of my belly.
More and more pressure built up until I thought I should have to scream to release some of the pressure there, when I felt it give and flood down over his twitching cock, bathing it in a creamy bath of cool liquid. The juices kept flowing until they had added a heavy layer to that already glued and drying onto my thighs and his.
I felt the inner tensions release and I knew that all the muscles in my body were beginning to relax. In fact, had he not been holding me at the waist, I should have fallen down from his knees, I was so relaxed at that moment.
Abruptly, he lifted me off his body and my feet found the icy floor. I gasped as the cold boards caressed my bare feet and jumped from his grip with unknown violence.
In that instant, the portent of what had happened caught up with me. And even though I was bleeding, I could detect the odor of fresh blood as it stood out from the heavy smell of my menstruation. Separate from that, I could also smell the heavy smell of his come as it was drying on my thighs.
Curiously, I bent over and peered between my thighs. The flesh on the insides of each leg and all over my barely developing pussy, was coated with a heavy layer of red-streaked white scum.
I smelled, inhaling deeply, and caught the same odors again, but stronger. Then, taking a hand, I touched a finger tentatively to the drying gooey mess. It came away coated with material and stinking of my come, Papa's come ... : old blood ... and new blood.
"Come here, you," Papa ordered me, breaking into my thoughts.
"Yes, Papa?" I queried.
"I said for you to come here," he repeated as his long arm snaked out and grabbed my arm at the wrist.
"Oh, Papa," I cried, "you're hurting me! Hurting my arm!"
"Then, come."
I moved back toward him, being pulled by his hand until I stood before him.
"You will do exactly as I say." It was a statement, not a question. Nonetheless, I nodded my head in the affirmative.
"Good," he said again, "then go and lie down on the edge of the bed. Spread your sluttish legs apart."
Immediately, he let go of me and I went to the bed without a word and lay down as he had instructed me. When I was in position, he rose, buttoning his suit pants closed and zipping them.
Walking over toward me, he towered over me and I cringed with a mixture of fear and growing anticipation. He was going to do something to me ... what, I didn't know. But, I hoped and prayed that it would be nice and that I could enjoy it.
Coming over to where I lay, he knelt down and placed his head between my thighs. For an instant, I felt his flesh near to mine and the heat was intense. Then I was sidetracked as his teeth sank into my flesh.
I cringed back, trying to get out of his reach. When I partially succeeded, he gripped his teeth into my flesh and his tongue washed across the flesh in between the grip his teeth had on my thigh.
I tried to scream, but only gasped as his hand came down heavily onto my diaphragm, shoving all the air from my lungs in a gasping sigh. I was not to scream ... not distract his attention.
His teeth loosened their hold, if only to bite into the tender inner flesh again ... and again until he had mottled red and white, all the flesh on both sides of my pussy with his bites.
Each time I gasped and held my breath until the pain shoved it from between my lips. But I didn't scream ... not once.
Finally, I felt his tongue as it began to rasp across my skin, grating over the screaming flesh that he had just so recently marked with his teeth. My body began to tremble again.
But this time, the shaking was from excitement, not fear. I felt the blood pounding through my pussy again. It felt as though it were being accumulated in the flesh of my cunt for the flesh felt as though it were going to explode.
At this point, she interrupted herself to burst into frantic tears.
"What's wrong? Did he do more?"
"No! No!" she sobbed. "He'd done enough. I've never been able to understand why he violated me. He was a horrid monster! A terrible beast! I hate him!"
"And that's why you've been trying to force your husband to rape you and violate you?"
"Yes! Yes!" Her eyes streamed tears and she brought her hands up to cover her face. The tears ran down between her closed fingers. "Yes!" she screamed again, rocking to and fro on the chair. "I hate myself. I am a soiled and dirty woman."
"What happened next?"
"He cleaned my twat and all the surrounding flesh. I think that was the worst part. He did it in such a manner that I felt guilty for having aroused him and making him have to stoop to do this.
"I trembled the whole time. And then, I began crying for I felt a great shame."
"But," I persevered with her reasoning, "what does that have to do with you, today? Why should you think that you must punish yourself for what your father did to you?"
"Because he made me feel as though it was my fault. And...." She paused as wonderment came into her eyes. "There's no need for all this, is there?"
"What do you think?"
"There isn't. Of course not. What happened, happened and nothing can change that. But I certainly don't have to go on punishing myself, blaming myself, for what he did. Even though I was a participant in it."
For a long minute she sat there staring at me as she worked the reasoning out in her head.
I glanced at my watch and saw that the hour was up. My next patient was probably kicking his heels in the other room. She noticed my quick glance and immediately came back into the present.
"Is it that time?" she queried with a small smile.
"Yes," I said. "Next week, same time?"
"Yes," she responded, even as she rose from the chair.
Lucretia was under a doctor's care for several years. She had many problems to work out concerning her approach to life.
Within a week after her second interview, she had left her husband and was preparing to file a divorce. Also, there were no children to complicate matters.
Then she committed herself to an institution. She had realized that she needed much more intensive care than I could provide for her at that time on an out-patient basis.
She was released into my care several months ago and to date is doing fine on a new out-patient footing. She has a new boyfriend and they see each other a couple times a week.
She bubbles with happiness and is able to talk about her ex-husband and her father with hardly a twinge of guilt or fear. She is long over the hysterical tears.
Having seen her 'guilt' and decided to become better adjusted to herself, she was almost ready to face life again totally on her own.
And, I have the full confidence that she will make it, this time.
Ross, her ex-husband, turned around within six months of his divorce from Lucretia and remarried. His second wife committed suicide only a couple of months ago.
She left behind an incriminating note, implicating him in a possible murder. Ross is out of jail on bail and I have been called in to examine his psychological stability. All the evidence, apparently, points to murder.
Neither Lucretia nor I have mentioned this between us, although I do think she is aware of Ross' plight. But until she says something to me, I can say nothing. It is her place to resurrect the old memory. It could still be too painful for her just yet, especially in the light of his remarriage and his late wife's death.
Only time will reveal how painful the present dilemma is for Lucretia.
CASE HISTORY THREE
Name: Thomas E.
Age: 37 Sex: Male
Marital Status: Married
Interview One
I was reading about my next patient when the door opened and surely the tallest and handsomest man alive walked through the door. He was well over six feet-perhaps six foot six or better. His back was wide and the muscles rippled expansively beneath his thin shirt.
As he walked slowly across the room, his arms came up from his sides and folded themselves across his chest, just beginning to cover the deeply opened 'V' of his unbuttoned shirt. I could clearly see the flesh of his broad chest winking between the black expanse of his chest hair.
He stopped before my desk, his legs spread wide and his arms crossed on his chest. His whole attitude was one of patient waiting. For an instant I got the fleeting impression that he was waiting for me to begin talking to him of my problems. But with a quick mental shake, I realized that this was only his god-like appearance.
His unusual height, combined with the calm resolution that shone from his face, threw me off for just an instant. Apparently, that was all the time he needed to establish his psychological superiority ... to himself.
Immediately, he sat down as though he were deferring to me. It was a god-like gesture of magnanimity. But still, he held silent.
"Good day," I said to him.
He nodded, still saying nothing.
We waited. Finally, I broke the silence again, realizing, of course, that I was playing his game. "It seems that your wife asked your doctor for this appointment for yourself."
He smiled. "My wife is a wonderful woman, but she is hysterical by nature. I humor her whenever possible as it seems to placate her. I find it better than arguing with her."
I gave him a long searching look. "Do you always 'humor' your wife to 'placate' her?"
"Yes and no. Sometimes, I find that I have to be stern. But, usually it seems better for our relationship if I merely let her have her way. Such a thing as this, this seeing a psychiatrist, for instance, is better to bow before her than to stand firm. I'm sure that I have many problems. But, I don't really feel as though I have any fears of an analysis or an analyst, so I was more than willing to come. I only made the single condition that, if she so felt that I should see you, she should foot the bills."
"You feel, then, that you have no problems?"
"I didn't say that. I said that while I'm sure that I do have many problems, I do not have a great need for analysis. But as she insists, I am not going to upset her by refusing."
"Can you give me an example?"
He smiled gently and began talking.
Janet is a good woman. Much a timid and gentle woman, but a good and persevering wife. She has made my life complete.
I never could understand her fear and her gentleness was the main attraction of myself to her before we were better acquainted.
We lived together and cohabited before we were married. I did not suggest it, she did. She felt that we should get to know each other better and that it would only be by living together and loving each other more than we could find out if we were suited.
Of course, I fucked her. Anything else wouldn't have been natural. I'm a male and she's a female. At first she was reluctant to do this. But I persuaded her that it was for the better.
In fact, I persuaded her quite easily after I made her see reason. She was more than tractable and amiable later . ... once we were married.
"I really don't think you understand, Tommy," she said the first night in our experimental home, "I think we should simply cohabit, not fuck. That's what comes after marriage-not before."
"That's what you think, baby," I replied as I leaned toward her. "I have a different idea."
"What ... what do you mean?"
"I mean that since you want to play house, we will play for keeps."
She backed away from me and walked across the room. She turned at the end by the wall and came back, stopping in front of me.
"No, Tom. No. I simply can't allow you and me to go that far. If you truly love me, you will abstain from fucking me until we're married."
I smiled, having no intention of being forced into an intolerable situation in which I would marry her simply to be able to fuck her. As far as I'm concerned, screwing is a basic thing and doesn't need a license.
I reached out and my hand closed around her wrist, pulling her toward my lap. "Come here, baby," I said gruffly as I pulled her into my arms. "What makes you think you're going to blackmail me into promising to marry you? I'll do that only if I love you and you love me-not for any other reason, either."
"Tom! Let go of me! This isn't right. This--"
My mouth, pressing against hers, cut off her words quickly ... instantly. I would stand no more opposition. My cock was already standing as stiff as it could, confined as it was beneath my pants.
The sudden pressure and warmth of her well-rounded and pleasurable ass against my already hot and throbbing cock, broke all the remaining restraint I had possessed. Hungrily, I threw her back on the sofa bed and ground my thirsty lips into hers.
My tongue forced itself between her lips. And when she didn't open her jaws like she had always done before, the fingers of my hand searched for her jaw bone and I pressed, forcing her teeth apart.
She shuddered and struggled against me, which only heightened my desire for her. I fought her down, holding her to the soft firmness of the mattress. With panting gasps, I began taking her clothes off.
Continuing to fight made it difficult for me to continue without tearing the clothes from her resisting body. In fact, as soon as I would get a couple of buttons or snaps undone, her fingers would be working to redo them.
Finally, impatience and my raging cock inside my pants, forced me to fall down over her voluptuous body until my fingers found the elastic of her panties. With a single pull I tore them down over her belly and exposed her bush to my fingers.
Wiggling, she tried to get out from under my probing fingers. In doing so she lifted her ass off the bed and I was able to slide the undies down over her fat little ass.
Finding she couldn't scream and that her panties were off, exposing her cunt to my fingers, she bit my tongue.
Pulling my head back with a pained groan, I smashed my right hand across her smiling face ... and again for good measure.
Blood welled from the scratch left on her cheek, made when my heavy ring-this one here on my right hand-scraped across her flesh. Moaning she lifted her hand to her face.
She stared at the blood smear on her fingers. "Tom!"
"Shut up, slut," I snarled at her as my hand went lightning quick to my pants and freed my quivering and pulsating cock from its prison. Just as soon as I freed my prick, I began spreading her legs apart.
"What are you doing?" she cried, trying instinctively to keep her exposed legs pinned together.
I didn't answer her. Instead, I concentrated on getting her legs apart. Coming back on my knees, I released her and used both hands to separate her legs. Her pants had not come off, so I tore them apart and spread her legs with my strength.
Then I looked at her cunt. It was a blonde beautiful pink expanse of lusciously swelling flesh. Before my eyes, I watched it as it swelled and became a vivid pink. I wanted to touch it ... that instant.
Changing my weight, I held her thighs down with my left hand and knees while I brought my hand up to her spread pussy lips and ran a finger over her clit. I felt it swell at the first touch of my fingertip.
Rubbing it rhythmically and hard, I watched her as she began reacting. Her eyes closed as she began moaning passionately. Her hands, not knowing what to do, fell back onto the mattress and her fingers began to open and close in a rhythmic spasm.
Suddenly, she arched her ass into my finger, trying, I guess, to ram her cunt into my hand. Her legs became limp and her thighs opened of their own accord. She was asking me ... soon she was begging me ... to ram my cock into her cunt.
I took up her invitation eagerly, for my prick was twitching and jerking violently now. I wouldn't have been able to hold out much longer.
She jumped-as I did-when my flesh made contact with her hot leaking twat. I could smell the delicate and heady aroma of her femininity as it seeped out of her pulsating twat. I didn't need to finger her to see if she was lubricated-my eyes told me directly, so I pulled my finger back.
The heat of her cunt lapped torridly against my groin as my cock irresistibly approached her waiting cunt. I hesitated as I felt my cockhead contact with her flesh. It was like a searing burn to the rounded end of my slightly bent weapon.
I realigned my hips with a casual wiggle. She gasped as she felt the bulbous head of my cock strike gently against several points of her rounded twat just before I plunged into her.
I didn't realize she was virgin. She screamed in agony as I plunged into her about halfway before something stopped my cock. My groin and cock bounded back from whatever they had hit.
She screamed anew as I hit her flap. Then, with added strength and a manly grunt, I forced myself into her twat, snapping her cherry and falling against her twat's back wall, totally engulfed in her cunt.
I sniffed experimentally, smelling a taint of fresh blood as it seeped its way slowly from her twat and stuck to our thighs, smearing all over my bush.
"It hurts!" she cried. "This is awful! Horrible!"
"That's only for the very first time," I assured her.
Slowly, I raised myself off her until only the head of my prick was still inside of her.
"Better?"
"Yes," she breathed, "much."
"Hold steady," I said.
"What? What's next?"
I didn't answer her as I plunged back into her, bending my elbows as I came down on her huge soft tits. I had been raised up from her on my palms. I came down on and into her, shoving my trembling cock into her quaking twat.
She screamed, half with pain and half with pleasure. The pleasure won as I began rhythmically humping her, rising and falling over her body.
Suddenly, I felt the fatal boiling inside of my cock's stem. Plunging down into her for the last time, I stayed perfectly still-I even held my breath, waiting.
Then....
"I'm coming," I screamed as gouts of ropey sperm and gism spewed forth and splattered into her cunt, overflowing and running down, following the course of the blood before it. The two substances mingled, making a fresh and musky odor with a tingling sharpness, foreign but not unpleasant, to it's usual scent.
The heat of my coming sent her screaming again and she began whimpering about pains in her belly. I wondered for an instant if I had hurt her by plunging into her. I had a monstrously huge cock, and wondered if I could have punctured her twat in my driving need to screw her cunt quickly.
But just as I was beginning to worry, I felt the cooling liquids from her body fall all around my plunging cock, cooling and soothing it.
"What's happening?" she quavered. "What have we done together?"
I grinned as I looked at her. "Before I tell you what happened, will you answer one question for me?"
"What?" she panted, questions staring from her wide-open eyes. "What do you want to know?"
"Did you enjoy it?"
She didn't answer for an instant. Then her face went blank before she smiled with her eyes closed. "Yes," she breathed. "I loved it! It was fantastic! What did we . ... "
She stopped and her closed lids flew open as she realized what we had been doing. "Oh, no!"
"Oh, yes. We did. You did, and you loved it, remember?"
Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down over the fringe of dark blonde lashes and across her cheeks.
"What's wrong now?" I asked, irritated.
"I didn't want this to happen. I wanted to save my cherry for our wedding night. Now," she wailed, crying in earnest, "now, it can't be! This is the end."
"Nonsense," I spat at her, puzzled by her-or what I thought was her fake humiliation at being screwed and liking it. "Don't be an ass. Everybody fucks and only the real idiots pretend not to like it."
"It's forbidden to enjoy this until one does it with one's spouse," she countered, the crying letting up for her to talk.
"What's marriage to do with all this? If you and I love each other, what's the harm? I know plenty of people who are married and still aren't either in love with each other or happy about having married each other. And, furthermore, I know some couples who aren't married but are still happy. So what's to say that marriage is the special criterion of all this?" She shook her head, not answering. Her delicately molded face swung back and forth on the slender column of her neck from side to side as she deliberately refuted all that I had said.
Finally, she spoke, "You don't love me because if you had, you'd have waited until we were married. Now we can't get married because I can't get married." And turning over, she began crying again. Her shoulders heaved with the intensity of her passionate outburst.
"That," I said, "is utter superstitious nonsense. If we want to get married, we can! And, if we want to get married, we will. No one, no institution will stand between us."
My hand came down on her shoulder and the other one, too.
She shuddered and turned her face back around. "Take your hands off me," she screamed, throwing herself away from me. "I'm soiled and it's all your fault."
Something inside of me snapped, then. My fingers closed tightly over her heaving flesh, the knuckles turning white with the force of my grip on her body.
"No," she screamed again, "You can't fuck me again. I won't let you."
Ignoring her stupid and superstitious protests, I rolled her over onto her ass and forced her legs apart. Resisting with all her strength, all she got was a couple of purple bruises as my hands found a sudden delight in the new adventure of forcing her to my will. My fingers closed painfully into her yielding thigh flesh and kneaded the skin there until she was screaming with pain.
Then, my cock, again rampant and raging with desire, was knocking impatiently at her cunt hole.
"No," she screamed. "No! No! I don't want you. You're raping me. I'll kill you for this, you pig ... you animal ... you monster ... I'll cut your pecker off if you let me live...."
My ears tired of her empty words and my hand smashed down across her face again. When this didn't stop her, I arose with quick impatience and searched for her panties.
You damned bitch, I thought to myself, have played your last trick on me.
I guess, I said the words aloud to myself, heedless of her listening presence, for her eyes dilated with what I think was the beginnings of fear of me. It was totally unnecessary, but she began feeling it, anyway. Somehow, I think, it began spoiling the love between us.
I interrupted him at this place because, as usual right in the middle of the best part, our time had run out.
"Oh," he said quietly, smiling slightly.
"Well, next week, I suppose you will want to continue at the same place?"
"Yes, I would appreciate it. Will the same time be convenient?"
"Yes," he replied, rising. "Good-bye until then." He turned and walked out of the office, closing the door quietly behind him.
I went back and re-read his doctor's-or rather, her doctor's notes as written by him on her visit, and forwarded to me at Thomas's suggestion. There were interesting little things that her doctor had included, such as that she was prone to hysteria and overstatement of her case and that she had always been theatrical in her approach to illness.
Obviously the doctor discounted over half of what she said, even to the point of totally discounting her long discourse on her lover's sin and his deliberate despoiling of her virginity.
I, on the other hand, did not feel that what she had said to her local M.D. should be discounted until such time as I had a valid reason for discounting her words. And her husband, Tom, my patient, had in some degree substantiated her words to the doctor.
I gathered, that when he was vetoed in his desires to possess her he got upset and lost control of himself. He forced his attention onto her unwilling body, willy-nilly of her express desires.
And she had apparently been playing with fire, and wouldn't or couldn't desist. Perhaps, she had thought that he had a great control of his 'other head'-the one on his penis.
Tom, on the other hand, had unwittingly revealed to me that he had found and begun enjoying sadistic methods of loving. It was unfortunate that he did not recognize it for what it was-the beginnings of a sadistic sexual relationship.
INTERVIEW Two
When Tom came in for his second interview, he sat down again without any direct greeting and stared at me, but pleasantly instead of distantly as he had been the first time.
"Shall we continue where you left off?" I said for openers.
"Of course," he replied, settling his body more comfortably into the chair.
Her eyes dilated and she looked at me with fear in her eyes.
"What are you becoming...."
"Shut up," I cried at her, slightly angry because her mouth was beginning to irritate me. It disturbed the tranquility of our fucking. "Don't say another word or I shall gag you with your panties."
I guess, I knew that she would say something else, because I continued searching for her panties. As she opened her mouth and began talking, I stuffed them into her parted lips.
When her hands came clawing up to tear them out of the way so that she could continue talking and breathing, I grabbed her wrists and yanked her hands around, capturing both arms above her head with one big hand in a strong grip-
"There," I said as I grinned triumphantly down at her frightened and quivering face, "I have you now exactly where I want you."
I don't know why I said that but I did. It seemed as though that was just what I wanted to say, so I said it.
Because it seemed like the best thing to do-and fun as well-I ripped her blouse off, taking her bra with it in one hard jerk. Getting a good grip on it, I pulled ferociously. There was a jarring sound of ripping material and her voluptuous tits sprang into view for the first time for me to see them.
I gasped because they were so wonderfully beautiful. Janet had just about the fullest boobs that I had ever seen. Even the buck books didn't show sluts with nearly as heavy a pair of blonde melons as she had And the nipples were huge pink extensions of her soft and yielding tits.
Taking one hand-my free left-I cupped it over her soft tit. She wiggled and moaned, protesting. I felt my cock becoming harder and stiffer. Then, I squeezed gently.
When she protested more, I squeezed, twisting her flesh so that her face contorted with the pain I was giving her.
Then a strange thing began happening. Suddenly, beneath my palm, I felt a hardness growing. In shocked surprise, I released her tit only to find that her pink nipple was swelling and becoming hard. It was her nipple I had felt pressing into my hand.
Doubling my forefinger against my thumb, I flicked it across her tit. The stiff nipple vibrated and she moaned-passionately, I noticed, this time. I repeated the same and she groaned, her tits wiggling as she jiggled on the bed.
I had a torturous desire to suck that stiffening tit and make it harder still.
My mouth closed with her tit. My lips brushed across her stiff flesh. I jumped delightedly, bringing my lips back down and sucking the stiffness in between my lips avidly.
At first she was frightened and then only startled. I guess she had never thought a man might like the taste of a woman's tits and nipples. In fact, I had never thought about it-much-until just then.
And it suddenly seemed like a good idea.
Then, as I was lapping and pulling on the rigid flesh, I wondered what it would taste like if I did some experimenting. So, I sank my teeth into her flesh.
Screaming, she pulled back, which only helped my teeth to sink deeper into her flesh and caused her more pain. But, strangely enough, her nipple began rising to even greater stiffness.
I felt the reaction within me as her nipple got more and more like a little cock. Heat poured across my inflamed body and my cock became even more rigid. I had thought that I should have to wait for a while before screwing the little fuck again. But, mistakenly, I realized that I was getting ready to come again!
This was wonderful! I mean, I felt as though I was on top of the world-damned if I didn't seem to be floating in heaven! I released her wet and sticky tit to suck the other one in. It tasted just as good as the first.
Anyway, the blood, fresh from her swelling arteries, tasted wonderful. I guess it put new thoughts into my head. Although I didn't quite tear her tit-tip off, I decided to make like a vampire and give her a couple love-bites more-as it turned out-a couple of dozen more.
It seemed like a great idea for getting a little nourishment out of my love-making. And I had always considered dessert as being the highlight of any meal ... so I bit into her soft flesh again.
Holding her down by force, I worked my teeth all across her tits and belly, drawing blood on each separate nibble. When I was done, and a couple of times before, I paused to wipe my fingers across my lips and lick the blood off them with my tongue.
She didn't stop struggling once and that only heightened my desire for her and my enjoyment of her body. Every so often I would reiterate to her, that, if she would lie still and cooperate, it would be easier. She didn't seem to hear, or even want to understand.
"Stop screaming, this instant," I finally ordered her, screaming.
She obdurately refused. And she was getting awfully hysterical.
Even before I realized what again I was doing, my hand had smashed across her face, shoving her head violently to one side. She had one cheek that was red and another that was pale, but she did shut her mouth. She wasn't hysterical anymore....
In fact, she wasn't even conscious. And I thought that was unfair. I mean, I hadn't hit her that hard ... just enough to pierce the madness that was threatening to engulf her mind.
Getting up, I went into the kitchen and filled a pitcher with icy water from the tap. I went directly back into where I had left her and poured the water over her head.
She woke up abruptly.
"I'm sorry, dear," I said as I put the empty pitcher down, "but you did really give me a fright. First you went hysterical. Then when I tried to calm you, I had to slap your face. That knocked you out cold and now because I'm sure I was hurting you, I had to waken you."
But she just lay there. I could clearly see the fear in her eyes.
"You don't need to be afraid," I told her. "After all, what is there to fear? I find that I'm growing more and more fond of my little woman." I smiled at her. "Come on, honey, let me fuck you again."
"No! Never! I'll die first!"
"Don't you love me?" I looked at her. "How can you say that? Darling, Janet, what's happening to you?" I found that I felt rather ill inside because I guess that she hated me now. But then as I thought about it, I couldn't find any reason and I began to get angry at her.
"You're changing, right before my eyes. I won't have it. I insist you stay being yourself." I heard my voice rising into a shaky tenor. "No! I demand that you stay as you were before!" And I had to stand there and watch the spreading of the fear from her eyes all across her body. This was ridiculous. Here we were, going to spend the rest of our lives together and she wanted to base our marriage on fear.
"Stop this silliness, instantly," I yelled at her. "Now! This instant!" My fist struck into the open palm of my other hand, punctuating my orders.
But, she continued in her stubborn and senseless fears . ... that violent trembling ... the paling of her face.
"Janet. If you don't stop, I will have to take positive action."
"No!" She reacted violently and threw herself off the bed away from me. She ran from me! She ran from the one who loved her more than life, itself, almost.
"All right," I said, "if you're going to act like a child, then I'll just have to treat you like a child."
Leaping over the bed, I went after her.
When she got to the wall, she stopped and turned around to face me. Shuddering she quailed before me, naked and trembling with her childish fears.
"My father always had a philosophy. He said that if one acted like a child, they should be treated like one. Children receive spankings for disobedience."
Reaching out, I grabbed her and turned her across my lap, kneeling to accomplish it. And, stupidly, she continued resisting. It only made me angrier and lengthened the beating her lovely rounded little ass would receive.
I raised my good right hand and brought it smacking down across her creamy flesh. She shuddered as the impact of my hand on her soft little bum resounded sharply across the room.
She struggled too, making it most difficult for me to hold her still. Finally, I was forced to drag her down onto the floor and kneel on her legs with one knee. Reaching around quickly, I captured her arms and twisted them up behind her ass.
It was an awkward position, but I was able to discipline her as though she were a naughty child. I beat her ass until my shoulder ached and her bum as well as my palm were red and tingling.
As usual, she was crying ... screaming that I was beating her to a pulp.
Pausing I rolled her over. "Are you going to behave and conduct yourself like an adult woman?" I asked her.
She didn't answer but only cried the louder.
"Janet! Answer me."
When she didn't I began spanking her again. But, I had forgotten that she was lying on her ass now and that her belly was being smacked by my hand. But her feet were not tied down and she swung a leg up, smashing it into the side of my head.
I saw stars for an instant, which was just enough for her to free herself. She screamed as with confused energy, I grabbed hold of her tit and clung to it while she struggled to free herself completely.
Now I was angry ... virtually shaking with fury as I threw her back down and leaped on top of her prone, but still struggling body. Until the fog cleared from before my eyes and off my mind, I simply held onto her tit and circled her body with my other arm.
Finally, I felt more like myself. But dear Janet had gone too far this time and I felt that she deserved a special punishment. I remembered a pointed one that I had received from my father.
And I decided to use this discipline on Janet.
Getting to my feet, I dragged her with me. It wasn't easy because she was kicking and screaming, biting and clawing me with ferocious deliberation. My skin burned ... as did my prick ... from the numerous gouges and scratches she had made in my flesh.
Suddenly dropping her, she fell and I dived for her feet. Getting holds on her ankles, I began dragging her across the room, toward the kitchen. Once there, I opened the door to the closet. It being more like a pantry than a closet, there was just enough room to thrust her inside and lock her in, jamming the door shut with a chair tilted against the knob.
Leaving her to pound and scream, I went back into the bedroom, shutting the connecting doors as I went. I couldn't hear her from the bedroom. In the blessed quiet, I lay down and fell asleep.
It was several hours later when I woke, stiff. Rising from the bed, I went back into the kitchen. There was an ominous silence from the area of the still closed door.
I paused and listened, hearing nothing ... not even breathing. I was beginning to fear disaster as I walked over and opened the door. All sorts of awful things went through my mind.
What if she had suffocated?
What if she had escaped-which seemed impossible, seeing as the door was still jammed-but she might have put it back to mislead me?
What if....? This was senseless, I reasoned. The best thing to do was to open the door and see what had happened.
Going hurriedly over, I threw the chair away and opened the door. I closed my eyes and nearly fainted when I saw her standing there. She was so pale, so faintly-but obviously-breathing.
I caught her as she fell and carried her into the bedroom. Gently I lay her down on the bed. I stood back and surveyed my handiwork. I shuddered when I saw what I had done.
"No!" I cried, and later wept. I really couldn't believe that I had done all that to her body.
I looked at her carefully, seeing the ugly red welts and scabbed-over scratches from my 'love-bites.' Her nipple hung from a short piece of connecting flesh and there was a flood of dried reddish-brown that had spread from it down across her diaphragm and belly.
Her lovely face was swollen and discolored. Patches of pale blue, dark and shiny royal purple, interspaced with patches of bright green, all set in a mass of lumpy redness ... had I done all this merely to fuck a girl?
Yes! And I felt as though I should fall through the floor.
Then, she moved. A small moan came from her lips. They parted, showing her bright white teeth, each tooth -rimmed with darkish brown-blood.
"No!" I screamed aloud, "no!
This is impossible."
"Tommy," she whispered almost inaudibly, "will you do something for me?"
"What?" I felt as though I would simply fall into small pieces at any second. My prick was standing fully stiff again. I couldn't understand why it had stiffened, fallen, and then stiffened-all in the span of time since I had awakened. But, nonetheless, I desired her again.
I listened closely to her request. "What?" I had to ask her twice.
"Will you go see a psychiatrist, please?"
I simply looked at her ... dumbfounded. A headshrinker was the furthest thing from my mind and what I thought I needed at the moment.
"Why?" Suddenly, I was on guard and suspicious of her motives. "What's the purpose in seeing a shrink? What would he be able to tell me that I don't already know about myself? Well I can tell you ... nothing-not a single fucking thing."
I was sorry to have to interrupt Tom here, but again the time had elapsed. I had another patient waiting.
After he had agreed to another appointment the next week and gone, I sat down and re-read his medical history, making-this time-numerous additions of my own.
Tom was very ill. He had come because she had wanted him to, not because he felt ill or upset. He was quite sane and his speaking was very lucid. But, I had detected little things in his talk-that is, besides the one issue of his acceptance of his personal views toward sex as being acceptable and normal.
The important thing at this time was his hesitation concerning his own motives. So long as he had, himself, some doubts about his actions and their validity, he could be helped.
I made a note to phone Tom during the later part of the week or simply the day before his next appointment and ask him to bring Janet along.
INTERVIEW Three
"I won't keep you long," I said to cover my astonishment, as Tom helped Janet into a chair. Janet must have weighed 300 pounds ... easily. They both registered surprise. "Actually," I continued, "I don't wish to speak of specific incidents in your lives-either together or apart."
"What then?" Tom asked. His tone was distant and his eyes were wary. He seemed to be looking for a trap and trying to avoid it, if one was being laid.
"I would like to suggest to both of you, that Tom commit himself to an in-patient hospital."
The shock each registered, caused me to pause.
"There's nothing horrible about it. Tom, I truly believe that your illness can be better handled for a while on an intensive care basis. After a few months, you can come back on a weekly basis to me, or to somebody else, if you desire."
"But why? Simply because we fucked?"
"Not because you copulate, but for your approach and attitude to sexual relationships."
"What is wrong with my approach?" His voice shook.
"It's damned sadistic. You don't have to beat Janet up to love her, even to screw her. But you did ... not once but at least twice."
"Well, she was teasing me," he said defensively. "She was deliberately tempting me." His voice was growing into a whine.
"And you thought you'd even the score, then? She had to be punished for teasing and playing with you? Is that how your father treated your mother?"
Tom was yelling and had leaped to his feet. "No!" he screamed. "Never! My mother was a lady. She was respected by my father. Mother was no slut!"
Janet closed her eyes as her face drained of all color. Now, she knew, as I did.
I waited patiently for him to stop shouting. When he fell silent, I asked him, "Do you feel better?"
He looked at me for an instant. "You know damned well I don't feel one fucking bit better. All women are sluts ... all except Mother. She was perfect. She didn't allow her body to be soiled with scum, like you did," he snarled, addressing Janet.
"Then," I said to him, "you're an adopted child?"
"I am not adopted. I am my mother's own child." He stopped and looked at me, puzzled. "Why should you think such a thing?"
"Then," I continued, "if your mother is your natural mother, she had to copulate-fuck-with your father to become pregnant with you, didn't she?" I presented it to him as a logical statement-made it something that he couldn't deny without revealing his attitude toward all women.
"No!" he screamed. "She didn't do anything ... she's always been innocent and she can't be anything else...." At this point he burst into shaking sobs. His hands clapped to his face as his shoulders heaved with multiple contortions of genuine anguish and confusion.
I did not have the facilities to give him the direct help he needed, and I told Janet what he really needed.
"He can get the care and help he needs best in an intensive care unit at a hospital. There they'll be a team of specialists-doctors, nurses, social workers, the whole crew-trained to help him."
"But, surely," she said, "there must be something you can do?"
"If I could have had him as a patient twenty years ago-even ten, I think I might have been able to help him then. Now it's gone too far. The type of disorder as well as the intensity and the psychotic symptoms he had displayed are almost impossible on such a casual basis."
"Psychosis, psychotic, or psycho-something?" The question in her voice was wondering if Tom could ever be well.
"I can't say anything definite," I answered her unspoken enquiry. "These things take time and patience and love and more patience. Mostly," I added, "time and patience."
She thought for a while, then smiled.
Tom was still weeping and not aware of our conversation.
"All right," she said finally, "I'll see what I can do to get him into a hospital. And," she added, almost as an afterthought, "I think I'm going to do a lot of praying in the future."
Janet persuaded Tom to be admitted to a mental institution, where he stayed for several years. Realizing that she could not be quite normal, she began coming to see me as a psychiatrist. She was deeply worried about her acceptance and enjoyment of his treatment of her.
She seriously wondered if she were masochistic. And to prove that she was less of a masochist than one could suppose, she went on a rigid diet and lost over half of her enormous measurements.
Tom was well on the way to a severe psychosis, in which he had already begun to believe that he was sane and the rest of the world was insane or jealous of him. I would venture to say that he had gone as far as possible unaided, and was at the turning of the corner. Two years longer and he might have crossed that invisible line ... the one that separates the emotionally disturbed from the mentally ill.
While his sexual maladjustment is evident, even today, he is much more able to see that there is no perfect and pure woman, so as he believed his mother to be. In fact, according to his doctor at the institution, Tom's illusion of his mother's purity stems from the single incident in which he did see his parents copulating.
Not being able to believe his mother could do a thing which she had declared to him she would never tolerate, he suppressed the whole incident. This caused the basis of his emotional stress.
Other and later problems, connected with his first problem, piled up on his already confused mind. He was mistakenly under the impression that it was sinful for a woman to enjoy sexual relationships, regardless of her feelings toward the man or the circumstances under which she copulated.
In his mind, all women who had ever had sexual relationships with a man, were sin-ridden and evil creatures.
But why he felt he was selected to punish Janet for his mother's sin, is as yet unknown. For this reason, Tom will still be under psychiatric care when he comes out of the hospital next week.
CASE HISTORY FOUR
Name: Shelly D.
Age: 34
Sex: Female
Marital Status: Single
Interview One
The young-looking woman who was a new patient, stepped daintily into the room. With a delicate flip of her long slender fingers, she shut the door. I say 'young-looking' because while she had the aura of an innocent teenager, one could also see the distinct marks of one who had carried much weight on his shoulders. She had in a youthful fashion just that air about her also.
As she approached the desk, I was able to get a better look at her features. From the top of her shining red hair, elaborately piled on her head, to the toes of her ultra-modern boots, she was a walking model of propriety and excellent conduct.
Yet her voluptuous and over-ripe figure did not suggest an incongruity. It seemed to fit her. Her face was oval, pale and flawlessly carved as if from ivory.
The wooden set of her regular features relaxed and her full mouth smiled with genuine warmth as she came up to the desk and stood before it, facing me. As we shook hands, her eyes stared into mine and I was startled by the incongruity of such old and wise eyes in such a fresh and youthful woman. The eyes-even now I cannot recall their exact coloration-held such an expression of age and sorrow. But there was something else behind all that, too. I didn't know what to call what I thought I could see, but something was there-something that unnerved me just a little.
"How do you do, doctor," she said pleasantly as we touched hands.
"How do you do, doctor," she said pleasantly as we touched hands.
"Uh ... yes...." I said distractedly, and then violently recalled myself to my duties, "how do you do?"
"I am Miss Shelly Deane. I phoned your office for an appointment."
"Yes," I replied. "Won't you sit down?" Her sweet smile, that did not include her eyes and therefore seemed just a little cold and mechanical, widened as she took the chair before the desk.
She sat for an instant before speaking again.
"Is there any special formula you wish to pursue first ... special questions or the like to ask me?"
"No, I have no records to begin with. Why not start with the immediate reason.
"You asked for an appointment?"
"Yes, I suppose that's as good as any." With more display of her delicate grace, she crossed one long slender and quite shapely leg over the other at the knee and settled herself as though to be more comfortable in the telling of her story.
Ever since I was a small child-a baby really-my mother always would leave at odd times mostly at night and be gone for days on end. This would happen only every couple of years or so, but I remember it well.
As the only child, I had most of her complete attention and also most of her time. So I desperately missed her when she was gone. In fact, I do believe it became an obsession with me always to be ill when she was going away.
There was no specific date or time that she would rigidly leave ... no definite mark for a child that is. But I could sense when the time would be near, even though she might just have come back from one of her mysterious trips, as happened a couple of times.
I had always had pets around and the year of my seventh birthday, mother got me a pony for my birthday. And the second day after my birthday, she left again.
I didn't think either way about it as I followed her out of the house for the first time. I went secretly, for she had never spoken to me about these trips of hers, nor had I ever been invited.
By the time I got outside, she had disappeared. I went immediately to the small stable behind the house and took the pony from his stall.
At my unspoken command he lay down and I climbed onto his back. I ordered him to follow mother, and he did. We left the barn and began going across the fields in a way I had never gone before. We crossed several miles of flatlands before coming to the river.
Still following her, the pony cantered to the bend of the river and launched himself into space. We were flying....
"You were flying ... Did your pony suddenly sprout wings and leap into the air?"
She smiled at me. "I know, these things aren't always palatable to mortals."
I stared at her, puzzled. I had heard some tall tales....
The sudden lifting of the bookshelf from the other side of the room and its going back to rest all on its own startled me. Then a book and then another book flew over to the desk. They lay themselves down in front of me so I could see the titles. They were the two books in my library on witches and witchcraft.
I nodded and flew the books back to the case. "Continue," I said. We smiled at each other. She relaxed.
I went unannounced and uninvited to my first sabbat.
I left the pony tied in a little copse with grass and crept forward to the eerie lights that flickered with weirdly leaping shadows.
Crawling on my belly almost to the lit edge of the red glow, I lay breathless as I watched the women and him leaping and screaming across the scarlet glow.
Then, I saw mother. She was leaping higher and faster with greater grace and more beauty than any of the others, him included.
She was naked and I could see her gorgeous body in the light of the fires. Her tits flopped with majestic grace as she leaped, spreading her long and slender legs wide with each thrust into the air.
She had taken only three steps, a leap in each one, when he came under her. His naked body shone scarlet in the light and his long tail twitched as he jumped under her leaping form, planting his cloven feet wide apart.
Distinctly, I saw his huge prick as it waved slightly in the dancing light. It was so long that it stuck above his navel almost above his waist and it was so big around that I doubt if mother's hand could have spanned it and her fingers closed again on her flesh-even if she squeezed hard.
I saw the two of them, beautiful and poised for that eternal instant before she fell back and impaled herself onto his monstrous cock. His hands, tufted with bunches of hairs, grasped her slender waist as she fell and guided her onto his cock.
She shrieked with devilish glee as she sank onto him and they threw themselves onto their faces, coming down on their hands and knees. He fucked her then.
I watched with fascinated horror as he plunged in and out of her cunt. She was enjoying it so much that she couldn't keep her rounded ass from wiggling back and forth.
I watched his huge hands as they came around and cupped over her hanging globes, squeezing them into her chest flesh. She screamed louder than ever before and reared herself back into his embrace.
His head, capped with those short pointed horns just above his hairline and the arches of his eyebrows, bowed down over her head and their lips met.
Then as her belly began convulsing, she arched back further coming up on one knee as she did. He bent himself further back and she was then ramming herself off and back into his cock, arching her belly and back each time she did.
Several minutes passed before he cried out in a strange language and they froze in a single position, his body glued to hers and his hands pulling back on her tits as he pressed her against him.
When he let go of her, she fell forward on her hands and one knee, the other one being stretched out behind her. She stayed in that position, motionless for several minutes before she rose and crept to the sidelines of the dancing.
As she left my sight for the gloom of the side, I noticed that he had taken another female onto himself and was fucking her just as furiously as he had mother.
It was strange that I did not understand exactly what had happened, but that I did know the significance of what had happened ... I knew that I would have a baby sister or brother within the year, in the spring probably.
The unusual thing was that I did not make a direct connection between his fucking of her and the child that I knew would be born the next spring. But I did know enough. It's confusing and contradictory, but true, nonetheless.
At that point, I found that I was awfully sleepy and turned to creep silently away before I should fall asleep and risk discovery.
As I turned to creep away, I was arrested by an ungodly and inhuman scream of pure agony and fear-terror, really mixed with soul-rending agony.
It was a familiar sounding voice ... mother's.
I turned back and saw that he had dragged her by her hair into the middle of the fire. That is, the fire was actually a ring inside of which nothing was then burning.
He was hauling her by her long hair across the thick flickering ring and into the blackened and red-cast center. There he threw her down on the ground and stamped on her belly with his cloven hoof.
Steam rose from her pale rounded flesh and she clutched at her stomach as I watched the red mark shaped like the bottom of his hoof appear on her stomach. She lay there writhing and rolling, her voice growing hoarse with the intensity of her expressed agony.
Her face was horribly contorted as she threw it back and forth, smearing her pale features with fine dustings of black soot.
Smiling diabolically, he lifted a burning brand from the fire and touched it to her long flowing hair. Immediately they burst into wild flames that I could hear crackling over the noise of the burning fires.
Frozen with fear and horror, I lay there half-crouched and watched him torture my mother into the next world. For next, he lay the brand against her heavy bush and it snapped into fiery light.
I watched as she screamed and rolled over in an attempt to smother the leaping flames that were beginning to char her head and her pussy. But to no avail. Then he spoke.
His low but penetrating voice rolled from his smiling mouth.
"You have disobeyed me. I gave you implicit directions about my handmaiden. Where is she?"
My mother continued to scream and roll as the rest of her sweat streaked body slowly caught fire. Her voice continued to scream with total incoherence until she convulsed and fell back dead.
There were no tears in my eyes, there was only a blackness inside of my body, for she had been murdered by that fiend and there would be more to come later, I realized.
This being ... this fallen angel, old before time began, wise beyond all human knowledge ... was my paternal creator in the direct sense of the word.
And right then, I knew that I could not serve him, if he offered me immortality and all power between heaven and hell! Even, had he offered me his power and seat in hell, I would have refused because he had killed my life. For, she had been all of my life for seven years and I had known no other. Now there was nothing.
Knowing death while still alive, I crept back to my pony and mounted him. We went for a long ways on foot before I ordered him to fly.
On getting home, I went into the house. Everything was so completely changed. I would have to lead a new existence, but I didn't know where to begin. And seven years old is hardly the age to have to grow into adulthood-but I began that night.
I walked around the house, taking inventory of all the things there. Of the little I could use, most of the things were books. I had already learned to read and was fortunately able to choose what books I would want and need. I had the feeling that there were things I was missing ... things that I would miss when I was older and had learned the spells of an adult witch.
I called to the pony, who came into the house. He was able to give the information to me that mother's cat, Meliphone, might be able to help. Animals have such communications that they would know these things among themselves.
Meliphone did know and also knew that she was dead. The last thing he did, or could do for me before leaving to choose a new mistress was to give that information. So I went to the secret room and removed all the things ... the heavy tomes and all the other implements of her position. I took them out and hid them in a new secret place where they would be safe for years.
Of course, I waited until Meliphone had gone before removing the things to their new hideaway so he couldn't tell his new mistress. The pony knew not where they were either, so he couldn't tell Meliphone.
The last thing indicated was the fire to the house. And by the time I could see a distant blaze swallowing the night sky, I had left there forever.
Those next few years were harder than any I have ever since been through. I suppose that a human orphan would have been given a place in a foster home or at worst a bed in the orphanage. I was not so lucky.
Every time I tried, something or someone said so. Orphanages couldn't or wouldn't take me and any people with whom I was placed had horrid luck-some even died in mysterious accidents.
When I was fourteen, I met Arngoron.
I was hungry, tired and alone now. Even ponies can't live forever-even magic ones. I was ignorant, never having been taught my spells or even been to school. I knew little about clothing or personal cleanliness, even.
I knew how to survive and how to judge people-those two qualities essential to life in hostile worlds. And my world had been completely hostile to me for seven years. I was on the verge of a revolt against all human contact. I had just been dumped out of the last uncomfortably nasty town by the good citizens.
I had run a long distance to escape their monstrous behavior, their howling for blood. I had fallen and twisted my ankle, and hobbling painfully along on it, I felt that tingle that said I was being watched.
I fainted when the thickets parted and this god stepped forth. I saw-not having fainted entirely-that he was the handsomest male ever I had set eyes on. I wanted him in the same way that Satan had taken my mother at the sabbat. He was tall, well over six feet.
For me, being still only a little girl-I was only fourteen-he was huge. His broad shoulders, naked and tanned like the rest of his body, were broad with long ripples of smooth bulging muscles.
His whole naked body was tanned. There were no disfiguring pale marks which most people would; display where they had worn coverings.
His cock was limp now and darkly tanned. It looked almost as if it needed a bath.
But he was gorgeous. And his balls were fantastically huge....
I lay there, just staring at him.
He knelt beside me. "I'm sorry if I frightened you, miss."
I shuddered with relief.
"Please, don't be afraid of me. I'm not going to hurt you." And before I could have even made a move or a simple hex to make him go away, he had lifted me into his strong brown arms and was bearing me away through the woods.
He strode along much quicker than I could have run and he didn't even get short of breath. Shortly, we came to a clearing and a cabin stood in the clearing.
He carried me in through the door, slamming it closed with his elbow. He took me over to the bough filled, blanket covered bed and laid me down gently into the fragrance of the soft place.
After he had fed me some soft food and gave me a long drink, he tended to my ankle. I fell asleep while he was boiling the pain out of it.
When I woke up, the pain and swelling was gone, although it was stiff.
"Hi," he said, "how's my little one doing today?"
"I feel lots better," I replied.
"That's good, damned fucking good."
I looked at him for a minute. He was still the handsomest male alive for my money. I devoured him with my eyes. He was still naked.
"Am I different than anyone else you know?" he quizzed me.
"Well," I said and then stopped as a blush mounted on my face. "I don't know. I ... I've never seen a naked man before."
His hands went down to his prick. "Never seen this before ... in any shape and size?"
I looked at his slowly stiffening prick and my eyes widened. His cock was hooked and it was the hugest phallus I had ever seen ... except for the one....
Quickly, I controlled myself. Seven years ... long and lonely and hate-filled years had passed and I wasn't ready. I didn't know how I could conquer him without being able to use my undeveloped mind.
He smiled. "You are well-developed for a child and I like my kids well-developed and high-breasted and still slender. You're a peach."
His hand came out and caressed over my tit. Then he went to the other one and caressed it.
I felt myself beginning to feel strange. My blood was pounding and I felt excitement growing inside of me. I began to pant as my breath came in shorter and shorter spasms of breath. My body began tingling.
All over, and then ... I felt the tingling settling into my cunt. My tits were being massaged and rubbed.
The tips of my nipples began to get stiff and then the rest of my nipples got stiffer and stiffer until his hand pressed against my tits and the nipples thrust themselves into my soft flesh as well as into his horny palms.
The itching became worse and I started to rotate my hips to try to ease the building itch that was burning inside of me.
He understood the need and desire he had put into my body and sat down on the bed as one of his hands came down, caressing across my belly flesh.
My stomach curled up on itself and a tiny knot of pressure built inside of my belly.
Moaning, I writhed uncontrollably on the bed as his fingers walked their way down over my belly and wiggled into my cunt hairs. As he began to tease my cunt with his fingers, I felt my need for something to ease the itching in my twat being a whole separate need.
But, I only vaguely knew what and how to satisfy this anxious desire.
He knew, for his fingers continued to work their way down between my thighs and between my pussy lips until he found the tiny and unaroused button of flesh that was my clit.
His thumb and forefinger picked the little knob up and began massaging it savagely. At first it hurt, then it began to feel wonderful as the sensation began emanating from there and across my body.
Leaping, I screamed as I arched my back and tried to get his hands to work closer to the maddening itch that was making my life a pleasurable section of hell on earth.
I guess, even then, I wasn't ready for sex and fucking.
He didn't know or care, I suppose. Even though he had rescued me from those kindly citizens who were out for my blood, he expected to be paid in his coin
... sex.
His fingers closed around my clit while the forefinger on his other hand came down and played around the virgin entrance to my twat. I shuddered as the finger tickled along and around the folds of flesh there. Then, with no warning he stuck his finger into my twat.
I jumped and screamed as his long finger, and then the next one to it and finally the third one, slid up into my hole. I could feel the strangeness of his fingers as they rubbed against the walls of my twat.
But, then it felt wonderful. His fingers had stopped the murderous itching and the burning was giving way to a pleasurable sensation of being scratched.
Suddenly, there was a new sensation as his fingers found my hymen. It was as though there was a barrier beyond which he wasn't allowed to pass. He tried and failed repeatedly.
Grunting, he heaved his huge body around so that his crooked cock was at the entrance of my virgin twat.
With a single thrust he grabbed me and pulled me onto him as he heaved forward and propelled his twisted member into the gaping hole of my twat. He penetrated all the way, snapping the cherry with a single jarring flash of fiery pain and bounded into the wall of my twat. his devilish assault. I screamed along with them, protesting his use of my body to merely his devilish assault. I screamed along with them, protesting his use of my body to merely satisfy his own sexual gratification.
"Hush," he whispered. His voice was hoarse with supercharged emotion.
Strangely, I became quiet.
He began to hump into and out of my body, each time ramming himself back into me just a little more harshly than the time before. His heavy breath came in short pants and his body was smothering mine with heat and sweat.
Then, something inside of me snapped and I felt myself beginning to enjoy the whole thing. I timed myself to his coming and going so I could make the internal muscles that were pushing against his twisted monster, close just as he began falling back. The feelings were totally exquisite.
Concentrating on his movements and keeping with his changing rhythm, I forgot the growing knot in my belly until it was so large that each breath was made hard by frantically trying to move against the hardness there.
Suddenly, I felt as though I were going to explode into small pieces.
Then, he shouted, "I'm coming. I'm coming," and my body was invaded by his come as it pistoned into my body. Huge jets of sperm flew against the resilient back of my twat and bounded back, to seep slowly between our tightly joined organs. But seep out it did nonetheless.
I felt my thighs becoming sticky and wet with his hotness as it came edging out.
Then I could smell it. The musky tang of it went to my head much like glue must go to a mortal's head and intoxicate him. Or liquor, or any other form of intoxicant.
For it was an intoxicant to me. I felt as though I were swimming in all this wonderful world of sex.
As the flow of his gism and mine slowed to mere dripping trickles, he blew his breath out and relaxed, falling down onto the bed beside me but his cock was still inside of me.
I didn't want him to take it out because his cock felt so wonderfully marvelous.
So, I thought to myself, this is sex and this is what it feels like. I wonder if mother loved it like this, even with that devil....
I slept.
The next morning after eating, we went naked into the woods and gathered some blossoms of a flower that he indicated to me for me to pick.
"Today, little one, we begin your incantation into your proper world.
"My what?"
"Your incantation ... your sabbatical education, if you prefer."
"What makes you want to give me such a funny kind of education?" I asked still pretending to be just a mortal child.
"Because all witches must have one."
"Am I a witch?"
"Not at present, but you will be."
"But--"
"Let it suffice that I know. Later, you will know how and why I know."
We exchanged smiles and I went back to picking the flowers. "All right, then," I said, "what is this for?"
"Ask no questions until a thing is done, and you will have most of the answers for yourself. You must begin by thinking for yourself."
After that I knew enough to hold my tongue and use my eyes and ears in a much better activity ... that of watching and listening to him. There were some spells and motions and the like to be learned.
The second week, he came over to me near dawn and put his head between my naked thighs. He began nibbling on my twat and my pussy lips until I was in the throws of desire greater than before.
When he realized that I was almost ready, he formed sixty-nine and stuck his twisted prick at my full lips. I grasped what he was doing, and began to take the thing into my mouth. I hadn't really thought about this kind of sex before, but I found that I could do what he did to me, I could return the favor in a like manner. As he sucked and pulled and lapped, so did I.
At first, I had only the bulbous head, purple this early morning, in my mouth. Then I began to take more and more of it in, until I felt myself gagging. I released a part of what I had ingested and his crotch bore down on me hard.
He cruelly forced the rest of his cock into my mouth.
Choke as I did, he did not let up, but kept shoving his long cock down ... down my throat until I was forced to swallow the whole thing. I felt it throbbing down my esophagus and the heat was wonderful.
Then he went back to my now wet and glistening pussy.
I felt the lips and flesh surrounding both my clit and my hole becoming more and more hot with growing desire.
Then I felt the blood beginning to pound through the veins closer and in my cunt. My heart pounded so loudly, I was sure he could hear it. I wondered if it was disturbing him.
Rather than say anything, I concentrated on letting him make things nice for me. And I tried to do the same for him.
Bringing my hands up, I began stroking his flesh whenever I could touch it. Then, I felt his ass and it was trembling as the intensity of his desire mounted.
Then my fingers dug into his flesh and he moaned with increasing desire as he thrust his head down deeper into my body and his cock closer against my face.
Gasping, I took more of his cock, coming down so that my teeth scraped along the hairs on his crotch. They got into my mouth and tickled the taste buds on my tongue. Besides they were also an unpleasant reminder of a sort of semi-choking. I had never liked having hair in my mouth ... not even magic hair rope.
But, ignoring the hairs, I persisted and finally was rewarded by his cock's hard plunging against my white and sharp teeth. They scored into his flesh just as my tongue was discovering that underside of his cock was a network of pulsating veins that defied description as far as a tasty piece of flesh went.
It was like a soundless humming that vibrated pleasantly against my tongue and then against my mouth as I pressed the different parts of my flesh against his plunging cock.
He groaned and stuck his tongue against the opening of my twat. I wiggled with the desire that welled again in my body and I could feel his tongue as it pushed its way into my twat. The fleshy parts were trembling with thrills.
I felt the knot forming in my belly and, this time, I knew what it was all about. I lay back and let it grow as his cock grew inside of my mouth.
I felt the pressure growing and becoming the only thing I could feel at the moment. I wanted it to go on giving me this marvelous feeling of anticipation of good things to come.
But, like all good things, it didn't last. All too soon-too damned fucking soon at that-my pressure bubble burst, flooding his mouth and nostrils with my cool juices.
And just as I was slowing down, his cock jerked convulsively, and his cock head spurted out its loads of protein down my throat. First, I began choking again and then after swallowing hard, I was able to keep up with his flow and even to enjoy the ingesting of it.
Then, we lay still as the aftermath of blissful quiet fell on us. Lying there for a long minute, seemed like the ultimate in heavenly desire. But then, the next instant, when I found his cock was stiffening again and I got busy and began to lick it off as he was doing to my cunt, I found that I wanted this moment to last forever.
Each segment of the whole, I wanted to last forever. And then the next part I wanted for ever as well. It was like eating a variety of foods at a party and eating only a couple of bites of each. The next thing one would eat would taste better than the last and so on.
I sighed as I took a deep breath and plunged my head up onto his cock again. This time, he shot in almost no time because I had prepared him well without even realizing what I had done.
When I felt his cock springing into rigidity, I began sucking on his cock. I felt the sensations racing through my body as I applied pressure on his cock.
Then, I felt the itching beginning again in my twat. This time it was spreading instead of becoming isolated. It seemed as though it were covering my whole crotch and that the whole area should be violently and lengthily scratched with fingernails or some other blunt instrument of human torture.
I slid my hand down to my crotch and began to scratch with my hard nails. But his fingers grabbed my small hand and pushed it out of the way. Then his fingers replaced mine.
He gave me lots of scratching and I came again. His face was smeared with my creamy white come, just as my throat was plugged with the stuff.
We lay there after that just coming down, unwinding from this latest exertion into those often tread regions of sexual desire.
"How long did you stay with him," I asked
"For many years." She smiled. "You know, sir, I owe him everything, almost."
"Why?"
"If it hadn't been for him, I shouldn't have learned my spells. My incantations. I should have never gotten to the first sabbatical."
"Weren't you afraid to go ... wouldn't you meet your father, your mother's killer?"
"He rarely comes to the sabbaticals, else I should never have been incarnated."
I didn't know they incarnated in absentia these days."
"Yes. They still do. Even more frequently than in past days, I believe."
"Sounds like he gave you a rough time, though."
"Yes, he did. I never worked so hard or so long, or been so treated at times as when he was training me."
"Did you even know how and who and what about him?"
"No, not really. I know that we're relatives. I think that's the reason. I guess my mother's soul must have called to him from wherever she is and asked him to aid me."
"That's also an old custom among us."
"I know. Aren't we running over into someone else's time?"
"Why yes," I answered.
"You want to see me again?"
"Next week at the same time?" I asked her.
"Fine," she agreed.
"By the way," I asked her out of curiosity, "what you sure you could trust me?"
She smiled. "You help people. They get more 'good' than 'confusion' from your ministrations. That's why I came to you. But, I'm glad you are inside, though, it makes things easier to tell. I don't have to fabricate some of the reasons and scenes. I can level with you."
Smiling, she rose and walked out. At the door she called good-bye and left.
I reviewed this in my mind. She didn't show any symptoms of a trauma, unless she had not hit on it as yet. She didn't appear to have been twisted by her father's murdering of her mother, nor even by the sadistic way he accomplished her death.
Perhaps next week something would come out. None the less, she worried me in the back of my mind. I couldn't place the nagging thing, so I let it go and faced the next patient.
INTERVIEW Two
She came punctually and seated herself with a minimum of fuss and other self-gratifying noises.
"Have you ever wanted to do a particular thing and found that you could not do it ... either at all or partially?"
"Why, yes," she said casting her mind back into her past thoughts. "There is one thing that I cannot perform." She shuddered. "Even to think about it gives me the horrors."
"Do you know what that is ... can you talk about it?"
"Yes. I can't come when I fuck." She swallowed. "Sex, itself, gives me the crawling horrors."
"All facets or sex and self-gratification repel you or just certain types of sex?"
"All forms of copulation and sodomy, cunnilingus and fellatio repel me. But each time I practice any of them, all I get is frustrated and slightly ill. That's because I can't come."
"Have you ever gone to a medical doctor and been examined?"
"Yes. I checked out in perfect order. There was nothing wrong or even vaguely abnormal with my reproductive organs. My total hormone balance was regular and functioning well. I covered that aspect of it before I ever thought about a head block or the need of a psychiatrist."
"Have you ever enjoyed sex with anyone?"
"No. Should I?"
"Yes," I replied, "there should be someone with whom you can relax and enjoy yourself-there should be a special someone you care much for. If there isn't that should be your next step, finding someone."
"You really think that's the way?"
"Seeing as you half-recognize your problem, I don't think it is repellence or fear or shame so much as just not being in love."
"But we can't fall in love ... we lose our powers and become mortal!" she exclaimed.
"Not always. It depends on the mate. If you love a mortal, yes. If you love one of us, no. If you try to trap a mortal and fall for him in the process, yes. If the same thing happens and you fall for one of us, yes. And, "I after a pause, "if you hold hate in your heart against any being, you cannot find love until you expiate the hate."
She stared at me, turning these things over in her mind. "Then there is something I'm going to tell you."
Marcus was the handsomest thing I ever saw. I wanted him as soon as I laid eyes on him the first time. He was my boss in my first job-I'm a secretary for an importing company in the city.
I'd had affairs ... many of them. But, I felt as though this was going to be different.
I didn't have this job then, I was applying for it, and he was giving interviews. Now, I did use a little magic in that I created an unbeatable reference. He fell for it and hired me on the spot.
Within a week he was making passes at me. I hadn't encouraged him to, but I hadn't discouraged him, either. He would come out of the office and chat with me at first. Then he would invite me in to do something unimportant for him.
This went on for almost two months, always becoming just a little bit more intense and heavier. The odd part was that in all of this time, he didn't try to make love to me in the physical sense. His eyes did all the loving.
I had just gotten home on a Friday and I was planning to turn in early as I was tired. It had been a hectic day.
The phone rang as I was opening the door. I hurried to answer it.
"Hello," I said even before sitting down.
"Shelly? This is Marcus."
"Hello," I said again, just a little huskiness creeping into my voice.
"What are you doing tonight?"
I paused as though I were going over my schedule in my mind. "Not a thing, actually."
"Sure?"
"Sure." I laughed. "Nothing, at least, I can't put off or break until another time."
"That's good. This is sort of an emergency," he explained. "Julia . .,. my wife, that is ... is out of town this week. A special meeting came up and as it's couples only, I was wondering if you would step forward and fill in for her?"
"As her, or as myself?"
He laughed. "As yourself, of course."
"I shall be delighted."
"Good. I'll pick you up in an hour. Will that be enough time?"
"How shall I dress?"
"It's a dinner party. Semi-formal, sort of."
"See you in an hour," I said and hung up. Rising I went into the bedroom and looked through my clothes. I had several choices, and finally decided on the gold-brocade suit with the velvet jacket.
Putting my hair up in a simple style, I then redid my makeup and changed it for nighttime exposure. With the addition of a single pair of earrings and the heels that went with it as well as my leopard coat and a small evening purse, I was ready.
True to his word, he was ringing the bell exactly one hour later.
"You look great," he exclaimed when I let him in.
"Thank you," I replied. "How about a drink before we leave."
"Haven't time. May I take a rain check?"
"Certainly," I replied as I stood while he put my coat over my shoulders. We left and went down to his car.
"Are you sure this isn't strictly formal?" I asked when I saw he had the Rolls instead of the sports car.
"I'm sure. It's just ultra-top drawer. That's why I brought the bigger car."
He helped me in, and then gave the chauffer a nod. Apparently, he'd given the man his instructions already, for we rolled silently away.
It was a half-hour drive before we came to the party. It was out in the country at one of his client's winter mansions. Dinner was nice and no one seemed surprised that he had brought his secretary when his wife was unavailable. In fact, there were several girls and women who were replacing wives at this dinner.
After dinner things got just a little more informal as the whole party began to break up and into pairs. Marc and I found ourselves alone in the upstairs drawing room.
He closed the door and stepped up behind me.
"Now," he said and his voice sounded different from before, "you'll pay for your little games, slut."
I whirled around. "What are you talking about?"
"Just this!" His hand smashed across my face and my head snapped around. He did it on the back stroke, snapping my face back to his gaze.
"What? I don't understand," I cried as I lifted my hands to my burning cheeks. "I ... I...."
His hand tore my dress off my body in a single stroke and he began to fondle my tits cruelly.
Screaming, I fought him and got nowhere. And, to my horror, when I tried to put a spell on him, it didn't work!
"You witch," he screamed at me as he brought his knee up into my groin and ground the cap into my cunt, "your spells won't work here." He laughed and his hand snatched at my hair.
Getting his fingers tangled in my tresses, he began dragging me across the room to the other entrance. I fought him every inch of the way. But he was so much stronger than I that I couldn't do anything except scratch his arm or slap at him.
Getting me already half naked into the room, he kicked the door shut and picked me up in his arms.
In a fury I went for his face with my clawed nails.
Dropping me, he grabbed both of my wrists and forced them around behind my back. My naked tits were smashed into his chest as his mouth came down in the side of my throat and he bit my flesh.
As his lips touched my body, I felt electric sparks flash burningly along my body. I felt my pulse quicken and my heart began to pound. We were near the bed and it was easy for him to fall across it with me underneath and pinned down.
Transferring his grip to include both wrists in one hand, he pulled his other hand around and tore my panties off with a single motion.
I screamed and his hand, clutching the panties, crushed them into the gaping cavity of my mouth.
Having successfully gagged me ... for I couldn't even spill them out ... he stuck his hand back down into the space between our bodies. I felt his hands manipulating itself around where the front of his pants would be, and in a couple of seconds he had whipped his belt off.
Dragging me into an upright position, he bound his leather belt around my wrists. He tied me securely and had both hands free to fuck the living shit out of me.
Then, he laughed at me as I lay there, helpless and naked down my front.
As scared as I was, I was furious, too. Quickly I lunged a vicious kick at his stiff prick and jiggling balls.
He doubled over with pain when my foot connected with his manhood.
"You'll be sorry." I smiled as I scored a hit.
His eyes slowly came up and met mine.
I gasped as I saw those reddish eyes staring hatefully at me.
"You slut ... I'll ... make ... you ... pay," he gasped slowly as the pains began to subside in his aching groin.
I was surprised that his agony left him so quickly. For soon he was better. He reached over and grabbed both my ankles. Yanking hard, he pulled me off the bed and onto the harder softness of the deep piled carpeting.
Nonetheless, I saw stars when my head slammed into the floor. I was dizzy for a couple of minutes.
When I regained full control of my faculties, I was upside-down, suspended from the ceiling by my wide-spread ankles.
He stood a couple of feet from me, brandishing a studded whip in his hand.
His magnificent torso was stark naked. I availed myself of the opportunity of looking at his body.
Marc was well over six feet, handsome and well built ... well proportioned.
His blond hair was worn in a longish style and he had sideburns that made his long slender face and sensitive features even more sensitive. But the sideburns did add width to his otherwise thin face.
His short straight nose was set in the exact center of his very beautiful face. Blue eyes and tanned complexion with thin sensuous lips, fitted the picture.
But now the eyes shone like a red-cat's eyes in the dark. They were red and glowing. I couldn't understand that. And it scared me very much. It was as though the soul of this man had left his body and had been replaced by that of a devil.
The instant I thought it, I realized that was exactly what probably had happened. I bent my gaze up to where his cock waved, trembling against his flat tanned stomach.
I think my heart stopped beating as I raised my sight to the man's cock. Would it be huge ... all out of proportion and bent ... twisted like that one so many years
"No! Thank my lucky stars, it wasn't. My boss couldn't be that same monster ... surely not.
"Why are you doing this," I asked him, trying to make some sense of all this nonsense. I wondered if he had mistaken me for someone else, or if he was a sadistic man who simply invented reasons in his head to attack a woman.
My thoughts were abruptly cut short as stinging pain coursed through my cunt and my body instinctive curled back from the heat of his lash. Searing pains slashed across my tender and sensitive cunt.
The initial stinging, subsided for an instant before coming back with more intense ferocity that welled through my flesh. I shuddered as the high pitch of the burning rose higher when the lash tore through my flesh again.
Convulsing with the severity of the burning ache, I registered that there was an odor-a sweet and sickish smell that was nauseating me insidiously.
Blood! That was blood I smelled ... my blood. His whip was cutting my skin and into the flesh of my pussy.
"No," I screamed. "Stop! What are you doing!"
His reply snaked searingly across my mouth as I mumbled the words from around my panties which were still half stuffed in my mouth. He snapped the many barbed whip across my mouth again, for good measure.
I felt the side of my cheek as his whip ripped it open.
Then, I choked as the flow of blood from my lip began clogging my nostrils while the bleeding from my torn cheeks, tried to trickle down my windpipe, and then I was choking.
He noticed my dilemma and laughed. The whip sang through the air again and hit my cunt, striping down between my pussy lips. My body leaped and convulsed madly with the searing waves of pain that shot all through my body.
I felt my legs pull up, my knees bending. When they suddenly fell down again, straightening from the excess of tension, I fell hard against the floor and knocked my head against the floor.
"I think I passed out for a short while because when I came too, I felt wet ... as though he'd poured water over my head. And my pussy was just barely stinging and it felt ... well ... water logged."
"Water logged?"
"Yes, as though he had dumped ice water into it."
"What happened next?"
He was standing there, right where he had been before I smashed into the floor. As thick as that carpeting was, I still felt as though I had split my skull. Anyway, he smiled and drew back the lash again.
Then he paused.
"You thought you'd get away with it, didn't you, my dear? Well, I've caught up with you, now." He began to laugh ... a high and crazy sound it was.
"I ... don't ... remember ... what ... it's all ... about." I hoped by pleading a bad memory he would tell me what he was up to. Then I might know whom he had mistaken me for, or whom he thought I was ... his wife maybe. I wondered if in his mind, I had become a substitute for her.
"You know. You remember, unless ... you want a little help?" And the whip slashed again and again and again over my flesh, tearing it ... searing ... and turning my body inside out with muscle pulling convulsions as, instinctively, it tried to dodge and avoid as much of the ripping as possible.
During the seconds between waves of fiery pain, I shivered as the little runnels of blood trickled down over my flesh, tickling the downy covering of reddish hairs that almost completely covered my body.
As the waves of pain flashed across my body, they began to sear through my mind and I tried to get it off that scathing constancy of agony.
I realized that I had shut my eyes and not opened them for a long while-ever since I had awakened and been wet. My lips fell down and I found my eyes staring directly at his prick.
CHAPTER ONE
I continued to stare at it, thinking about it, j concentrating on it. I felt my breath coming in gasps and my cunt began itching as I felt my cunt becoming hot. Sweat popped out on my skin and ran into the gooey blood, thinning it and making it run just a little faster.
I felt hot all over. Thrills of anticipation raced along my spine and I felt my thighs convulsing ... now with desire instead of pain.
Moaning with growing passion I arched my back and tried to get myself doubled up so I could thrust my fingers into my cunt.
He stopped whipping me and I felt myself being dropped down onto the rug. Then, I felt his steely fingers grab my ankles, and, untying me, he dragged me over lo the bed.
I was heaved brutally onto the mattress and smashed as his huge form fell on top of my bruised and mutilated body.
His cock came suddenly to the bloody entrance of my twat and I felt a different type of searing ... exciting this time. I wanted him to screw me ... and fuck me ... and ram his prick into my cunt until I came for all those times I hadn't been able to come in the last few years.
Ramming his hands under my back, he wrapped them around my shoulders. As his fingers bit deep into my yielding flesh and the bones in my shoulders creaked ominously, he hauled his body into my cavity with a single mighty jerk and a great heaving sigh.
I groaned and would have screamed if I hadn't been gagged when his hot and sweat salted flesh rubbed into my ragged tortured groin. As it was I writhed with the stinging pain. My inner muscles began to convulse on his monstrous cock, trying to shove him out.
Slowly, he withdrew to the back of the head of his cock before stopping and slamming himself back into me. Humping me, he established a rhythm and began quickening his pace.
I felt his prick jerk. Once ... twice ... three times and then he opened his mouth and screamed, "I'm coming! I'm going to shoot!"
He shot into my twat. The heavy mass of his come bounced into the back wall of elastic muscles in my passage before recoiling down the blocked passage and beginning to seep out between our convulsing walls of flesh.
His cock was jerking madly as he threw gout after gout in short fast bursts. I felt as though the size and motion of his prick was going, in combination, to split me wide open.
My legs ached from the strain of being pressed down and opened further than I had ever had to keep them open. The muscles were beginning to convulse from the strain and they ached fiercely.
Smiling devilishly, he paused, his cock still throbbing, and lowered his head. His mouth closed over one of my nipples and his teeth sank into the stiff flesh. Drawing blood, he sucked in avidly and ran his tongue around the wider edge of my reddish-brown nipple.
Finally, I felt him relax and his cock began to slip out with each ragged and exhausted push of my screaming muscles. When he was out, he lay there for an instant before he pursed his lips and sucked in his cheeks.
Then his mouth opened and my face was spattered with blood-flecked spit. His lip curled back from his mouth as he rose off my sticky, bloody and weary body. His lip curled further back and exposed his sharp eyeteeth.
"You're fired," he snarled low in the back of his throat. Turning on his heel he left the room, naked. He walked straight past my clothes and his, heedless of his nakedness.
The door slammed behind him, crashing into the back wall before rebounding into the center of the room, partially blocking the view into the other room.
"And when I went in the next Friday to collect my last paycheck, my name had been struck off the register because of a letter of resignation supposedly from me, dated two weeks previously.
"Supposedly?"
"I didn't write that letter. He had it forged. But that was the least of my problems for a while because I had extreme difficulty getting another job. Even when I didn't use his firm in my history, but went back further into the past, somehow, it seemed to get around that I was undesirable for a job."
"Why and how?"
"Because he made it so. I guess there's some sort of a blackball system for employees nobody wants to hire and they pass it around. This was more than just the exporters and importers, by the way. It included most of the better business in the city ... quite unrelated ones like publishers and real estate offices and even restaurants and regular smaller offices.
"And you know how big that city is. You can loose yourself in it ... or a friend, for that matter ... over six million people and that's a lot of individuals."
"Why?"
"That's easy, when you think about it."
"I guess I'm sort of stupid because I don't see how it's easy."
"Well, he's been after me for a long time ... ever since I was seven and...."
"Him?"
"Yes. Are you afraid?"
"No. Should I be," I queried.
"I don't know. I would suppose it would depend on your strength and learning."
"Yes, it would." I fixed her with my big hazel eyes and switched my tail impatiently. "But then I don't think I have to worry." I paused and smiled gently in a truly sadistic manner. "I'm the only one who can lift my spells. And if you'll do as I say, I'll consider lifting it."
A look of pure horror sprang across her face as she stared stupidly at me.
"You aren't as clever as you thought, Shalamar," I addressed her, giving her her demoniacal name. "Did you think that the good psycho-analyst would have been a warlock? Did you really? That's funny." And peal after peal of hearty laughter rang from my lips as I threw back my head and roared.
It was such a priceless joke, this misconception of hers. And she was such a beautiful, beautiful piece of cunt.
I felt something chill against my laughter. I eyed her, seeing that her face was composed, pale and frightening. She was sitting there and as I looked at her the smallest of whimsical smiles crossed her mouth.
"He who laughs last...." Her smile deepened.
I got puzzled. She should have been shaking in her boots, instead she just sat there, waiting ... watching ... unafraid ... unperturbed by my presence, in the human's body, even as he was unaware of it right now.
She continued to stare at me. Her eyes never blinked. Her face froze from her mouth up and those eyes stared out at me. They were....
"No! You can't! I am the stronger ... I am ... NO! ... NO!" You aren't allowed down here."
I threw my arms over my head and dove from the chair as the walls of blinding light closed in on me. I felt myself becoming slowly disembodied as she forced me out of my body ... my host crumbled to the floor in a coma.
The room dissolved as I screamed again, tingling all over. I wanted a fuck and felt the need for one and knew that I wasn't going to get one for a long, long time to come.
"NO! I don't want to come. No, you can't...."
Blackness ... eternal blackness.
I opened my eyes and shook my head. What sort of nightmare had I been having ... something about a devil inhabiting my body and trying to capture the soul of one of my patients ... but, I didn't have a patient that....
Her face bent over mine.
"Are you all right, sir?"
I nodded. "I'm just a little woozy. What happened? I had this . ... But, no, if you're here now, when I've not really had you for a patient, then I'm either still dreaming or it all did happen. What did happen?"
"I am sorry to have caused you all this grief," she replied as she helped me into the chair. "I'll explain, if you want me too."
"I certainly would appreciate some sort of explanation."
"My real name, in English, is Michael Devildaunter. I'm sort of a trouble shooter and agent extraordinaire for my race. We had a mishap with one of our worst criminals. He escaped and we tracked him to your planet.
Then, because your planet is off limits to our people, I was sent in.
"I'm one of the few who have special permission to visit anywhere in the galaxy. I often have to go to quarantined places for just such as this type of thing ... repossessing escapees.
"Any way, I was sent ... or rather my soul came in and entered the body it inhabits now. I was born as it's said and have lived this life here in this body. The one who bore me, my mother in this world, never knew, of course.
"The things about when I was seven are true. So is the incident with a former employer of mine. I was hot on his trail and traced him to you a few months ago. I realized that I would have to fall into his trap and catch him when he got careless and let his guard down.
"That happened just a few minutes ago. Now, I am going to go back to my people. This girl, whom I am presently, has lived out her allotted span."
"Do you mean that your people can casually inhabit the body of a human being and take over?" I was astonished and fearful. I know I was trembling and shaking with unknown terror.
"No, not really. Well, that is, we can but it's hard on us and on our hosts. The commonest method is for a soul to invade a fetus before it gets a soul and then stay with it for a life time. That's short for us. Something like your idea of doing a role in a play. For the short time you're wearing that costume and on the stage, the good actor becomes that person he's portraying.
"Of course, he's still himself. But that's underneath and is supposed to be kept hidden while playing the cast role."
"In other words, you were acting, sort of."
"Yes, only more so. On a higher level, while I am me, I am also this earth child, Shelly, whose mother was sadistically burned. It's the thing the founder of your religion went through a couple thousand of your years in the past.
"Oh," I said and realized what she-or was it he-meant.
"I'm neither." she said in answer to my unasked question. "We have a more complicated setup than you do. You have female, male and neuter genders. We have an even dozen and they must combine in certain manners-each different-to get any one of them to be reproduced."
"Now and where and...."
She shook her head. "I wish I could tell you. Even if you were advanced enough to comprehend our type of intelligence, I am forbidden by law. But I'll give you a hint ... something to chew over," she smiled, "your younger generation is beginning to come onto the right track in so far as the application of intelligence is concerned."
"How's that?"
"Line marriages among your young people. That's an initial step." She smiled again. "I've got to go now. They're calling me. Goodbye, earthling."
I lay there astounded as I watched her fade from sight. Within a couple of seconds, even the scent of her was gone and I was in the room alone.
"Oh," an eerie voice said from thin air, "I walked out about twenty minutes ago, when your secretary stepped out of the office for a little coffee break."
Dumbfounded, I nodded my understanding of her words.
Twelve sexes ... Shit! I thought, wouldn't we have fun if there were only half that many among the species known as homo sapiens.
CASE HISTORY FIVE
Name: Reginald B.
Age: 17 Sex: Male
Marital Status: Single
Interview One
Regi, as I shall refer to my next patient, was for me a rather unique case. Besides being the only son of a very dear friend of mine, he also manifested a psychological disorder that is a rather new phenomenon in the annuls of psychiatric case studies. A very distinguished gentleman in the field has chosen to call it the motorcycle syndrome. The symptoms of this disorder will be outlined in the course of the following interviews.
It was suggested by Regi's father that Regi make a visit to my office. His father had spoken with me several days earlier complaining that Regi had been listless and unproductive for the past nine months.
His father had supposed that Regi's depression and inactivity was the result of a motorcycle accident that had taken the life of Regi's closest friend, Bill.
Both boys had been on the bike at the time of the accident. It was Regi's bike; and, although Bill had been driving and Regi riding behind, Regi seemed to shoulder entire responsibility for the accident.
Regi had had his bike for a year prior to the accident and in that time had spent all his waking hours riding it. Yet, after the accident his father had offered to replace his demolished vehicle and Regi refused the second bike. He continued to refuse the replacement for the next nine months, growing increasingly depressed and anxious at the same time.
On Regi's first visit to my office I noticed immediately that, if one were to judge by appearances, he seemed to be a healthy, well-adjusted American cliche-the all American boy. But appearances especially in my field, often prove deceptive and, I was shortly to discover some startling facts about this ostensibly innocent young man.
Regi had been sitting in my office exchanging pleasantries with me for about ten minutes. I was bored with the discussion and frustrated by my not being able to get the boy to open-up when I chanced to notice a scarlet rope burn encircling the boy's neck, visible beneath his open collar.
"My God, Regi!" I exclaimed. "How on earth did that happen?"
The boy had been harboring so much guilt and anxiety at that point, that he completely broke-down emotionally and spit-out the whole sordid story of the double life he had been leading for the previous nine months. I have taped his story as it was related to me and have reproduced it here, editing only where it was essential to coherence.
"Oh, Doctor Patche! I'm so sorry ... so ashamed. Please don't tell dad; he'd never forgive me."
I assured the boy I had no intention of telling his father and he continued less apprehensively.
"I've been leading a second life that my parents know nothing about. Jeezus! It's so awful. I don't know why I do it ... honest I don't.
"Take last night. Last night I sneaked-out of the house after mom and dad had gone to bed. I took dad's car and drove-over to a friend's house. He's an older man who lives across town down by the tracks ... ya know."
I nodded. I was beginning to understand quite well.
"I've been seeing him about three or four nights a week for the last three months."
"So?" I said. "That seems rather harmless; how does that explain that vicious scar?"
"Well, when ... when I go, he ... he tortures me." he blurted out somewhat overcome at having to make that confession.
In order not to increase the boy's feelings of guilt and add to his anxiety, I tried to listen calmly to this admission. I'm sure that on the surface I adequately conveyed the impression of calm but, inside my stomach was churning and my heart racing. I had listened without emotion to dozens of similar stories but, this time it was different. I had watched this confused lad grow-up and that somehow made all the difference in the world.
"Continue," I instructed, "what happened on your last visit?"
The boy went into an almost trance-like state as he related the previous night's activities. Whether this was a defense to protect him from the conscious admission of his uninhibited expression of deeply rooted passions or, a state of peace brought on by his reliving what was for him, at the time, a euphoric release, I could not determine. All I can say is, in relating the events to me, he experienced a very definite state of sexual arousal.
"Butch, that's not his real name, that's just what everyone calls him, tied me up for the first time last night. We've been fooling around for quite a while but, last night was the first time I let him tie me up. I was always afraid before. Sometimes he kind of loses his head. You know what I mean? He's kind of hard to control when we're both naked and really getting into things.
"Last night I let him go all the way; he tied my hands behind my back and wound the rope around my neck. That's how I got the rope burn. After he tied me up, he started slapping me around, just to get us in the mood. After we got in the mood he lit-up a joint and took a couple drags. Then he held it to my mouth so's I could take a couple.
"Pot really turns me on, man. Butch has got the biggest cock you ever saw. After a little pot my ass feels really loose and just kind of twitches waiting for Butch to fill it with his meat. When he greases-up that big ole' cock and shoves it up my ass ... WOW!
"MAN! I dream about that cock. Sometimes late at night when I'm not with Butch, I smoke a couple of joints and lay in my room and think about that cock.
"I can see him greasing his meat with vaseline now. The grease makes all the veins look dark ... really dark. And the head on it! Man, is the head on that thing big. It's as big to the rest of the cock as the head on a mushroom is to the whole mushroom.
"Sometimes after he's fucked me, he lets me suck his cock and lick all the vaseline off.
When I'm licking it, it gets hard again and I just can't believe anything that big could fit in me.
"Butch never fucks me right away. He likes to open me up with his fist first. Last night when I was tied-up, he rolled me over on my stomach and worked a finger up my ass kind of slow like. When he got that finger in, man, was I ready. I kind of shook my ass at him begging for more.
"'You want more, Baby?' " he said. "I'll give you more ... this is it, Baby. Here it comes ... right up your great big pussy.' "
"Then he started working two fingers up there, licking my buns as he worked his fingers in.
"When he was ready to try three, he shoved a popper up my nose. BOY! That first whiff really makes you feel like getting it ... all of it. Your heart starts beating fast and you feel like you've got a hole big enough for the whole world.
"After three fingers I started begging for the whole fist, and Butch really gave it to me ... boy did he ever! Next he worked in four fingers and then slid in all his fingers still extended. His hand was buried in my ass up to his wrist. Then he made a fist and I could feel his hand closing up inside of me.
"WOW! There's nothing like feeling the inside of your ass being spread open by a fist.
You can feel the knuckles and that clenched fist just kind of turning inside of you.
He paused, his mood had been interrupted at this point for some reason and, he began to reflect on the whole experience rather philosophically.
"I've never been with anybody except Butch ... with any guy that is. I don't know if I could make it with another guy in a conventional homosexual way. I still ball broads and I dig it but, I always have to go back to Butch. He does something for me that chicks don't, something I don't think another guy could do either."
"Do you think he's punishing you?" I ventured cautiously, not knowing how Regi would respond to such a blatant truth.
Regi stared at me vacantly not bothering to answer. He was receding again into his trance-like state. "Ah!" I thought. "This curious form, of withdrawal is his defense against the truth."
"Like I was saying, Butch has really great technique. What he does with his fist is sheer artistry. After he worked my ass open with his fist, he pulled his hand out all at once. That's a real down and it really hurts. It hurts physically and psychologically. Suddenly there's no one there and you get kind of desperate.
"After he did that, I begged him to fill me again. But instead of shoving that great big dick of his up me, he goes down on my asshole with his mouth. First he licks all around it and then he shoves his tongue in and starts working that tongue around inside of me. Man, I almost hit the ceiling. I could feel it as good as if it was in my own mouth.
"Then he gets an idea and goes and gets this quart beer bottle. He greases it up and then starts working it up my ass, skinny end first. I tell him it's hurting me but, that only excites him more and, he keeps working that fucking bottle in. By the time he's almost pushed the whole bottle in, I'm really in pain and begging him to take it out.
"At that point he gave in; but, instead of taking the bottle out right away, he shoved a popper under my nose. MAN! After that I felt like I wanted him to lose the whole bottle up my ass. But now that I felt like having him push it in, he pulled it out slowly instead and, I got depressed again."
After this there was a long silence while Regi sat staring out of the window.
"Well, Regi?" I interrupted. "Is that all that happened?"
He continued quietly. "After he took the bottle out, I was desperate for more. I was suddenly empty again and I wanted to know that someone was still there so ... so, I asked him to burn me."
This admission caused me to shudder. I realized at this point that the boy's masochistic tendencies were far more well defined than I had anticipated. Accident proneness is generally symptomatic of the motorcycle syndrome, as is the compulsive need to ride a cycle and an ineffable sense of insecurity and anxiety when the person thus inflicted is not on a cycle. But Regi's self-destructive tendencies had reached a point well beyond the simple subconscious need to hurt himself as manifested in an accident prone personality.
"And did he?" I asked.
"Yeh, he did. He lit a fag and burned my ass with it about a dozen times. Whenever he laid that fag to my ass, I'd scream until he took it away. But after he took it away, I'd beg him to burn me again. Like I say, he burned me until I came."
INTERVIEW Two
In our next interview I discovered that Regi had lied to me about not having had masochistic relations with other persons. In fact he had enacted many bizarre masochistic dramas with a number of persons in the months following his accident. Significantly, all of these persons had been older men. They were father surrogates in a drama Regi was reliving almost daily now.
You see, Regi's father was a hyper-active, highly motivated, super-exacting neurosurgeon. He and his life grossly over-shadowed Regi's world and his comparatively minor concerns. His father's tremendous success and domineering manner were responsible for Regi's deep-seated feelings of inadequacy. His father's exacting nature had also imbued him with a morbid fear of not being able to live-up to the masculine image that had been set for him.
Regi's only contact with his father in his formative years had been when the man was reprimanding his son for failure to "measure-up" or simply, when the boy was being punished. Consequently, being tortured or, if you will, punished was the only way in which Regi had learned to relate to another human being in, what was for him, a meaningful way. But also, and more importantly, the physical abuse he eagerly sought from older men satisfied his need to be punished for his failure to "measure-up."
The only time Regi was free of his anxiety was when he was on his cycle. For the boy the bike was a kind of huge phallus which compensated for his supposed inadequacies. When Regi was on his bike he could talk with and relate to people in a way that was impossible for him under other circumstances. He was whole on his bike. He was a man and he had the "super cock" to prove it.
When Regi gave-up his bike after his accident, he was in one sense castrating himself. And he continued this curious sort of self-mutilation in all subsequent sexual encounters. I have chosen one particularly revealing instance of this and reproduced it below.
!
"I met Chuck one night when I was walking down by the docks. He moved out of the shadows and asked for a match. One thing led to another and pretty soon we were back at his place.
"Chuck really dug sex. Any hour of the day or night he was ready for it. He even had a
! special "sex room." 'I never have sex in the
! bedroom;' he said, 'bedrooms are too restful to really enjoy sex in.' t
"Anyway, this room he used was in the basement. He was really into the whole S and M scene; he even had a rack in the basement. We went down there first thing and sat around drinking beer for about an hour or so.
"We sat talking and drinking and the drunker I got the more I got into the whole thing. I think it was the atmosphere mostly. The atmosphere in a room especially equipped for sex is ... is, well, it's electric. You just kind of sit around waiting for someone to do something exciting.
"Pretty soon Chuck came over to me and we laid down on a mat on the floor. He really got turned-on. I guess he didn't get many chances to make it with young numbers. Anyway, he started biting and sucking my neck and face. Pretty soon he had my pants off and was sliding a brass ring up over my cock and balls. That really turned me on. My cock got so hard I didn't think that I'd ever be able to get that ring off.
"Then he undressed while I pulled my shirt and shoes off. When I got undressed, I just laid there on the floor with this roaring hardon sticking a mile in the air. He just watched me for a while smiling; and then, he took one of his whips off the wall. He stepped over me a couple of times dragging the whip across my body.
"Pretty soon he started cracking that thing so close to me, I could feel a rush from the lash as it bit the floor. I was almost coming at that point, waiting for him to really give it to me. "Then suddenly ... WHAM! He lashed my chest with the whip leaving a violet streak peppered with drops of red blood. I was staring down at the mark he'd left, too fascinated by the sight of my blood to feel pain, when ... WHAM! He gave it to me again, crossing the first lash mark with a second.
"I could feel my jizz bubbling inside my balls. When I felt that whip again, I just shot my load in the air and kept shooting until it seemed like I'd emptied a quart of the stuff on my chest and face.
"This guy, Chuck, really got turned-on when he saw my milky jizz splashing all over the place. He got down on his hands and knees and started lapping it up, every drop of it.
"After that I didn't think I could go again but, I did and, the second time was best. Chuck got a couple of red silk ribbons. He tied my dick and balls with one so tight, that if I had had to piss, I couldn't have.
"He did the same to his cock. MAN! You should have seen the veins in that piece of meat stand-out. I thought his dick would explode or, that he might rupture a kidney or something because, he'd had so much to drink and hadn't even taken a leak yet.
"After he tied his cock up, he walked around me, stepping over me, staring down and smiling, that big cock of his bouncing as he walked. His balls were pulled so tight by the ribbon, they looked like two glossy, red rubber balls. I begged him to kneel over my face so I could lick those beautiful balls and eat his meat.
"After I ate his meat, he got off and flipped me over and started playing with my ass. He had a candle and he worked it into my ass and then lit it. The hot wax rolled down the sides of the candle burning my ass and kind of sealing my hole. BOY! Was that ever a turn-on. I almost came right then and there.
"That got to be pretty much of a bore after a while though; because, I got used to the burning wax. So, he pulled the candle out and started working my ass open with his fingers. Then he whispered, 'Ya want it, Baby? Ya wanna take my meat?'
"I kind of moaned, 'Yeh, you know I do ... oh, give me that big cock of yours."
"So, he pulled that ribbon off his cock and shoved his meat up my ass and pissed. JEEEZUS! It felt like a hundred guys were in my ass all at the same time and filling me with a hundred gallons of creamy jizz. There was so much of it, I could feel it oozing out my hole and trickling down my groins and crotch and stinging my balls.
"I came; but, not very fast, because my dick was still tied. The come just kind of squeezed out. MAN! Did coaxing that stuff out of me ever burn. Chuck must have hurt his cock too, pissing inside of me with a hardon like that."
Regi seemed less tense, more relaxed at our second visit. He related the above events with a minimum of difficulty and, unlike on the previous visit, he seemed less withdrawn. I concluded from this that his visits to my office were having a decidedly positive effect. An important part of the battle against severe mental disorders is winning the patient over, getting him to talk about his problem openly. When a doctor has accomplished this, he knows his patient is on the road to recovery.
INTERVIEW Three
It was obvious to me that Regi's problem was not the result of his accident but rather that, the accident had been the catalyst through which his latent masochistic tendencies had been brought to the fore. I suspected that there must have been more to the accident than the boy was admitting to have made it such a severely traumatic experience. At our third interview I grilled the boy mercilessly, attempting to uncover the answer.
"Why are you talking to me like this?" he pleaded. I've told you everything that happened the night of the accident."
"Come now, Regi, I can't really believe that you're telling me everything; your reaction to all of this has been much too violent."
"All right ... all right, there's more." he said, almost sobbing. "I'll tell you ... I'll tell you everything that happened."
I waited for a few moments as he composed himself and then he began slowly and deliberately.
"Bill and I had fooled around the night of the accident. We'd been down in Bill's cellar; we'd each had a couple of beers. We'd been talking about Janis, the school slut so, we were both kind of horny. We were scheming to get her over to Bill's cellar so's we could fuck her. Bill was really getting turned on; he had the hugest cock I ever saw and I could see his hardon through his pants. Just seeing his hardon gave me a hardon.
"Then Bill took his cock out of his pants and started rubbing it gently with the tips of his fingers, all the while staring at me with his lips pressed in a devilish grin. I noticed tiny drops of juice oozing from the mouth of his cock and patches of thick blonde pubic hair pushing through his open fly.
"My heart was really pounding. I'd wanted to wrap my mouth around his juicy cock for so long. It took all my strength to keep from dropping to my knees and slipping my mouth down slowly over his slippery meat. I didn't know what he wanted so, I froze. Before I could bring myself to act, he shoved his cock back in his pants and said, 'Let's go for a ride."
"I was all for that. I wanted to let him drive the bike so's I could get close behind him and hang on.
"We were on Scallion Road traveling kind of fast. You know how bad that road is. I had my arms around Bill's waist and my cock pressed against his ass and I was kind of fantasizing that I was fucking him.
"Then I reached down and pulled his fly open and took his cock out of his pants. It was all wet with sweat and pre-come. It was semi-hard so I played with it until Bill had a roaring hardon. Then I started masturbating him. I ... I can still feel that huge piece of meat in my hand now, all kind of slippery. I could almost smell it, and all the while I fooled around, Bill just kept driving. He would laugh every now and then and sometimes just sigh heavily.
"Then it happened. We were rounding one of those hairpin turns on the road ... there was a truck ... we were forced off the road. We wrapped the bike around a tree. Bill was knocked unconscious? I was just stunned. He went into a coma and died in the hospital three days later."
"And you feel responsible because you were fondling Bill's genitals at the moment of the accident?" I said. "Don't you think you're being a little unrealistic? After all, Bill is not completely without blame. He was being receptive and, more importantly, he was driving. You might just as validly resent his being responsible for the injuries you suffered in the crack-up."
Regi paused for a moment and then continued in a quavering voice.
"I was stunned for a few moments but, when I realized what had happened and that I might never see Bill again, I rolled over on top of him and started kissing him. His cock was still hanging out of his pants so, I ... I went down on him ... while he was unconscious. I ... did him and I came while he could have been dead for all I knew. That's ... that's what I can't live with."
Although he is less anxiety ridden and far more productive than when he first visited my office, Regi is still in therapy. He's been working for the last four months in a motorcycle garage while in his spare hours practicing to become a cyclist stunt rider. He's gone back to his bikes and is happier for it. Therapy, and the chance to make his life close to the objects he loves, have helped him to forget the guilt that weighed so heavily on him when he made his first visit to my office.
CASE NUMBER SIX
Name: Nona S.
Age: 32 Sex: Female
Marital Status: Divorced-Three times.
INTERVIEW One
Behind the black eye, the swollen cheeks and the raw, red bruises there was a strikingly-beautiful woman. One of the most beautiful women I've ever seen.
When Nona first walked into my office, limping slightly, I had all to do to keep myself from gasping out loud.
Of course, in the years during which I'd practiced medicine, I'd seen many victims of beatings and various other forms of brutality. But this woman, whose features could easily have been chiseled out of marble before a fist or some other weapon had deformed them seemed especially pathetic and out-of-place in her miserable condition.
Her eyes, an emerald-green, bespoke a fear and desperation that brought me to the edge of my chair with the intensity of my interest.
"All right, Nona," I began, offering her a cigarette from the wooden box at the edge of my blotter, "who did this to you?"
She hesitated for a moment. "It was an accident."
I raised one eyebrow to tell her that she wasn't dealing with the naivete of her mother. "Come now; we both know better."
She smiled; a painful gesture. "It was Eddie." then, by way of explanation, "my boyfriend."
"And why, may I ask, did he beat you?" She averted her gaze from mine. "Because...." Her face flushed slightly and her voice trailed off.
"Another man?"
She nodded.
"And what about the other times? The 'accidents' as your mother calls them.
"Same reason. My husbands ... all three of them ... and my other boyfriends ... they all found me in bed with other guys. But look, Doctor, if you're going to lecture me about being promiscuous, save your breath...."
"No, save yours," I interrupted. "I couldn't care less how many men you have relations with. I'm more concerned about why you insist on getting yourself caught in the act."
The notion seemed to engage her. She met my gaze directly, once again, and smiled faintly. "You're pretty sharp."
"That's what you're paying me for."
Her smile widened. "Yeah, I guess I do go looking for trouble, now that you mention it."
"Want to tell me about it?"
She shrugged. "I don't really know where to begin. There have been so many guys, and so many beatings....
I was only fifteen the first time, but I'd been developed for nearly a year. From a flat chested, scrawny kid, I'd blossomed into a big-busted, child-woman, and all the boys at school were giving me the grand rush.
I have to tell you the truth, doctor, I loved it. After living in a house with a stepfather, Kevin, who never had anything to say to me except 'Gimmee a fresh can of beer, kid,' it was a pleasure, believe me, to receive the attention of males who were solicitous and ingratiating.
Anyhow, to make a long story short, there was this boy in school by the name of Stevie. Real cornball, the whole thing-you know, big man on the football team and all that crap. Every girl was crazy about him-must have been the combination of blue eyes and muscles-but Stevie decided that I was the one he wanted.
At first, I was a little nervous about the idea of letting him make a pass at me. Virgin stupidity, I guess. But soon, his attentions and his flattery won me over.
It was a Saturday afternoon. Stevie and I were coming home after a football game.
We were both delighted to find the house empty. Stevie and I had kissed, occasionally, and the new sensation of becoming sexually aroused was one that I had grown to anticipate with no small amount of pleasure.
No sooner were we settled in the living room with our sodas when Stevie slid his arm behind me and pulled me very close to him on the sofa.
My lips parted eagerly to receive the full length of his tongue. I closed my eyes and let the waves of arousal flood through me. Somehow, being hugged and kissed this way, I was able to forget how rotten life was and think only of the pleasure of the moment.
When Stevie's hand closed over my breast I groaned aloud and shivered with delight. I knew that I shouldn't really let him take such liberties, but I had never expected to feel so good-what with the way my nipple had popped up hard beneath his touch. Before I knew it, his hand was underneath my sweater and his fingers were working their way inside my bra.
The sensation of his palm against my bare flesh drove me wild. My brain started to spin and I could feel a definite moisture growing between my trembling thighs.
Stevie, needless to say, was sharing my excitement. I could feel the tension turning the muscles of his body to steel while his breathing turned more rapid and shallow with each passing moment.
When his hand slid back outside my clothes, I was, frankly, disappointed. But not for long. In a matter of moments, his fingers were busily at work, exploring their way to the tops of my thighs.
I literally jumped when his fingers clamped over my vagina. Tremors of desire leaped to life through my flesh. Reflexively, I spread my legs and gave him silent permission to continue.
Stevie, varsity hero that he was, had a hell of a lot of experience to know that the way to a girl's snatch is over, around, and through her clit. He kept stroking mine until I thought I was going to pass out with the sheer ecstasy of it.
"You want to?" he whispered, as the liquid came running out of my pussy and onto his palm.
"I never--"
"Don't worry about it," he cut in. "I know how to do it so it won't hurt and nothing bad will happen to you."
I couldn't have said no if my life depended upon it. I nodded and led him upstairs to my bedroom.
In practically no time, we were both naked on the mattress and busily exploring each other's body. I, fascinated by the size of Stevie's erect penis, held it in my hand and stroked it to pulsating life. I offered no resistance when he guided my head down to his organ and told me to slide the head of it into my mouth.
We were so busy exploring the pleasures of sex, that neither one of us heard Kevin ... until it was too late.
"Well, I'll be a horse's ass!"
His words stopped both of us cold. I felt the blood drain from my body as the awareness registered inside my brain.
Stevie, the football hero ... the varsity big shot ... the seducer of half the coeds in our school, grabbed his pants and ran like a scared rabbit. I was left alone to face an irate and drunken stepfather.
"So, the little girl likes cock, huh?" His bloodshot eyes took on a frightening gleam. "Why don't we see if she can handle a man as well as she handles the boys?"
"Please ... I never...." My voice trailed off into a terrified wail as Kevin zipped open his pants and exposed the hugest organ I've ever seen. Easily twice the length and width of Stevie's ... and Stevie was handsomely endowed.
"Come on, baby ... eat this," Kevin said, approaching the bed and brandishing his penis before him.
Kevin's eyes were feasting on the sight of my nakedness. I could practically feel his gaze burning into the triangle between my legs, searching for the pink slit hidden beneath the dark little curls.
"Nice tight little cunt," he said, jabbing the narrow opening. "Been a long time since I had a tight one."
I tried to protest ... to convince him that I was still a virgin, but Kevin was too far gone to hear or care. He kept slapping my bare bottom and grinding the tips of his fingers into my narrow slit.
Despite myself, I started to get excited. The feel of his touch on my hole, combined with the awareness of his huge prick, pressing against my belly overtook my senses and heightened my excitement. Let's face it, doctor-I enjoyed being forced.
A few moments later, when he threw me onto my back and shoved himself in between my legs, I thought I was going to die. The pain was like nothing I'd ever experienced in my life. I felt my own flesh ripping inside of me, as though his organ was tearing me in half.
Despite the pain, I loved every moment of it! It was the beginning of a whole new way of life for me ... a life in which there is little difference between pleasure and pain.
