The basic need of a masochist is punishment for real or fancied crimes against God, another human being, or himself. Somewhere along the way, the latent masochism in each of us may burst through the taught and conditioned layer which we call civilization, and take precedence over all other emotions.
Masochism is stronger than hate or love; in fact, to the true masochist, love is a destructive force, something he cannot abide, for he is too debased in his own id to merit it or accept it.
The pressure of today's society is such that it accentuates the human weaknesses more than in any other time. Never before have human frailties, human errors, human desires been so subjected to impossible strains. Cruelty and violence, pain and suffering, have always been an integral part of the human race, from the Creation, to the Atomic Age. We are apt to recognize man's inhumanity to man in major conflicts, such as the Nazi treatment of the Jews during World War II, and the present war in Viet Nam. Yet, this inhuman treatment goes on behind many doors to what are seemingly normal homes, and we know all too little about it.
Sadism and masochism are sexual emotions, and to attempt to deny that they exist in human nature is as asinine and as futile as trying to halt the age-old battle between Eros and Thanatos -- between Love and Hate. As long as there are cruel and sadistic leanings in each of us, those emotions will find an outlet. A sadist will always find a weaker, more passive person upon whom he can vent his savagery, and this person rapidly develops all the latent seeds of masochism until he discovers that he has an actual physical and emotional need for pain or debasement.
It is true that each of us living in the United States is suffering incredible compromises with our personal id. Each of us has the seeds of self-pity and self-blame within us. Who among us has not felt a tinge of glorious martyrdom when we have been wrongfully blamed for an act or have done a noble deed those close to us have failed to recognize and praise us for?
Normal society attacks the normal ego; our job system, our community relations, our laws -- all these offend the ego. Thus, it is logical to state that every person is in danger of becoming, or already is, a masochist.
Ego, sadism, and sex are combined and interwoven in our bodies. The sexual masochist is one who cannot have sex unless it is accompanied by complete agony, complete pain, or complete and utter debasement and degradation. Sadism is a paraphiliac neurosis in which the will to overpower (a paranoiac tendency) is sexually accented. Masochism is the neurosis in which the will to submit is sexually accented.
Almost all our systems, from economic structure to our schools, are based upon the desire to dominate, or the desire to remain passive or submissive. It is obvious that, in this country, the submissive far outnumber the dominant ones, and some experts predict that in another decade we will be an entire nation of what they term "automated masochists."
However, too little has been written or studiously explored in this field. What we are to know of masochism and sadism is best learned by the more obvious acts of those around us. That sexual masochism is abnormal, as the average person may believe, is untrue. How many of us have thrilled to the ear-biting, the flesh-scratching, the little pain-pleasure tricks played upon us by a sex partner? How many have enjoyed administering these same actions? Thus, we can easily prove by our own actions and reactions that sex and sadomasochism are integrally intertwined in our makeup. There is, however, no real substitute for proper sex, the heterosexual union of man and woman. The love-play and the climax of both is neither giving nor taking, but a union of sharing.
Yet, the mind can never be cheated, nor tricked. The subconscious stores away small guilt feelings, small repressions, and stores them away forever on an accumulative basis. Thus, no masochist, to whatever degree, can successfully point to any one single incident which made him a masochist. He is a composite of a great many guilt feelings. The truth seems to be that the more punishment and degradation a masochist has heaped upon him, the more his guilt feelings increase because of the very degradation he is undergoing to satisfy his own needs!
In the story of Karen Wilson, we shall attempt to tell, as carefully as possible from the known facts, some of the things which go into the making of a complete masochist. She is not typical, because there is no such thing as a typical masochist. Some are withdrawn, secretive, isolated, while others are extroverted, have brilliant personalities, and hold a high place in life.
This is by no means an attempt to give a scholarly treatise on masochism, based on what we know of Karen. It is, rather, the story of the indignities and mistreatment which were heaped on one girl and of her inability to cope with them. It is a story that could be yours; thus, the purpose in delineating the awesome details of Karen's shameful loss of human dignity and spirit is the hope that each reader may pause and ponder, as he goes ahead through life, whether or not he, too, takes an active part in man's inhumanity to man.
Jack Benjamin North Hollywood, California
CHAPTER ONE - THE SEEDS OF PAIN
Karen Wilson is not her real name. It might be said in truth that her name is Legion. Today, Karen is under psychiatric treatment in a state institution, not so much for the crime she committed (prostitution and contributing to the delinquency of minors), as for her own self-protection. She had sunk to such depths of pain-seeking that the courts were appalled at the amount of abuse her body had absorbed, and yet managed to function. It was felt that her mentality had already suffered greatly from the strain and that were she allowed to continue as a professional, masochistic prostitute, she would ultimately be killed.
The facts are true. For readability, we have inserted editorial summations, in order to obviate the long, sometimes confused, taped sessions with psychiatrists and Karen's own rambling, often disjointed, musings about her sordid life.
Through hypnosis, Karen was made to retrogress to her childhood. Her memory was, thus, vividly clear -- so clear, in fact, that she related her early experiences in somewhat awkward, childish language. We have cleared up the passages in which this occurred, for clearer understanding of her emotions. Other than that, this is Karen's beginning, in her own words.
* * *
"My father was mean -- to me and my mom. I guess I felt that ever since I can remember. And I felt that he looked at me as if I were a piece of the furniture, as if I weren't even there. He never kissed me or hugged me. He only seemed to notice me when I'd been bad, and he would whip me.
"At least, that was something. I think that I sometimes did naughty things just so he would notice me, even though I knew it was going to hurt when he used his belt on my bottom; although, after a while, I got a warm, tingling feeling of almost pleasure when he would whip me. Maybe it made me feel important, because he used to whip my mother, too, and hit her with his fists and make her bleed.
"I guess he worked hard, but we were pretty poor -- at least, I thought we were, especially when I would go into neighbors' houses and see so many nice things. And when he would whip me extra hard, sometimes, I would always remember what my mom told me, that man is the boss in his own home. That's the way it was. Sometimes, if I said anything about my daddy that she didn't think was right, she would slap me across the mouth or, if it was real bad, she would spank me hard with her bare hand.
"I don't think I got that funny feeling inside my body when she spanked me that way, but I never cried when she did. I knew when I was sassing or 'mouthing off,' as she called it, and I knew when I did it that I would be punished, and I didn't want to be a crybaby.
"I was ten when I began to be curious about the shouting and the sound of slaps and of my mother falling on the floor that used to happen a couple of times a week -- always on Saturday or Sunday. When I was smaller, I just used to think that my mother had been naughty and that he was punishing her, like he did me. She always told me to mind my own business, and when I was put to bed for the night, I wasn't to get up for anything except to go to the bathroom.
"I was asleep this night, and I awoke to hear my mother whining and half crying. I think I really awoke when he had slapped her across the face. She was saying, 'I'm having my period, Lem. I can't help that, can I?' He slapped her again and roared, 'Then you suck it, woman -- or take it up the asshole! "She begged, 'Not tonight, Lem. I'm still sore -- my mouth and my bumhole -- from all those times last night!'
"Then I crawled out of bed and sneaked over and opened my door a little. They were in the kitchen, and my bedroom was off that room, so I could see clear. I was just in time to see my daddy hit her in the face with his fist, and she stumbled backward and fell down on the floor, blood coming from her lips. My daddy was naked, and I was fascinated at the size of his cock. I'd seen cocks, but only on little baby boys, when I'd visit neighbors. His was long and stiff, and it stuck straight out in the air.
"He was half smiling, and he had one hand on his cock. He said angrily, 'Now you crawl over here and take it in your mouth, and don't you stop sucking it until I give you a good dose of jism! Crawl, woman, crawl!'
"I was hardly able to breathe as I watched my mother crawl on her hands and knees across the kitchen linoleum. When she reached him, she pulled herself to her knees by hanging onto his lower legs. She was bleeding, and crying, but she had the funniest look of happiness on her face! She pulled herself to her knees, grabbed his cock in one hand, and put her other hand on one of his ass cheeks; then she plunged his prick deep into her mouth. I could hear her moaning and making sucking noises, pulling his body in close with her other hand.
"He was bending his knees a little, pumping away as hard as he could, saying, 'Now, ain't that the best salami you ever et? Ain't it? Tell me!' She took it out of her mouth for a second, long enough to say, 'Oh, Lem -- let me go back to eating it. It's so good -- so good! and she gulped it into her mouth again.
"I was aware of that funny, warm feeling building up inside my stomach and between my legs, and I almost automatically put my finger into my pee-hole and began to move it around inside. It felt good, and I kept doing it faster and harder, while my mom went on sucking and slurping daddy's cock. He started to move real fast, in and out of her mouth, and he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head down harder and harder. It didn't seem to hurt mom. She was at his cock like she was starving, and like it was a real salami. Then he began to jerk and buck, and pretty soon I could hear my mom gulping, as if she was swallowing something.
"Daddy pulled it out of her mouth, and I could see that it was shiny and wet, and drops of white stuff were coming out of the little hole in the end of it. He told mom, 'Lick every drop of it, woman. Lick it clean, and get it ready for your asshole.'
"She used her tongue and cleaned up every drop. She even licked under his balls and around his belly button. He was grinning, and I could see that he liked it, and so did she. I was still playing with myself, and getting hotter all the time, watching them.
"Then my mother stood up and took off her dress. She wasn't wearing anything under it -- she almost never did, because she didn't have many underclothes. I'd seen her naked in the bathroom, and she had a nice body. She had small breasts, but they were shaped nice. I noticed that they had bruises on them, and so did her stomach and thighs. When she went over and leaned against the kitchen table, with both her hands holding her up, and humped out her ass and spread her legs, I could see marks on her butt, too. They looked like fingernail scratches, or the same kind of marks that daddy's belt left on my legs and bottom when he was really mad at me.
"He walked over and picked up a fly swatter, which was made of leather and had little straps of it at the end. He walked over to where she was standing and asked, 'You gonna be good cornholing tonight, or do you need a little reminder?'
"He raised his arm and hit her with all his might with the leather fly swatter, saying, 'I didn't ask if you'd try, woman -- I asked if you were gonna be good cornholing tonight!' He hit her again and again, and she gasped with the sting. I knew it hurt bad, because he'd whipped me on the legs with it one time.
"Mom gasped, 'I'll be real good cornholing, Lem. Shove it way up -- as deep as you want. I'll be good. Give it to me, good and hard and deep!'
"Daddy dropped the flyswatter, grabbed his stiff cock in one hand, while he spread the crack of mom's ass wide with the other. I watched him as he began to shove the head of it up her bumhole. It didn't go in easy, and I could see her wince and make faces, but she partially squatted down and he rammed it in harder and harder, and pretty soon the whole thing disappeared into her bumhole.
"I reached around and shoved my fingertip into my own bumhole. It didn't go in very far, and it hurt a little when my fingernail touched the flesh inside, but it did give me a strange feeling. I just wondered how my mom's could stretch enough so that all that big cock of daddy's would go inside it. And he was pumping away at her ass like I'd seen dogs do it. He was making funny noises, too, like an animal, and my mom was moaning and groaning as if it was killing her; but she had that happy look on her face, so I knew it must feel good for her, too. I kept moving one finger around inside my pussy and the other one in my asshole, and I began to feel like I was going to bust wide open; it felt so good inside me, and it seemed like something had to bubble out of my two holes.
"Then daddy began to buck and jerk real fast, and all at once he almost collapsed on mom's back. After resting a minute, he pulled his cock out of her bumhole, and it was getting soft real fast. He slapped her hard on the ass cheek and said, 'Clean me up, woman!'
"Mom turned around, bent over, and took his cock in her mouth again! I could see when he had pulled it out of her that it had dark blobs of shit on it, and a lot of sticky, gooey white stuff. I wondered if it tasted good. I took my finger out of my cunt and smelled it, and it smelled stinky, but it had a good smell, too, so I put it in my mouth and sucked on it. It tasted salty, but that was all. I pulled my other finger out of my asshole and smelled it, and it was really smelly! I wondered how my mother could like the taste of his shit, if it smelled that bad. But I put the shit-finger into my mouth, too, and sucked on it. It tasted awful -- not salty -- just -- icky.
"When my mother had cleaned his soft prick all off like she had before, daddy reached down and pinched one of her nipples real hard and stretched it out -- as far as it could go without coming right off, I thought. He said, 'You were a good girl tonight, Edna. You behave now and make me a sandwich, and when we git to bed, maybe I'll let you take that rag out of your cunt and I'll fix you up.'
"I didn't know what he was talking about then, because I hadn't started to menstruate and my mother hadn't talked to me about anything. If I would ask her, she'd tell me to shut up and wait until I was big enough to understand.
"I watched her fixing a sandwich, and when she put it on the table in front of him, he reached out and grabbed at her cunt and came away with a bloody, little, long round thing. He held it up and looked at it, and said, 'Goddamn good thing you was telling me the truth, woman. You know what I do to you if you lie! You get your ass whipped good!' He tossed the bloody thing on the floor and turned and started to eat his sandwich.
"I had been so taken up with watching them and playing with my pee-hole and my bumhole, that I hadn't noticed that I had opened the door pretty wide. I saw daddy stiffen and his face get red and his eyes get wide and shiny -- and they were looking right into mine! I began to shake like a leaf, and I couldn't even run and jump into bed, I was so scared. I knew I shouldn't have been watching, and I knew I wasn't going to get away with it, either.
"Daddy growled at mom, 'We got company, Edna.' My mother whirled from the sink where she was washing the knife she had cut the bologna with and stared straight at the crack in the door. She gasped and covered her mouth with her wet hand. My father crammed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth, and I could hardly understand what he was saying as he grabbed the leather fly swatter up and began to walk slowly toward the bedroom door! I was scared, but in a funny way; I was looking forward to feeling that thing on my bottom again. I knew I had it coming, and, besides, there was nothing I could do to get away. I had been naughty, and I wasn't that sorry. I'd seen and learned a lot of things that night.
"My mother begged, in her whiney voice, 'Lem, be careful. She's just a young'un.' He stopped and bunched up his fist and waved it at her. 'Shut your mouth, woman. She ain't such a young'un that she can't nosy around grown-up stuff that ain't none of her business! She's been told enough times. Now, I'll really teach her a lesson she'll never forget!'
"He came over and I backed off as he pushed the door open. I just stood there, shaking. But that funny warm feeling was starting again inside my pussy and my stomach and even going down into my legs. When he bellowed, 'Git on the bed, you big-eyed bitch!' I ran and jumped on the bed, hunching myself into as little a ball as I could. I had on a short nightie, and it had bunched up so that my bare bottom was sticking out. The way I was lying, all hunched over like that on my side, watching him out of the corner of my eye, I knew he could see the lips of my cunt and my open bumhole. But I didn't expect that he would hit me there!
"He swung the fly swatter with all his might. He aimed it so that it caught me on the cunt lips and on my asshole! I thought I would fly apart, like fireworks I'd seen, when the pain hit me. I automatically straightened my legs and rolled onto my back, so he couldn't hit me there again. When I did, he aimed a blow at my crotch, and some of the leather thongs nipped the soft flesh at my pussy. Others hit the soft part of my thighs. It burned as if he had poured hot water on me, and that feeling inside me got stronger and stronger.
"Daddy began to flay at my thighs, from one side to the other, until I opened them from the pain. When I did, he aimed a big swat at my cunt, and with the lips wide open, the leather smashed up inside and stung my little knob. I thought I would leap off the bed, it felt so good -- and at the same time, it hurt me so. I opened my legs wide, and he lashed at me again and again. I don't know how many times he hit me there between my legs, but the exciting, hot feeling kept getting bigger and bigger inside me. I remember closing my eyes and remembering how he had hit my mother with his fists and the fly swatter, and the look on her face when she had sucked his cock and then let him stick it up her ass, and the feeling flooded over my whole body until I thought I was going to faint. I remember looking at my father and seeing that his cock, which had been soft when he was eating the sandwich, was all stiff and big again, and it made me feel glad. I wondered what I had done to make him get hard like that, the way he did for my mother. It made me feel grown-up somehow.
"He stopped hitting me, and I remember he snapped on the light and looked to see if I were bleeding. A little blood showed on the lips of my cunt. He growled, 'Git into the bathroom and wipe that off. Next time, maybe you'll think twice before you shove your nose in where it don't belong!'
"He left, and I crawled out and went to the bathroom. For the first time, I really felt the pain move into the places where the leather had bit into my flesh. But it wasn't so bad when I remembered the wild feeling I had had when he was hitting me -- especially when I looked up and saw his cock so hard.
"I put some lotion on the welts and the couple of places where the skin had broken and went back to my bed. The light was out in the kitchen and in their bedroom, which opened off the other side of the kitchen. I could hear my father's gruff voice, saying, 'Now you shut your yap, woman, or you just won't get no fucking for a month -- you hear me? I did what shoulda been done. She's too goddamn nosy. She'll grow up to be a good-for-nothing fuck like you if I don't knock some goddamn respect for men into her thick head. That's all I want to hear about it. Just shut up, if you want me to fuck you!'
"I fingered my throbbing cunt, and it felt tender. But when I began to rub my knob with my fingertip, little flashes of pain went all through it and that same warm feeling came back. I kept on rubbing it, thinking of how big and hard I had made daddy's cock get, and all at once that warm wild flood went all over my body again. I fell asleep with my finger still inside my cunt, listening to my father and mother making all kinds of noises on their bed. I could imagine what they were doing, and I almost moaned along with them -- I was so happy inside.
"I began to masturbate a lot after that. It got so that my finger didn't seem to be big enough. It wasn't long enough to reach all the way up inside me, and I wanted to see how it would feel to have something round and long and hard, like my daddy's cock, up inside me. I tried a lot of things -- a broom handle, for one, but I couldn't work it around right, the broom end was too heavy. I tried the stem of my father's pipe, and, once, I even got the bowl up inside me, but it was rough and I couldn't work it around so that it touched my knob just right. I finally found a candle that worked good, and I used that a lot -- that, and the handle of my hairbrush. But the candle was too smooth. It didn't hurt at all, just went in deep. The hairbrush handle had ridges on it -- it was made of metal of some kind -- and it rubbed against my knob pretty rough. If I closed my eyes and thought about my daddy's cock, going all the way up in my mom's bumhole, I used to be able to get that warm, good feeling most of the time. But sometimes I would remember seeing his cock all stiff and straight, when he was hitting me between the legs with the leather fly swatter.
"I used to try to sneak out and watch them a lot after that, but they never did it in the kitchen again, and they closed their bedroom door, or the living room door -- we had one of those old sliding, wooden doors -- if they were doing anything in the living room. But I used to listen, and I could imagine what was going on by what they were saying. Sometimes I used to wish that I could be there, in my mom's place. I felt lonesome and left out. They didn't know or care that I could get that warm feeling just as easy as she could. But I had to be satisfied to just fuck myself with different things. It wasn't so bad, but I never did get the same feeling that I got when daddy whipped me that night. I knew that I had to do something bad, so he'd do it again. I made a noise outside their bedroom door a couple of times, hoping that he would hear me and come and let me have it with the whip again, but I guess they were moaning too loud, or he was cursing and calling her rotten names, because they never heard me.
"I had my second whipping like that by accident. I was in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet, masturbating myself with my finger. They had gone to bed, and the noises they were making got me all excited, and I had to go to the bathroom, so after I had peed, I began to play with my knob -- and daddy walked in!
"He grinned a nasty grin, the kind I already knew meant that he was going to do something to me. He said, 'Learned about finger-fuckin', too, huh? Well, you need another lesson to teach you to keep your hands off your cunt, young'un. That's what a man's for, when you git older. You ain't been taught enough, so we'll just fix that.' He yanked me off the toilet, dragged me into the living room, and took his belt off.
"I lay down on the couch. It was covered with leather and it was cold, but I could already feel the warm, good feeling starting up inside my cunt. I lay on my back, and he began to whip me. My breasts were already beginning to show, but he didn't seem to notice. He hit me all over the front of me. The belt stung my nipples and my stomach and my legs, but it felt the best when he hit me between the legs. I spread them again, and began to beg him not to hit me. That just seemed to make him all the madder and he really laid it onto me. And the harder he hit me, the hotter I got, until that wild, crazy, itchy feeling spread from my cunt all over my body.
"I guess he was as surprised as I was when I suddenly heard myself change my begging from 'Don't hit me anymore,' to 'Hit me -- harder harder!'
"He stopped in mid-stroke, and stood there looking at me. My legs were spread wide, and he could see the first traces of hair around my pussy and under my arms. He just looked stunned; then he finally shook his head and walked away, saying, 'I'll be goddamned. If you ain't your mother all over again. I'll be double goddamned!'
"After I'd crawled into bed and masturbated, I began to wonder why I got that good feeling when he whipped me. I thought and thought, but I fell asleep not knowing why. All I knew was how good it felt between my legs when he whipped me. I wondered how it would feel having his cock inside me, instead of the candle and the hairbrush handle. I wondered how it would feel up my bumhole. I'd tried shoving both of those things up there -- but it didn't feel either good or bad, not like it did when I shoved them into my cunt.
"I didn't have to wait too long to find out how his cock felt, in both places."
* * *
The doctors' conclusion was summed up as follows: Karen's early experience with pain deeply affected her sex pattern. She had seen, with a child's eyes, that pain did not necessarily mean discomfort. Her mother had actually responded joyfully and with full sexual fervor to whippings, blows, and foul language. Karen, as the unnoticed member of the household, decided to try patterning her actions after those of her mother, so that she could draw the attention of her father.
Karen, like many young girls, suffered from a deep Electra complex -- sexual love for the father image -- and it was to remain with her all her life. Because she was shamefully neglected by both parents, this girl, even as a child, was driven into introspection. She learned to analyze and evaluate her own sexual responses, and she willingly accepted the erotic pleasures of masturbation simply because there was no one else about to provide her such sexual joy and stimulation.
That the mother was an extreme masochist had a profound effect on Karen; for, although most young girls love their father, they tend to emulate their mother in a complex manner of reasoning somewhat as follows: If he loves her, and I can act like her -- maybe even improve on her actions -- then he must love me more, eventually.
In Karen's case, the seeds were sown early and were watered by violence that is seldom administered to a child who has hardly reached puberty. The degree of violence, the doctors felt, was significant. Spanking is one thing. Most children receive light, sometimes severe, spankings; but the key factor here is that most fathers who spank their children are not sadists.
Karen's father, however, also manifested a masochistic tendency when he snatched the sanitary napkin from his wife's vagina and promised her intercourse or cunnilingus (Karen isn't sure which) when they went to bed. Either of the two sex acts under these conditions would have been repugnant to most normal males.
It is doubtful, in the opinion of the doctors, if Karen could have been guided aright, even at this stage of her aberration, unless she had been totally removed from the influence of her violent father and her masochistic mother.
Even then, the seeds had already taken root.
CHAPTER TWO - THE CRUEL ROOTS
It is important to be aware of the beginnings of guilt feelings in Karen, inasmuch as most psychiatrists agree that guilt is the very bedrock of masochism. It is either a guilt feeling because of inadequacy to meet the norm of society in the sexual field, or it is guilt because of enjoyment of early sex acts.
It has been already seen that Karen did enjoy all the sex acts she was subjected to, although she was unaware at the time of the deep psychological warping that was taking place. She had already learned to enjoy pain, as long as it was connected with sexual gratification on her part. Karen's story, as it came from her lips, continues.
* * *
"I guess I wanted daddy to whip me again, more than anything in the world, but it didn't turn out that way. After that one night, my mother caught on to what was going on. Maybe it was because she was a complete, helpless masochist, where he was concerned -- but she kept a close eye on us, daddy and me. She wouldn't let him spank or punish me after that. If I did something wrong, she would whip me or slap me across the face -- and I didn't get that same feeling that I did when my daddy whipped me.
"I know enough about this jazz -- psychiatry, sexuality, all that junk -- to know that I was really hung up on 'coming' and being whipped. I didn't know it then, but I do know now. Anyhow, I tried my best to get my father to do something to me that would give me that 'little-girl' climax, but mom was too smart.
"Then-- she died. It happened suddenly. She had a heart attack, they took her to the hospital, and three days later she was dead. Funny, but I still remember that there were only about ten people at the funeral. Daddy and her didn't have many friends; they didn't seem to want them.
"I don't know if I missed her real bad or not. I didn't have much chance to miss her. My life at home got too exciting.
"It started the night she went to the hospital. She had her heart attack about noon, and by the time I got home from school, she was in the hospital. Daddy was off work and when I came home from school, he told me he would take me up to the hospital to see her. He also said that while she was in the hospital, I'd have to do all the things she usually did: cook, clean, straighten up the place. I could cook all right, but I hated to clean the house. I didn't know then, but my father meant for me to do a lot more things than that, things that she usually did -- like suck him off, and let him beat me, then fuck me... in the cunt and in the asshole.
"When he got back from visiting mom, he started in on me. He started yelling how filthy the place was. I'd only had a couple of hours after school, and it wasn't my fault that the place was a mess. My mother was never a good housekeeper, and maybe that's why I wasn't. Anyway, I was so surprised and upset at finding my mother had gone to the hospital that I guess I just dawdled around most of the time until we went to visit her. I know now that he was just using that as an excuse to beat me and get sexy kicks with me.
"Anyway, when we got back from the hospital -- my mother was drugged pretty heavy, and we didn't stay long -- I was hungry, and I guess he was, too, because he told me to fix some bacon and eggs for us. He liked them sunny side up, but I broke both of them and they ran all over the pan, and I fried the bacon too hard to suit him.
"When I tried to put them on a plate, I dropped one of the eggs on the floor, and he hit the ceiling. 'Goddamn, girl,' he yelled, 'if you're gonna be the woman of this house, you're gonna have to learn a few things! "He pulled off his belt and told me to lie down on the couch. I did, and he peeled off my panties and began to whip me with the belt. He was deliberately aiming for my asshole and cunt, and I spread my legs wide so I could get that good feeling again. But he didn't hit me too many times. He stopped all of a sudden and, before I knew what he was doing, had shoved his finger up inside my cunt and was digging it in as deep as he could! I think he was trying to gauge just how deep his cock would go into my pussy, but it felt good, especially when he moved his finger around so his fingernail dug into the soft flesh of my pussy. The places he had hit me hurt. I knew I must have welts on me, but I didn't care. He was doing what made me feel real good, and I didn't even feel the stinging from the places he had hit me. I wanted him to do more things to my cunt. But he surprised me.
"He rolled me over and stood there looking at my cunt. I spread my legs wide, so he could get a good look, and I knew that my little knob was sticking out, because I had looked at it in the mirror a lot of times while I played with it with my fingers. He spread my legs even wider and crawled up between my legs, so his head was right between my legs. He began to lick my pussy lips, but then he got all excited and began to use his teeth on my knob -- biting it, running both his upper and lower teeth over it until they met and I was sure he was biting off little pieces of my clit!
"But it felt so good, I reached down and put my hand on the back of his head and pushed hard. The more and the harder he bit my knob, the hotter I got down there. I guess he knew I was going to come, because he reached up and shoved one finger up inside of my cunt, digging in hard, and when I began to buck and jump, he went at me with all his might, and then I think I had my first real orgasm!
"But he wouldn't stop, even though he knew I had had my come. He kept on biting my clit, and in a couple of minutes I was hotter than ever. Only this time he reached up his other hand and shoved his index finger up my asshole and really dug it in, moving it all around so that the nail scratched and hurt the inside of my asshole! I came again. All at once he got up, pulling his fingers from inside my cunt and my ass, and straddled me! He had unzipped his pants as he got up, and, suddenly, slapping me right in the face, there was his big, red-headed prick!
"I wanted it. I wanted to kiss it and suck it and have it shoved down my throat until it hurt me. I was already so hot that I didn't care what he did. I took the head of it in my mouth and all I wanted to do was bite it. I dug my teeth into the soft, red head of it, and he did just what I wanted him to do -- he slapped me across the face as hard as he could. The more he slapped me, the harder I bit his cock, but he kept shoving it farther and farther down my throat, and I kept my teeth locked over it, so that every time he shoved it in deeper, my teeth raked his cock from end to tip. As he got hotter, and closer to orgasm, he began to slap me with both hands, first one cheek, then the other. I loved it. I reached down with one hand and began to massage my clit, and when I felt him spurt his juice into my mouth, I came! It was wonderful! I hadn't even dreamed that a body could give such pleasure to another body. I wanted him to stick it inside my cunt, but he was a sadist. I think he knew that I wanted it badly, because he rolled me over on my back and got down with his mouth between my ass cheeks. He began to stick his tongue up so that he was licking the lips of my cunt and at the same time he was shoving his finger as far up my asshole as he could. I was in a halfway heaven. I didn't know what I wanted -- whether I wanted his cock up my asshole or his mouth sucking and licking my cunt.
"I didn't expect the next thing he did. He rose, straddled my ass, and began to hit me on the ass cheeks with his hands -- like he had hit me on the face -- first one hand, then the other. I could feel my cunt begin to bum again, wanting and needing something more than the slapping he was administering. He still hadn't fucked me, and that was what I was waiting for more than anything...
"He stopped slapping me, all at once. My ass cheeks were burning from the hard blows he had been giving them, and his cock was hard and erect when he moved into my bumhole. He really jabbed it into me... I was tight and dry, and his cock rubbed hard against the flesh of my asshole when he began to jab it in. The more I moved around and moaned, the harder he pushed it up inside me. It wouldn't even go in an inch at first; but he kept at it, letting his weight down on me and biting the back of my neck. Then he slid his hands under my chest and began to claw at the nipples of my titties. That's when I came alive!
"I felt his prick going deeper and deeper, and, all at once, it was all the way in! I could feel his balls against my ass cheeks, and I could feel about eight inches of cock up my asshole! With him clawing at me, and the feel of his cock up my ass, all I could do was beg him to fuck me the right way. I was dying for it! I tried to ask him, and finally I got it out: 'Fuck me... please fuck me... But instead of rolling me over and sticking it up inside my cunt, he barreled harder and harder into my asshole until I felt him squirt a big load of jism up inside my bum!
"When he pulled out his cock and got off me, then rolled me over, I thought I was going to get fucked, but no -- he stood beside me, his cock getting soft. I spread my legs, hoping he'd climb on me; but instead, he began to slap me again! He was saying: 'You little slut! You goddamn bitch, you! Asking to be fucked! Where'd you learn to like that? You ain't old enough to be fucked, girl -- you're only old enough, for ass-fucking and cock-sucking. Now, you take this cock of mine into your mouth and you lick all your own shit off it good!'
"He was hitting me all the time, and I was so hot that all I could do was reach for his cock, rise up, and take it in my mouth. It tasted funny -- from my own shit -- but I shoved it in my mouth and began to suck it and tongue it. He moved over and straddled me, put his hands down to keep himself up so he could watch while he shoved it deep down my throat.
"I had to reach down and shove my fingers into my pussy and massage my clit, but he didn't even notice. He kept himself up on one hand, and he slapped my face hard with the other. I was in heaven! The only thing I wanted, to take me higher, was his cock inside my cunt.
"But he didn't fuck me that night. It wasn't until the night after the funeral that he did. On the night they buried my mother, he went out and got stoned. He was so drunk when he came home that all he did was hit me when I came out to help him get into bed. He knocked me down and looked at me with his bleary eyes like I was a rotten bug. He said, 'You fuckin' little cunt. You're no good. You're not even as good as the one I buried today. You're a fuckin' nothing!'
"I cried myself to sleep that night, and I don't know to this day if it was because of the way he treated me or because they had just buried my mother!"
* * *
At a moment of utter loneliness and bereavement, this girl was completely rejected by the one person in the world with whom she was sexually, emotionally, and by blood ties, deeply enmeshed. She became, at that moment, according to psychiatrists, his abject slave for the simple reason that, at that moment, she needed him. She did not necessarily love him, but she did need his attention, even if it meant his beating her, abusing and abasing her. At that precise point in her life, when he turned her away, she became a slave to the father image. She was trapped. All that she had known of pleasure, ecstasy, joy, happiness, security, even love -- twisted and distorted as it was -- was snatched from her. From there on, psychiatrists feel, she entered upon an eternal search and campaign to regain love, from whomever would bestow it, at whatever cost to her.
* * *
"I cried myself to sleep. I even went into his bedroom and played with his cock, but he was too drunk to feel anything. I crawled into bed with him and lay there for hours, hoping he would wake up and love me -- hit me -- do something. But he didn't. At daylight I went to my own room. I played with myself, but it was no good. I felt lost. Nobody in the whole world wanted me, or cared about me, or could make me be alive again.
"But the thing that sticks with me about that night is how much pain there was -- and yet, so much enjoyment. I can honestly say that of all the sex times I've had that was as good as any. I know it sounds corny, or spiteful, or something, but that was a good sex night. I had all the kicks I wanted, except being screwed -- and that came pretty soon.
"I guess my dad had a lot of things to take care of, and I know that a few days later he came home with a check for $10,000! I didn't know what to think. He was like a different person! He took me out and bought me some new clothes and then we went to a restaurant for supper! I'd never eaten in a restaurant before, and it was exciting. Daddy carped at me all the time, about how to eat and to watch my manners; but, even then, I enjoyed the meal and being out with a lot of people and wearing a nice dress.
"When we got home, daddy was a little tipsy. He'd had some drinks when we were shopping and some more at the restaurant. He got a case of beer on the way home and he began to drink. The more he drank, the meaner he got. He told me I was no good, that I was ugly and only good for sucking pricks. 'It didn't do no good buyin' you them clothes,' he snarled, 'you're too ugly.'
"I didn't say a word back to him. All at once, he got up from the couch, came over, and tore my dress off me! When I saw it in his hand, all tom and wrecked, I just sobbed my heart out. It was such a pretty dress and the first real nice one I'd ever had. When I began to cry, he grabbed my panties and ripped them off, too! He began to slap at my pussy and stomach, using both hands and hitting me hard. I stumbled back and fell onto the couch and he began to really beat me -- sometimes doubling up his fists and beating me on the stomach!
"I didn't know what I had done, and I was scared, but then I began to get that feeling in my pussy again. When I get that, I start to forget the pain. I rolled over on my face, and he began to slap my ass with his open hands, and the tingle between my legs began to spread all over me. I was still crying, but that was over my tom dress and not from the hurt he was giving me.
"He got tired of hitting me. Instead, he spread my legs wide and just reached his hand up between my legs and began to rake the lips of my pussy with his fingernails. He wound up by letting one of his fingernails rake my asshole, and I knew that if he would just dig a little deeper into my pussy, so that he touched my clit, I would come.
"I tried to turn over on my back so he would be able to get his fingers deeper, but he stopped. He unzipped his pants and slipped them off, and I saw that his prick was not very stiff. It sort of hung there, bent and drooping. He straddled my face and said, 'Suck me hard. Get it hard, bitch!' I could hardly wait to get it into my mouth, because I wanted him to do something to make me come. I began to suck it hard, letting my teeth nibble it, and it began to get hard. He began to slap me in the face, and I reached down and began to play with my clit and, in a few more seconds, I had an orgasm!
"All at once, daddy stopped slapping at me, stopped pushing his cock into my mouth, and climbed off. His cock was hard and erect, and he stood there, looking down at my pussy. My legs were wide and he could see my throbbing clit, surrounded by the fine hair. It must have been red and wet, because I had just come. He didn't say a word. He just climbed on top of me and let his weight down on me. He used the fingers of one hand to spread the lips of my cunt, and then I felt his big, long, hard cock begin to plunge up inside me. I was getting my first fuck, and it was terrific! I was surprised at how deep it went, and how it filled my cunt, and it hurt a lot at first. But when I got all oiled up, it began to slide in and out easier.
Then, when daddy got it going good, he slid his hands under my ass and pulled me up tighter to him. He shoved his finger up my asshole, and the fingernails of his other hand were digging into the soft flesh of my ass cheek, and it felt so good, I hardly knew when I came. I know it was before daddy did, because a couple of minutes later I felt him gush a whole load of hot, slippery jism into my cunt, and a second later, I had another good come. He pushed hard a few more times, then he got off. His cock was all covered with juicy, creamy come, and I saw a little bit of blood mixed in with it. Daddy stood there, looking down at me. I had stopped crying and was actually smiling up at him.
"He shouted, 'You rotten slut -- gettin' me to fuck my own daughter! You dirty little bitch! You ain't never goin' to get me to fuck you again!' He moved close and straddled my face again, and he slapped me hard across the face and said, 'Now, you lick it clean! Suck it good and clean, you ugly little cocksucker!'
"I didn't mind. I was still feeling so good from his fucking me and making me come that I hardly felt the slaps. I took it into my mouth and just let him push it in and out until I made him come in my mouth. He got off me then and went into the bathroom, still staggering from the beer.
"When I got my tom dress and panties and looked at them, I began to cry again. I went into my room and just sat there, holding the torn dress to my face, all mixed up, because it had been so nice and I hadn't done anything to make him tear it like that. Pretty soon, though, I remembered how good it had been to have him fuck me, and I crawled into bed and went to sleep right away, masturbating myself.
"I remember thinking that maybe he just missed my mother so bad that it made him mean. Or maybe I had said or done something to make him mad. I guess he had been so ashamed of me in the restaurant that he just had to hit me when we got home. But I wished he hadn't tom my dress. That was the only thing he did that really hurt me."
* * *
The doctors in Karen's case noted that in this episode following the death of her mother, when she had her first true intercourse act with her father, Karen has already started to become a "classic masochist" in that, as much as she must have admired the new, pretty dress her father had bought her with the insurance money, she still tried to justify his brutal acts by searching for the reasons for his anger in her own acts.
The doctors also pointed out the deep traumatic experience that Karen underwent, aside from the sexual abuses.
For a girl to have been raised in semipoverty, to have been neglected, starved for love, and then to have lost her mother, with the resultant grief and bewilderment, would have been bad enough in itself. But young girls of Karen's age love pretty dresses. They are aware early of the value of clothes in winning attention and love, and Karen's cruel father's act in buying her a lovely dress in the afternoon, then tearing it from her body and destroying it in the evening, must have had a tremendous impact on her emotions.
Even then, she was able to blame herself for some real or imaginary act that had upset her father. This is the formula that eventually is adopted by all masochists: try to excuse the other party who inflicts hurt and shame, and take the burden of blame on oneself.
Karen, the doctors felt, was at this point in her very young life already too far down the road to complete, utter, and debasing masochism to have been helped, except by professionals, and this chance did not come until much too late.
CHAPTER THREE - THE DEEPENING NEEDS
During psychotherapy Karen was a tremendous help to herself and to her doctors by her almost total recall. She agreed to undergo hypnosis and she was an excellent subject. Under expert hypnosis she was able to take the doctors as far back as her first year of life. Although this was of little help in treating her for the simple reason that psychiatrists feel that it is the actual physical or mental abasement that directly affects the making of a masochist, the early background material was valuable in building a complete case history on this unfortunate woman.
As she entered the late grades in grammar school, a marked improvement came in Karen's schoolwork. The doctors believe that it was due in part to the better material home conditions and a growing pride in the fact that she was becoming a woman and was able to attract boys and men, in spite of the fact that her father constantly called her "ugly." She was able to concentrate more on her schoolwork also, because her father took in a woman who acted ostensibly as a housekeeper, but who was also his bed partner.
This woman had a vital bearing on Karen's development as a masochist, because she was exalted by Karen's father and completely dominated Karen, although she herself submitted to the indignities heaped on her by Karen's sadistic father. In a way, this eased the pressures on Karen at home, from her father, and it freed her to look about for sexual debasement and pleasures from other sources, mainly from her contacts at school.
The woman who was hired by Karen's father was a Mexican who spoke little English. She was a perfect foil for Karen's father, because he was a highly bigoted individual who called Negroes "niggerbabies," and Mexicans "spicks" or "greasers."
As Karen's father turned his sexual attentions to the housekeeper, Karen herself became more and more isolated. She felt, once again, "left out." It is well to remember that she had had little attention from her own mother, and she received even less from Paula Martinez. As many masochists will, Paula took her own spite and frustrations out on Karen, but because there were no sexual acts involved, this became sheer misery to Karen.
Masochists, for the most part, can only enjoy their self-abasement and humiliation if there is sex connected with them.
Karen had already been indoctrinated in the field of sexual masochism, and the point the doctors made is that at the time Paula was hired, the one sex object of Karen's life -- her father -- had been removed, in effect. She felt forlorn, unwanted, and unloved, and it was natural that in her loneliness and despair she would turn to her closest associates, her schoolmates and teachers, for fulfillment.
That she found cooperation is obvious, as we continue with Karen's account...
* * *
"I'd always been brought up to think that niggers and Mexicans -- anyone that was a different color, or even a different religion -- were nowhere near as good as we were. Now, I know that we were what most people would call 'poor white trash.' My mother and father came from the backwoods country of Georgia, and they had no education to speak of. Yet, we looked down on most people who weren't from the South. Northerners were not much better than niggers, so when daddy brought this Paula Martinez to keep house for us, I thought that it would be my turn for a change to lord it over somebody.
"Daddy did all right-- over Paula, but I couldn't. She was a mean woman at heart. I found out later that she had been a whore in a Juarez joint for years, until she had become too old to earn her way anymore and had taken to doing servant work in Tijuana. Daddy met her in a cheap bar on one of his binges after Mama died, and he brought her home -- just like that. She had some kind of permit to work in the United States, I think.
"He didn't say much when he walked in with her. He told me that she was going to be 'looking after the house,' and that whatever she told me to do to help, I had better do or he'd 'knock the living shit out of me.'
"They went to bed together that first night, and I could hear him cursing at her and hitting her, and I heard her moaning. I sneaked out and got a look through the bedroom door, and he was doing the same thing to her that he had done to my mother and me. She was on her knees, and I saw blood running from her lips, and she was taking his cock in her hand and putting it into her mouth.
"Then, I didn't think too much of it. I just thought that daddy had another easy thing, like my mother had been, and like I wanted to be. I guess, thinking back, I was a little bit jealous, but I remembered how he had talked about the 'spicks' and I thought that it would be over with real fast. I didn't think that he would stay away from me for long. In fact, when I sneaked a peek into the bedroom, I almost wished that he would spot me and come after me. I hadn't had any from him for a long time -- maybe five days had passed since he had first fucked me, and in the time between, he had been drinking a lot, not working. He had bought some new furniture, but he didn't buy me any more clothes. I had gone back to school and, to tell the truth, I had been pretty lonely. I guess that I pulled pretty tight into myself, because it wasn't even any good when I masturbated -- even though I tried to remember how it had felt when daddy fucked me.
"I just watched Paula suck him off that first night she was there, and then he hit her and threw her onto the bed, and I didn't want to see any more. I don't know if I was jealous for my mother or for myself, but I knew that he was going to fuck her, and I just didn't want to see it.
"It wasn't any good that night even when I played with myself, because I couldn't picture that fat Mexican woman really turning him on, like I had. And I felt pretty lonely. I suppose it sounds crazy, but I was in love with him! Nobody else had ever really made me feel good, all over my body, and I was in love with him. I still didn't believe that he would give it all to that spick he had brought home. I still thought that he would come into my room, after he had finished with her, and we would do things.
"But he didn't. And that was the first one of a whole lot of lonely nights when I had to masturbate. And, you know, when you don't have anyone to masturbate for -- somebody that you know wants and needs you -- it just isn't much good.
"So, the meaner she got in the daytime, and in the evenings when Daddy wasn't home, the more I began to open my eyes at school. I knew a lot of kids, but not very well. I was always shy and backward, and some of the boys even used to call me 'mouse.'
"Then I found out about lesbians. One of my teachers was a lesbian, and she knew all the ropes. She knew the signs that told her when to move in, and she spotted me for a loser from the start.
"She asked me to stay after school one day, and she was nasty. She knew somehow that she couldn't talk to me in a nice, friendly way, so when I walked into her room, she snapped at me. 'Karen, I'm fed up with you being a namby-pamby student. You have a fine mind. You know the answers, but when I ask for volunteers, you sit there like a little lump of shit!' That's exactly what she said.
"I didn't know what to reply, so I just shut up. Miss Upshaw walked over to me and glared at me. 'You need someone to really give you some backbone,' she said angrily. I thought she'd hit me; but, instead, she reached out and squeezed my breast! She pinched hard. I didn't have any bra on, and it sort of shook me up. I still didn't know what to do, so I just backed off a little. She moved in close and this time only put her hand on my breast, massaging it, not hurting or pinching. 'You're a timid little bird, aren't you?' she asked. I just stood there, liking the feel of her hand on my breast, but I didn't say anything. 'You do whatever anyone tells you to do, don't you?' she went on, and all I could do was to nod my head. I was so goddamned lonely, so out of touch with anyone and everyone.
"Then she really surprised me and snapped me out of it. She hit me on the cheek with her hand and snarled, 'Get with it, Karen! You're an attractive person! You have a lot of good points -- especially your mind -- so snap out of it. I know you've lost your mother -- and I'm sorry -- but there's a lot of world ahead of you!'
"I didn't know much about lesbians then, but I knew that she was making some sort of a pass. Maybe it was the way she had pinched, then massaged, my titty -- I don't know, but I knew somehow that here was some sex to be had. And she made it sure by the next thing she did. She moved in close to me, leaned down -- I was shorter than she was -- and kissed me on the mouth!
"She said, 'I'm your friend, Karen. I want to help you over these hard times. Do you believe that?'
"I just nodded, aware of the feeling that had come to me between my legs when she had kissed me. I was getting that same old tingle that I was so used to, and I was confused because I didn't know that you could get it from a woman, too. I thought that only a man or a boy could make your pussy throb and want to be touched, bit, hurt, or filled, and here was Miss Upshaw, with her hand on my breast, and a fresh kiss on my lips, making me feel ashamed because I didn't know how to respond to her!
"But she knew what I needed. She slapped me hard, surprising me and making me get even hotter. She said, 'Look, you've got to wake up to what life is all about. Now, you just get into the cloakroom and take off your panties!' She slapped me again, and I didn't even think of disobeying. She was right behind me, after she had gone and locked the door to the room, and when she came in, I was just stepping out of my panties. I had heard about lesbians, but I really didn't believe there were any. They were like fairies, or bogeymen -- they were just something people said there were, but you knew in your heart that there weren't any.
"Like I said, she knew what I needed. She came into the cloak room and slapped me again in the face. 'I told you to get undressed!' she snarled at me. I knew she only said to take off my panties, but I took off my dress and then my slip. I didn't wear any bra, even though my titties were beginning to grow. I had never had the nerve to tell my father that I needed brassieres. Besides, I liked to look at myself in the mirror and see my breasts sticking out like that -- like I was all grown up.
"Anyhow, Miss Upshaw just stood there looking at me. She looked at my pussy, my legs, my titties, and I thought that I saw a look in her eyes that meant that she really liked me. I think it's funny, but I remember looking down at the front of her, between her legs, half-expecting to see a bulge there from a hard on. She was hot for me, though -- I could see that in her eyes and could feel it when she reached out and took one of my titties in her hand. She wasn't gentle, and she dug her fingers into the nipple and really pinched the whole breast. I wasn't so big, but she seemed to like it. She bent over and began to suck the nipple, nipping it with her teeth, while she used her hand to massage my pussy lips.
"It didn't make much difference to me. I mean, I began to get as hot as I did for my daddy. I wanted to have her suck it and dig her nails into it, and maybe even run her finger up inside my asshole. I began to breathe hard, and Miss Upshaw reached up under her dress and slid her panties off.
" 'Have you ever had your pussy licked by a woman?' she asked. I just shook my head, getting hotter all the time. 'Have you ever licked or sucked a cunt?' she went on. I shook my head again, and she said, 'Lie down on the floor.' I lay down, and the floor was cold at first, but I began to get that tingling feeling, and I didn't mind the cold floor on my back and my ass. I even spread my legs wide, so she could see inside my cunt and see my clit. I felt as if it must have been jumping up and down with wanting her to suck me off; she must have been able to see it.
"She unzipped her skirt and let it fall, and I saw that she had pretty legs and a nice-shaped ass, and I had my first real close look at a woman's pussy. The lips were wide, and I could see a lot of pinkish-brown folds of skin sort of hanging out of it. I could also see a little knob nestled in there, and I knew that it was her clit. I knew that when I went down on her, that was what I should work on most. I knew all right that when that was touched or bit or sucked or fingered right, a girl would come.
"Miss Upshaw got down on her knees and leaned forward and began to suck the nipple of one breast. Then she changed over to the other one, nipping it hard with her teeth. My nipples were standing straight up and hard, so she could get a good bite on them, and it felt good -- especially when she let her body down on mine and slid one finger up between my legs and into my pussy. She hit the knob the first push, and she began to tickle it with her finger, until I began to move up and down, almost ready to come. I heard myself saying, 'Dig it with your nail, Miss Upshaw, dig me hard .'. . hurt me!'
"She did, too. She began to dig another finger up inside me, and then she dug into my clit and the inside of my pussy with both fingers. She bit my nipple harder and harder, and then she stopped doing everything, just as I was about to come! She moved real quick, turning around so that her crotch was just above my mouth, and she almost dived at my cunt! She was making little moaning sounds and mumbling something about 'fresh, young stuff,' and 'new lover,' and things like that. Then she spread the lips of my cunt and began to lick the outer lips, digging her tongue in as deep as she could and massaging my clit real hard.
"I couldn't stand it any longer. I reached up and grabbed the cheeks of her ass and pulled her cunt down to my mouth and began to gobble her clit. I nibbled at it with my teeth and licked the whole length of it and let my tongue leave it and go up higher and lick her asshole!
"It drove her wild, and she began to buck and shove her pussy hard into my mouth. As her movements got faster, so did mine, and I felt her clit begin to throb real fast, just as I came in her mouth, and then she just collapsed on my face, and I just licked her clit, soft and gentle.
"A few seconds later Miss Upshaw began to nibble at my cunt lips and clit again and, inside a minute or so, we were both working away at each other, almost ready to come again. Then she reached around and shoved a finger up my asshole and began to plunge it in and out, faster and harder. It was just what I needed. It hurt, and it made me come twice as quick. I took the tip from her and reached up and began to jab my finger up her asshole, too, and it must have done the same thing for her, because we were jumping around and shuddering and moaning, and then I had the best orgasm ever, and she came right after I did!
"When she crawled off me, she stood up, and I saw that her face had changed. She looked mean, and she had a hard little smile on her mouth. 'I guess I don't need to worry that you'll tell anybody. Do I, Karen?' she said.
"I shook my head, and as she bent over I thought she was going to kiss my cunt some more; but, instead, she slapped me across the face, hard, and snarled at me, 'That's just to remind you! Now, get your clothes on, you little shit you, and get out of here!'
"I hurried into my clothes and left, but all the way home, I felt good. I had made a grown woman want me, and I had been able to make her have good orgasms, and she had given me the best I ever had. I didn't know if I would ever have a cock inside me that would feel as good as her long tongue.
"That night I didn't even mind all the shit I had to take from Paula. I wondered what she would do to me if I tried to suck her cunt. I didn't really want to, though. She was still a spick, and she wasn't good enough to suck my cunt, even though she did suck my father's prick and fuck him.
"I just lay in bed and masturbated, remembering how it had been with Miss Upshaw, while I listened to my daddy slapping Paula around before she sucked his cock. I went to sleep feeling real good.
"When I saw Miss Upshaw at school the next day, she just smiled at me and said, 'Good morning, Karen.' She didn't even give me a second look. And it went on that way for over a week, just as if nothing had ever happened.
"I stayed after class one day and asked her what I had done to make her not like me. She just laughed, and sneered, 'Why, honey, you aren't the only pebble on the beach, you know.'
"I think I felt real jealous, and for one of the few times in my life, I spoke up. I said angrily, 'Well, just don't ask me any more then!' and walked out of the room.
"She came after me and put her hand on my upper arm, digging her nails deep into the soft fleshy part. 'My, my, I didn't think you had it in you, you little shitmouse,' she mocked me. 'And just in case you think you're ever going to sass me back again, this will teach you better!' She hit me across the face several times, back and forth, first with the palm of her hand, then with the bony back of it.
"I just stood there and took it. I was sorry that I had got her all upset and mad at me. I was thinking that, now, she'd probably never gobble my clit, or let me suck her cunt. I didn't cry, though. I just said, 'I won't do it again, Miss Upshaw, I promise. I'm sorry.'
" 'That's better!' she said, walking away without even looking back.
"The next day, she asked if I'd stay after school. I was so horny by that time, not having had any sex, that I'd have jumped over the moon if she'd have told me to. I didn't know at the time that she had a real sex bash planned. But when I got to the room, there was another girl I knew pretty well, sitting in one of the front seats. Miss Upshaw walked up to me and said, 'Don't take your coat off. We're going to my place. Come on, Vera.'
"She took us in her car. She didn't live far, and she had a real nice apartment. As soon as we arrived, she told us to take off our clothes, and she undressed naked while we were stripping.
"I hadn't seen her breasts the other time -- she'd left her blouse on. But she had real big tits, round and full, with big nipples that stuck out. She took us into her bedroom where she had a great big bed -- queen-size, I think it was -- and told us to get on the bed. Vera was a little scared, I think, because she held back when I climbed onto the bed. Miss Upshaw grabbed a leather belt from a chair and lashed poor Vera across her bare ass so hard that the blood showed through. She hit her a couple of times, and Vera scrambled onto the bed, half-crying. It was when I looked at her pussy that I first knew that she was a pain-lover, too. It was wet and shiny, and I could see her rubbing her thighs together so that it massaged her knob a little. And the nipples on her little boobies were standing up hard and taut!
" 'Now, let's have no more nonsense, girls.' Miss Upshaw smiled. 'Let's just get down to business.'
"She positioned us so that I was lying on my side, with my pussy close to Vera's mouth, then she crawled onto the bed so that her pussy was at my mouth, while she was lying so that she could suck Vera's cunt. I'd never even dreamed that three of us could have sex at the same time. Since then, I've been in a lot of daisy chains, but it was new and exciting to me then. I knew what she wanted me to do, and I just went at her, with my tongue, lips, and teeth, shoving my finger up her asshole like crazy.
"Vera was no slouch at it, either. I learned later that Miss Upshaw had been training her and having a lot of sex with her, and also that it wasn't Vera's first time in a daisy chain.
"We may not have come at exactly the same time, but it was awfully close, and it was wonderful. There's a strange thing about having somebody else there when you're having sex. I like it. It gives you the feeling that you're being noticed, that you're somebody. And Vera was doing a real good job with her teeth, and she did something a little different; she stuck a couple of her fingers deep into my pussy and, while she nibbled my clit, she dug into the deeper flesh with her fingernails. It made the hot, tingling feeling seem to spread all over my cunt. Then we switched around so that Miss Upshaw had my pussy in her mouth, while I had Vera's in mine, and Vera went down on Miss Upshaw.
"Miss Upshaw was afraid that we'd catch hell at home if we were too late getting back from school, so she drove us home after that. She even came to the door and told Paula that she had asked me to correct papers for her. That dumb spick didn't even know what she was talking about, but it didn't matter.
"For the next few months I had nothing but female sex -- with Miss Upshaw, Vera, another teacher, and three or four different girls. But I began to get bored with it. I could still get a charge from Miss Upshaw once in a while, but she got so she liked me a lot, and then she didn't hurt me or slap and scratch me enough. The others were a lot like me -- they needed to have some pain, too, and they weren't too good at dishing out much.
"I began to look around at boys a lot more. I was almost forgotten at home, so I didn't have any problems about getting out.
"I was in high school when I met Ricky, and it was through him and his gang that I first knew the taste of the real thing -- the whip."
* * *
Karen's case history at this point reveals, from her own analysis of her emotions and her sexual needs, that she was already feeling a deepening need for pain as a compensation for sexual fulfillment. The doctors also noted that she had learned to like being debased in front of other persons. She felt, at the time, according to her statement, that it gave her a chance to be noticed -- to be "somebody." What she did not realize was that she enjoyed the feeling of being abused and abased, for it deepened her guilt feeling that she was inferior and perverted in her search for pain and shame.
When a masochist takes the step into the spotlight, that is, when he allows others to see his degenerate or perverted acts, he is wallowing in self-pity and is trying to justify his acts by thinking that he is a "somebody." In truth, he wants to be a nobody -- a zero -- an object of scorn.
And Karen had taken that giant step on her road to perversion.
CHAPTER FOUR - THE WHIPS OF JOY
As Karen's boredom with lesbianism set in, she revealed frankly that it came about because of a lack of pain administered to her by her sex partners. It should be remembered that this girl had been "broken in" by a sadistic, cruel mate -- her father. In her young mind, brutality and pain-giving were tied closely to the male image.
Throughout most of her life, Karen has always been attracted to the brutish type, often males who had about the same mentality as her father.
Ricky Jones was that type. He was a hard case, a bully who ruled a gang of would-be toughs, with his fists, tire irons, chains, anything he could lay his hands on. He ruled through fear. He was every bit the sadist that Karen's father was. Because of his burly build and his harsh, masculine looks, many girls found him attractive. He seemed to have a knack, which many sadists have, of spotting a willing victim at a glance, and it was he who made the first approach to Karen. Although only seventeen, he was an experienced practitioner of his aberration, and he met Karen when she was in a blue and lonely mood, bored with female sex, and longing to experience pain at the hands of a rugged male. She was fourteen and in the second year of high school.
Rick's gang was made up of hot-rodders who roared all over town frightening citizens with their undisciplined and reckless driving. Often, members of the gang would go out of their way to frighten other drivers by playing "fender tag" (bumping their own car against the car of another driver alongside). They would also play their own version of "chicken," by driving head on at breakneck speed toward another car on the highway, counting on the other driver's giving way, and veering at the last moment.
Masochists seem to have an inner sixth sense that tells them when they have met a cruel, masterful person. Karen knew at first sight that Ricky was "her kind of boy," but she could not make the first move; her strange desires being what they were, she needed to be forced or intimidated or physically beaten. There was none of the normal coyness in her that is found in most teenage girls who are tasting the first joys of heterosexual relationships. Although Karen's body had matured and was attractive, she still thought of herself as ugly. She used no makeup, and her manner was shy and introverted. At the same time, she was as shrewd as a spider laying a web to trap a fly. She was magnetically drawn to the entire gang of youthful hoodlums from the very first. She went out of her way to "just be there" when they were horsing around the school grounds, and she often showed up at Wimpy's -- a hamburger stand -- where they congregated in the evening. It was there that Karen first met Ricky. She had wandered over -- it was only five blocks from her home, and very near the school -- and was sipping a Coke, keeping time to the rock-'n'-roll music on the jukebox by tapping her Coke bottle on the table.
Ricky and three other boys were there, also drinking Cokes. Suddenly Ricky got up and walked over to her table. His fists were clenched, and he had donned his most awesome facial expression.
"Knock it off!" he thundered at her. From here, we let Karen tell it as she lived it.
* * *
"I knew when I looked at his face that he was for me. I'd been going crazy for some good sex, and here was this big hunk of man, picking on me. I knew what he meant, but I played it dumb. I shrugged my shoulders, asked, 'Knock what off?'
" 'That goddamn hammering on the table!' he yelled.
"I looked at his clenched fists and wondered if he would really hit me. But I said, 'I've got a right to sit here and do what I please.' It took a lot of nerve for me to say that, and Rick surprised me when he leaned over and grabbed me. He picked me up in his arms, walked to the door, and threw me out on the sidewalk! I really did hurt my arm and my ass, but I still knew how to get him excited. I sat up, so my dress was up around my thighs. I wasn't wearing any panties, and I gave him a good look. Then I said, as spitefully as I could, 'You sonofabitchin' bully!'
"It surprised him, and he reacted without even thinking, I guess. He swung his open hand and caught me a slap on the cheek that jarred my teeth and sent me rolling.
"Then I began to call him all the rotten names I knew, and the more I cursed him, the more he slapped me. Finally, when he saw that his gang was standing in the doorway, drooling at the challenge Rick was getting from a mere girl, he really blew his stack. He came over and pulled me up by the hair. He slapped me a couple more times; then he picked me up again, walked to his car, opened the door with one hand, and heaved me in with the other.
"I had already begun to get that old tingle between my legs when he had been slapping me, and I noticed a big bulge in the front of his pants, right after he'd had a look at my wide-open pussy.
"He got in and started the car, not even looking at me, crouched in the comer opposite him. While he zoomed away, he was grinding his teeth and threatening, 'We'll see how much rights you've got, you horny little bitch!'
"He drove to a dark place behind a bunch of warehouses near the railroad. It wasn't quite dark yet, but there was no one around. I was a little scared, but not too much. I still remembered the bulge in the front of his pants. I knew he was going to fuck me or make me suck him off and that he would hurt me good. He told me to get out of the car, and when I was a little slow getting the door open, he hit me in the face and knocked me down on the gravel. He got out of the car and came over to where I was sitting on the ground, unzipping his tight blue jeans as he came. He took his cock out, and it was one of the biggest and fattest I'd ever seen. It wasn't long, but it was thick and hard. I got hot for it just looking at him jerking it a little, a silly smile on his face.
" 'Get on your knees, cunt, and suck me off!' he snapped at me. I didn't need much urging. I got on my knees -- I wasn't wearing any hose, and the gravel bit into my knees, but I didn't mind. I took his cock into my mouth. He bent over a little, grabbed me by the back of the head with both hands, and rammed his cock down my throat at the same time he was pulling my head in hard against it.
"He came real fast, flooding my mouth and throat with his load. I kept on sucking it, swallowing the jism, but he was going soft on me. I was scared that he would quit, and I hadn't even gotten one kick from it yet. I thought that if I hurt him, maybe he would get with it and hit me and go after some more, so I bit the head of his prick -- not a little nip -- I really sank my teeth into it.
"Rick jumped back, and that hurt him even more as I closed my teeth on it and nipped the end of it, the peehole, hard. But it did what I hoped it would. He came back at me and grabbed my hair and pulled me to my feet. Then he began to slap my face as hard as he could. In fact, I was about to pass out when he stopped all of a sudden. He looked at me strangely; then he began to grin. Well, it was supposed to be a grin, but it was mean and scary.
" 'You like to be hurt, you little shitpot.' He gloated. 'You really dig it. Okay, baby, let's see how you can take it.' He peeled off his wide belt with metal studs in it and a big, heavy buckle, and he pointed to the ground. 'Down, girl!' he commanded. 'On your hands and knees!'
"I got down, and the tingling was getting worse in my pussy. All at once, I remembered how my father had hit me with his belt that first night. Rick threw my dress up over my hips, and I caught a glimpse of his face. His eyes were shining with pleasure, and his lips were curled up like in an animal's snarl. He walked around and stood behind me, facing my rear, so that when he swung the belt, it caught me on the ass crack, and the end of the belt curled under me and hit me on the pussy lips! At the first stroke, I almost came! He didn't hit me hard the first couple of times, but then he seemed to go into a frenzy, and he hit me hard and fast, not aiming it anymore, just swinging wildly. He was making funny noises and breathing hard, and I knew that my ass and thighs must be bleeding, and maybe my cunt lips, too.
"I began to get weak, and I fell to the ground on my face. He got a little scared and stopped hitting me. He bent over and raised my head. 'You okay?' he asked, looking worried. I nodded. I was so close to coming that I was shaking like a leaf. I wanted it! I needed it!
" 'Please, Ricky,' I begged, 'please fuck me. Please --' I looked at his cock, and saw that it was hard and stiff again. He didn't say a word. He dropped the belt and mounted me from the back. I raised my ass up so he could fit his prick in good, and he just rammed it home, like a dog would, pumping hard and fast. Inside a dozen strokes of his cock up inside me, I had a wild come. My ass and legs were hurting so bad that he didn't have to do any more -- just ram his tool home!
"He still hadn't come, and he kept on pushing his dick into me, harder and faster. I reached underneath me and shoved a finger inside my cunt, because he was too far back to hit my clit with his strokes. I massaged it myself and dug my fingernail in, and that way, I managed to come again -- just as he did.
"He went soft again then and just collapsed on top of me with his cock still inside my cunt. His weight flattened me to the ground, and the sharp gravel against my stomach and thighs and pussy felt good!
"After a couple of minutes of his panting and catching his breath, he got up, zipped up his pants, and put his belt on. I sat up and watched him. He had a funny look on his face when he said, 'You're my fuck, bitch! You understand? You fuck and suck me anytime I say so, and anyone I tell you to. Got it?' Just to make sure I did, I guess, he walked over, yanked my head back, and spit in my face! I started to wipe it off, but he yanked my head so far back I thought he'd break my neck! 'You leave my spit there, bitch!' Rick shouted. 'If I piss or shit in your face, you leave it there!' And he hit me hard across the mouth with the back of his hand, so the blood came!
"He took me back to the hamburger joint and I walked home. I saw the other three guys standing there, leering at me and laughing at the blood that was on my face and the welts on my thighs from the belt lashing. I guess I knew that I was heading for some gang fucks, but I had already found out how much fun it was to have other people there when you had sex, so I didn't mind. Besides, in my own funny way, I guess I was nuts about Ricky! He knew how to get me worked up, and then how to make it real good for me with his cock, his fists, his belt -- even with his curses. It was like he had said, I was his fuck, his cunt, to spit on or kick or whip or fuck or suck -- and that was good enough for me.
"I stopped at a gas station rest room to clean up before I went home. I was afraid that daddy or Paula would see the welts on my legs and the little bloodspots from the gravel. My lip was swelled up from the last time Rick had backhanded me.
"I was stripped naked, getting into bed, when Paula walked in. She'd been drinking a little -- my father always made her sit and drink with him when he was feeling mean, and that was a tip-off to me that he was in a foul mood. Anyhow, she stood and stared at my naked body, her eyes getting wide when she saw the bruises and the livid welts on my ass and legs, and the swollen lip. I had come in, said good-night as I passed through the kitchen where they were sitting and drinking, and they hadn't noticed my lip then.
"She got a mean look on her face now though, and went out. Then I heard her talking quietly to my father. I got into bed, but I had hardly pulled the sheet up over my sore body before he was by my bed. He reached over and yanked the covers off me and rolled me over on my stomach! He began to laugh a nasty laugh when he saw all the marks on me.
" 'Ain't been takin' very good care of you, have I?' he stormed. 'You rotten little cocksucker, you need a plain beating, with no fuckin' or suckin', and you're gonna get one now you'll never forget!'
"For the first time I noticed that he had a short whip in his hand. It was the kind you get at carnivals, and I vaguely remember that he had bought it, or won it for me, when I was about nine. I hadn't seen it in years, but I knew then that the strange hissing sounds and the sharp crack of leather against bare flesh that I'd heard often, meant that he had kept it in his bedroom all those years and had been using it on my mother -- and probably on Paula, since she'd come to live there. For the first time, I think I was really scared of him. I wouldn't have been, except that I was terribly sore and exhausted from the session with Ricky, and, besides, he had said there wasn't going to be any sex!
"I saw the whip coming down as I turned my head a little, and when it bit into the soft flesh of my hip, I didn't get that tingle. I rolled to try to escape the lash, but he swung it faster and faster, and inside a minute he had put open, bleeding gashes on my breasts, my ass, my legs, and my pussy. I knew that I was going to faint from the pain, and all I could think of was that he would stop, mount me, and fuck me. It must have been bad, because I was screaming in pain. I remember Paula coming into the room and trying to take the whip from him. I vaguely heard her say, 'You kill her -- you kill her!' Then I heard his fist hit her, and her body falling to the floor.
"The last thing I remembered before I did faint, was the feel of my father's cock as he plunged it into my cunt! I don't remember any more. There was nothing for me but the blackness, then the struggle to come out of a fog of red pain. My mouth was sore -- I don't know if he had mouth-fucked me afterwards or not. My whole body ached -- even my hair, from where Ricky had yanked so hard on it. The only part of me that didn't hurt was my feet!
"I knew it was daylight, and I crawled out of bed and almost crawled into the bathroom. I looked for a second into their bedroom, and I'll be goddamned if they weren't lying there in a sixty-nine position, dead to the world!
"I guess I knew then that I was going to run away. I was nothing. Plain shit. I had to be with someone who cared enough about me to at least fuck me or make me come some way, when he beat me or whipped me. The only thing I could think of when I crawled back into bed was that Ricky would help me. He was the only one I knew. I didn't want to go back to those goddamned tame lesbians! I wanted a man! A strong man, a hard man who would shape me up! And it couldn't be a man who would leave me and sleep with a goddamned spick!"
* * *
At this point in her therapy, Karen turned somewhat philosophical, and her comments provided considerable insight into the emotional and mental makeup of a confirmed pain-seeker. She paused at this point in the taped conversation and said wistfully, but very lucidly, "You know, one human being wouldn't take abuse and physical pain from another if he didn't get something in return. You docs must be on the right track. If there isn't any sexual satisfaction for the one that's being beaten and abused, then it's no good. I found that out the last time my father beat and fucked me. I could have stood the whip, if he had only given me something. But he didn't. I was passed out cold. I couldn't feel anything, although I think I came to and realized that he was screwing me.
"But when I dragged my aching, tormented body into the bathroom, when it hurt and burned when I even took a piss, I think I hated my father. I've never seen him since I ran off, and I've always hated him. Yet, I wonder what would have happened if he had found me and beat me and fucked me. He was the first. He taught me. Maybe I would have changed. But -- there was that low-down greaser in bed with him. She'd been taken care of, but he had left me alone with nothing but the pain. I felt that I was all alone in the world. I felt more lonely than when my mother had died. But I had one ace in the hole. Ricky and his gang. " This was a very significant milestone for Karen, according to her doctors. At this point, she realized fully that to endure and receive pain there had to be sexual gratification. She had already learned to incite males to anger and abuse of her body in a deliberate effort to goad them into providing pain -- but with sexual satisfaction for her, as in the instance of biting Ricky's penis.
In a true sense, at age fourteen, Karen had become an adult masochist. She was determined from that point on to demand her rights as a masochist. In other words, she would never again, if she could help it, endure pain without sexual gratification!
Let her continue the story.
* * *
"I had to stay home from school for a week. I was just beat. I kept throwing up, and all Paula would do was rub some goddamned burning liniment on me. My father wouldn't let her call a doctor -- he was afraid I would blab, or the doc would suspect and call the cops.
"So, I couldn't do anything about leaving for another month. And a funny thing happened when I did finally meet Ricky. The sonofabitch felt so sorry for me, seeing all the black and blue marks, and the still unhealed welts and gashes, that all he would do was fuck me! He wouldn't even dig his nails into my ass while he was screwing me! I couldn't even have a good come with him! I called him dirty names -- I bit his lips -- I scratched hard at his balls, even squeezed them so hard that he yelped in agony, but he wouldn't hurt me. He kept saying that I was his girl -- not his fuck anymore, but his doll and his girl. I guess he'd really gone for me, because when I went out in Danny's car one night with Danny, Rick caught us and beat the living shit out of Danny. He wouldn't even slap me, even though he'd caught me with Danny's prick in my mouth! He surprised the hell out of me that time. He made me get in his car, drove out to the park, then sat in the car, just looking at me for a long time. Then he ran his hand over my hair and said, 'Karen, you're sick. You ought to see a doctor, a headshrinker, before you get yourself killed.'
"I guess I began to despise him right then. I called him every name in the book, but he didn't do a thing. He just started the car and drove me home. All I could think was: Who will help me get away from this rathole of a home? But the very next day, I found the answer.
"I had always fooled around with the guy that ran the grocery store near us. He was about forty, and he was not married. He was always taking nips at my titties and my ass and saying dirty things to me, like, 'C'mon, baby, I'd be better than playing stink-finger, wouldn't I?'
"It used to make me feel kind of good, feeling that I could turn him on, but we never did anything. I knew that he would, but he didn't look like he would be rough enough for me -- even though a couple of times he really did pinch the nipples of my titties hard enough to start a little tingle between my legs. I figured that he was the kind that, if we ever did get together, would kiss my cunt and my titties and be so goddamned gentle and lover-boyish that I would satisfy him and not feel a thing.
"He wasn't a bad-looking guy -- gray hair, slim body, a nice smile -- but he had mean eyes, like a snake's, cold, you couldn't read them at all. I guess I felt, deep in my heart, that maybe he was cruel -- but all that time, I figured he was too old for me.
"I'd started smoking then, and he was always ready to sell me some cigarettes, even though it could have closed him down. And I needed some smokes. I was worried, I had lost Ricky's help, and I still wanted to get away. I decided to test the old guy. When he handed me the pack of cigarettes and took a quick pinch at my titty, I said to him, 'I might make a deal.'
"He looked at me with those cold eyes. 'What kind of a deal?'
"Whatever you want. But it will cost you some money for me to get out of here.
" 'Why?' he asked, eyeing my body up and down.
" 'I want to get away from my father. He's a drunken maniac.'
"He said, 'I might be interested. What's the deal?'
" 'You get me -- I get bus fare out of here, and fifty bucks to keep me going.'
" 'A hundred bucks!' he gasped. 'Kid, there ain't no fucking woman worth that much!'
"Something told me that I'd struck pay dirt. Maybe it was his icy eyes, or the way he'd always tried to hurt me instead of just cop a quick feel, like a lot of guys in school always did. So, I decided to go all the way. I didn't have much to lose.
" 'I need to be hurt,' I said, staring right into his eyes. 'Know what I mean?'
"He looked at me with narrowed eyes, as if trying to figure out whether I was putting him on. He leaned close to me, so his face was only a few inches away, and said, 'The whip?'
"I smiled at him. I wanted him to stew a little. I started to walk away, then I turned and challenged him. 'Put a hundred in an envelope and try me!' And I walked out.
"He came running out on the sidewalk after me and yelled, 'It's a deal. Now! Tonight, after I close.'
"I laughed and kept on walking, but he was waiting at six o'clock when I went back. He had an apartment above the store, and I just walked up the stairs and knocked. When he opened the door, he seemed a little surprised. But he smiled -- a cold sort of smile. I decided that he was hooked, but I wanted to make sure, so I acted as cold as he was. 'The money, first,' I demanded.
"He took an envelope from the table and held it out. I looked into it and saw five twenties. I asked him if he had a stamp. He looked puzzled, but he dug one up from his desk, and I put it on the envelope. 'Walk out with me, while I mail it, so you know I'm coming back.' There was a mailbox right in front of his store. I addressed the envelope to a friend of mine's address. I knew she'd get it, because she had dropped out of school and was home all day, while her mother worked. I addressed it to myself, in care of her. I knew I could call her and tell her what was up before the letter got there.
" 'You're sure something,' Carl said. We walked out and I posted the letter. Then his whole attitude changed. He grabbed me by the arm and dug his nails in deep. 'All right, you little bitch,' he snarled, 'Let's get to the payoff!'
"We went back to his place, and he didn't pull any punches. He just stood there in the front room and glared at me. 'Take 'em off, kid,' he commanded, pointing to my clothing. 'I got a treat for you!'
"I knew he had thought I'd been putting him on, but now that we were close to doing what I'd promised, I began to get that good feeling again. I could feel my cunt warming up and my clit just itching for some sex. Carl was all man, even though he was a lot older than me, and while I stripped, he took off his clothes. He already had a good hard on, but I knew it would get better once he started using the whip on me. In a funny way, I was looking forward to it. He had a nice body -- muscular, slim at the waist -- and a good-looking prick. I just hoped that he wouldn't be too rough, so I wouldn't pass out again before I got my rocks off.
"When I had stripped, he just walked over and pinched my breasts -- hard. Then he dug his fingers as deep into the flesh around my cunt as he could -- as if he was trying to tear it out of my body. I began to really get hot, and I almost wanted him to hit me. I guess he could see it in my face, because he gave me a cold grin and said, 'For a hundred bucks, you don't get the fun, kid -- I do. C'mon.' He grabbed me by the arm and led me to the bedroom. I'd never seen a setup like he had. He had a regular-size double bed, but at each corner he had rigged up a set of handcuffs attached to the bedposts.
" 'Lay down, face up.'
"I flopped on the bed on my back, and he quickly shackled both my hands and my ankles so that I was in a spread-eagle position. Just for a second, I was scared, especially when he walked over and took a five-foot whip from a rack on the wall. But the more I looked at his stiffening, erect cock, the less frightened I was. I wanted it bad. I still remembered what I was doing this for, too -- the money to get away -- and that made it easier.
"He really knew how to use that goddamned whip! He stood back a couple of feet and aimed. He was expert at flicking the end of it so that, at the end of the cracking, the whip end caught a target as small as a couple of inches square! He aimed at my belly button first. When that whip end snapped against my belly, I almost leaped a foot off the bed! It was like fire being poured on me! But I could also feel the biggest tingle and desire inside me I'd ever known, so I gritted my teeth and set my body for the next one.
"He used one of my breasts for his next target, and he nipped the nipple perfectly. It shot a stab of pain through my whole chest, but before I could react, he had hit the other one! It was a delicious feeling, but it really was painful. I was only conscious of the palpitations of my pussy. It was hungry for a man's cock, or his teeth and tongue. It was like Carl read my mind, because he dropped the whip and went down on my cunt. He didn't lick it or suck it -- he just bit! He drew his lips back over his teeth and just dug into the flesh of my pussy lips, then my clit, biting savagely, and, believe it or not, I came in a few seconds, bucking and writhing like mad!
"He knew I had come, and I could tell by the size of his cock, sticking out like a banana, that he wanted me and he wanted to come. But I didn't know a real whip master. He had a long way to go before he was ready to shove his prick in me.
"He got up and picked up the whip again. He put it on the bed, then rolled me over and changed the cuffs so that I was on my face. I learned later that he was an 'ass man.' He really got turned on by asses and by being able to look up into a woman's asshole. With my legs spread wide, I guess he got a real good look at my spread asshole, because he began to make funny noises, rasping noises that came from deep inside him. I turned my head so that I could see his face, and it was like nothing you'd believe! He was actually slobbering, holding the whip with his right hand, while with his left, he was jerking off! And he went to work on me, but good! He laced my back with that whip, then moved down to the soft ass cheeks. When that lash cut into my ass cheeks, he moved a little so that the end of the whip caught me right between the legs! It bit into my pussy like a flamethrower, and it gave me a thrill like his teeth biting me never could have. But I couldn't come again. I was in torment! I needed his prick, his fingers, his tongue, something, up inside my cunt, but he just kept toying with me and, all the while, playing with his cock!
"I began to moan as the pain got bigger, and I remember begging him to fuck me, but he still kept whipping me. He would hit me hard the first time, then easier the next, like he was playing a tune on a piano.
"I was about to pass out. I guess he saw it, because he stopped whipping me and threw the whip aside. He mounted me from the back and began to shove his cock up my asshole. Even that felt good, I was so hot and eager! He slid both hands under my chest, after he had worked his prick up inside me so that it was going in and out steadily, and began to claw at my titties, raking the nipples with his nails in a close rhythm to the stabbing of his prick up my asshole!
"It is hard to believe, for anybody who isn't the way I am, but I actually came! Not as good as if he had his cock or tongue inside my cunt, but I was able to rub my pussy hard against the bed, and I did come. And then I felt him shoot a big load of jism up my asshole. But he just stayed there, pumping away until he got his hard back. I was pretty well beat by then. The whiplashes were hurting a lot, and without him actually fooling around with my cunt, I couldn't really get with it.
"When he got a big hard on, he pulled it out of my bumhole and climbed off. He grabbed the whip again, in his left hand this time, and went after his swollen cock with his right hand, jerking it like crazy! He began to hit me with the whip, all the while jerking his cock faster and faster. He was only looking at my ass, where he was hitting me with the whip, and then, all at once, he shot a whole squirt of jism juice all over my back!
"He just stood there, slowly easing off on the jerking, then he dropped the whip and unclasped the handcuffs. 'You're really something,' he said as I sat up, feeling sore in every part of my body. I kept thinking that, at least, I had the money to go, and I also was thinking that I had come twice and had never even had a cock or a finger or a tongue inside my cunt!
"I had a drink with him, after I had taken a shower. He wasn't a bad guy at all, and he asked me to stay around. He even said he would get a place for me to stay -- if I'd only see him once a week -- a place across town, where nobody would suspect I'd be. For a minute, I was tempted to take him up on it; but then I remembered how bad I wanted to get away from Paula and my father, and from the lesbians, and the softies like Ricky had turned out to be. I told him I couldn't -- I had to get out, and he was nice about it. He was a funny guy, I thought then, a real cruel monster one minute, and a nice guy the next. I've found out since then that a lot of sadistic characters are that way. You can't spot them by their everyday actions or words.
"Carl asked me where I was going, and when I said I really didn't know, he gave me a couple of names in San Diego, and a few in Frisco, and two in Santa Barbara. He told me that he belonged to a club that had chapters in several California cities, and that if I got hungry or needed a place to stay to just look them up. He said they all knew the score and were 'good guys.'
"I put the list in my purse, and was glad later that I had, because, as it turned out, I did go broke, and I was hungry -- for food and for some sex -- and I didn't have a place to stay. And you know what? When I walked out of his place that night, he actually put his arms around me and held me, then kissed me! Not like a hot-assed lover, or a sadist, but like a man who really cared about me! How about that!"
* * *
The doctors on Karen's case' saw a great deal of significance in this episode, mainly because she had discovered one important fact: she could sell her body for abuse! Equally important, the psychiatrists felt, she had finally gained the courage to leave her home, her father, and all her ties in school. For a masochist of Karen's nature this signified that had she been helped soon enough, she might have emerged as a fairly normal female. Few masochists display even a flash of determination or courage, but Karen had been willing to sell her body in order to attain complete freedom. Of course, no masochist ever attains freedom, for he is too dependent on others to provide for his need of pain.
CHAPTER FIVE - TO RISE ABOVE PAIN
Karen, according to her case records, made one attempt to rise above masochism, and only one. She had already become inured to the fact that she was a hopeless masochist, dedicated to painful sex, but when she left home and the evil influences of a sadistic father and stepmother, and a series of degrading sexual experiences, she unknowingly held a hope that, perhaps, tomorrow would be better. This is not unusual, according to most experts -- if there is such a person as an expert on masochism -- for it must be remembered that masochists feel that they do not deserve a chance to rise above pain and degradation, nor do they feel that they could succeed even if the opportunity arose.
Another important point in Karen's "graduation" to the status of a professional pain-seeker is this: she now knew that she could sell her body for abusive purposes, but she also knew that she could experience orgasm without actual intercourse, either oral or genital! In plain language, Karen had discovered that pain alone could bring her to sexual gratification, if not quite to sexual fulfillment. And she had experienced the ultimate in pain: the cruel lash of a whip in the hands of a sadist.
At age fourteen, Karen had stepped over the threshold of pain, into a world of need. She now was in possession of many facts that made the road ahead look promising to her; for, she could sell, wheedle, or simply let her very nature take its course, to experience sexual pain.
She picks up the story upon her arrival in San Francisco.
Her money didn't last long. Her youth was against her, for Karen had not yet turned "hard." Finding a job was difficult, and her father, low as he was, had the sense to put out a missing person's report on her three days after she disappeared. By that time, Karen had been in San Francisco for two days.
She did have a room, but in a low part of town, near North Beach -- a section given over to topless and bottomless bars and nightclubs and shows put on my homosexual female impersonators -- where she was fair game for every kind of pervert known to man. She hadn't the slightest idea of what she was going to do to support herself. She had no training in anything. She was at the mercy of anyone who wanted to entice her into a life of degradation; but Karen was already skilled in perversion and ready, willing, and able to participate.
* * *
"I got this room when I got to San Francisco. It wasn't much, but it had a little gas burner, so I could fix some stuff to eat, and I still had over seventy dollars left after I'd paid a week's rent on it. I deliberately picked North Beach because I had a funny idea that I just might be able to get a job as a waitress in one of the clubs, and, deep inside, I hoped that maybe I might be able to get into show business. Not really, I suppose, but it was a dream that was there, even though nobody knew about it but me. I had always admired women who could go out on stage, or be in front of a movie camera, and make love, act, get mad, hit, be hit... you know, be somebody. I didn't really think I could, but I dreamed it.
"I went out that first night and wandered around, hoping I would see some signs saying 'Help wanted,' but I didn't. I had plenty of guys try to pick me up, but I was a little afraid that first night.
It was all so different -- so many guys walking around -- young, old, hippies, weirdos, guys in nice clothing.
"I ended up in a little one-arm restaurant that featured chili dogs, and I ordered two and a glass of milk. I hadn't realized how hungry I was, and the old guy that was behind the counter spotted how young I was, because when it cleared out a little he came down and gave me a big lecture about how a young, nice-looking girl like me shouldn't be hanging around a section like North Beach.
"Know something? I think that was the first time that anyone had ever said I was nice-looking! It made me feel good. It gave me confidence in myself -- another thing that I didn't ever remember having.
"I told him I was okay, and that I wasn't as young as I looked. I told him I was eighteen, that I was going to college, and that I wanted to really see for myself what the one-time 'Barbary Coast' looked like. He took to me like he was my godfather or something. He wouldn't take a dime, and he told me that if I ever wanted anything to just let him know about it.
"I marked that down in my memory, and I'm glad I did. He told me that if I got hungry, to just stop in when he was on duty and he'd take care of me. His name was Chris -- he was Greek, and I can't even pronounce or spell his last name. It had at least twenty letters in it. When I left, I told him I'd take him up on that, and his smile was like a lit-up Christmas tree!
"I went on home from there, but the night was just starting for me as it turned out. I went up to my room on the third floor of the building, and I was just getting my clothes off -- I was pretty tired -- when I heard a key in the lock! I just stood there, watching the doorknob turn, wondering who could possibly have a key to the place. I almost fell over when the man who had rented me the room walked in!
"He was about forty-five, bald, fat, and he looked like a devil with his eyes shining. He had been one of the names Carl had told me to contact, but I hadn't even thought about him being a sadist or a weirdo. He hadn't even blinked an eye when I had told him who had sent me to his place -- just took the money and gave me the key.
" 'Karen, isn't it?' he said, stepping inside and shutting the door carefully. 'Friend of Carl's. Well, now -- I want to make you feel right at home.'
"I started to pull my dress back on over my head, but he moved real fast for a fat man and yanked it out of my hand! I stood there, stark naked, and he was eyeing me up and down, his eyes wide and wild. I really wasn't scared. In fact, I remember thinking that maybe it was a lucky break for me, because if I had one friend in this strange town, it would help. Besides, I was always ready for an adventure in sex, and if Carl had given me his name, then he must know the score.
" 'So?' I said, as calmly as I could, watching his eyes eating up my breasts, my pussy, and my whole body.
" 'So, we have some fun, huh?' he leered at me. 'You must be all right, if Carl sent you. Now, don't be coy. I pay my way. You cooperate, I give you back the rent money and you stay here free for as long as you want to be nice.'
"I began to realize how short a time I could last on the money I had, unless I got a job, and it sounded all right to me. 'What's the score?' I asked, putting my hands on my hips and pushing out my pussy.
" 'You need it -- I need it. Different ways. Carl only sends one kind up here. I got what you want -- you go the route I take. That's it!'
"I tried to be flip about it, so I cracked, 'Your place or mine?'
" 'Seeing you're all ready, we'll go here,' he said. "I knew that the best he had to offer was his belt, so I wasn't too worried. My ass and legs still ached from Carl's whipping, but I was ready to try again -- even with this fat baldy. 'How?' I asked.
" 'How about a surprise,' he answered. I didn't think there were many surprises left, but already I was beginning to get a funny feeling. This was another adventure, on my first night there. I wasn't excited about it, but I felt sort of good, knowing that I could walk into a big, strange city like San Francisco, and right away find two people who even knew I was alive. I was lonely and -- I have to admit -- pretty scared when I got there, and this gave me a little boost. The fat guy, and Chris, the Greek.
" 'Okay, then,' I said. 'Now?'
" 'Never a better time, baby,' he grinned back.
"I knew the rules of the game by then, so I walked over to the bed and lay down, my legs spread, my titties just pointing straight up at the ceiling, the nipples already getting hard at the thought of his belt, his cock, his tongue.
"He walked over and looked down at my breasts and my wide-open crotch. He didn't seem too excited, except for his eyes, and they were like big pools of lust. He reached for his hip pocket and surprised me by taking out two pairs of handcuffs! 'Sorry, but it's got to be my way, baby,' he said.
He handcuffed my wrists to the metal bedstead. I could move, but not too far -- except for the lower part of my body.
"He took off his pants, and he didn't even have a hard on! I thought it was just because he was older and needed to be turned on, but I didn't know what it took to get this character hard! But I learned!
"He stood there, with his flabby prick in his hand, and, instead of looking down at my titties or my pussy, he kept looking at my mouth. That didn't bother me too much. I just figured he had to be sucked off. What a surprise I was in for!
"All at once, he started to piss! He aimed his peehole at my mouth, and when I tried to turn my face away, he just got up on top of me, straddling my chest, laughing like a loony bird, and aimed that yellow, hot stream of piss into my face -- trying to hit my mouth!
"I was stunned at first, because I didn't know what kind of a kook I'd tangled with. In spite of myself, I was fascinated to see his prick beginning to get hard as the stream of piss grew to a trickle. I didn't know what to do. It was running down my face, in my eyes, down my neck, and onto my chest. I licked my lips automatically, and that seemed to be what he was waiting for!
" 'Good, huh?' he said, his little pig eyes getting wider and more shiny. 'Lick it off!' he commanded.
"I don't know how to explain it, but I began to get horny! I didn't know what was happening to me, but I had never been more homy in my life, and he hadn't touched my body! I licked the piss off as far as my tongue would reach. I kept getting hotter and hotter. I almost wished that he could dig up some more piss, because if he could, I'd open my mouth to it!
"He did more than that, though. He positioned himself above my face, squatting down so his asshole was just over my mouth, and he began to grunt and squeeze, making a lot of wild noises until, the next thing I knew -- looking up into his hairy asshole -- I saw a big, brown, smelly turd start out. I tried to turn my head, but I couldn't. I couldn't get away from the fascinating sight of shit coming out of an asshole, aimed right for my mouth!
"I just lay there, almost frozen. I don't know if I was scared, horrified, nauseated, or what. But whatever -- I just waited for it to drop. I remember watching his asshole squeeze tight shut, and cut off the turd! It was like watching a movie in slow motion -- and I couldn't move. It hit me on the nose and fell over my mouth, and I looked up and saw his big, hard cock, standing straight out, and I don't know what happened, but I began to bite at the turd. It tasted awful -- but good, somehow. And -- I had an orgasm! Without even being touched, whipped, beaten, or hurt! I writhed around to make the orgasm last longer. I felt so ashamed, because I had actually been able to come while eating this fat man's shit and drinking his piss -- but I didn't know how it had happened! I just lay there, smelling that crap of his, wondering what was happening to me. I felt like I was in another world, like I was somebody else, standing aside and looking at me, and shaking my head in wonder! I had never even dreamed of anything as rotten as this turning me on -- let alone making me come!
"From a different world, I heard him say, 'Lick my asshole clean, baby doll,' and it was like I didn't have any control left. I just did it! I actually licked the shit off his asshole when he put it down close to my mouth!
"I ended up with a mouthful of shit, begging him, 'Fuck me, suck me, do something for me!'
"He climbed off the bed, and I could see that his prick was big and hard, and the bastard stood there and jerked off! He jerked himself until he came, and all the time he was only looking at my mouth! I never felt so low and forlorn in my life. I'd drunk his piss, and eaten his shit, and he wouldn't even finger me, suck me, fuck me! I had never met a man like him before -- and yet, I had come, all by myself.
"He took the handcuffs off after he had shot a load into his hand and had wiped it all over my stomach. I don't pretend to know what made him tick, but I know that when he left, I just lay there in a daze, wondering what in hell was the matter with me. How could I come, just from licking piss? Who was I? What was I?
"I tried to masturbate myself, because I still had that tingle between my legs, but it didn't work. I got up and went into the bathroom and looked at myself, and I could still see traces of the shit on my lips and face. I bared my teeth, and it was there, too. I didn't know what to do -- I didn't even have a toothbrush with me. I rinsed out my mouth, but the taste and the foul odor was still there. I looked at myself again in the dirty mirror.
" 'The bottom of the barrel, Karen,' I told my image. 'A shit-eating nothing. Zero.' I grabbed my little cosmetic bag that I'd brought and threw all the junk on the bathroom floor. I had a razor and some blades, for shaving my legs, and when I saw it, I knew what I wanted to do. I took the blade out of the razor and held it up to my throat. I could almost imagine the blood gushing from the big artery that throbbed harder and harder the more excited I got at the thought of death!
"I couldn't do it! I tried holding it at my wrist and looking down, wondering if I would be conscious long enough to really feel any pain. Funny word to use, isn't it? Me, that lived for pain and sex. I put the blade up to my throat again and looked at myself in the mirror. You know what? It wasn't my face. It was Chris's -- the dumb, softhearted Greek's that ran the greasy-spoon joint. I could almost hear him talking to me. It was like he took my arm and took the blade out of my hand. When my own face came back into focus, I was standing there, naked, smelling and tasting of shit and piss, crying great big tears, mumbling his name!
"I got my dress on -- no underwear -- just the dress, I didn't even take my purse. I just stumbled out and down the stairs and staggered to his joint. When I walked in, there were only two guys there and they were drunk. Chris took one look at my face and started around the end of the counter. I started to sob and we met halfway. I just fell into his arms, and he held me close, patting me on the back and talking soothingly to me -- in Greek!
"He finally switched to English, but all he kept saying was, 'My baby -- my little baby -- who hurt you?'
"He chased the guys out, while I sat and drank coffee as if I were drunk. When the guys had gone, I just sat there, bent over, bawling like a baby. Chris came over and put his arm over my shoulder -- no feeling up, no moves to touch my breast. Just a kind man, worried over 'his baby.'
"I hadn't had anyone to lean on all my life. I just turned my head, kissed his rough, beardy cheek, and said, 'Take care of me, please!'
"So, believe it or not, he took me home with him. He had a nice flat -- old-fashioned, but neat, clean, and nice. It had a feeling of home, like he cared about it and every piece of furniture in the place was a friend that needed to be taken care of constantly.
"He had one bedroom, but in the living room he had a good studio couch, and that first night he made me sleep in his bed while he slept on the couch.
"I was so exhausted emotionally that I fell asleep the second my head hit the pillow. I remember him tucking the covers up around my neck, but I don't remember whether I had my dress on or was naked. I know he didn't touch me.
"I slept sound, in spite of a lot of nightmares in which I was eating shit from Carl, my dad, Miss Upshaw. I woke in the morning early, in the middle of one, where I was eating a big turd! I guess I must have been screaming or moaning, because the second I sat upright in bed, Chris came running into the room. He swept me into his arms and held me tight, while I cried it all out. He just kept patting my back, as if I were a little baby girl, and mumbling soft, soothing words, like, 'There, there, my baby. Chris is here. It's all right, my baby.'
"He brought me a glass of warm milk, and, after I drank it, I went back to sleep for another two hours. I guess I must have felt secure, because I slept soundly and had no bad dreams.
"When I awoke, Chris was standing by the bed, shaking me gently, smiling his kind, broken-faced smile at me. I could smell coffee and bacon aromas, and he picked up a tray he had set on the dresser and handed it to me. There was strong, thick Greek coffee, toast, bacon and eggs, and I wolfed it down while he sat near me on a chair he'd pulled up, beaming at my appetite for his food.
"Neither of us said a word, and it took me quite a while to come out of my fog enough to realize that I was sitting up, naked, with my breasts exposed. Funny, but I doubt if he even looked at them. He kept his eyes glued to my face, nodding and smiling every time I took a bite of food or a sip of coffee, and I would smile back at him. Sort of a silent admiration society.
"You know, he was the first person in almost fifteen years that had ever been kind to me like that for more than a couple of minutes! I felt like a fool for having gotten a nice man like him tangled up with a shit-eater like me.
"When I had finished, he said, 'You want to sleep some more, baby?'
"I laughed at the way he was acting like a father -- not like my father, but like a real one. I wanted to do something for him, make him feel as happy as he had made me, but I didn't know what. I only knew how to do one thing -- have sex. In a way, I was more confused than at any other time in my life, and I felt that he ought to be beating me and throwing me out on the street, because I wasn't worth anything -- not even his kindness. Then I did a fool thing. I moved over on the bed, my titties still showing plainly, and patted the bed. 'Sit here, Chris,' I said.
"He moved and sat on the bed. I still couldn't detect his eyes going to my titties, so I threw back the covers and let him see my crotch. I wasn't hot or anything. I just wanted to repay him.
" 'You can have me, any way you want,' I said. I saw his jaw drop and hurt come to his eyes. He didn't say a word. He just got up, took the tray, and stalked out. I knew I shouldn't have said that, because he wasn't helping me in order to fuck me or have me suck him off. He was a truly beautiful person who had helped me because it was in his heart to help people. I found out later that a third of the bums in the area ate in his place -- for free. He was a soft touch, but he loved it.
"I put my dress on, brushed my hair down a little, then went out into the kitchen. Chris was washing the dishes. I was barefoot, so he didn't hear me come in. I walked up behind him and put my arms around him and hugged him. I started to say, 'I'm sorry, Chris --' but he turned his head and I saw that he had been standing there bawling like a little kid!
"I put my arms around him and pulled his head down and kissed the tears away. I really did. I could taste the salt on my lips, and it tasted good. It was so good to be able to give something honestly, without wanting a lot of sex kicks in return.
"He turned all the way around and took me in his arms. He put his fingers up so he could feel my lips, and he said, 'Baby, baby -- never talk like that again -- to no man. Stay here with Chris. I take care of you. You see. You a good girl. You stay good. Chris help.'
"Then I began to bawl. It was so different from what I'd been used to, having somebody be kind and gentle to me. It was his turn to kiss my tears away. Finally, I stopped, and he beamed again. 'We make believe, you and me. I be the poppa, you be my baby. Okay?' I just smiled and nodded, dabbing tears from my eyes. 'Okay, baby, then we go take a boat ride. You never see San Francisco Bay, huh? We go now. You see the most beautiful city and seaport in the world. Okay?'
"It was like a new world, the way he made me feel. I just laughed and kissed his cheek. We left and took the boat trip under the bridges, around Alcatraz and along the waterfront of San Francisco, and it was the most happy day of my whole life!"
* * *
The father image was still strong in Karen's thinking, but it was a surprising, new concept of fatherhood. As mentioned before, this was Karen's big chance to reenter the world of normal girlhood, and she did make a valiant attempt.
For three years, she lived with Chris, in this father-daughter relationship, and as far as the psychiatrists could determine, there were no sexual contacts at all. She seemed to lead an exemplary life, concentrating on her high school courses and graduating with honors.
It is unfortunate that Karen chose to attend college in Los Angeles. Had she attended a nearby college in San Francisco, where the careful, loving guidance of Chris could have been continued, she would doubtless have made it all the way back to normalcy, save for a few emotional scars. There is no reason to doubt that she was extremely happy during her stay with Chris. She had discovered something she had never known before: kindness and love. She often worked in the restaurant, and was a happy, outgoing person; a normal teenager who was enjoying the wonders of youth in an atmosphere of security and love.
Listen to her account of the parting.
* * *
"Chris wanted me to go to Berkeley or Stanford, or even to a Catholic girls' college, but I wouldn't hear of it. It was my fault, I know, but I was getting bored with my life. Chris was an angel, and I didn't want to treat him mean, but I just had to get out. I was busting up inside to get back into action. I'd been happy enough with Christ -- he even told me to have dates, like any young, healthy girl should, but I didn't. I didn't want any more weak sisters being nice to me and not turning me on at all. I guess the old need for pain was beginning to grow inside me, and I had to have it satisfied.
"I'd tried to get interested in a couple of guys at school who I thought might be able to give me what I needed, but they chickened out before they even got me alone. They were 'straight' and they let me know it by being so polite, so attentive and wishy-washy, that I knew it just wouldn't be any good.
"Chris had the money put away for my college -- in my own name, yet! Can you imagine that? And when I finally told him in no uncertain terms that I wanted to go to Los Angeles to go to college, he just shrugged, cried a little, then hugged me and told me that whatever I wanted, he wanted for me.
"We both cried a lot that last night -- and I spoiled the whole goddamned bit the same way I had when we first met, almost two and a half years ago. I just wanted to do something for him, to show him how I loved him. He was the first and only person in the world whom I ever really loved, because I knew he loved me.
"He only drank wine, and the last night home, he broke out some wine and we sat there and talked and laughed and killed about three bottles. He was pretty drunk, and we danced a little, kissed a lot, cried a little, and then it was time to go to bed. I went into my bedroom -- he was still sleeping on the studio couch -- and got undressed. I looked at myself in the mirror, and I wondered why Chris wouldn't want my body. My face wasn't much, but I did have a sexy pair of titties and nice legs and ass, and I knew how to use my cunt.
"I called out to Chris, and he walked in. I was standing facing the doorway, and the lights were all on. He just stopped dead as he stepped into the room, staring at me -- and this time he was looking at my breasts and my pussy! I was a woman, not a little girl. Chris had often told me that I reminded him a lot of his dead wife. I have dark hair and fairly swarthy skin, and, although I couldn't see it from the pictures he showed me, he thought I looked like her. So I guess I did.
" 'Let' me be your wife -- just this once!' I begged, walking over and standing close to him, my hands on my hips, my pelvis jutted out. I wanted to look as sexy and exciting as I could. I really wanted him to take me, because it would only be a small payment for what he had given me and for the life he was making possible for me in the future.
"He started to cry, and when I moved close to him to try to kiss him, he lashed out with his fist and knocked me sprawling back onto the bed! And, for the first time in years, I felt that tingle between my legs! He had really hit me hard, and I really wanted to give my body to him. The combination -- my first taste of pain from Chris and my honest desire to repay him -- turned me on quick. It had all been held in too long. It all came out at once. I jumped up and ran to him. I was so happy...
"He turned his back on me, walked out, and slammed the door in my face. I heard the outside door slam a couple of minutes later, and he didn't come home that night. I caught the plane next morning by myself. He wasn't even there to say good-bye.
"I spent the flight time wondering what was ahead for me and, most of all, wondering what I was. Which Karen was the real one? The one that Chris had brought out or the one that was inside me now, wanting to burst forth -- the masochistic slut that had eaten shit, been whipped, cornholed, mouth-fucked, breast-bitten, and had loved every bit of it?
"I was ashamed, but then, I was always ashamed. Maybe I used this situation to get myself back into the rut that I'd been in for so long. I don't know. But I felt free, up there in the sky, and when we landed at International Airport in L.A., I felt like I had come home at last."
CHAPTER SIX - THE MATING OF PAIN-SEEKERS
When Karen arrived in Los Angeles, she quickly got a small apartment. Chris had transferred a checking account in her name to a Los Angeles bank, weeks before, when he knew that she would leave, despite all his pleadings. It was near the campus of the college she had chosen, chosen not for its academic qualities and opportunities but because it had begun to make headlines for the swinging groups of hippies who had assumed control of the activities. There had been several instances of violence, and violence was what Karen believed she needed more than anything else.
Let her pick up the story from there.
* * *
"I had a nice little place, but for the first couple of days I was lonely as hell. I missed being waited on and cared for. I felt alone, and yet, it felt good to be completely free.
"I lived in an apartment building that was almost totally tenanted by women -- college co-eds, with a few older women scattered around. It was a big building, with at least fifty units. I was always a shy person, timid, most of the time. I could never strike up a conversation with another person. I should have guessed, I suppose, that a lot of the women in the building were lesbians, but I was too excited the first few days to give it much thought.
"What I didn't know was that the apartment building was a nest of sadomasochists, also!
"I discovered it quickly, though, when I went to the gym one morning to do a few exercises. Afterwards, I went into the sauna bath. When I had taken my clothes off and showered, I stepped into the sauna room. I was naked. I didn't think there would be anyone there, but there were three other women. They were bare, too, and they were really having a ball! Two of them were down on each other's pussies, eating away, while the third was using a short whip on the others' naked bodies.
"I backed out, but the one with the whip came out and grabbed me by the arm. The others stopped and watched what was going on between the third woman and myself.
" 'Don't be scared, honey,' she said, as I kept eyeing the whip she had. I wasn't scared, but she didn't know what was going through my mind. The sight of her hitting the others with the whip had struck a spark. I had been babied and treated with respect for so long that when I stumbled on the sex orgy, I suddenly felt a need for some sex.
" 'Come on back. You might enjoy it!' she said. She was a big woman, nearly six feet tall, with huge breasts and a broad bottom, yet, she wasn't fat, just big and powerful-looking. I could see that she was interested in me by the way she kept her eyes on my breasts and pussy. She still had hold of my hand, and she was gripping it hard, her nails digging in.
" 'I -- well, maybe another time --' I started.
" 'Come on, honey, you're one of us, aren't you?' she persisted. She was looking into my eyes now, and I didn't know what she meant -- whether she was asking if I was a lesbian, or a pain-seeker.
" 'I don't understand,' I replied.
"She looked down at my legs, then turned me around and stared at my ass cheeks and the back of my body. 'You understand, all right!' she said. She had a hungry look in her eyes and, using the whip lightly, she tapped some of the scars on my legs that whips and belts had left. 'Those marks give you away.' Suddenly she lashed out with the whip and flicked my belly. It surprised me and, most of all, it sent that old hot tingle running up inside of my cunt! I gasped from the wild feeling.
"She grinned at me in triumph and dragged me back into the sauna. 'Welcome to the club,' she gloated. 'I'm Ann, and this is Sue and Gloria.'
"I felt foolish. I guess I had wanted to pick up my old life again, but this had happened so fast that I was a little scared of Ann and her whip. Then I remembered the special kicks of performing a sex act in front of others, and I began to want some -- even though I had become fed up long ago with lesbians. Like I said, most of them are too gentle to suit me. But it was a cinch that Ann wasn't.
"The sauna room had three tiers of benches -- each of them broad enough for two persons to lie down on -- and the two women were lying on the bottom one.
" 'Climb up, honey, and let's really have some fun,' Ann commanded. I scrambled over the other two and climbed onto the second tier. As I did, Ann cracked me on the ass with the whip! It really stung, and I yelled. She hit me again and then crawled up and laid the whip down. She grabbed one of my breasts in her hand and began to use her fingernails on it, really scratching hard; then, all at once, she bent and grabbed the nipple in her teeth and bit me.
"I knew by the way my pussy came alive that I was back where I belonged. I had been 'good' too long. I hadn't really understood how badly I had missed sex and pain until I had a taste of it at Ann's hands.
"She looked up at my face, her eyes gleaming. I knew she could see the ecstasy beginning to show. 'You like that, don't you?' Ann asked, reaching for the other breast and squeezing the nipple hard. I didn't answer her, but I reached out and began to work on her own breasts, trying to claw the nipple. Was I in for a surprise! She swung her fist around and caught me a blow in the face that almost knocked me out!
" 'I give the pain, kiddo,' she sneered at me, her eyes ablaze with anger. 'I don't take it.' She reached down, got the whip, and began to whip me. I couldn't get away from it in those cramped quarters, and she laid it on my back and legs as I tried to get up onto the top tier!
"I was burning inside with the old feeling that I was going to come, and I reached down and began to finger my cunt. By the time she had finished whipping me, I had an orgasm that was a dandy. Ann was grinning at me, her eyes wild and bright.
" 'I knew you were one the second I saw you,' she said. 'Now, let's see how good you are at licking pussy.' She spread her legs wide and drew up her knees to make room for me to crawl up between her legs. It was an awkward position for me, but I managed. When I pulled open the lips of her pussy, I was already starting to get worked up again. It was wet and hot, and I knew that she must have gotten all worked up when she was whipping me. I began to tongue her clit, and as I did, I stuck a finger up inside her, working at the deeper part of her. Ann began to moan and writhe around, and I noticed that the others were watching us, happy looks on their faces.
"I made Ann come quickly, and she pulled my mouth down tight to her cunt when she began to jump and buck as she came. She began to gasp and pant, then she opened her legs wide and I used my tongue on her throbbing clit until it stopped jumping. Ann just lay there, while I kept on licking it a little more.
" 'You look like you knew what you were doing,' Sue said as I raised my mouth up from Ann's cunt. 'It's too crowded in here. Let's go up to my place and have a real orgy.'
" 'Good!' Ann said, scrambling up.
"We didn't even put our clothes on, but ran to the elevator and went to Sue's apartment on the third floor. She had a real nice place, and I was surprised to see the large collection of books she had. I found out later that she wrote poetry and had even had a couple of books published, although she was working for an advertising agency as a copy writer.
"I had loosened up a lot from my first orgasm, and I was ready for some lesbian loving. And, believe me, I got it.
"Ann had brought her whip with her, and we no sooner arrived than she started to swing it -- at all three of us. I could tell by the look on Sue's and Gloria's faces that they were just like me. They needed pain to get really turned on, but when they did, we had some wild sex, in all sorts of combinations.
"Afterwards, when we were all satisfied and pooped out, Sue made some martinis and we just sat around like a bunch of normal women, talking about ourselves, what we wanted to do, and other gossip.
"I spent the next couple of days at the college, getting set up, and I didn't see any of them until the weekend. We got together on Saturday afternoon and had a session, and I was surprised when I discovered that Sue and Gloria had dates for Saturday night -- with men! I don't know why it should have surprised me, because, after all, I liked men better than women, and I swung both ways.
"Around six o'clock, Sue came up to my place. She was all dressed up and she looked really pretty. She was all excited. 'How about going on a blind date, Karen?' she bubbled. 'My boyfriend's brother is in town. He lives in Phoenix, and he's alone. I've never met him, but Al says he's a real exciting guy. What do you say?'
"It sounded all right to me. I was beginning to feel like I was alive again, after being buried in attention by Chris for so long.
"I got all dolled up, and, at eight, the men came to Sue's apartment and I met Al, Sue's date, and his brother, Max. Max was a tall man, muscular, and quite a bit older than I had expected. He was good-looking, in a masculine way, and in some ways he reminded me a little of my father. He seemed to like me all right, although he did tease me about being so shy and quiet. We went to dinner, then to a nightclub. But they asked me for some identification to prove I was over twenty-one, and, of course, I didn't have any, because I was only eighteen.
"Max acted disgusted, but Sue suggested that we get some drinks and go back to her place. It sort of put a wet blanket on the evening, but everyone tried to make the best of it. Max was cold to me on the way home, and when we had a couple of drinks at Sue's, he said he was leaving.
" 'Why don't you come down to my apartment for a while?' I heard myself asking him. It had just popped out. I had come to like him in the couple of hours we'd been together, and the more surly he got because of my dumb boo-boo, the more sorry I felt for having spoiled his evening."
* * *
Karen fell rapidly back into her submissive, self-blaming attitude, once she was away from the stable influence of Chris. The added factor that helped attract her to Max was his resemblance to her father. What Karen instinctively sensed also, was that Max was endowed with the same brutish and domineering qualities as was her father. She had noted that he was displeased and churlish and even a little blunt when she could not be admitted to the nightclub. His attitude must have given her an inkling that he could be cruel. It was in a sudden panic that she might be letting a "good man" -- her kind of man -- get away, that had caused her to speak up.
* * *
"It surprised Max almost as much as it did me," Karen continued, "but he seemed pleased. We took some of the liquor we'd brought to Sue's down to my place, and that was all right with Sue and Al, because it gave them a chance for some private lovemaking. I remember wondering if Al knew that Sue was a lesbian.
"When we got to my apartment, Max did a real about-face. He'd been polite and gentlemanly all evening, even though he was pretty gruff for a while, and a little pouty. When I'd closed the door, however, he grabbed me and held me by the shoulders, shaking me a little. He had a nasty look on his face as he said, 'Look, Karen, you'd better not be putting me on. When a woman asks a man to her place, it had better be for something more than a couple of drinks! You understand?'
"I understood, but I pretended to be scared. When he had grabbed my shoulders, his nails had dug into my arms, and I had begun to get that funny feeling between my legs. I guess I had gotten it a little bit when he was bawling me out earlier for being a dumbbell.
"I stammered, 'I -- I don't think --'
"Max interrupted me by letting go of my shoulders and slapping my face! I had guessed right! I just knew that he was going to hurt me when he agreed to come to my place. 'I mean sex!' he screamed. 'I mean, like this!' He reached out and grabbed the top of my dress and yanked down, tearing it completely off my body. He followed this up by grabbing my bra and my panties, and tearing them off also, leaving me standing nude and feeling all hot and ready for whatever else he wanted.
"And I just stood there. I didn't try to cover my breasts or my pussy. I saw his eyes light up with a wild look when he looked at my breasts and cunt, and I could see a bulge start in the front of his pants. He reached out and grabbed one of my nipples and pinched it, sending the fires up inside my body. But I needed more. I knew how to get it. He had a devilish look in his eyes as he watched me flinch from the pinching, and I slapped his face!
"I knew he would react by hitting me, but I didn't know how long he would keep hitting me. He must have hit me with his open hands at least fifty times. I fell onto the couch and he just slapped me all over, front, back, top and bottom, while I writhed and moaned and pretended I was in agony. It felt good to have that strong surge of excitement spreading all over my body, and when he stopped, he had a real good hard on. He took off his pants and shorts, and, man, did he ever have a beauty! It stuck straight out, hard and long, and he didn't waste any time in rolling me over and spreading my legs and jamming it into me. He didn't care at all if I came, he just began ramming and jamming, panting and puffing. I was already all lubricated up inside from his beating, and he went in easily. I'd never felt so filled by a prick -- it was delicious. He reached underneath me and got his big hands around the cheeks of my ass, and he dug his nails in deep, raking them across the soft flesh with every jab of his cock. I wanted to scream with joy, and I came quickly -- a big, heavenly orgasm that went from my head to my toes. Max still kept pumping, and, before he came, a moment or two later, I had a second orgasm. It felt wonderful to feel his hot jism shoot up inside me. That's the one thing I miss when I have lesbian sex -- that big, wonderful feeling that comes when a man unloads his come into you, hot, sticky, wonderful.
"Max leaned over and bit my lips as he was coming, and I kept moving my body afterwards, wanting to get him hard again. He was all man and, inside a couple of minutes, had it back. He'd never even taken his cock out of my pussy, and now it was like before, filling every crevice of my cunt, it seemed.
"We did it twice more, after he'd rested and had a drink, and I sucked his cock before the last one, to get it up as good and big as I could.
"Max was funny. He didn't say a word all the time we were fucking, but then, afterward, he got dressed and told me that I was a lousy lay! He said I was a no-good masochist and that he didn't like weak people -- not even for fucking! When I started to cry, he just pushed me in the face, sent me sprawling, and walked out!
"I just lay there, really bawling. I had really liked him and I didn't think he'd ever come back to see me again. But he did. He came to Los Angeles a couple of times a month on business, and he always took me out; then we'd go to my apartment and ball. It was always the same routine at the end. He'd whip me with his belt sometimes, and with his bare hands at others, but he'd always end up by calling me dirty names and walk out.
"I went along that way for the first semester of school, balling it with Max and with the women in the apartment, and I was really living. Once in a while, I'd date one of the guys from school, but they were always too damned gentlemanly. Oh, they wanted to screw, all right; but they couldn't turn me on without a lot of roughness, and none of them wanted to do that. And the lesbian bit got boring when I was left with just Gloria and Sue, because they were no more aggressive than a kitten. They were like me, and they were both going both ways, so they weren't too carried away with lesbian sex, without the punishment that went with it.
"Ann went too far. She cornered a young girl and whipped her almost to death. She was arrested and eventually sentenced to a year in jail; so, that left us at loose ends. Sue had an ace in the hole, with Al, but one day, we got to talking, and she confided in me that he wasn't what she needed, either. He was in love with her, and wanted to marry her, and he didn't suspect that she was a lesbian.
"I didn't see much of Gloria, but Sue told me that she belonged to a lesbian club that met in a gay bar, and that there were a lot of sadistic members of the club, and Gloria did all right without a steady man date.
"Life went along. I used to sleep with Sue quite often, and when Max came into town, I got really turned on; but, outside of that, I had a lot of time to concentrate on college, and I was doing well.
"Chris came down to see me a couple of months after I had gotten settled, and we had a nice time. We went to Disneyland, and he was like a kid. We had a nice dinner, then some good Greek wine at my place, and he took an early morning flight back to San Francisco.
"All told, life was settling into a bad rut for me. I guess that's why I was ripe for Kenneth Morse. He was a night cashier at an all-night restaurant that was located a couple of blocks away from my apartment building. When I would finish a bunch of homework, I'd drop in and have an egg sandwich or ham and eggs and coffee, and we got to talk to each other a lot, because there weren't many customers at the time of night that I went there.
"He was a little guy, about five foot six, and he weighed no more than a hundred and thirty pounds, but there was something exciting about him. He didn't have much education, and he didn't even talk good English. He was from New Jersey, and he had only gone through the first year of high school and then had to go to work.
"It was funny, in a way, because we didn't have much to talk about. He was always telling me dirty stories, but they didn't turn me on at all. He used to knock a lot off my bill, so I just kept coming back.
"Then one night, Ken asked me where I lived and what I did. I told him the bare details, and he asked me if he could walk home with me. He quit at two, and it was almost that late then, so I thought it would at least let me find out if he had anything to offer me once we were all alone.
"I found out that first night that he came up to my place that I had been missing out on a lot of good things. Ken brought a bottle of booze and some sticks of marihuana -- my first crack at it. He was okay for quite a while -- while we were having drinks -- then he broke out the pot and lit me one.
"It's hard to tell you what it was like, but between the booze and the Maryjane, I was getting horny as hell. But he wasn't making any move to do anything, and I still didn't have the nerve, so I just sat there, looking at the front of his pants, wondering if he was ever going to get a hard on, or make a move to try to fuck me -- or even to feel me up.
"The pot made me feel brave -- something I'd never felt before -- and, finally, I got up and went into the bathroom and took off my dress and my bra. I walked back out into the living room with just my panties on and stood in front of Ken.
"He looked me up and down, a sneer on his mouth. 'I don't pay for my fucking, cunt,' he said, 'so, if you're working your way through college with your ass, forget it!'
"It surprised me; but, at the same time, it began to turn me on a little -- not much, but some. His tone was gruff, and his mouth was twisted in a sneer that somehow held promise.
" 'I get all I want for free,' Ken went on. 'I got a lot of dames that like what I have to give.'
" 'And what's that?' I challenged. Maybe the booze or the pot was talking, but I wanted some action. He had been sitting there, smoking and drinking long enough, and I wanted to see what in hell he was made of.
" 'You want it, ask me for it!' Ken said, suddenly standing up and unzipping his pants. When he dropped them, I saw that his cock was big and hard, even if he was a scrawny little guy, and I began to wonder if he was going to really hurt me enough to make me enjoy his cock. 'In fact, baby, you beg me for it. Beg me to put it in your mouth and your cunt!' He walked toward me, and he had the marihuana cigarette in his hand. Before I realized what he was going to do, he jammed the lit end of it into the soft flesh of my belly! I gasped with the sudden shock and pain, and when I did, he lashed out with his open palm and slapped my face so hard that I stumbled backward a few steps.
"He was on me like a little tiger. He grabbed the nipple of my right breast and yanked -- he really acted like he wanted to pull it off! I was really in pain, but I felt good, because I knew that he was my kind of guy.
"He slapped me again, knocked me back against the wall, and I began to sink to my knees. He was hitting me hard, and I guess all the alcohol and pot was catching up with me, too, because I felt weak. Yet I wanted to be strong and sober, so I could enjoy what was bound to come next. I fell to my knees, supporting myself with my hands on the floor, and he walked over and glared at me.
" 'I said beg for it, cunt!' he snapped at me, his fists doubled up, ready to belt me.
"I looked up, and saw his nice, hard, big cock only a few inches from my face, and I said, as longingly as I could, 'Please, Ken -- let me suck you off. Let me suck it and make you come in my mouth.'
" 'Now, I don't know if I will or not. I just might like to shove it up your asshole, instead,' Ken gloated. All the while he talked, I was getting more and more turned on.
" 'Anything -- anything,' I begged. 'Just do whatever you want. I need you and I want you --'
"Ken moved in close, took his hard pecker in his hand, and began to slap me across the face with it. I tried to grab it in my mouth as it passed my lips, but I couldn't. Then he stood back a foot or so from my face, and he began to piss! He pissed all over my face and hair, and I just closed my eyes to keep the urine from burning my eyes and licked at the stream of hot piss that was hitting my face. I knew I was going to come if I could get a finger into my cunt, but when I tried, he hit me again and shoved his cock into my mouth and finished pissing in it. I had to swallow to keep from choking, and it made him go ape when I swallowed his piss! He pulled me away from the wall and threw me onto the floor, where I lay on my face. He went to his pants, took the belt off, and began to whip me across the back and the thighs and the cheeks of my ass. And he was using the buckle end to hit me! Every time the metal bit into my flesh, I felt like I wanted to crawl to him, climb his legs, and then take his cock into my mouth and just suck him dry. I don't know if I had an orgasm then or not, but when he jumped on top of me and began to shove his cock up into my asshole, I came inside of a few seconds.
"Ken came that way, cornholing me, and then he rolled me over onto my back and mounted me so that his cock was right over my lips. I could see the mess of jism and shit from my own asshole, but I didn't care. He was taking me to heaven, and I wanted to just keep on doing whatever he was doing. I began to suck it and lick it clean, and this got him all excited again. He took his cock out of my mouth and got up. He told me to get on my hands and knees, and he grabbed his belt again, and got on my back, sitting there like he was on a pony. He shortened his grip in the belt and began to hit me on the ass cheeks and the thighs with the buckle part, and he kept yelling wildly, "Giddap, horse -- move!'
"I tried to crawl along, and even if he was a little man, he was heavy for me. I managed to crawl across the room with him on my back. He was holding up his feet so that all his weight was on me, and when I came to the chair, I had to grab it and rest. But he wouldn't let me. He reached over and dug his fingers into my breasts and scratched and clawed until I knew I was bleeding. When I managed to get back on all fours, he took the belt again, and this time he aimed it carefully; each time he flogged me, the buckle went up between my ass cheeks and caught me on the pussy lips. The pain was exquisite, and I think I had an orgasm. But his weight was too much on me and I collapsed on my face on the floor, with Ken on top of me.
"He just sat there, beating my ass with that belt and yelling like crazy for me to get up and give him another ride. I think he was out of his mind for a while. He had forgotten all about any sex. All he wanted to do was beat me and hurt me. I finally squirmed out from under his weight and rolled over. This time, I didn't need to be told to beg. I needed him. I wanted that cock inside me. It was still hard and I grabbed for it and hung on to it, digging my fingernails into it and jerking it as hard as I could.
" 'Please fuck me, Ken,' I begged. 'Please, put your cock in my cunt and fuck me -- please.'
"I guess that was what he needed to snap him back to reality, because he just mounted me and began to fuck me. I was so turned on that I had an orgasm in less than a minute; then he reached up and began to dig his nails into my breasts, and inside another two minutes, just as he came, I had another one. It was like nothing else. It was as if my whole body was on fire from him and his cock. It was better than anything I had ever known. Don't ask me why. I don't know. All I knew was that I wanted him to stay with me forever. I suddenly knew, for the first time in my whole life, what it meant to love and need and want somebody. I knew now what my mother felt like, when she had crawled over to my father and begged him to let her suck him off, after he had knocked her down and bloodied her face.
"Love is a funny thing. Even the experts know little about how it happens, or why, but it happened to me that night. I wanted Ken for my own -- to keep, always. I wanted his kind of love. I didn't want a thing changed, and I wanted to get married!
"I didn't know how to let him know, but I guess maybe he felt the same way, because he stayed all night that night. I took care of him, and he washed my body all over, and then he rubbed some salve on the cuts and bruises. He was so different. We had a couple more drinks, but no more pot, and we went to bed together. I hadn't slept with a man all night for so long it was hard for me to fall asleep.
"Ken went to sleep right away, and I just lay there, propping my head up on my hand and staring at him. I always knew that someday I'd find the right man for me, and now it had happened. It was like a dream come true.
"I fell asleep with my fingers running over the welts and the spots that hurt the most, hoping against hope that it would last forever with Ken.
"Next morning, when he woke, he was nasty and cross as a bear. I told him I wasn't going to go to classes, and he got mad. 'If I'm going to be sticking around you, you don't tell me what you'll do - you ask me!' he snarled.
" 'Sure, honey,' I agreed. 'I'm sorry.' I had thrilled to my toes when he had said he might be staying with me. I hadn't dared hope that he would bring up what was uppermost in my heart. But he had. I was on air! Ken was going to be my man!
"I fixed breakfast for him. I was always a pretty fair cook, but he complained about the eggs and the toast, and by the time the meal was over, he was in an ugly mood and began to finish up the booze that we hadn't drank the night before. I had a hangover from it, and from the pot I'd smoked, and I felt miserable; yet, I felt as happy as a lark. I remembered how nice it was to fall asleep the night before, with a man beside me, knowing that he'd be there when I woke up.
"I decided I'd go all out. I got out my bankbook and showed it to Ken. I had almost three thousand dollars in the account that Chris had provided for my schooling. His eyes grew narrow and greedy, but I didn't care. I'd give him anything, if only he'd stay and be my man. After he put the bankbook down, he glowered at me.
" 'What do you think I am -- a goddamn pimp?' Ken yelled, getting up from the table and leaning across it, scowling fiercely at me.
" 'I -- I didn't mean --' I started to say, when he slapped me across the mouth with the back of his hand. I began to tingle in my pussy again, and I wondered if the money would make Ken change. I didn't want him to become another Chris. I had shown him the bank account as a lure to keep him near me. I knew he didn't make much money on his job, and I hoped that it would attract him. I knew that I was ugly, and a guy like Ken could get all the girls he wanted, in spite of his small stature, because he was all man. He was tough and strong, and he knew how to treat a woman.
"Ken hit me again, snapping, 'Do you think you can buy me, you slut?' I shook my head, getting more excited by the moment, and he hit me again, hard. 'Well, don't get any funny ideas, then. If I want to stay, I'll stay, and if I want to go, I'll go. I call the shots, money or no money. Now, you get dressed and get to the bank. We're going to Las Vegas! "It stunned me. I didn't know what he meant; whether he just wanted to see some shows and gamble, or if he perhaps meant we'd be married! It couldn't happen to me! I had never been that lucky, and I didn't deserve it!
"I just jumped up and hurried into my best clothes, while Ken got dressed and shaved with my razor that I used to shave my legs. I was so excited when we got to the bank that I could hardly make out the withdrawal slip. I drew out five hundred dollars, and I started to put it in my purse when I looked at Ken. He was like a monster. His eyes were flashing and his mouth was twisted in a nasty snarl. I quickly handed him the money, and we left. He grabbed my arm and dug his fingernails into my flesh, and while we were walking out, he was calling me filthy names and saying I would get mine for making a fool of him in the bank.
"We took a cab to the airport and flew to Vegas. By the time we arrived, he had abused me and cursed me so much that I was completely turned on. I couldn't wait until we got to a motel.
"We checked into one of the big casinos, and we had a nice room, but he didn't do anything then. He peeled off a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to me and told me, 'Get lost, slut! Play some slots or something. I'm going to shoot a little craps -- maybe get me a broad -- I don't know. Anyhow, I'll be back in a few hours. You just amuse yourself and when you're tired, come back here and lay down.'
"Then he walked out, with all the money. All I had was a few dollars in my purse, and the twenty he had given me. But I wasn't worried. I knew he'd be back.
"After a little while, I wandered down to the casino part and walked around. I played a couple of rolls of nickels in the machines, and they bored me. I went over and watched them shoot craps, but I didn't understand it, so I finally sat at the bar and had a couple of drinks. I was still a little hung over from the night before, and after two hours I was almost drunk again. I went back to the room, took off my clothes, and lay down. All the noise from the casino and the band that was playing rock music had given me a bad headache, and I finally managed to fall asleep.
"It was dark when I woke up, and I was scared for a minute, until I remembered where I was. I wondered how Ken was doing, and where he was, and just then, he came into the room. He acted a little drunk, and he looked at me lying there naked, and he came over and did a funny thing -- he kissed me. It was rough and not much turned on, but it was funny, coming from him like that.
" 'Get dressed, Karen,' he said gruffly. 'I got fifty bucks left. We're gonna get married.'
"I was so stunned that I just gasped. I couldn't move. I'd hoped he might want to, but I didn't really think he would. Of course, I didn't think then about the rest of the money. That was what he wanted. All I could think of was that he was asking me to marry him, that he'd belong to me. I was so nervous I could hardly dress...
"In an hour it was all over. I had a wedding ring and marriage certificate. I was married to Ken!
"We went back to the room, and he told me we were getting out of there and back to Los Angeles right away, so he could be at the bank with me in the morning to get the account changed into both our names.
"I had been so excited and happy that I hadn't really given that part of it a thought. Almost without thinking, I blurted out, 'I can't do that. That money is for college. It belongs to me!'
"Ken stepped close to me, grabbed my arms, and shook me so my teeth rattled. 'Nothing belongs to you anymore! It belongs to me. And you ain't going to college no more. You're going to be my wife. Understand?'
"I stood there, shaking my head dumbly, thinking about how hard Chris had worked for that money, what it meant to him for me to have it for my education. I wondered what he would do when he found out that it was gone, taken by a man who was just the opposite of Chris -- a cruel, sadistic man who beat me and cursed me and whipped me, and who was now my husband. I kept shaking my head, saying, 'No, no, no --' until Ken began to hit me. He punched me with his fists this time, and knocked me down. He was screaming, 'Don't you ever say no to me, you rotten little bitch! You'll do whatever I say.'
"When he kept on slapping me and punching me, I just couldn't help myself. I began to want his cock in me -- I wanted to have sex with him. I crawled to him on my hands and knees, my mouth bleeding from his blows, and I grabbed his legs and tried to pull myself up. I could see that he was getting a hard on, and I tried to touch it. I pleaded, 'Please, Ken -- fuck me -- let me suck you off. Please -- I need it -- I need you --'
"Suddenly, I was taken back over a lot of years, to when I was a little girl and had peeked out and watched my mother saying almost the same words to my father, after he had beaten her and knocked her down. I remember, even in my semidaze, thinking that it was no wonder that I was what I was. I'd never had a chance. I was born to be a masochist -- a pain-seeker.
"I struggled to my feet and pulled off my dress and panties and bra, while Ken was taking off his pants. He was all hard and erect, and as hot-eyed as I was. I lay on the bed, feeling that old fire spreading all over my beaten body. My mouth hurt, and my stomach, where he had punched me, but all I could think of was having his wonderful prick up inside me, filling me and thrilling me.
"When Ken climbed on me, he almost tore my cunt lips apart with his fingernails, then jammed his prick up inside my pussy. He leaned forward and began to nibble at my bleeding lips, making them bleed more, and sucking the blood into his own mouth. He began to exchange spit with me, sucking the bloody spittle from my mouth into his, then spitting it back into my mouth and shoving his tongue deep down into my mouth until I swallowed the spit.
"But I didn't care. I was in seventh heaven. I had my own man, and he was deep inside my cunt with his prick, and it seemed like that was what I had wanted all my life."
CHAPTER SEVEN - THE BONDS OF PAIN
It is obvious that Karen had now become hopelessly addicted to pain. So much so, in fact, that she was willing to sacrifice everything for her own gratification.
We have seen, throughout her case history, that she was a good student, bright, quick to learn, and, at times, eager to make something of herself through education. The kindly Greek, Chris, had made that possible for her by providing the money, and had eventually given his blessing to her leaving San Francisco and his care and going to Los Angeles.
The significant part of Karen and Ken's marriage in Las Vegas, and the subsequent brutal scene in the motel room, is that Karen accepted it quite happily as her lot in life. She even rationalized that it was a fate she could not escape, because she was destined for it.
Karen was now in the firm, brutal clutches of a cruel sadist, a man with no education nor even a trade, who had married her in order to gain control of the balance of the money with which Chris had provided her. She was so hopelessly hooked on Ken's kind of sadistic lovemaking that it was foreordained that, from here on, the path for Karen could only be that which led downward into deeper degradation. Even at this late date psychiatrists felt that there might have been hope, had she met a kind man who truly did love her for herself. But, as the money dwindled, Karen began to look upon herself as a sellout. She had actually given all her money willingly to a man, in order to have him physically, mentally, and sexually abuse her. She was, in her own mind, a masochistic prostitute. Nor was she far from seeing her thoughts disintegrate into nothingness.
* * *
"We went to the bank next day, and I transferred the rest of the money to Ken. He wouldn't hear of a joint account, and he'd been so wonderful to me the night before, on our honeymoon, that I didn't even dare to ask for it to be put in an account where I could get my share of it. I wish I had, because I didn't see too much of him for the next three weeks. I don't know where he went, but I think he went back to Las Vegas. It didn't matter... I was too miserable to really care where he was. I knew he wasn't with me, and that was enough to put me way down in the dumps of despair.
"Here I was, a married woman, and no husband. But I was still naive, and I went down to the hamburger joint where Ken worked, night after night, hoping that he would be there. It was hoping for a miracle. I finally realized that it was the money he wanted, and not me -- and that only made me want him more and more. I needed him. I had finally found a man who was for me -- my kind -- and now, after one night of marriage, he was gone.
"I went to see Sue and Gloria, but I could never find them home. I couldn't go back to school. I was sure that Ken had taken all the money, and I didn't want to put Chris on the spot. Besides, Ken had said in no uncertain terms that I was not going to college, that I was going to stay home and be his wife, and I didn't want to displease him too much -- not so that he would leave me.
"I just moped around. I went to the place he worked and had something to eat about once a day. The older guy that had taken Ken's place was nice. He must have suspected something, but he acted nice, and he ran a tab for me, in Ken's name.
"I didn't even know where Ken lived. Would you believe that! I couldn't go anyplace else to look for him except to the place he used to work, and to my apartment. I began to think I was losing my mind. Day after day, in the same rut: to the hamburger joint, back to the place -- wondering if he would ever come back.
"Then -- wouldn't you know? -- Max hit town and called on me at my apartment. By that time, I was desperate. I needed somebody, for something -- anything!
"When Max walked in, I just started to cry and blurted out the whole story, from beginning to end. Instead of putting his arms around me and sympathizing with me, Max just pushed me away and snarled, 'Why didn't you tell me about the money? Here I thought you were a helpless little innocent, who was a victim of your own needs, and all the while you had a nice, fat bankroll stashed away! I ought to beat the living shit out of you, you dumb little slut, for letting that goddamned no-good con man cheat you out of that money. And you think he's coming back? What for? To pay you back? You're out of your mind. You're a real psycho -- a weirdo! "In spite of everything, I still believed that Ken would be back, and I began to shout back at Max that he was full of shit! When I did, he slapped me across the face, then stepped forward and grabbed me and began to run his hands up under my dress, pinching the cheeks of my ass until I began to be turned on. He moved one hand to the front and began to claw at the lips of my cunt with his fingers, and before I could stop myself, I was all worked up and ready -- wanting him to do anything he wanted to me, just so I had a good come! I guess Max could read me like a book, because the second he felt me move in close so he could dig his fingers in deeper into my cunt flesh, he pushed me away, took off his belt, and said, 'Take off your clothes! You're so goddamned stupid that you need a real lesson.'
"The only thing I could think of was that I was alone, without Ken, my husband, and that here was Max, who knew what I wanted and was ready to give it to me. I stripped off my clothes, almost moving in close so he could hit me good with his belt -- because I needed him, his cock, his belt, and his cruelty. Ken had been gone over a week. I had tried masturbating, but it hadn't worked. I just couldn't contact Gloria or Sue, and I was willing to settle for anybody, so long as I didn't have to masturbate and try to live in fantasies.
"Max was already getting a hard on, although I think he really was mad because of the money, because he hit me harder than he usually had. He aimed for my breasts and my pussy, and that was something that he didn't usually do. He used to bite my cunt lips, but he would never hit them, and he was a 'titty man' from way back, always careful to leave them in good shape, so he could suck and bite the nipples later on when we really got down to fucking and sucking.
"I knew he was angry, and I began to wonder if I had pushed it too far, telling him about Ken and the money; but just as I was beginning to get a little scared, he dropped the belt and took off his pants. He pushed me down on the couch, rolled me over, and began to shove his prick up inside my cunt, from behind! I had always liked it that way, because a man's cock goes in so much deeper from the back. Of course, you miss the constant contact with your clit in the front, but you can always come, or help yourself by shoving your finger in your cunt and massaging your clit yourself.
"He was pumping away, and about ready to come -- and I was close to orgasm, too -- when the door opened, and Ken stepped in. I looked over and saw him, but I didn't care. I wanted to come so bad, I just yelled to Max, 'Keep on, Max, keep it up. Fuck him! He's nobody!'
"I give Max a lot of credit. He kept on plunging his prick deeper and deeper, and in a moment, we both came at the same time! It was such a relief -- not so much a pleasure, as a relief of all the tension I'd had inside me since Ken had left.
"Max crawled off me and didn't even make a move to put his pants on. He just stood and looked at Ken. He was a lot taller and heavier, and I knew he wasn't afraid. I wondered if either of them would think I was worth fighting for.
"Max growled, 'You must be the sonofabitch that stole Karen's money!'
" 'I'm Karen's husband,' Ken said bravely. 'So how could I steal what belongs to me?' He had a lot of guts, and he suddenly looked a lot taller to me.
" 'I ought to beat the shit out of you,' Max snarled, finally climbing into his pants.
" 'Yeah, that makes sense,' Ken mocked. 'I come home and find you fucking my wife, and you're going to beat the shit out of me. You get your ass out of here, before I call the cops or knock your head off. You've got no right here. Blow, buddy, before you're sorry!'
"I had never dreamed that Ken had that kind of courage, and I just stared at him in awe. I knew he was a domineering person, but I never thought that he was that way with men, too.
"I said to Max, 'Please, Max -- go. I don't want any trouble.'
"Max looked my naked body up and down and said, 'You don't want trouble? You've had trouble all your life, woman, and I've got an idea that it's just beginning, tangled up with a cheap crook like this bastard.' He looked challengingly at Ken, but Ken didn't move.
"Max put his coat on and walked out, stopping in front of Ken and staring him in the eyes, daring him to take a swing. In a way, I wish they had gone at one another. I don't know why, but somehow I wanted to see both of them be hurt.
"After he had gone, Ken walked over and stood looking at me, lying there on the couch, naked, afraid, and almost bawling. 'You fucking slut!' he snarled at me, taking a swipe at my face with his bare hand. 'You no-good, rotten little bitch! Married a week, and what do I find? My wife, fucking another man! You dirty little cocksucker!' His fury seemed to concentrate in one point, and he began to beat me with his fists, and then to kick me, when I fell onto the floor. I thought I had been satisfied by Max, but it happened all over again. I got so turned on, I thought I would come without Ken even touching my pussy or my asshole! And he didn't! He picked me up, threw me onto the couch, and stood in front of me, his fists clenched. 'You little cunt!' he screamed. 'You get on that goddamned phone and call your little old moneyman. I want some more dough! You get that Chris -- or whatever the old fart's name is -- on the phone, and you get him to send some more money -- now!'
"I waited for him to help me, to do something that would relieve my need for him -- touch my cunt, my titties, my asshole. But he didn't! I didn't want to call Chris. I was already ashamed of what I had done with the money, with the trust he had put in me -- the love and kindness he had given me. But I didn't dare tell Ken that. He was in a cold fury. I somehow sensed that he wouldn't end this time by fucking me or letting me suck him off. He was much too angry and greedy for that. This time, his abuse wasn't going to lead up to sex. I knew it. But, I still couldn't let Chris know how deep I had sunk. I just sat there, shaking my head, and this time, all the bruises he had given me really hurt! I think I was hurting for Chris, more than for myself. I just couldn't go and call him and tell him I had blown the money on a guy like Ken, and that I had gone back to being what I was when Chris had picked me up from the street -- actually out of the gutter!
"Ken stepped forward when I just sat mute, shaking my head, not really all there. I was in a fog. I couldn't think of what I could say to Chris, if I ever did get the courage to call. I had tried to summon the courage to do that for the past week while Ken was gone. I just wanted to talk to someone who really cared, to have the feel of his arms around me, to cry my heart out on his shoulder, but I couldn't hurt Chris that much. He was the only decent person I'd ever known, and I wasn't going to call him now.
"Ken moved close, and he lit a cigarette. He held the match close to my cunt, and he snarled, looking like he was insane, 'I mean it, cunt! I'll burn your fucking pussy off if you don't call that old bastard and get some money!'
"All I could do was try to kick at the hand that held the match. When I did, Ken punched me in the face, and I fell back, only half conscious. I looked in horror as he moved the tip of the glowing cigarette toward my nipple, and I was powerless to move. I wanted him to burn me, and yet I didn't. I wanted him to bum me if he would follow it up by letting me suck his prick, or putting his prick in my cunt, my mouth, or my asshole -- because, so help me God, my cunt was on fire with the need for something!
"I screamed as he touched the nipple with the red-hot end of the cigarette. Quickly he put it back in his mouth and puffed it into a longer, glowing instrument of torture -- then plunged it against the flesh of my other nipple. I could actually smell the flesh burning -- a nauseating odor -- but I hardly felt the searing pain that must have been shooting through my body, because of the awful need I had for Ken -- someone -- anyone. "He puffed on the cigarette again, and this time he shoved the lit end into my belly button! I almost passed out with the pain. I had to stop it somehow. Without sex, it was more than I could take, and I knew by the cruel, wild look on Ken's face that there wasn't going to be any sex. He wanted money -- not me, not sadistic pleasure, not sex -- nothing but money!
"I stumbled to the phone and managed to dial Chris's number, hardly aware of what I was doing. I prayed as I heard the phone ring that he wouldn't be home. But he was. I heard his dear, familiar voice, and for a moment all I could do was try to hold back the sobs that choked me. How could I hurt him this way? How could I ask him for money for Ken? And, mostly, how could I ask him to send money to a zero, a low, rotten creature like me?
"I remembered suddenly that I had only written the poor, kind man two letters since I had been in L.A. I tried to speak, as he kept repeating, anxiously, over and over, 'Hello -- hello -- Karen? Is this Karen?'
"I managed to gasp, 'Chris -- Chris --' and that was all I could get out. I dropped the phone back into its cradle and just fell back into the chair, not caring what Ken might do to me. I just didn't care. I couldn't hurt my Chris that way.
"Ken didn't even hit or burn me. He just stood there, glaring down at me with contempt on his face. He reached into his fly and took out his cock. It was hard, and he moved it close to my face, waving it in front of me. 'Okay, cunt, you want any more of this -- you get back on that phone and get some money. You hear?'
"I hardly did. I was drifting away in a funny world of fantasy, where my father was beating my mother, where I was on fire -- not with passion, but with the burns from a cigarette. I was in a whirl of sound that came from the flashing of whips in the air as they descended to bite into my flesh. I had no sexual sensations or needs any longer. I didn't want any more of anything -- of pain, of sex, of kindness, not even of life.
"And then I must have fainted, because when I came to, Ken was on top of me. I was stretched out on the floor, on my back, and Ken was fucking me. He wasn't hurting me, just fucking me in a regular, eager way. His mouth was close to mine, and I could hear him saying, 'Come on, baby, you're my wife. Be nice to Ken. Be good. I'll give you all you want, but you've got to get some money.'
"I didn't have the strength to resist or do anything. I just let him fuck me, and I don't even remember if I had an orgasm or not. I vaguely remember that he fucked me, it seemed, a hundred times, and I didn't come. I could hear him begging me to get some money, and that was all.
"I remember being in a taxi, fully dressed. I don't know how he got my clothes on. The next thing I knew, he was undressing me again, and I knew that there were other people around, and that I was being whipped. Then I felt lips on my pussy, and a big, fat cock being shoved in my mouth, and that was all I recalled.
"I came to again in a bed, and I felt more aware of what was going on. There was a man's body beneath me, and I knew that he had his cock up inside my cunt and was pushing away, panting, and trying to bite my lips and my tongue. It took me a long moment to realize that there was also a man on top of me, and that he had his cock up my asshole, all the way in. Except for the thin wall of tissue, their pricks must have been touching as they both plunged their cocks into my cunt and asshole as deeply as they could! I don't know if I enjoyed it or not. All I knew was that I couldn't help myself. I wondered vaguely if Ken was one of them. I found out later that he wasn't.
"When they had both come, the men threw me off on the bed and left me there alone. I must have slept or passed out, because it was daylight when I came to, and Ken was lying on the bed beside me. I heard his snores, and I knew that he was drunk. I'd never been in his apartment before, but I looked around and recognized his clothing, and I knew that he had brought me to his place.
"I stumbled into the bathroom, feeling that I was filled with shit and corruption -- all the filth of the world. My body ached, my heart ached, my cunt throbbed with shame and degradation. I wanted only one thing -- to die. I fumbled with the medicine cabinet and reached for Ken's razor. I took the blade out and stood there looking at it for a long time -- envisioning the scene when poor Chris walked into the funeral parlor and saw my body, so cold and dead. I hated to do it to him. Not to myself, but to poor Chris. I moved the blade up to my throat, and I couldn't do it. I didn't have the guts, and this time I wasn't fooling myself. I didn't have the guts to hurt myself, and I wasn't even worrying about Chris or anyone else.
"I didn't hear Ken coming. The first thing I knew, he hit me from behind and knocked the blade from my hand, and I staggered against the wall and started to fall. He caught me and held me in his arms, and for the first time ever, I saw fright in his eyes. But it wasn't for me, or my life -- it was for him.
"He gasped in a small voice, 'What in hell are you trying to do, you dumb cunt -- get me in jail? You get your goddamned clothes on and get your ass over to your own place. Fuck the money. Just don't try to get the cops down here.' He pushed me into the living room and helped me get into my clothes. I was still in a daze. My breasts pained. I hurt all over, but mostly in my heart and soul. When I was dressed, Ken took out his wallet and gave me a twenty-dollar bill. 'Here,' he said. 'We had some sex tonight, and they paid me. I was going to give it to you anyhow. Some friends of mine. When you get hold of yourself, we can make a lot of easy dough, and you can have all the fun you want -- your kind of fun. When you get around and snap out of it, Karen, get in touch with me. Come on, I'll see that you get a cab.'
"He helped me out to the street, and I saw that I was only a block or so from where he worked. He whistled for a cab, put me in, handed the driver two dollars, and gave him the address.
"I cried all the way there, and when I got out and headed for my apartment, I knew I had never before felt so low and so blue and so alone in my life. The sonofabitch had sold my body to some other men -- maybe even to some women -- to abuse and double-fuck! The rotten bastard had married me, had stolen all my money, and, now, had kicked me out like some goddamned pickup in a bar -- like some cheap whore!
"As the words crossed my mind, I looked at myself in the glass of the door to the apartment. My hair was all messed up. I had dark circles under my eyes. My face had bruises and a smear of blood near my mouth. I looked forty years old! I was a mess. I was a cheap whore -- nothing more. I was a lousy, self-pitying prostitute. If Ken hadn't done it, I'd have done it myself. I was meant to be what I had become -- a rotten imitation of a female, even of a human being. A phony. A slut. A pain-seeking caricature of a woman.
"I stumbled into the elevator and went up to my apartment, trying to steel myself to the fact that I was going to finish what I had started to do at Ken's place. I was going to end this goddamned charade of life that I'd been trapped in!
"I opened the door and walked in, wondering why the light was on, and there, sitting in a chair, a look of grief on his face, was my Chris.
"He stood up and started toward me, his arms spread wide. I just stumbled into his arms, and he patted my back while I sobbed my heart out, unable to say anything or feel anything, except great, scalding waves of shame. He was there, after all I'd done -- all I could have done to hurt him even worse!
" 'There, there, my baby,' he said softly. 'It's all right now. Chris here. Chris take care of his baby, like always.' After a long time, he tilted up my face and studied it; the bruises, the blood, the lines that were put there by the degrading acts of my life. 'Who did this to my baby?' Chris asked.
"I knew what he meant, but I didn't answer. I couldn't, because I would have just ended up bawling my heart out. It had been so long since I had known any kindness. I just leaned on him, not wanting to hurt him anymore by telling him all the bitter things that were flooding my tongue. All at once, he raised my left hand and held it up to the light. I didn't realize what he was doing until he said, in an awed, stricken voice, 'This ring -- this ring. It's a wedding band!'
"I looked up at him then, and stepped back. I knew I had to tell him the truth about Ken, about the money, about everything I had done. I didn't hope that he could ever forgive me, but he had to know.
"I nodded. 'Yes, I'm married,' I said.
"He dropped my hand and grabbed my chin in his hand. 'He did all this to you?' I had never heard his voice so harsh and cold. I didn't answer, and his fingers bit into my flesh. 'Tell me!' he demanded.
"I could only nod.
" 'His name?'
"I tried to shake my head. It didn't matter. He pulled out the wedding certificate and held it in front of my face. 'No matter -- I know his name. I know where he lives. I thought you would tell me.' Chris let go of me, grabbed his funny hat, and slapped it on his head. He opened the door and stopped. There was a great, deep hurt in his eyes. I saw tears begin to well up in them, and he said, so low I could hardly hear it, 'Chris take care of you, baby. Chris always take care of you.' Then he was gone.
"I knew I should have gone after him. I wanted to. But I didn't know what I could do or say. I had already hurt him too much. I just hoped he would get on a plane or bus and go back to San Francisco and forget he had ever known me. I was so emotionally drained from the evening that I dropped into bed with my clothes on and fell asleep in a couple of minutes. The whole world was a sea of faces -- of persons whom I had hurt and humiliated and shamed, and of those who had done that to me.
"I slept until noon the next day. I was awakened by the sun streaming into my eyes. I felt groggy, and I wanted to talk to Ken. Maybe, some way, we could get it all straightened out, now that Chris knew. Ken must know now that Chris couldn't help us with money any more -- not after he had seen what Ken had done to my face and my body.
"I went down to the restaurant where Ken was supposed to be working, and when I walked in, a newspaper on the counter caught my eye. A subheadline said: MYSTERY SLAYING IN 7TH AVENUE APARTMENT! I knew what it was going to say before I read it.
"Chris had gone to Ken's apartment, strangled him, then had gone to a freeway overpass and had jumped into the stream of heavy traffic! He had been identified by papers on his body!
"I sat down hard on a stool, and someone brought me a cup of coffee. I don't remember even going back to my apartment. I was alone! No Ken. No Chris. Nobody. Nobody. I was alone in the frightening, hopeless pit of loneliness -- the world of the pain-seeker!"
CHAPTER EIGHT - THE PIT OF LONELINESS
With the death of her husband, and of Chris, her one friend and benefactor, Karen sank into a morass of despair. In spite of the fact that she had led a life of utter depravity since age nine, she had never actually been alone. The masochist is never alone, for there are always the sadistic predators lying in wait to seduce and abuse.
Now, she was penniless, without a job, and with no friends or family to whom she could turn. She did not know how to support or maintain herself, for, by her very nature, she was dependent on others for all things.
She managed to get back to her apartment, where she lay down and slept from utter exhaustion of spirit, rather than any physical tiredness.
She told her doctors that she stayed in the apartment for two days, pacing, trying to bring herself to take her own life. She could not summon the courage.
She had never had to survive by herself, and, being totally unequipped for independence, she automatically turned to the only world she knew, that of perverts and pain-seekers.
Gloria and Sue were close enough to contact. Sue knocked on Karen's door the second day, and Karen was so lonely and despondent by that time, that she opened it eagerly.
* * *
"I was so glad to see a familiar face," Karen told the doctors, "that I just stood there and started to cry. Sue came inside and put her arms around me, and that was the wrong thing to do. I didn't want anyone to be kind to me. I had caused the death of two men, and I had wrecked and messed up the lives of everyone I had ever come in contact with. I needed a strong person to make me straighten out and live again.
"Sue wouldn't let me alone. She spotted the fact that I was ready to take my own life, I guess, by my attitude and the lassitude that had set in. She insisted I come and stay with her for a couple of days, after I told her what had happened -- about Ken, the marriage, what Chris had done. She tried to be kind, and I guess she meant well, but I needed to be made to pay for what I had done. I needed someone at least to treat me with scorn, and to abuse me with words, because I felt so ashamed and dirty inside that nothing anyone could say to me of a nice nature would snap me out of that low mood.
"I slept with her that night, and she tried to approach me sexually. She was gentle and understanding -- too much so -- and I couldn't get turned on at all. I did try to help her. I went down on her, but when she tried to do the same for me, I just pushed her away and began to bawl. I went to sleep that night with her arm over my shoulder, and I admit, it felt good. I wanted to turn over and hold her tight and kiss her, but I didn't. I kept thinking of Chris, and what he had given for me. And I kept thinking of my dead husband, Ken. I tried to think what life might have been like if Chris hadn't killed him, but I couldn't. He was my last chance, my man, and now he was dead.
"I was in a trance for the next few days. I didn't go to Ken's funeral, and I don't even know what happened to Chris's body. I suppose it was returned to San Francisco and buried. As far as I ever knew, he didn't have any relatives in America.
"Finally, I guess I got on Sue's nerves, because we began to bicker, and I finally went back to my apartment. I didn't know what to do. I had no money, and, even if I had, I knew I could never go back to school. It all seemed like little-kid stuff now.
"Then I met Loma. Sue knew her and had given her my address. She had told her quite a bit about what was bugging me, and Lorna came to see me.
"I guess I knew when I opened the door and looked into her hard, cold eyes that she was going to help me. She was dressed mannishly in a pants suit, wore a boyish bob and no makeup. I knew she was a butch lesbian, and I also sensed that she was a sadist. She had a small purse in her hand and she kept slapping it into the palm of her other hand.
"She said, 'Hi, Karen. I'm Lorna. Sue told me that you were alone and in the dumps. Maybe I can help. I think I can put you to work. That's what a person needs when they've been through a meat grinder like you have. Work.'
"I invited her in, a little bewildered by her brash manner and easygoing talk. But I was under her spell from the first, so I couldn't do anything but listen to her.
"She sat down and eyed me from head to toe. I guess there were still some bruises on my face and arms, and she looked at them closely.
" 'I'm going to be frank, Karen,' Lorna said briskly. 'I run a house!' She waited a minute to see how I reacted to the statement, and I guess I didn't even bat an eyelash, because she smiled a tight little smile and went on. 'Now, you're no virgin, with either men or women, I understand, so we can skip all that jazz. I cater to special customers who will pay as high as a hundred dollars to get what they want. Do you understand me?'
"I thought I did, so I nodded. She laid it out in fine print.
" 'I need girls like you, that can take it. We have a specialized clientele that like to -- well, you know -- get their kicks by being a little rough. Now, I understand that you like your sex on the wild side, and that you need a little discipline to make you turn on. And that, honey, can pay off. You make money, and at the same time you get your own kicks. Fair enough?'
"I was a little bewildered. It had happened so suddenly, and on top of the black fog that I'd been living in for the past few days, that I guess I wasn't even thinking straight. I just nodded. I didn't ask for details. I was going to be a whore who sold her body for abuse -- but what was so different about that? Hadn't I sold myself to many men? To Ken?
"I heard her saying, 'How far will you go, Karen? I can use a gal that will go all the way. Whips -- belts -- even --' She paused and looked at me closely, '--even shit and piss bit.'
"I just said in a tired voice, 'I've had it all.' I could see a look of relief come to her face.
"She stood up and said with that cold smile on her face, 'Well, then, it's all settled. Why don't you just go and pack up now, and we can get going?'
"I didn't feel like it was all really happening. I felt I must be dreaming, just like I felt I would wake up these past days and find that Chris was still alive, and Ken would come knocking on my door. But I didn't care much whether it was real or not. I didn't want anything from life, or any person in it. All that seemed left to me was pain, shame, and self-pity. Maybe that was my answer, I thought as I packed my two suitcases and my cosmetic bag. Maybe I could come alive again. Maybe there were more guys like Ken, like my father, and all the others. I couldn't help it if I needed pain and punishment, I told myself, so why not accept what came?
"Lorna drove me in her car to a place out on the Sunset Strip. It was a big house, but old, and it had at least nine rooms in it. I found out later that the ground floor was given to rooms for the other three girls who worked there, as living quarters. There was a big kitchen and dining room, and a colored woman who acted as cook and housekeeper. Jinny never did go up to the second floor, though.
"It was something else up there. There were five rooms, and each one was rigged up like something out of one of those wild horror movies.
"One of the rooms had nothing but black furnishings. At one end, there was an altar, with manacles attached to the top of it. Along the wall there were separate little cubicles that had chains and ropes and leather straps to hold persons against the wall. I didn't know at that time, when Lorna showed me through the place, that there were two girls there who were expert sadists. Lorna was one of them.
"It had never been part of my thinking that others in the world would actually pay money to be cut, whipped, burned, shit and pissed on, but I still had a lot to learn about people and their strange desires.
"Another room had a bed that had manacles at all four comers, and a hard, benchlike table that also had some chains and handcuffs attached. The strangest of all, however, was a huge, round hassock, made of leather, with several handcuffs installed along the sides, down low, close to the floor.
"Lorna told me that this would be my 'working room.'
"I could understand all but the hassock. I noted a lot of whips and straps, and even a short whip made of some kind of flexible metal, hanging on the walls. And, last but not least, there were at least three dozen huge mirrors placed around the room, so that a person could see his image reflected from a dozen different angles, no matter where he was in the room!
"I had my first customer that first night. He was a man about sixty, I'd guess. Lorna had all the angles figured out. She had shown me that behind two of the mirrors, there were little rooms. The mirrors were the two-way kind, so that she, or somebody else, could watch to see that a client didn't go too far and really cripple or maim one of the girls. What she didn't tell me, but one of the other girls did, was that she often had clients who didn't want to get in on the action, but who would pay to sit behind the mirrors and watch!
"The first customer was really strange. He wanted to be a real rough guy, but he was afraid. He walked around the room and looked at all the paraphernalia, fingered the whips, kept clearing his throat, and then turned to me and asked, 'What's -- the usual way of doing this?'
"I was sitting on the bed, naked. I just shrugged. I felt a little sorry for the guy, but I shouldn't have. He was a tiger after he loosened up. 'I guess you shackle me to the bed and go from there. How do you want me, front or back?' I asked, trying to seem calm and even blase about the whole thing, as if I was an old pro. In a way, I felt like one, but I was all aquiver inside at the anticipation of somebody doing something that would drag me out of my lethargy. I just didn't know what to tell him, but, looking at some of the whips, I knew that he could turn me on.
"He walked over and looked at me. 'Stand up,' he commanded, and there was a beginning of a harshness in his voice. I stood up and turned around, showing him all of my body, front and back. He pinched my breasts, but not very hard. Then, when I turned my back, he ran his fingers over some of the scars on my ass and thighs and, finally, turned me around and looked at my pussy, bending over to get a good look.
" 'On your back!' he said then. 'I'm not a complete weirdo. I still like my fucking in the old-fashioned way! "I lay down on the bed, and he fastened the handcuffs. They were easy enough for another person to attach, but the one who was handcuffed couldn't free herself under any conditions. The latches were out of possible reach. I felt a little queasy as the last one clicked into place, leaving me spread-eagled on the bed, my cunt and breasts completely exposed.
"I watched him as he undressed. I wondered which of the whips he would choose. I guess I was relieved when he selected a thin, short one -- like the one my father had used on me, the carnival type -- and walked over to stand beside the bed.
"His prick was flabby and dangled in a silly little heap of flesh. But his eyes were wild! He stood there, flicking the whip against his own leg, and his eyes got wider and wider and flashed with an evil light. He waited so long that I wondered if he had lost his nerve, but he was just playing his own little game. When I least expected it, and was starting to relax a little, he made a quick movement and snicked me on the stomach. It was like a bolt of hot lightning had struck me, and I bucked and writhed, and, in spite of myself, I hollered.
"He went to work methodically then; first one thigh, then the other, then each breast, my neck, and back to my stomach. I yelled with every lash, and his prick got harder and harder with each stroke of that whip on my body. He seemed deliberately to avoid hitting me on the cunt, but he came close -- putting welts deep under my cunt hair and on my thighs, close to where my legs met my body.
"When he stopped hitting me, and I looked at him, he had a nice hard on. His prick wasn't very big, but what there was of it was stiff and ready. Then he just climbed on, never said a word, just inserted his cock inside my cunt and began to plunge away, panting hard.
"I'd been turned on good by the lash, and I cooperated to the best of my ability, being bound like I was, and in a couple of minutes I had an orgasm. It wasn't the best I'd ever had, but it was better than nothing. I remember thinking at the time that I was only kidding myself, hoping that all my orgasms would be like those I had with Ken.
"The man was satisfied with just one orgasm. He climbed off, took off the handcuffs, and resumed his same meek, bashful air that he had had when he first came in.
"I learned a lot of things about sadism and masochism that I had never known. For example, there was this one fellow who came in one night and all he wanted to do was ass-fuck me. He shackled me face down on the big hassock, then mounted me from the back, and shoved it up my ass. But he kept calling me Virginia all the time, and kept cursing me and saying things like, 'You're going to take my prick up your asshole, Virginia., until you can feel it touch your stomach -- and you're going to tell me that you like it! Come on, Virginia, open up those ass cheeks and take it in the asshole!' He jabbed his prick up inside me as hard as he could, then said, 'Tell me you like it that way -- come on -- say it!'
"So I pretended I was his wife and said, 'I like jour cock up my asshole! It's wonderful! It's so good for me!'
"After he'd done that a couple of times, he unloosened me and started talking. He told me he wasn't really a weirdo, but it was just that his wife wouldn't ever let him cornhole her. He'd begged and stormed and even hit her to try to make her let him ass-fuck her, but she wouldn't. Finally, it had come to a point where they weren't having any sex at all. He decided then that since he loved her, he could go to some other woman and get his ass-fucking; then it would work out with his wife, because he wouldn't have to bug her about it anymore. He said he couldn't stand the idea of cornholing a man, because he'd tried it when he was a kid, and it made him sick to his stomach. He said there were two queers at the place he worked that had made passes, but he just couldn't go that route.
"He came back two or three times, and I didn't dare to ask him how it was working out with his wife, but he kept getting meaner with me. When he'd mount me, from the back, he'd have a little whip in his hand and he'd whip me and curse me as if I were Virginia. He'd jab away and say, 'You're not with it, Virginia -- but you will be, by Christ! You're going to learn to like it this way, woman!' And he'd whip my legs or shoulders -- not too hard, but hard enough so that he managed to turn me on and I had a little bit of an orgasm.
"When he stopped coming, I used to wonder how it had worked out for him.
"One night I got a real surprise. Lorna sent up a huge Negro man. He was young, really well built, and he wanted the whole works. He shackled me to the bed, whipped me, then fucked me. I had a real good orgasm with him, every way he did it. Then he wanted to do it with my legs unshackled, so he could put his hands under my ass and dig his fingernails in as, at the same time, he was lifting my hips high and jabbing his big, hard cock into my pussy. I really got my kicks with him.
"After that, he shackled me to the hassock and had me on my back so that my body was arched upward, with my legs spread wide. He got down on his knees and began to lick and suck my cunt; then he began to bite my clit and lips while he clawed at my stomach and breasts until I was actually bleeding! After a while, he mounted me, took his prick, and began to shove it up inside my pussy while he worked on both my breasts with his fingernails! I came real quick, and he had another good come. He freed me then, grabbed a whip, and began to beat my back and shoulders. He told me to get on my knees in front of him and suck him off. I was having a good time -- he wasn't too rough -- and I kept wondering why he was allowed up. I knew that Lorna hated Negroes -- she'd been born in Alabama -- and, in a way, I didn't like them either. I always had been taught that they were nothing more than animals. But I didn't mind that big, black buck!
"I learned why Lorna had let him in, about three days later. It was early afternoon and we weren't doing any business. She called all of us together in her room and said she had a surprise for us. She gave each of us a drink and a hundred dollars, and then she said she bet we didn't know that we were movie stars! She had a movie projector set up and a screen, too, and she had turned down the lights and started to show movies.
"Like I said, I learned why a Negro had been allowed in the place. Every bit of our time together was there on film! And there were other scenes, with all the other girls in action -- dealing it out and taking it. All but Lorna, of course.
"She explained that the hundred dollars was a bonus. Some man she knew had paid her to let him take the films. I guess he was going to sell them for stag parties. None of us minded too much. It was kind of fun watching the other girls in action, and we laughed a lot and had a good time watching the films.
"I learned later, though, that Lorna was going to regret the day she had let that man talk her into allowing him to shoot the dirty films. It was those same movies that led to the downfall of Lorna, and of all the rest of us. And that put me where I am.
"As the story came out later, the police got hold of those films and, eventually, arrested the man who had taken them. At first he wouldn't talk, and he couldn't identify any of the participants because he didn't know them. He didn't even know Lorna's name, as it turned out. But after he had sweated a while in jail, he finally told the police where he had taken the films, and that was how they got their first clue as to what was going on in Lorna's place.
"From there on, I guess, it was routine for them. All they had to do was carefully arrange to have undercover detectives visit the place. I don't know how they arranged that, because Lorna screened everyone pretty carefully. She was no dummy, and she knew what would happen if she got caught.
"I fell into the pattern pretty easily. I got so I could almost gauge just how well I was going to be able to come, by looking at the guy. Most of them were older men, and I felt sorry for a lot of them. Some wanted to talk, and they would tell me their story.
"A lot of them were married to women their age, and their sex life had just pooped out, I guess. Some of them didn't even need to indulge in sadistic orgies to be turned on -- all they really needed was a young, responsive woman. I had several of them who only gave me a couple of weak little taps with the whip, got a hard on, and went to work.
"The ones I disliked the most, and feared a little, were those who only wanted to whip me. They made no pretense of having sex. Some of them told me in advance that they were woman-haters. I suspected that they were also homosexuals, and I never could figure out why they would pay good money just to beat a woman.
"And then there were the real perverts -- the ones who wanted only to really make you feel like dirt. They wanted to chain you down, then piss in your mouth or shit all over your face and mouth. I had one weirdo who shit on my stomach, then wiped it all over himself, and made me lick it all off his body! I told Lorna then that I wouldn't cater to that kind anymore, but she just laughed and told me I'd do whatever the customer wanted me to -- or I'd have her to account to.
"In a way, I'd always been fascinated by Lorna. She was so domineering, so sure of herself, so strong and mannish, that she didn't even have to hit the girls to keep them in line. It was the threat of her. You could see something in her eyes and her cruel, thin-lipped mouth, that told you instinctively that if she ever did take off on you, she'd half-kill you.
"Maybe it was the challenge of it, or maybe I was getting sick of dirty old men and dirty young men and pissers and shitters and niggers. Anyhow, I told Lorna I wasn't going to do it, and that was that!
"She grabbed me by the hair, threw me to the floor, and began to kick me. Then she sat on my stomach, doubled up her fists, and punched me in the head, the face, the neck, the ribs -- anywhere she could reach. Finally, she knocked me out!
"When I came to, I was naked, and my hands were tied behind me. Lorna was standing over me, stark naked, and she had a nasty-looking, braided whip in her hand. She began to whip me, and with every stroke of the whip she would snarl, 'Now, you'll see who's master.' Whack! 'Now, you filthy little bitch, tell me who's your master -- tell me!'
"I began to get all turned on, and I willingly told her over and over that she was my master, my boss, my supreme being, and that I only wanted to serve her.
"She went down on me after a while, and then we had a sixty-nine session. Lorna never touched me again -- though I wished she had, at times.
"I soon realized that I was a prisoner in the house. Whenever I went out to shop, Lorna was along. I discovered by accident, when her purse spilled one night, that she was carrying a small pistol, and I was really scared. Having her whip me was one thing, or beat me with her fists, but I didn't want to be shot!
"I became pretty friendly with one of the other girls. She was a sadist and was paid for whipping or cutting or burning men, then fucking or sucking them. But she was good to me. She knew how to turn me on without really doing any damage to me. She would use her fingernails and teeth on my clit, and since I never got any of that from the men I serviced, it was a treat. When she sucked my pussy, I usually had a good come. Being mean turned her on, so it worked out for her when I would suck her off, too.
"There was one guy that used to come quite often. He seemed to be unable to make up his mind just what he wanted, because he tried all the girls. He let them whip him, and he tried me -- although he didn't really hit me hard enough to get me excited. And he'd never fuck any of them!
"He came in one night -- we were all sitting in the living room, there was nobody upstairs -- and began to kid Lorna. He kept saying that he wanted the best in the house that night and that she looked like she was the only one who could really handle a man. Lorna didn't usually take customers, but this guy had been a steady for a couple of months. She just gave him that cold, hard stare of hers and said, 'Not me, mister. I run this joint -- I don't work here.'
"That was what he was waiting for. He stood up, took out a gun, flipped his coat to show a badge, and said, 'That's what I wanted to hear, lady.
You're under arrest. I'm Lieutenant M of the Vice Detail. We've had at least three other undercover detectives inside this place over the past months. We just wanted to make sure that we got the top person, and not just a bunch of stooges. Now, you don't have to say anything, and you're entitled to an attorney. Let's go -- all of you.'
"He handcuffed Lorna, but he didn't do that to the rest of us. He called a patrol car that was in the neighborhood, and they took us to jail. It was in all the papers the next day, with big headlines about: DARING POLICE WORK BREAKS 'HOUSE OF PAIN' RING!
"I was scared silly. I didn't know what was going to happen to me. I didn't know anything about what the law could do to me or the others. I panicked and wouldn't even talk to the attorney that the court sent in to defend me. I threw a screaming, crying, hysterical fit, and they took me to the hospital. It was a section of the County Hospital, but it was still jail, with bars on the windows and policemen on guard outside the doors.
"I wouldn't talk to anyone, not the nurses or doctors or the attorney that kept coming to see me. I just didn't trust any of them. I was afraid of anyone who was that kind and nice, like the doctors and nurses. I thought the lawyer was just trying to get me to talk so he could put us all in jail for good.
"I began to draw into myself, and I couldn't eat. When I did, I'd throw it up. They kept me under sedatives for most of the time, and after about five days of this kind of behavior on my part, they came in and dressed me and took me to another hospital.
"I found out later that it was a mental hospital and that the doctors and psychiatrists had recommended that I was not able to stand trial at that time and that I badly needed psychiatric treatment.
"I was bewildered, like an animal that had been hunted down and captured and put in a cage. I hated all the kindness and fussing and the smiles I got from the doctors and nurses. I felt so goddamned shitty and low that I knew they were just pretending. They knew what I was, and they were just putting on those kind masks to get me to tell them about Lorna and the other girls. I knew they sneered at me behind my back, and I wanted to get out of there so badly that I thought I'd lose my mind if I didn't.
"I used to try to taunt them, to have them hit me, but they were always calm and cool. If I'd throw something at them, they'd just patiently clean it up.
"I tried to masturbate, but it was no use. Not even fantasizing about Ken, the men that came to the house, my father, Lorna, Gloria and Sue, Max, all the dozens of others, did any good. I even tried scratching my own breasts with my nails while I fingered and clawed at my clit, but it was no good. I asked for a hairbrush, and I tried hitting myself on the thighs and stomach and breasts with it while I tried to masturbate, but it didn't work. I even tried shoving the bristly end of the hairbrush up into my cunt, but although it turned me on, I couldn't come that way. I began to grow thinner and more nervous, and then one day two of the doctors came in, and they had another man with them. He was an older man, and he had the strangest eyes I'd ever seen.
"One doctor started to talk quietly. 'Karen, you do want to get out of here, don't you? There's only one way that can happen, and that is if you cooperate with us, so that we can make you well again. We can't let you go back to that life of pain. Something dreadful is bound to happen. Now, we want to help you. We believe that one way to do that would be for you to undergo hypnotherapy.
You will be hypnotized by Dr.
here, and we will tape your sessions with him. Then, we feel, if you can listen to your own subconscious talking, you will learn why you enjoy pain, why you feel you must be humiliated and hurt and mutilated. Do you understand what I am saying?'
"I didn't, not clearly. But I understood one thing he had said. If I wanted to get out, I'd have to cooperate. And I wanted to get out -- oh, brother, did I want to get out of there!
"So I agreed. I would have done anything to see a ray of hope of getting away from all those mealy-mouthed doctors and nurses. I was told that Lorna was convicted on a lot of counts and sent to prison. But I don't blame her for what she did or paid me to do. I was shit, long before she came into my life. I don't blame any of them -- not my father, who was the beginning of it all, nor my mother, nor Ken, nobody. Just me.
"I've listened to some of the tapes. I don't know if I really understand any of the reasons why I am like I am, but I may, some day. I don't know if I can change. Not even the doctors can predict that, they say. You don't spend years building something like I have become, then tear it all apart and renovate it in a couple of weeks or months. It may never happen at all; but, if it doesn't, I still have nobody to blame but myself. Even the doctors say that nobody can help anyone who does not want to be helped.
"I only knew one life. Maybe I don't even want any other kind. Maybe I couldn't stay straight even if I could make it. Only time will give the answer."
CONCLUSION
Karen is still undergoing psychiatric treatments at a famed institution. She is of interest to both medical scientists and law-enforcement officers because she is a classic case of masochism.
There are laws against masochistic practices merely because the masochist can do serious, often deadly, harm to himself. Punishment for a masochist is impossible for the law to administer. Confinement and care, as in Karen's case, is about the maximum that can be dealt out.
The law is in a somewhat helpless position, in any case, because if Karen, and others like her, were to be pronounced fit to resume a normal life, that normal life might seem to be (to her) a return to masochistic abuse. The life of a hopeless pain addict like Karen, is one of the loneliest imaginable. Many normal persons do not like to be around a paranoiac type, and Karen definitely is paranoiac. She feels that the world is against her, and she believes that this is as it should be. She merits the criticism and the scorn of the world, by her own standards, yet she is helpless to change her own nature at this point.
As she pointed out, she has known no other life and has no point of comparison, no inspiration to change, simply because she is a weak person, unable to cope with life. She is unsure that she could make a "straight" life for herself, or to stay that way if she did manage to make the transition.
Karen, and thousands of others like her, generally outnumber the power-seekers in the; world -- the potential sadists. Medical science predicts that masochists are soon to become their number one clients, because the pressures of today's society are creating more and more self-pitying, self-effacing persons.
A word about Karen's constant masturbation There is one school of psychiatry which believes that masochism almost always develops as the; result of extended abuse of masturbation. Deliberate, prolonged masturbation with imagery fantasies or artificial "penises" and other odd objects, usually moves on to self-flagellation and oral eroticism. Note that Karen, after her confinement in the hospital, turned in desperation to self-punishment and to brutish masturbation And this, in the lonely world of the "timid" or negative personality, is a perfect breeding ground for masochism to bloom and grow beyond bounds or control. The physical contact of true sexual experience, leading to heterosexual orgasm, is lost and the orgasm comes only after the shock of pain. There is no substitute for proper sex, the heterosexual union of man and woman; the love-play and the climax of both is a mutual orgasm that is neither giving nor taking, but a union. Any other forms of sexual activity fall quickly into the heading of "self-abuse."
Karen had experienced considerate and gentle relationships, with both males and females, but by then the roots of pain-loving had gone so deep that she automatically rejected those persons. This leads her doctors to believe that if and when she is ready to step out into the normal world, she may be unable to accept kindness -- especially from men -- because pain is equated with sexual gratification in her makeup. She can have neither without the other. Should she meet a "straight" male, who offered her the normally tender, loving kind of sex relationship enjoyed by most couples, she would scorn him, merely because she cannot be "turned on" without feeling pain or experiencing spiritual and mental abuse.
The self-abuse that Karen desires will be hard to obtain, for the courts will doubtless feel that she must at least be put on probation for her own safety. In this case, her contacts would be severely curtailed as a condition of her probation.
The roots of sexual instincts are so powerful as to reach deep within the core of every man's and every woman's being. The ejaculation and orgasm is a physical demonstration that the flagellation or the abuse has done its duty in a physical sense, but the mind can never be cheated. The subconscious automatically stores away small guilt feelings, small repressions; it stores them away on a cumulative basis. It is the mind that sets man apart from the animals, and it is the mind that carries the experiences and develops character. A timid person like Karen, who masturbated as regularly as she die from her early childhood, without any physical contact or love-play with a member of the opposite sex, was destined to become neurotic and a full-fledged masochist.
The great danger, to any masochist, is the climax of this neurosis. The "ultimate kick," as it is known, or the final point of masochism is self-destruction. The suicide impulse is dormant in all masochists, and is the one final step.
We saw that Karen had contemplated it, and psychiatrists constantly caution that once the idea is implanted, the possibility is strong that it may be carried out. There is no such thing as a "wolf-cry" as far as suicide is concerned. The suicide might not try it then, at that particular moment, but the root is there and the impulse is tremendously powerful. It has, psychiatrists state, the full sexual drive, and the sex drive is one of the most potent forces in the human mind. The threat is but a step away from the act. Immediate care and attention is as important as it would be in the case of an automobile accident. The steps are then from suicide back to masochism, from masochism back to sexual submission, or sexual sadism, with a history of frustration, masturbation and fantasy partnerships. These are all branches of masochism.
For these reasons, the doctors are loath to release Karen from their constant, watchful care. The tapes of her hypnotic sessions indicated that the idea of self-destruction is deeply implanted in her mind. No one knows at what point she might suffer a bitter frustration, real or imaginary, and take her own life. She has a "loser" complex, and to this type of person, the least valuable thing is her physical life. Worse, she will continue to heap more losses upon her dignity, and in time, may hate her body for the very humiliation and degradation it brings her.
Another interesting clue was given the doctors by Karen's choice of reading matter. She read voraciously, but only the "confession" type magazines, in which the heroine always suffers physically or mentally at the hands of a male. This kind of story appeals to the true masochist, for she can identify with the "poor, suffering" protagonist.
The problem for the doctors is the fact that Karen has a fine mind in most areas of thought and is not mentally ill except for the predilection she has for pain. She cannot be kept confined for long, and their efforts are concentrated on preparing her for the day when she will be free.
The doctor who places her under hypnosis holds out a ray of hope. While she is under hypnosis, he implants post-hypnotic suggestions that will help her over some of the rough spots, but, again, once she is free to move about as she pleases, she will be under no compulsion to take any further hypnotic treatment or seek psychiatric care.
We have seen how the roots were nurtured by her sadistic father and masochistic mother. We walked with her through her account of moving into her teen years without love, kindness or attention, feeling forlorn and useless. We saw that on the only occasion where she was with a tender, considerate person, Chris, she grew bored with his life and with herself.
It is this that Karen must efface -- the need for pain in order to enjoy sex.
Whether she can cope with and drown her inordinate desire to be hurt and punished in a sea of normal man-woman relationships, is problematical. In the final analysis, the answer is not in the province of medicine or psychiatry, nor in penalties imposed by the law. The answer, good or bad, lies within Karen herself.
