Bondage in our society today has become more and more common. It is an established fact that the number of people indulging in some form of bondage, that is tying and roping, has doubled since the Kinsey report in the early sixties.
It is no longer the taboo that it once was and people of every social class are indulging in it. It was for this reason, that I began my very extensive research on the subject. I have been a psychiatrist for twenty years now, and a sex therapist for another seven.
I have seen every sort of sexual behavior that one can imagine, whether it be straight, gay, perverted and even sick. Bondage fits into all of these categories and none of them as well.
That is to say, that it is not just the act of bondage alone that defines the sexual behavior in any given encounter. Bondage is just part of a much larger theme in sexual activity. It is something that rounds out a sexual encounter, not defines it.
Enclosed in this book are several actual case studies that I have gathered from my files. They are some of the best, in that they show what the feelings of the woman involved are, as well as some of the motivations that drove them to bondage. In some cases, it was not their choice, in others, it was, but they all have one thing in common.
Once they had been exposed to bondage, they could not do without it. That is the thrust of this study, to try and understand the human mechanism that makes a woman need bondage to feel fulfilled.
These stories include lesbianism, rape, group sex and several more varieties of real human sexuality.
CASE HISTORY ONE
Subject; Diane S. - Age 18
Initial Interview; February 4, 1979
Diane first came to my attention when she was referred to me by a colleague of mine. He was a psychologist that worked as a part-time lecturer in a small, upstate college. He had been approached by Diane concerning her problem, but after hearing about it, he realized that he was not capable of handling the extremely delicate aspects of her case, so he referred her to me.
What follows is a transcript of a taped interview with Diane that was recorded during an actual session.
I want to say that all this began when I was young. I mean, when I was still a baby, so there's no way that anyone can say that I'm perverted or anything like that.
I don't actually like what I allow men to do to me, but I really can't help it. I just can't refuse once they start. I guess I better explain.
I can remember when I was two or three, I can't remember exactly when, that my mother used to wrap me up in my blanket while I was lying in my crib. And when I say she wrapped me up, I don't mean that she tucked me in and wrapped me comfortably in my covers, I mean she wrapped me in the blankets so that I could not get out.
She pulled them tight around me, tucking in the comer all around me like a cocoon. Then she put some safety pins into the blanket so that there was no way that I could get loose. She also used to stick me with the pins sometimes, accidentally, as I struggled, and I guess that's how I first got into bondage. I was all wrapped up, with my arms pinned, only able to move my head. I sure was completely helpless, and after struggling for an hour or so, I would just give up and fall asleep. That was the start of it all, but it got worse and worse as I got older. After I got out of the crib, because I was too big for it, my mother and father took to tying me to my bed. They were strange in that sense. Though they treated me fine, never hitting me, never making me do things I didn't want to do, they always tied me up at night.
Maybe it was because they were party people. Just about every night of the week, they had company over after dinner. Sometimes it was just one couple, but sometimes the house was crowded with people. That was mostly on the weekends, and that was when I was tied most securely.
I really don't understand why my parents didn't just lock the door of my room instead of tying me up. Maybe they were afraid I would peek through the keyhole, maybe there was some other reason I can't even guess, but whatever the cause, I became quite used to being tied and bound for the night.
It went like this. I would take a bath, brush my teeth and comb my long, red hair. Then I would climb into bed and wait. After about ten minutes one of my parents would come in with the soft, cotton rags and tie me up. When I was younger, it was usually my mother, but as I grew older, it was more often my father.
He would walk in in his evening clothes, with the four white ties hanging from his hand.
"Okay, princess," he would say, "Time for bed."
When I heard this, I would lie flat on my back and spread out my arms and legs.
"That's a good girl," he would respond, as he began to tie me up.
He tied a piece of rag around each ankle, securing the other end to the legs of the bed, and then he would come over and tie my hands to the bedposts.
He would do it slowly, unhurriedly, as he leaned over my body and made sure the ties were good and tight, so that I could not slip my small hands loose. He would not tie them too tight, however, for I had to keep them on all night, and he did not want me to be hurt.
Then he would pull the covers up over my body, tuck them lovingly under my chin and kiss me goodnight and shut the door tight.
On nights that he was not in a hurry, he would close the door and the light and sit on the bed next to me, rubbing my stomach as he sat there. It was nice to feel his strong hand on my flat belly, and I would fall asleep quickly then, warm with his slow rubbing.
This went on until I was sixteen, but there was one night in particular that I remember distinctly. I had been tied and bound as usual, and I had fallen fast asleep, after the usual feeling of entrapment that swept over me for the first few minutes.
But that night, I was awakened by the harsh light of my lamp being turned on. I squinted at the glare and began to mumble something when a handkerchief was stuffed in my mouth. My eyes shot open, to see two strange men standing by my bed.
They were about forty, my father's age, and I presume that they were two of his guests that evening. Beyond the door, I could hear music playing and a lot of voices talking and laughing, and I assumed that this was one of my parents' bigger parties.
The two men were good-looking, for their age, and dressed impeccably in fashionable three-piece suits. One of them held a drink in his hand, while the other puffed a cigarette.
"So that's his daughter," surmised the man with the butt. "She is pretty. What's her name again?"
"Diane," answered the other man, "Look at that hair."
"Yes, very pretty," smiled the man, as he reached down and stroked my long, flaming red tresses, "As soft as a baby's."
The other man stroked my cheek, and I felt a strange, unfamiliar heat in his flesh.
'How old did he say she was?" asked the man with the cigarette.
"Just sixteen," smiled the other, as he touched my chin and ran his finger along my neck. "I wonder what kind of party she had?"
"Private, I'm certain," replied the other, "You know how Ralph and Inez are."
They were my parents.
"She probably didn't have any friends over at all," continued the man, taking a long drag on his butt. "I wonder how mature she is?" he added.
"Let's find out," the other man suggested.
He reached down and grabbed my blanket, tugging on it and stripping it off my small body. I shivered when he did so, although it was not cold in the room, and I was wearing my nightgown and a pair of panties.
"Not bad," commented the man with the drink.
"Well," said the other, "It's hard to tell with that nightie on."
"Come on," snorted the other, "Just look at her legs."
As he said this, the tip of his index finger rested on the calf of my leg, and began to slide up along my limb. It tickled me as it traced up to my knee, and then reached the hem of my nightgown, pushing it up as he went up along my thigh.
His finger slid up to the tender flesh of my upper leg, and I shivered in pleasure. In a second, he reached the leg of my panties, where he stopped and rested his hand on my thigh. The other man was smiling, and he also ran his hand up my leg, and in this manner, my nightgown was lifted off the lower portion of my body, revealing my shivering legs, and panty clad pussy.
"You're right," said the man with the butt, "She does have nice legs, but how about her chest. How developed is she?"
"There's one way to find out," answered the man with the drink.
He reached over, without laying down his drink, and began to unbutton the front of my nightgown. I tried to protest, for I was feeling very strange with these men touching my body and pushing my clothes off, but the gag was still stuffed firmly in my mouth and all I could manage were a few low snorts.
Button after button, he deftly undid me, until the entire nightgown was undone. Then he and the other man lifted away the thin material, completely exposing my body. My naked skin quivered as they stood and looked at me. The only thing I had left on was my panties. My small, ripe titties were sticking up into the air.
They were just barely visible with my hands stretched over my head, though I have developed nicely now, and the only real part that was clearly visible were my nipples. Even then, I had prominent nipples. They were pink and stuck up noticeably from my tits. "Mmmm," sighed one of the men, and he reached down and placed a hand on my chest.
I felt like yelling and jumping from the bed, but the rags held me down and my mouth was full, so all I could do was lie there and let him touch and fondle my titty. He took his time about it, kneading the small lump of flesh, rubbing his hard fingers over the supple flesh, and slowly working his way up to the nipple.
He touched it testingly with the tip of his finger first, and watched my body twitch as he did so. The sensation felt like no other I had ever received, and it thrilled and frightened me at the same time.
He smiled, and placed his cold drink right on top of the rosy bud. I winced, the cold of the ice cubes in the glass was so sharp, and all I could do was lie there and bear it. He just let it rest there for awhile, watching me suffer through the tingling sensation, as I felt my nipple growing harder and larger with each passing second.
When he finally removed the glass, I sighed with relief, but was shocked to see my nipple so erect and distended. That was when the man with the butt grabbed my other tit and began rubbing it.
"Make this one hard too," he said.
The man with the drink responded, and placed the cold glass on the other tit, making me shiver and shake once again to the biting cold. As he let it rest there, his free hand was working over my nipple He had it between thumb and forefinger and was really going to town with it. He was pinching lightly at first, and I was really beginning to enjoy it, I must admit, but after a short while, he grabbed at it harder and harder.
Finally, the glass was removed, and my other nipple was ready to be used. The man with the cigarette, however, did not tweak my bud, but rather placed his mouth over it and began sucking it. I was shocked, almost horrified, but the pleasant sensations of his cool lips and hot tongue lashing at the rubbery bud soon made me relax.
And as the two men worked over my tits and nipples, I began to give way to the feelings of lust that were stirring in my cunt for the first time. The one man was sucking my tit, pulling my nipple up with the strong vacuum in his mouth, and rolling it passionately in his mouth.
The other man was still continuing to abuse my other nub, pinching and digging into it painfully with his fingernails, until I was wincing with pain. But at the same time, the sucking of my tit made me hotter and hotter.
As I squirmed and bucked under their persuasive mouth and fingers, I could feel the ropes pulling at my hands and feet, keeping my body so perfectly still, and available to these two gentlemen.
During that period of lust, I felt two hands return to my legs, sliding up along the insides, finally reaching my crotch. One hand moved on top of my pussy, feeling the mound, while the other stayed down below, poking at my hole.
It shocked me to sense how good it felt to have the hands between my legs. It was as though the men had hit an invisible button on my body, and my body was beginning to writhe and sweat as they kept touching me.
I was too far gone to care what they did anymore, I was having such a great time, so I was not scared when one hand dipped under the top of my cotton briefs and began searching along my pussy lips, while the other poked into my leg band and moved towards my damp hole.
The hand by my hole sent a finger into my moist slit. It slid in easily, as I was really quite wet by this point, and soon it was in up to the knuckle. My whole body arched and rose off the bed, my fingers opening and closing and my toes doing the same as he entered me.
It was a sensation I will never forget. And added to this was the fact that the other hand feeling up my cunt was rubbing over my clit. The man with the cigarette had found the hidden bud and was stroking it gently with his fingers, applying just the right pressure, so that it did not hurt, but made my cunt feel like it was on fire.
"She's still a virgin," said the man with the finger up my cunt, "What a tight little twat she has."
"That's too bad," scowled the other, "I was planning on giving her a special, belated birthday gift."
"I know what you mean," grinned the other, "I was thinking about doing the same thing."
"Think how much she would have liked that," grinned the man rubbing my clit, "Two in a row. She'd have been happy. We really do have to give her something," said the man, as he began to finger me with a pumping motion now, "I just couldn't leave like this."
"I know what you mean," said the other, "I'm aching right now. Let's play with her a little longer while we decide how to solve this problem."
"Fine with me," replied the drinker and went back to pinching my tit.
As I think back on the moment, it must have been some wild scene. It was like something out of a porno movie or something. Here I was, a young, innocent girl of sixteen, tied to my bed, all my clothes removed except for my panties, while two grown men worked me over.
One was sucking my tit, while the other was abusing my nipple, and they both had their free hand on my cunt, fingering it and playing with my clitoris. And I was really getting into it. I didn't mind them using my body, and I was thrashing about and shivering with desire as they kept working me over.
The finger in my cunt was acting like a little cock now. It was ramming in and out of my cunt with a strong, steady motion, and my cunt lips were beginning to react. As the digit slid up into me, they contracted and grabbed at it, as if they did not want it to leave. And when it was hanging just in the entrance, they quivered with passion, waiting for its return plunge.
Yes, I guess I was one little piece of hot meat at that moment, which explains what happened next. I was so hot and homy, I wasn't even aware of the sound of a zipper being undone. It was the man sucking my tit, he had a free hand to undo himself and pull his prong out of his pants, as he climbed onto the narrow bed next to me.
He perched himself, God knows how, on the edge of the bed, very close to me, so that his red prong was resting on my thigh, and all the time, he was licking my hot nipple and fingering my even hotter clit.
I was not aware of the tool, until it began to brush up and down on my leg. Then I lifted my head up, stopping my writhing for a moment, and looked down at my body, to see a fat, red worm lying on it.
My eyes widened as I looked at the cock, resting there so calmly, and yet so obscenely. I had never seen a man's fully erect cock, and the sight was awesome. The shaft alone seemed to be about a foot long, and then there was the swollen head, sitting on top of the pole like some sort of purplish mushroom.
The fact that it was touching my bare skin sent tingles of even greater erotic desire through me, and my hips actually began to work against the finger in my cunt.
"What do you have in mind?" asked the man fucking me with his finger.
"I thought it might be nice to rub my gift along this girl's slender body. It sends chills up and down my spine, and hers as well, if her shaking body is any indication."
His words made me realize for the first time that my body was quaking wildly since I had seen the dick. I could not control it, as I thought about the things I had heard men do to women with their cocks.
"Not a bad idea," smiled the other, and he released my nipple and unzipped his fly as well.
He searched around in his pants for awhile, as if he were not sure where he had left his prick, and then found it, dragging it out into the light. His dick was much like the other man's, though it was more slender and had a thinner tip as well. But it looked just as formidable and made my heart race the same as the other.
He, too, climbed onto my bed, but instead of pressing the dick on my leg, he plopped it on my stomach. I watched it rise and fall with my labored breathing and I could feel the heat of the two dicks as they rested on me. "I think she's about ready," said the first man, and he drew his hand away from my cunt.
I released a stifled moan, for I wanted that hand back on my clit, rubbing it, frantically. I was so hot, that had he rubbed it just a bit longer, I would have come. As it was now, my body was perched on the edge of climax, with little chance of getting there.
Unless of course, I relied on the finger still driving into my cunt. I concentrated on it, feeling it spread my swollen, hot lips and poke around inside me. In and out, in and out it flew, frigging into me lustfully, making my hips jump and twitch.
I began to grow wild, and my legs were pulling harshly at my bonds, as I attempted to break free so that I could draw my legs up and get the finger deeper into me. But the rags did not allow it, and I was forced to lie there and let myself be finger-fucked by the stranger.
This was how my passivity during sex grew, so that now I just lie there with any man and let him use me.
But to get back to my tender sixteen year old body. The man with the cigarette snubbed out the butt, and then grabbed the base of his dick and began to slide it all over my body. I mean all over. He crawled about on the bed, making sure the smooth, fat tool ran over my stomach, chest and each nipple. Then up my arm and back down, nuzzling under my chin and then sliding up onto my face.
I groaned as I felt it touch my skin, for I could feel the padded head pushing against my cheek. He held it directly over my eyes, just inches away, so that I could see it close-up. I watched the veins pumping blood into the engorged tip, and my body shivered wildly as he lowered it and touched it to my nose.
Then the finger was pulled from my cunt, and the other man began to slide his dick on me too. He rubbed the tool along my splayed legs, even in between them, and then up my belly and across my chest, as had the other man.
I will never forget the feeling of having two hot cocks roaming all over my helpless body, poking into my hollows, and skimming over my smooth flesh. It was the hottest sensation I have ever felt, and I still have wet dreams about it at night.
"God, is she smooth," moaned the drinker, and his dick head glided over my tits.
His cock head then nestled in the pit of my arm, rubbing back and forth a while before moving across my face. It felt as if the cocks were alive, and there were dozens of them, and they were all crawling on my shivering body.
I closed my eyes, and they tickled and stroked me, making me hotter and hotter with each second. Then one of them brushed over my soft lips, and my chest heaved and I sobbed under the gag.
"Oh, she really likes that," smiled the man, "She'll probably love sucking cock when she gets older."
The thought of me being a cocksucker thrilled me with lewd delight, because all the girls that were already sucking on boys' dicks in school were thought of as little tramps. Somehow, the idea that I was a little tramp as well made me feel good.
The fellow rubbed his dick head against my lips again and watched me shiver and heave again.
"This is terrific," he laughed, "Try it."
The drinker; moved up and leaned his groin over me, pushing the cock down against my lips. He got the exact same result, as if I were some sort of conditioned animal. He kept rubbing the dick over my lips, and suddenly, I felt something cold and sticky clinging to my lips and chin.
"Oh," he moaned, "I'm starting to leak on the little bitch's mouth. Doesn't that look nice."
I wasn't quite sure what he was leaking, but I could tell that it was sticky and wet.
"Very nice," said the other, "It gives me a good idea how to end this little party."
He leaned over me again, and started rubbing his dick on the side of my face, and I felt him leaking onto my skin as well. He left a slimy trail along my neck and ear, and then touched his mushroom head to my lips.
Now both cocks were pushing and rubbing against my taut lips. As I looked up, I could see the two men leaning over me, smiling broadly as they watched their dicks slither over my bright lips.
That was when I came. My cunt seemed to explode and my body convulsed on the bed, my hands and feet tugging painfully at the cotton rags that bound me. What caused the orgasm was a clear picture that flashed through my fevered mind for a moment.
That was of me, tied to my bed, two men leaning over my face, with their dicks poking at my face. But in the fantasy, there was no gag in my mouth, and I let both dicks fuck into my mouth, making me far dirtier than any of the girls in school, as I blew them both.
The climax kept flooding through my body, as my cunt dripped with love juice and my face grew bright red with the rush of lust.
"Look at that," laughed the men as he dripped a glob of clear liquid onto my chin, "She's coming."
"I think that we should do the same," answered the other.
"A great idea," said the man. "He looked down at me and addressed me for the first time.
"Do you like candy, little girl?" he asked.
I looked at him with wide, passionate eyes, and nodded my head silently.
"Good," he smiled, "Because my friend and I have a little birthday gift that we want to give you."
"Yes," said the smoker, "We couldn't make it to your birthday party, but we have something that we've been saving up, just for you."
Both of them laughed heartily, as they kept rubbing their dicks all over my face.
"Yes," said the drinker, "It's a special kind of candy, and we're going to give it to you. We're going to cover you with it."
"Now doesn't that sound fine?" asked the other man.
I nodded my head.
"And don't you want us to give it to you, right now?" he asked.
I nodded again.
"Let's please the little bitch," said the man, as he positioned himself over my face.
"By all means," responded the other, as he poised over my chest, pointing his dick up at my face.
Then the two men began stroking their tools. I watched with great interest, for I had heard that boys did this, but I had never seen a boy do it, let alone two men. They held their cock in a tight fist, and rammed the pole in and out of the small opening, faster and faster as they went.
The dicks seemed to be getting redder and redder with each stroke, and the heads were swelling too, Both men were grunting, and one of them wheezing slightly as he beat himself off.
Their faces grew red, and then, suddenly, they began to come. I had never seen a dick ejaculate before, and I was able to get a good view of the creamy blast, as they began firing them onto my face.
The first splatter of come frightened me, as it hit my mouth and clung to my lips, stretched across the gagging handkerchief. But the next wad, that landed on my forehead, gave me a new tingle of pleasure.
Load after load of scum poured onto my innocent, young face, dirtying me with the thick sperm, and leaving fat blobs of semen all over my pretty cheeks and nose.
One man's scum was dripping down only on my face, while the other man was pouring onto my entire body, moving his dick after each shot, covering my chest, and belly and legs with his scum.
It was not long before I smelled the strong, salty aroma, and my nose wrinkled as the dick just kept spilling jism onto my captive face. It was covering my face completely now, dripping off my cheeks into my ears and hair and trickling down my neck.
Meanwhile, I could feel the hot juices spilling over and over again onto my sweating, heaving body, leaving my small tits and smooth legs all scummy and wet. A thick pool of it sat in my navel, and when the two men were finally finished, not a inch of me was left untouched by smears of spunk.
As they caught their breath, they wiped the dripping ends of their dicks clean on my face. I felt the hot poles throbbing as they did so, still desiring to shoot more spunk onto my spread eagled body.
"Good," sighed one man as he zipped himself up, "Good little bitch."
"What a sight you are," smiled the other, surveying my scummy form Then the two men buttoned my nightgown up over the scummy load on my hot body, took one last look at my sperm-covered face and left the room, closing the light behind them. They left me lying there, with the semen drying on my face, the wet clothes clinging to my shivering body, until I dropped off into a troubled sleep.
That is the image that keeps troubling me at night. I am still trying to wash off all the spunk they shot onto me, and what is worse, now I am addicted to the same abusive treatment from my dates.
It seems that I always end up getting tied up, and then used by them. No matter how nice, or how straight the guy seems, I somehow get him to tie me up and hurt my body. And the finally indignity that I insist on, it that he shoot his load off onto my face.
It makes me sick everytime a guy does it, but I just keep asking for more and more and more, and when I fall asleep at night, and start to dream, I dream about dick after dick, splashing hot scum down onto my face.
CASE HISTORY TWO
Subject; Mrs. Erica J. - Age 38
Initial Interview; February 11, 1979
Mrs. Erica J. is the wife of a close friend of mine, whom I often saw and associated with at cocktail parties and the like. She always struck me as a well-balanced individual, though a bit too emotional, and I had no idea of her problem until she approached me with it one night at a party.
She only told me the briefest of descriptions, but from her obvious concern and embarrassment, I advised her to come see me professionally. I did not, nor have I since, mentioned her visits to her husband.
This is a transcript of her problem, during one of the sessions when she was able to be more frank and open about her life.
I feel very funny talking about this. I really know that I have mentioned it dozens of times by now, but I never sat down and told everything in chronological order before, with all the details exactly as it happened.
It makes me humiliated to even think about it, but I think if I'm ever going to end my problem, I guess I will have to talk about it.
Let me start by saying that I am a normal, well-adjusted, happily married housewife. I love my husband, and have a twenty year old son in college. I have never had any sort of sexual problems before, and I still don't, except for this one.
I don't run around with other men, and only cheated on my husband once, briefly, during our twenty year marriage. Even before we were married, I did not run around with a lot of guys.
What I am really saying is that I am not a nymphomaniac.
What happened sort of just happened. I wasn't looking for it, let me make that clear, and I never had any intentions of starting it. I do admit I enjoyed it, however, and still do. That's the problem.
Alright, let me get started. I think I should start by describing myself. It's very important to my story, I think.
I'm thirty-eight, dirty-blonde hair, a pug nose, with a wide face, but I'm still very attractive. My husband tells me so, my lady friends tell me so, and strange men on the street tell me so. So I guess I believe them.
You see, even though I am middle-aged, I keep myself trim and fit, and I don't have any sags or bulges, like many women do. Besides that, I've got a great body. I'm trying to be modest, but truthful at the same time. I've got a great body.
First of all, I'm stacked, as my husband puts it. I always had a large bust, even when I was a girl, and in my maturity, it has become very full, though not loose and saggy like many. I have a trim waist, nice hips and a great pair of legs. They're trim, shapely and smooth, and I wear a lot of dresses to prove it.
Okay, so I'm good-looking, but I never realized to whom.
The whole thing started when my friend, Sylvia, asked me to sit for her kids one night. She had two, precocious boys, one fifteen, and the other sixteen. They are bright, cute, and well-mannered.
I had chatted with them often when we went to visit Sylvia and her husband, and I was always delighted by them. There seemed not to be a bad streak in their bodies, so I readily agreed to sit for them.
I packed a few things in an overnight case, for Sylvia would be away until the next afternoon, and then drove to her house. David, my husband, stayed at home, and I presume watched football with some of the guys.
I remember how glad the boys were to see me, and I rubbed Pat's head affectionately.
"You're staying with us tonight?" asked the young fifteen year old.
"That's right," I smiled, as I put my case down, "All night."
"Oh boy!" the pair yelled, and exchanged excited glances.
"Now, now," I cautioned, "Don't think this means that you're going to stay up all night and not take your baths. Your mother has left strict orders."
"That's right," said Sylvia as she slipped into her mink, "And if Erica has any problems with you, she knows where to call me."
Saying this, she kissed them both goodnight and left.
Let me explain that the boys called both my husband and myself by our first names. We do not believe in the power games that adults use with children, one of which is demanding to be called Mr. so-and-so, or Mrs. so-and-so.
The evening went by quickly, and the boys were perfect angels. We played some games and watched some TV and had some snacks. Then it was time for their baths.
"Okay," I said, blocking the television, "Time for baths. Who goes first.?
"Pat," said Jason, the older of the two.
"Awww, I don't want to go first," moaned the fifteen year old. "I always go first."
"That's because you're the youngest," responded Jason, "That's why you have to go first. Really, Erica, Pat always goes first."
"Okay," I said, "If that's the way your mother does it, upstairs young man, and into that tub. I will be checking your ears before you go to sleep, so make sure you wash thoroughly.
Pat went to the stairs, stomping his feet in anger and shaking his head. When he reached the stairs, Jason ran up to him and they began whispering. They talked for a few seconds, and then both of them laughed. Then Pat flew up the stairs and I shortly heard the water running.
"What was that all about?" I asked when Jason sat down again.
"Oh... nothing," he answered, avoiding my eyes. "Just a joke."
I leaned back in my chair and started reading my book again.
In about half an hour, I heard Pat calling me.
"Pat's calling," announced Jason.
"I wonder what he wants," I commented, as I walked up the stairs.
The bathroom door was unlocked, and I peeked inside.
"What's the matter, Pat?" I asked.
"I want you to wash my back," he told me.
I was surprised at his request and answered, "You're a big boy now, I'm sure you can wash your own back."
"But mom always does it for me," he retorted.
"She does?" I answered. I was confused by this. Sylvia did not seem the type of woman to treat her sons like babies.
"Yes, every night," he answered, "She says it stops pimples."
Heaven forbid I should make Pat get pimples, so I walked into the bathroom, shut the door and knelt by the edge of the tub.
Pat handed me a soapy sponge and sat forward in the tub. I rolled up my sleeves and then began to wash the boy's back. The soapy water felt good on my hands, and I must admit that it was fun lathering up the boy's back.
I had not done this since my own son was young, and it brought back fond memories. I soaped him gently and thoroughly, splashing warm water on his back, rinsing the soap off and washing him again.
"Oh, that feels good, Erica," he sighed, and he shifted around in the tub. As I told you before, I have an ample bosom, and as I leaned over the tub, the splashing of the water by Pat's movements were getting that bosom soaking wet.
He leaned back now against the side of the tub and I began to wash his neck and chest as well. His eyes seemed to be closed, but as I look back on it, he must have had them open for a little peek.
What he was peeking at was my chest. The blouse I was wearing was now wet, and the material clung to my jutting breasts as they hung over the tub. I did not realize it a first, of course, or I would have covered myself, but Pat noticed it right away.
It must have made quite a sight for the adolescent, as I think back on it. Here was a huge pair of breasts, hanging only about a foot away from him, and the blouse that was covering them was wet, making it partially transparent and clinging.
The full roundness of each breast was showing, and he might have been able to see my tan bra as well. He certainly got a good show, as I washed and bathed him.
"Okay," I announced finally, "You're done."
He rose slowly, and with annoyance, undoubtedly annoyed that the lewd show was over, and he walked into his bedroom to put on his pajamas. No sooner had I stood up and left the room, then Jason scurried by and climbed into the bath. I was almost to the stairs when he called me.
"Erica," he cried.
I walked back into the bathroom, to see him holding the sponge and bar of soap.
"Me, too," he announced.
"You're a whole year older than Pat," I said, "Can't you wash yourself?"
"I can't reach back there," he said, showing me by twisting his arms behind him and missing his back.
"Oh, all right," I replied wearily, and trudged back into the bathroom, sinking back to my knees and washing his back.
Jason turned the water back on, and made the water quite high, and as he splashed and moved about, it made me even wetter. I realize now that it was all done on purpose, but at the time, I thought nothing of it.
"Chest too," he said after awhile, and turned towards me.
I can't believe that I did not see where he was looking at me, for the boy must have been ogling me as I hung obscenely over the edge of the tub. My big tits were thoroughly wet now, and there is no doubt in my mind, that it appeared as if I wasn't even wearing a blouse.
He must have seen each jug, firm and separate, and the thin bra straps that ran over my shoulders. I remember that I was chilly from being wet as well, which meant that my nipples must have been sticking out a mile, pressing clearly through my thin bra.
My chest must have looked better than any suggestive poster he had ever seen, as they bobbed and juggled in front of his wide eyes.
I was rubbing his chest, and he was lying back and really enjoying it. More than I realized at the time.
"Lower," he said softly.
I moved down slightly, until I was rubbing his tummy, just at the water line. The suds floated around him, hiding the lower part of his body from my view.
"Lower," he said again, in a more guttural voice.
I must admit that I was a fool to respond, but I slid the sponge and my hand down even further into the water and started rubbing softly, all over. I felt something hard brush against my hand, but I thought nothing of it, and continued scrubbing under the water.
Then I bumped against it again, and I began to rub the sponge up and down on it, pushing and scrubbing the hard object. Jason's eyes were closed, and his body was hot and tense.
"I kept stroking and cleaning him, unaware that the sponge was pressed against his erect penis, making it hotter and hotter as he watched my shaking tits.
"All done," I announced suddenly, and pulled my hands from the water and stood up.
Jason nearly threw a fit, and I stood there in confusion, not realizing how close the boy had been to orgasm.
"Come on now," I directed, "Get in your pajamas."
Saying this, I walked downstairs, and noticed for the first 'time that I was soaking wet. I grabbed my bag and went into Sylvia's bed room, stripping off my skirt and blouse and putting on my nightgown and robe.
Then I heard the tramping of little feet on the stairs.
"Alright, boys," I said as I confronted them at the bottom of the stairs, "What's going on? You're supposed to be in bed."
"Aw," complained Jason, "We're not tired yet. Besides, it's a weekend, and we don't have any school tomorrow."
"That doesn't make any difference," I told them, "You've still got to get your sleep. Now get to bed."
"Oh, please, Erica," said Pat, hugging me about the waist, "Please let us play just a little bit longer. Please."
He was hugging me tightly, and I felt my will power weakening.
"Yes, Erica," added Jason, "Just let us play another fifteen minutes, and then we'll go to bed."
"Well," I stammered, "Alright, but just fifteen minutes."
"Whoopee," yelled Pat and he and Jason began to run around the living room. "Okay, Jason, you're the cowboy, and I'm the Indian."
"I don't want to be the cowboy," scoffed Jason, "I want to be the Indian brave. It's more fun than being the dumb cowboy."
"But you were the Indian last time," cried Pat, "It's my turn now."
"No it isn't," replied Jason angrily.
"Is too," yelled Pat.
"Is not."
"If this is what I'm going to hear for the next fifteen minutes," I interjected, "Then I think you boys should go to bed right now."
"Hey, I've got it," smiled Jason, "You can be the whiteskin, and both of us can be the Indians, Erica."
"Yeah, that's a great idea," beamed Pat, as he began to pull on my hand wildly. Come on, Erica, will you be the cowgirl, huh, will you?"
"I don't really think I remember how to play cowboys and Indians anymore," I informed them.
"It's easy," said Jason, pulling me into the living room, "All you have to do is stand there and make believe that you're the pretty cowgirl who is trapped by the blood-thirsty redskins. Then the cowboys come and save you."
"Please do it," whimpered Pat .
"Oh, alright," I consented, and both boys cheered and began to dance around like Indians.
Then they led me into the living room with make-believe knifes and brought me over to the heavy, coat-tree that was in the room. They pushed me up against it, their faces stem like Indian braves. "White woman will bum at stake," said Pat grimly.
I shivered, making believe I was terrified, but trying my best not to laugh. Jason grabbed my hands and pulled them behind me, around the coat-tree, and I was surprised to feel him tying rope around my hands.
"What are you doing, Jason?" I cried out at their overly realistic play.
"Just tying you up, Erica," said the boy, "We have to make sure you can't escape. Come on, please play the game."
I shrugged my shoulders, and let him continue to tie me, binding my wrists securely with the rope. He tied it tight, almost too tight, and I felt the coarse rope pinching my flesh slightly. Then I felt him tying a rope onto the pole and he walked around in front of me, stretching another piece of rope around my waist. He tied that tightly also, and then to the post. I felt as if I truly were being tied up by savages.
"Can you move now?" asked Pat.
"I really don't think so," I answered, and was surprised to see that when I pulled against the ropes and tried to slip my hands free that I was indeed securely bound to the post.
"Are you sure?" asked Jason.
"I'm positive," I answered, "In fact, you better loosen these ropes up a bit, boys, they're beginning to hurt me."
"As soon as the game is over," said Jason, "We have to make sure you're completely bound first."
It was at this point that things began to take a truly strange twist. Pat brought out more rope from the closet, a lot more rope, and the two of them were smiling broadly as they began to tie me up even more.
They tied lengths along my upper arms, and one about my neck. It was very tight, and restrained my movements considerably, for if I jerked about, it choked me somewhat. As you might guess, I was protesting loudly now, but they were ignoring me completely and continued at their work.
Then, once my body was covered with strands of rope, they began to touch my body. I was shocked, and the words I was speaking stuck in my throat. Pat had his hands rubbing up and down my legs, feeling their firmness through my nightgown and robe, while Jason was paying attention to my chest.
His small hands were pushing and shoving at the huge mounds, watching them shake with each touch, but still too timid to really take a hold of them. That was when he grabbed the sides of the robe and yanked it open, exposing my body.
He pulled it open all the way down, having some difficulty with the stout ropes, but managed to get it wide open. My body was only covered by the flimsy nightgown now, and it revealed every line and curve of my figure. I had removed my bra and panties to feel more comfortable, and so the boys were able to look through the nightgown and see my dark nipples and black pubic patch.
I was still speechless, as I struggled against my ropes, watching the boys looking at my semi-nude body, their eyes riveted to my jutting tits and dark muff. Then Jason undid the bow on the front of my nightgown, and words flowed out of my mouth.
"What... what are you doing?" I asked in a horrified tone.
"The Indians always used to do things to the white woman before they killed her," announced Jason, as he undid the next bow down and began to pull open the front of the nightgown.
"Did things," I stammered in fear, "What sort of things are you talking about?"
"All sorts of things," smiled Jason, as more and more of my heaving chest was exposed. "They would use the woman's body, and then hurt it, until she was crying and begging for them to stop."
When I heard these words, I recognized the unmistakable tone of lust in Jason's voice, and as I looked at their eyes, I saw that both of them were already fantasizing terrible things.
"Now Jason, Pat, you better stop this right now," I warned them, "This game is over. Untie me and go to bed."
They didn't even hear me, as Jason pulled the front of my robe completely apart, and left my jugs hanging naked in front of them. For several seconds, none of us made a sound, as the two young boys stared in wide-eyed wonder at my pendulous jugs, and I stood there, frozen with fear.
"God," said Jason finally, "They're even bigger than I thought. She's got goddamn melons for tits."
The lewd words sent a tingle through my body, and into my cunt.
My night gown was dragged open fully, and both my tits and cunt were now available to their eyes, and hands as well. The two boys reached up and began to fondle my swinging boobs, each of them taking one and working on it. They touched the fat mounds with eager, sweaty hands, that sent shivers of delight up and down my spine. I remember clearly how I felt as I stood there, bound so securely. It was a mixture of pleasure and debasement, as I realized that I was going to be used by the two boys, fondled and touched and God knew what else, and there was nothing I could do about it.
They were really beginning to pull on my meaty knockers now, sinking their little fingers into the meat, and yanking on it, pulling the tit up into the air by its nipple and then letting it flop down onto my chest.
They were abusive and at the same time stimulating as they squeezed and fondled, tugged and pinched my over-sized knockers.
"Is it time yet?" asked Pat.
"Yeah, I guess so," said Jason, "Let's lie her down."
They tipped over the heavy coat-tree and me as well, and laid it on the floor.
"Time for what?" I gasped in terror.
"You'll see," laughed Jason, as he and Pat both picked up some more rope.
The young boy scurried into the kitchen and came back with a broom handle. He handed it to Jason and then they bent over and grabbed my legs, spreading them apart. I was panicky now, and by body was shivering with fear as they moved the stick near my cunt.
"You have to stop now," I told them sternly, "This had already gone too far. You boys don't realize the trouble you are already in, but I'll tell you what I will do. If you let me go now, right now, I won't say anything to anyone about what happened here tonight. I won't say anything to your mother or father, nobody, but you must untie me now!"
Jason move up by the side of my head, and suddenly, a wide piece of adhesive tape was placed over my mouth. Then another piece, and the tape was wound all around my head and the post as well. I could only make faint squeaks now, as they went back to their work.
They took the broom handle and placed in between my legs, from knee to knee. Then they tied ropes around my knees, and the ends of the broom handle as well, so that it was soon secured across my legs, jamming them apart painfully.
Now, no matter tow I tried, I could not close my legs, and my cunt was fully exposed for their inspection. This was their next step, as they sat on either side of my squirming body and began to poke and probe at my spread beaver.
Their tiny fingers stabbed at the soft, exposed lips, and I felt Jason parting the lips so that both of them could get a look down my hole. They began tickling the inner lips with their fingers, and finally Pat was brave enough to stuff one of his fingers all the way inside me. The tiny digit barely filled my cunt, but I felt familiar ripples of pleasure throbbing in my pussy, as I was explored by the two boys.
"Gee, she's all wet," said Pat, "I wonder if she pissed."
"No," laughed Jason, "That means she likes what we're doing."
"Then let's do it some more," smiled Pat, and he began to stuff more and more of his fingers up my aching cunt.
In a short while, he had made a little wedge of his hand and was shoving all five fingers into my cunt. The digits plunged in and out, making my cunt wetter and hotter with each thrust.
My cunt opened wider, until suddenly, his entire hand plunged into my pussy. I moaned in a mixture of pleasure and fear, as I felt the hand all the way inside me, the fingers moving about inside my pussy.
I could not stop my yelling as he twisted his fist up inside me, but the tape masked all my groans, and only my wildly quivering body revealed the pain and humiliation I was undergoing.
And this was just the start, this was just the beginning of the terrible things they did to me. They had all night to use and abuse me, and they did not waste a minute of it. Next, they... they... I can't go on.
Erica broke down at this point, as she was forced to recall all of her degradation in such vivid detail, but at the next session, we were able to go back to where she had left off and her explanation goes as follows.
I had left off in the middle of my abuse. Let me see, I was tied tightly to the coat-tree, my body stripped naked, and I was lying on the floor. They had forced my legs apart with a broom handle and fifteen year old Pat had his entire hand shoved up into my cunt.
Even just talking about it now makes me shiver. I could feel the hand forcing its way deeper and deeper into my cunt. There is no real way to describe it, because the fat width of the hand was causing great pain as it rammed in and out of my vagina, but the unique thing about it was that his fingers were actually tickling the inside of my hole.
He was rubbing them back and forth along the hot walls, poking and stabbing at the walls, as if my cunt had swallowed some live creature. It was incredibly erotic, and my chest began to heave even more than before.
I was really jerking at my ropes now, and they were starting to cut into my skin. When I say this, I do not mean that they actually had caused my slim wrists to bleed, not that, but my skin was tom and my wrists ached from the tight ropes.
I was trying to lift my head up as well, to see what was happening down by my cunt, but each time I did so, the rope around my neck cut into my windpipe, and cut off my air. All in all, I was tied very painfully on that pole, as Pat caused even greater pain in my cunt.
"Enough of that," said Jason, "Let's get to the good stuff."
Pat's hand pulled from my cunt with a loud, wet, sucking noise, and I could feel my vaginal opening closing back down to its regular size. My body was still trembling from the work out he had given my cunt however, and my head was swimming from all that was being done to me.
It was inconceivable that two young boys, one fifteen, the other sixteen, had tricked me into letting them tie me up, strip off my clothing, and then proceed to feel-up my tits and ram a hand up my cunt, but they had. My shaking body and terrified mind were proof of this.
God, when I think back on what happened next, I really don't know why I didn't go mad. I don't know if I can go on with this, doctor. This is the part I never really talk about. I don't even let myself think about it too much, it makes me sick. I'll try to talk about it though, maybe I'll feel better if I get it over with.
They had me there, bound and squirming on the floor, and they crouched over my heaving bosom. My big tits were still round, though they spread out somewhat on my chest, and they were shaking and bouncing all over, as I trembled.
They looked at my knockers for a while, and then Jason made two large loops, with slip-knots. Pat took one, and then they slid the nooses over each of my tits, pushing the rope down to the bases of my tits.
I could feel the rough cords stabbing splinters into my tit flesh, but I was forced to lie there silently and endure it, as they got the rope in place, and then pulled it tight around each tit.
The result of this action was to cause my big melons to stick straight up into the air, like two pink spheres. They were swollen and firm, as their rope collars forced all the blood into the heavy globes and made then swell.
They sat there and watched them get hard and red, and then they wrapped more and more rope about the bases, moving upward, until there were several loops about each of my aching knockers. This also caused my nipples to become distended, and the copper knobs grew stiff and rigid, poking straight up about two inches into the air.
"Hot damn," smiled Jason, as he reached down and flicked one of the hot nipples.
The fleshy prong snapped back and forth as he did so, caused the entire tit to sway and pull against the rope holding it so firmly. This caused intense pain throughout my chest, as the rope bit into my meat and the gorging of the blood in the nipple made it painfully sensitive.
This seemed to be exactly what the boys wanted forever, because as soon as my trapped knockers were really red, they went to work on them. They started with their hands, smacking the hard mounds, watching them quiver and listening to my muffled groans.
Then they began to scrape their fingernails over the puffy surface, making long, white marks that disappeared as they moved along over my jugs. There fingers finally began to abuse my extra-sensitive nipples, tweaking and pinching them, squeezing them so hard between their fingers that I thought they would burst.
Finally, they lay down on top of my jerking chest and applied their mouths to the hot buds. Their lips and wet orifices felt wonderful at first, to the burning nubs, but after a short while of persistent licking and nipping, the nipples began to ache once again.
Jason was the first one to bit down really hard on the nipple, and my body jerked so violently that the both of them were thrown off.
"She's really beginning to suffer now," he smiled, as he climbed back on. "Let's really let her have it."
All I remember then was the biting and chewing, and the white hot pain that was shooting through my body. They were sinking their teeth deeply into my copper knobs, with no concern for the pain it was causing me. It was obvious that they were getting a thrill out of my spasmodic movements and stifled sobbing.
There is no real way for me to describe the agony I endured for the next hour, as I lay there, tied and bound, my tits roped up and the two young boys snapping and biting at the tender tips. Let me just say that there were several times that I thought I was going to go unconscious.
Like I said, they kept this up for about an hour, until their young peckers were rock hard. As they were lying on top of me, I could feel their stiff rods pressing against my writhing body, and I kept wondering how they were going to relieve themselves.
My answer came soon enough.
"Okay, Pat, get the bat," said Jason, as he got on his knees and unzipped his pants.
Even as his brother went running to the hall closet, he began pumping frantically on the hot tool.
I watched his hand fly along the stiff dick, all red and hard with desire, and saw that he was pointing it at my aching chest.
"Oh, Erica," he moaned as he pumped, "You were so good. What a pair of tits you have. I love you, Erica."
Then Pat appeared, carrying a baseball bat. It was long, and fat, and he walked over to my splayed legs.
"Hurry, shove it in," muttered Jason, "I'm going to come any minute."
"Oh, no, for God's sake don't!" was what I wanted to scream, but I was unable to do so. All I could do was lay there and let the fifteen year old shove a baseball bat up my already tormented pussy.
He shoved it in handle first, so that the handle went in rather easily, but then began to throb and ache as it grew wider and wider. He just kept feeding the stick into me, as I desperately tried to close my legs and prevent this debasing violation. But the broom handle held my legs wide and in it slithered, until it was buried deeply in my twat, with the end pressing against my back wall.
Then he began to fuck it in and out of me, holding it with both hands, stuffing my pussy full, and watching his brother beat his meat over my tits.
"Oh, Erica," he moaned, "You're going to get it any second. You're going to get all my cream all over your beautiful tits."
And with that, he shot off. The scum sprayed over my jutting boobs, and the viscuous liquid felt cool as it hit my burning globes. I could see it splashing onto me in thick, white globs, trickling down the deep cleavage created by the ropes, and covering the scarred nipples.
He pumped and pumped, his eyes rolling back in his head, firing wad after wad of sticky sperm onto me as Pat rammed my cunt with the baseball bat. It was horrible! I can't think of it without getting the shakes.
After a while, it was over, and Jason slumped back on the floor, his load spent all over my quivering tits. Then it was Pat's turn. Jason went to the wooden dildo and began to fuck me with it, while little Pat stood over me and pumped off.
He only lasted a few strokes, and then he came. He dropped more scum onto my already jism-covered melons, leaving a slimy, salty coating all over them. The scum dripped over the cutting ropes, and burned the tiny abrasions in my tender skin.
What happened next was the most humiliating part of the entire evening. I don't even know if I should tell you... I guess I better... While Pat was dropping the second load on my tormented chest, and Jason was fucking me with the bat... I came.
I actually had an orgasm, and intense one at that. I still can't believe it. I can't believe that I was tied and bound, tortured and humiliated for hours, and then had a climax by having a baseball bat shoved up my snatch. That is the part that disturbs me the most.
After that, they let me lay there all night, until the next morning. Then, sometime while I was asleep, they took snapshots of my tied and scummy body with an instant camera I had bought Jason the year before.
When they untied me, they showed me one of them, and I grew sick just looking at it. It seemed even worse to see how degraded and tormented I looked than to have experienced it. They told me that if I told anyone what happened, they would show all the pictures they had to everybody.
Since then, I have lived in the grip of the young devils. This is the picture they showed me. They gave it to me as a reminder. Look at me, it's disgusting. I look like some sort of animal, with my tits sticking up and tied, my legs forced open, and my body dripping with scum. Worst of all, my eyes are closed, because I was asleep, but it looked as if my eyes are closed in pleasure, as I lie there being horribly abused.
They let me know when they want me to baby sit, and their games are getting worse and worse as they grow older. Next week is Pat's birthday, and they have already let me know that after I am bound and gagged I am going to be gang banged to celebrate the occasion.
What am I to do?
CASE HISTORY THREE
Subject; Doreen N. - Age 25
Initial Interview; March 4, 1979
Doreen came to me when she was already deeply involved in her problem. She had waited a long time before seeking professional help. Her case is an extreme one. I do not use it as an example of the average, but rather as an of one of the deviations that such a relationship can take. This is her own story.
I guess I should start by saying that I was into bondage when I first met Peter. I had started when I was in high school and had felt I really liked it. It was nothing heavy, you know, just a little binding with scarves or ropes during sex.
The guys I went out with seemed to like it, so did I. It was more of a game than anything else, but it always served to make me hot, even when I was only luke-warm. Tie my wrists tie my legs apart, and I was ready for action.
I would start to get juicy the moment I felt the ropes on my skin, and by the time it was done, and felt my arms and legs tugging against the ropes as I watched the guy undress prepare to use me, I was burning with desire.
So it was not at all abnormal that the first time Peter and I fucked, it included bondage. He wanted it that way as much as I did. I recall it well. It was after we had gone to a disco and we wound up going back to his apartment.
"That was great," I said, as I flopped totally exhausted onto his couch, "but am I hot."
"So am I," he smiled, "but not from the heat but from your blouse."
I grinned coyly, for I was wearing my most sexy blouse. It was one of those Danskin tops which clung tightly. Although we had teased a lot, we had not screwed. That night I was determined to get his dick up my cunt. "Oh, really," I said. "Tell me more."
He sat down next to me, very close, and I could almost feel the heat coming off his body.
"It's just that when we were dancing, my mind was not on the beat or the music," he told me, "It was on your face, and your body."
Let me say right here that I am good looking, or was.
I have big, green eyes, a small nose, just the right size chin and the longest lashes you would care to see. My body is slender, graceful and well-proportioned. I have a nice sized pair of tits, a slim waist, and long, sensuous legs. I am a bit on the tall side, standing five feet nine in my stocking feet, but that never seemed to bother the guys I was laying down with.
"My mind was on that bouncing chest of yours and your swaying hips," he continued, as he moved closer and closer, "I couldn't take my eyes off your sleek back and long neck, but what really got me was your hair. I have never seen hair like yours. That light reddish hue, and the long, glistening tresses that hung down to your back. It moved so erotically as you danced."
Then we kissed. Our mouths locked on each others as if it were a wrestling match, and we stayed locked like that for quite awhile. Then we broke, and he switched off the lights There was just a faint glow coming from the stereo and we really got down to it.
He immediately began undoing my top, rubbing his hands wildly over my bare back and pulling the front of the top off my jutting tits. I wasn't wearing any bra underneath, so it was an easy matter for him to get hold of my jugs and start squeezing them.
My hands were also working, as they slid along his pants leg and found his long, hard tool. I ran my fingers lightly over the trapped rod, delighting in the way it jumped and twitched to my touch.
I was pressed back onto the couch now, with my chest completely nude and his hands scooping up my firm tits and kneading them in his hands. I was beginning to pant and grunt as he worked them over, feeling my desires becoming greater and greater.
I hastily searched for his zipper and pulled it down. He was not wearing any underwear, and his dick plopped out onto my leg. It was hot and throbbing and my fingers wrapped all around it like a boa constrictor catching its prey. I squeezed, he grunted, and I began a slow, maddening pumping of his prick.
"Take off your clothes," he whispered to me.
I was glad to oblige, though a little reluctant to release his pulsing member. I quickly untied my skirt and stripped it, the Danskin top and my panties off. Now I was completely naked underneath him.
His fully clothed body still pressed against mine, and he began stripping off his shirt, and pants leaving him naked as well. We rolled about on the couch for awhile, our hands exploring each other's naked, quivering bodies.
To my surprise, he didn't try forcing his dick into me right away, and I was already thinking about how I was going to bring up the subject of bondage.
"Dory," he said. He always called me Dory. "Let's try something new. I've always wanted to try it, but I was waiting for someone special, like you. How about letting me tie your hands up, just a little."
I jumped up from the couch and looked into his eyes. I could barely see them in the gloom, but I could tell that he was afraid I was going to walk out.
"Are you into bondage?" I asked bluntly. "Yes," he admitted, "I guess I am."
"That's terrific!" I cried, "I was just trying to think of a way to get you to tie me up. I love getting tied up. I've been into bondage for years now."
A smile broke over his face and he gave me a big kiss.
"Then let's go into the bed room," he said, "You'll like what I have there."
We strolled into the other room, where he flicked on a low, blue light. He had a large bed with a canopy over it. It seemed big enough for three people, and I wondered if that was not the case at times.
"Were you serious about me being the first you tried this on?" I asked as I stretched out on the bed.
"No," he admitted, "That's just a line I use. If I came out and told a girl that I've been tying up women for years now, she'd freak out "That's funny," I admitted, "I always find men very cooperative."
"That's because women are afraid you're going to do something terrible to them," he replied, "Men get off by seeing a woman tied and struggling, and waiting to get fucked. It's a little fantasy all of them have."
"So show me what you've got," I grinned. He walked over to a dresser and took out several purple cords.
"These are special," he said, "made just for me. They're silk ropes, covered with a layer of rich velvet. They have little clamps on the ends. "Do you like them?"
He ran one of the bonds over my arm, and I thrilled to the soft, sensual touch. He stroked it over my chest, and then moved one up to my neck.
"Try one on for size," he whispered, as he placed one around my neck and clamped it shut. "Mmmm," I sighed. "Feels delicious. How about my hands as well?"
He was smiling cruelly, as he sat on the bed and tied one of the velvet cords over my wrists and secured them behind my back. I was starting to get really hot now, for I realized that this man was an expert at this, and he was certain to really treat me well.
He ran his hand over my smooth back as he sat behind me, pulling my arms out straight, and pushing at my back, making my chest force itself out, so that my tits were jutting forward.
"Lovely, just lovely," he muttered.
Then he hooked one of the velvet straps from my wrists up to my neck, pulling my arms up behind me and making the collar pull against my throat. I thrilled to the pleasure of it all, as I knelt on his bed and waited for further abuse.
It came shortly, as he grabbed me by my long hair, and jerked my head back. He hooked some sort of clamp to my hair and then hoisted it up from a hidden pulley in the top of the bed. I was now almost hanging from my hair, my arms tied behind me, and my breathing constrained.
Peter placed hand on his erect organ, and gave it a few slow strokes. The tool jutted out in front of me.
"Stand up," he ordered.
I struggled to me feet, and he climbed under me, between my legs, positioning his rod under my cunt.
"Sit down," he stated.
I dropped down slowly, feeling the tool poke up into me, until it was driven all the way into my descending pussy.
"A nice tight pussy," he smiled, and then he began to fuck me. His dick rode in and out of me, stuffing itself deep into my cunt.
I was kneeling there now in delightful pain, his cock jamming up inside me, my arms painfully bound, and my tied hair pulling at my scalp, making me wince with agony at each jerk of my body.
And Peter was making sure my body was jerking about, as he grabbed my hips and pulled me up and down along his cock. The fat tool drove all the way against my cervix, making me twinge with pleasure, as the rest of my body suffered.
He kept it up for a long time, until I was addicted to the pain and the fucking, and then he came inside me, driving me to my own climax.
As we both came, I thrashed about on the bed, feeling my hair being pulled, hurting as if my scalp were being ripped off. And at the same time, the scum kept pouring into my pussy, firing spunk load after spunk load into my hole.
I will always remember that evening, for it was the best one we ever had. The rest became stranger and stranger, until one evening, Peter called me and told me to meet him at work at seven.
In case I didn't mention it, Peter was my hair-designer. That was where I had met him, and it was to his hair salon that I went. The place was just closing, and everyone else was gone. He unlocked the door and let me in.
He was acting strange, but I didn't think anything of it at the time. I figured he was just hot.
"Get in the chair," he told me.
I sat down, and he immediately trapped my arms and legs down. Then he pulled a wide leather strap over my waist and across my tits. I was beginning to like this. He made sure that I was not able to move a muscle, and then he took out all of his scissors, brushes and combs.
"What're you going to do?" I asked, "give me a hair-cut?"
"One like you have never had before," he smiled.
Then he slid his hands up under my skirt and fondled a pussy for awhile. He pressed the skirt up around my waist, exposing my shapely legs and white panties. I was starting to breath heavy, as I looked down and saw him stroking my thighs, as I sat there, helplessly tied to the chair.
Then he took his scissors and cut the briefs apart, pulling them from my body and leaving my cunt bare. My legs were spread apart, making my cunt easily accessible and he poked two of his fingers into my already moist twat.
He frigged me for awhile, and then he pulled his fingers out and picked up his scissors again. He began clipping at my hair muff, cutting off the tight, kinky curls, one by one. In a short while, my cunt was just a patchy triangle, having lost all of the thick hairs that once covered it.
Then he picked up his electric razor and turned it on.
"What are you doing?" I whimpered, as he moved towards my cunt.
"Shut up," he ordered, and touched the razor to my mound.
He moved upward in a slow, vibrating path, leaving a white trail where there had once been black hair. The path was quite clean as he sheared away my pubic hairs, and in a short while, he was finished. All of the hair was shaved off my cunt, leaving only stiff nubs in the place of silky hair.
Then he started the razor again and carefully went over the quivering mound, until it was perfectly smooth, and not one trace of hair was left on it. As I looked down at his handiwork, I felt as if I were a little girl again, with a hairless little cunt.
"Isn't that nice," he said, splashing some cool liquid on my cunt, making it tingle and smell wonderful, "All smooth and bare, like a baby's bottom. It looks so sexy that way."
He rubbed his hand over it to emphasize this fact, and as he did so, I realized for the first time how hot I was. During the shaving, I had been too frightened to notice how aroused I was, and now his fingertips caused my cunt to tremble.
"Oh, yes," I sighed, "It's real nice."
"I think that more would even be better," he commented, as he tilted the chair back and lowered my head.
He took out his shears again, and this time began to clip my long, luxurious hair. He snipped off several inches at a time, until I had a sort of modified page-boy. He was chuckling as he did so, and all I felt was the hair being cut away from my head.
Snip, snip, snip, went the scissors, and hair was falling all over me and the floor. I felt like crying, as I realized that he was going to give me a short hair-do. I had no idea then just how short, however.
In a little while, I felt the cold metal of the shears against my scalp, and I started to panic.
"Peter, stop, you're cutting away too much," I pleaded.
But he did not stop, and I could feel the cold blades gliding across my scalp. Then he sat me back up and I saw myself in the large mirror. Tears began to fall from my eyes, as I saw that almost all of my hair had been cut off by him. There was only a little fuzz left on my head, much less than even a marine wears.
"What's the matter, Dory?" he asked scoffingly, "Too long? We can fix that."
"No, no," I muttered as he picked up the electric shaver again. I glanced down at my pussy, and then looked at my head in the mirror, and knew what was coming.
"Oh, god, Peter," I whimpered and sobbed, "Don't do this to me."
He just laughed and went to work on the top of my head, shearing the hair off the dome of my head in a long, slow movement. His first stroke went right up the middle of my head, from the base of my skull to the front of my face.
I stared at the stark white path and cried even harder.
"Relax, dear," he said, "We have plenty more to go."
And then he began to work all over my head, cutting here and there wildly, criss-crossing over my scalp, leaving streaks of pale white on my head. Slowly, but surely, the dark hair fuzz grew less, until none of it was left.
All that was there on the top of my head was the stubble that appeared on a man's face in the mornings. Peter rubbed his hand over it and scowled.
"This will never do," he commented, and then went over and got some hot lather in his hand.
I was forced to sit there and watch him smear the foamy lather all over my head, as I cried and sobbed in fear and humiliation. There was nothing I could do to stop him, as I was secured firmly in his chair. I tried to close my eyes, but I kept finding myself drawn back to what he was doing to me.
He took out a straight razor and sharpened its edge, then ran it over my head. It glided along the soapy surface, cutting a deep trail, and leaving the skin underneath perfectly smooth. There was not a trace of hair where it moved, and it moved all over my head.
Again and again, he stroked, shaving off what little remained of my once beautiful hair. I could hardly see, there were so many tears in my eyes, as he finished his degrading work and wiped my head clean. He sprinkled some of the same liquid on my head, and it felt strange to have his fingers touching the once hidden surface as he rubbed it in.
"You're looking better all the time," he smiled, and gave me a kiss on my quivering lips.
"Why... why are you doing this to me?" I sobbed, "What have I done to you to make you punish me like this?"
"No, no," he cooed, stroking my cheek with the back of his hand, "I'm not punishing you. I'm freeing you. I am liberating you from all the things that trap other women. You will not be fenced in by the styles, modes and morals of society."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I told him frankly. "I happen to like the styles that are out now, and I like hair."
"You will," he grinned, "You will, as soon as you are done."
"Done?" I repeated in confusion, "Done? You have already shaved my cunt and head completely bare, what else is there?"
In answer, he ran a strong finger over my gently arching eyebrow.
"Not that too," I whimpered, "Please, leave me something."
He did not seem to hear, as he started the shaver again, and rode it over my left eye brow. The machine cut right through the thin hairs, and in a second, it was just a memory. The right eyebrow followed, and I stared at my bald, ugly head.
Then he lifted the scissors, and grabbed my face and held it firmly.
"Close your eyes," he demanded, "And don't move a muscle."
I looked at the sharp, pointed blades over my face, and shut my eyes tightly, waiting for the pain. All I felt was a slight clipping, and I realized that he was cutting off my long eyelashes as well.
When he let me go, I opened my eyes and looked at my hairless head. It was a gruesome sight, for my head looked much too large and there was no contour to my eyes without eyebrows or lashes.
Behind me, Peter held up a mirror, so that I could see the bony back of my naked head, and I began to sob and weep all over again.
"Now you are marked," he told me, "You are mine, and mine alone. No other man can be yours, no other man will want you. You will obey my every wish and demand."
And having said this, he flung the chair back and fed his dripping tool into my crying mouth. The cock slid unimpeded into my parted lips, and I felt it crash against the roof of my mouth before I even knew what was happening.
He must have taken his dick out some time before, and it was leaking pre-come onto my tongue even as it entered. I tasted the salty come on my tongue and thought about how much I hated this man.
He had humiliated and disfigured me thoroughly, and now he expected me to suck his cock. And the astonishing thing was, that I did just that. I still don't understand why, but all I knew was that my tongue was lapping at his prong, and my lips stopped quivering and locked about his shaft.
I simply had to lay there and suck the tool, for he was shoving his hips back and forth, ramming the dick in and out of my willing mouth. His long tool slid along my ovalled lips, and poked and prodded at the back of my throat.
It was wonderful to feel the leather straps pulling against my body, cutting into my flesh slightly as I trembled and squirmed on the chair. Then he moved the mirror down by his leg, and I was able to see my bald, hairless face, with the dick planted deeply between my exquisite lips, and I came.
It was a different kind of come, which splashed over my body instead of building up, and I lay there and quivered in the chair as I studied my alien face. He held the mirror there, rock-steady, letting me see how humiliating "I looked, as he kept ramming his dick and out of my pursed lips. He was really shafting it into me quickly, at it felt like a jack-hammer banging against the back of my throat.
I wanted to shut my eyes as I lay there, but I could not, and I kept studying my face. With no red hair and no eyebrows I looked like a completely different person. I almost looked male, except that my lips revealed that I was a female.
As I watched Peter dick me in the mouth, it was almost like watching some one else giving a blow-job. I watched the red pole slide between the pretty lips, bulge in the side of the mouth, and then disappear all the way to the balls in the willing mouth. Then it started all over again.
I was given the mouth-fucking of my life, with Peter really screwing it into me, stabbing against my tonsils and making his balls smack against my chin. Yet, he did not come, he was enjoying my cocksucking too much to ruin it .
After awhile, he pulled out, and the saliva dripped from my mouth and trickled along the side of my face.
He shifted the chair again, and then climbed on top of my hot, helpless body. All I could do was lay there, wallowing in the heat that my bondage and humiliation was causing, and let him press his body against mine.
He was still completely dressed, with only his dick hanging out, and I felt like some cheap trick that he had picked up to get his rocks off with.
"What a hot mouth you have," he informed me as he rubbed the head of his cock along my pussy lips, "It's even hotter now that your head is shaved. But your cunt is even hotter, and much smoother than before."
To show me how smooth it was, he ran the head of his dick over the mound, and I felt it glide across the skin uninterrupted. It did thrill me to be able to feel the tip of his wet tool so sensitively on my vulva, and chills raced up and down my spin.
"Just like a little girl," he said, as he pushed the dick around over my cunt, "Just like a pretty little girl, with no hairs on her tight little cunt."
As he began to talk like that, I felt as if I were a little girl, with some big, hairy man pressing down on top of me, about to take my virginity away. My breath began to come more rapidly and I began to quake, as I knew that I was building towards another orgasm.
"And then the little cunt has to take a big, fat dick inside it," continued Peter, "It has to allow the hard cock of the bad man to be shoved up inside it, because the little girl is all tied down, and has no choice."
It perfectly described my situation, though I wouldn't have stopped him even if I had been untied.
Then he slid his dick into me. It plowed right into my cunt without any problems, as I was dripping wet from all of the mouth-fucking and dirty talking. My walls were pulsing, and I felt them push against the heated dick as it rammed and slithered up into me.
His cock felt extra large that night, and it filled my pussy completely with it huge length. Once his dick was buried totally inside my cunt, he began to fuck me. He really rammed it to me, driving the dick all the way into my gaping hole with each thrust, and making my body squirm and buck.
As I jerked about, I could feel the leather straps holding me in place, and causing me dull pain as they held my arms and legs and chest so tightly. The strap across my tits hurt especially bad.
It was half on my tits, and half off, so the rough edge was ground into the meat of the jugs, and was pressing down on the nipples. As I jumped and writhed under Peter's furious fucking, the strap cut into my flesh, rubbing and biting and making me very hot.
In and out his rod flew, driving me wilder with each thrust. If I had not been strapped to the large chair, I would have been knocked off it, he was stabbing his cock into my cunt so fast.
It went on and on like this for some time, until I began screaming, and begging him to keep fucking me so that I could come. He was glad to oblige, and he really shafted me with his dick. The fucking was taking on an intense tempo now, and I came in mid-stroke.
My cunt blasted apart, as my walls began to convulse and my cunt juices dripped out of me. They streamed past his invading tool, and all over my ass and legs.
His dick kept pounding, until it, too, was coming and now both of us were pouring out our come. His was firing against my walls, making them all hot and sticky. The salty semen pushed and banged against the walls, making me jerk and quiver on the chair.
Finally, it was over, and he climbed off me and cleaned my cunt out with a towel. Then he untied me and straightened my clothing and we left. He drove me home and I spent the rest of the next day hiding in the house.
I was far too ashamed to let anyone see me, with my hairless head, and I spent the entire day indoors.
That is why I am wearing this kerchief and sunglasses now. The hair that is sticking out of the kerchief is a wig. I don't want to take any chance that it might blow off, so I wear the kerchief. If I remove the glasses, you will see why I wear them.
See? My eyebrows are still gone. It makes me look terrible, but that's the way Peter wants it. Once a week, he comes over and shaves me, making sure to keep my entire body totally hairless.
And I can't make him stop. It's not that he threatens me or anything, it's just that I don't seem to have the will to make him stop. It's like Samson and Delilah in reverse. He cuts off all my hair and I lose all strength to say no to him. That's why I feel like I'm trapped. I hate myself like this, I feel like a freak, but yet I can't refuse Peter. I can't make him stop shaving my hair off. It's like some terrible nightmare, that just keeps going on and on and on.
I've... I've got to stop it! I've got to... stop it.
But how? How, doctor, please tell me!
I'm sorry, but that's all I can say.
CASE HISTORY FOUR
Subject; Amy P. - Age 20
Initial Interview; March 20, 1979
Amy's problem is different from the previous histories in that her lover is not a man. The basic problems and anxieties that plague her, however, are the same, showing an interesting disregard for the sex of the partner.
Amy is a very emotional girl, and it took several sessions before she was able to talk about her problem at all. Here is a transcript of her case, in her own words.
First of all, I want to say that I am not a lesbian. Let me get that straight right here and now. I like guys and have gone out with a lot of them in my time. In fact, I still see one or two of them, on occasion.
Ann is the only female lover I ever had, and ever will have. I'm not into kinky sex, basically, at least I never was with any of the guys I went out with. Even the things Ann does to me are not really weird.
Now you're probably asking yourself, okay, if she likes men, then why does she have a woman for a lover. I'll tell you why, because nobody makes me come as good as Ann. It's like that song, "Nobody Does It Better" by what's her name. It applies to Ann, she makes me hotter than any guy I have ever gone out with.
Maybe I'm confusing you with this beginning, so let me start over again.
My name is Amy P. I'm five foot five, twenty years old, have a great face and a fantastic body. If you want to get an idea what I look like, think of the girl in "Saturday Night Fever," the one that's always after Travolta. That's me. At least, that's what I look like.
I'm pretty, sultry, and busty, with a turned up little nose. It's the busty part that started this whole thing, however. It was always making trouble for me. Even when I was young, I was big. I was wearing a B-cup when other girls had training bras, and by the time I was fourteen, I was wearing a C.
Whenever a guy took me out on a date, I could be certain he was going to try to get hold of my tits. In fact, many guys took me out just to get hold of them. I remember one time when I went to a sweet sixteen party for my girl-friend and we were playing in the basement with the lights out.
It was a game like spin the bottle, only who ever the bottle pointed to, went into the basement with the lights out and touched each other for five minutes. I got Gary Hill, which made me happy, and we went into the dark, and he started feeling up my tits, of course.
That was okay with me, because I was starting to mature, and I wanted boys to touch me, as well as touching them back. My hand was on his crotch, and I was rubbing the bulge in his pants. He had some hard on, and I got my fingers along his shaft and began to squeeze it.
Meanwhile, he was really working over my tits, and it felt like he had six hands that way he as fondling them. I was really confused, because he seemed to be squeezing them, kneading them, bouncing them and tweaking them, all at the same time.
Then I heard some heavy breathing next to me in the dark.
"What the hell is going on here?" I snapped.
Then somebody giggled.
I broke loose from the hands massaging my tits, and snapped on the lights, to reveal that there were two other boys in the basement. They had been hanging out down there, waiting for me to come down. I had been letting three boys feel up my jugs, and I was furious.
But I think I'm getting away from my real story. The point I was trying to make is that my tits started all of this too. I'll start from the beginning.
A new clothing store opened up in my neighborhood, and I kept promising that I would go in, so that I could see what they had. The stuff in the window looked fine, and I wondered how good their prices were.
But every day on the way to work, and every day on the way home, I never stopped in.
Finally, on the way home from work one day, I forced myself into the little shop. It was warm and friendly inside, though it was not crowded. I had come home late, and the store was just getting ready to close.
The salesgirl looked at me come in, and gave me a sour look. I guess she was about to go home, and my arrival meant she was going to have to stay.
"That's alright, Jackie," said another woman, "I'll close up."
The salesgirl left and the other woman walked over to me. This was the first time I met Ann, so let me describe her as I remember her for the first time.
She had black, straight hair, which she wore down and then swept back on the sides. She had big, dark eyes, with a very intense look to them. Her mouth was small, and puckered, with deep red lips.
She was wearing a simple silk dress, that clung to every curve and bulge of her shapely body. She had a good figure, slim and lean, like a model's.
I was kind of envious of it when I first saw it. One of the things I recall most clearly was her fingernails. They were long and carefully taken care of, polished in a soft rose, and looking delightfully wicked.
At first sight, I decided I liked her and was glad that she was helping me rather than the other girl.
"Hello," she said, "My name is Ann Harrow, can I help you?"
"Well, I'm really just looking around," I replied, "I pass this shop every day on my way to work, and I've always meant to come in and look around. It's really very nice, and there are some terrific things in here."
"Why thank you," she smiled warmly.
I looked at her in confusion.
"I'm the owner of the shop, and the buyer as well," she explained, "If you compliment the store, you are complimenting me as well." I was very impressed by this, for this woman did not look much older than me. I have since learned that Ann is only three years older than me.
I started looking at all the blouses and sweaters, and Ann followed me about and offered her comments and knowledge. She did not do it like a pushy salesperson either, but like a friend would, and my fondness for her grew.
Finally I selected three different blouses and pulled out the sizes we thought would fit.
"Do you have a dressing room here?" I asked her, "I'm going to have to try them on. I have little trouble buying blouses."
The two of us looked at my jutting breasts, and Ann quipped, "I can see why."
"There's a fitting room in the back," she told me, "I'll be right there, I just want to lock the door so no one else comes in. I don't want to be here too long."
I walked to the back and found the small room, and pulled off my sweater. I looked at my bust in the full length mirror, turning sideways so I got a profile look at my chest and shook my head. Sometimes, it was very annoying having a big bust.
Suddenly, Ann walked into the small room, and I was temporarily embarrassed to let her see my bra-covered chest.
"My, you certainly do have something to think about when you buy tops," she laughed.
Her remark broke the tension, and I laughed and we both watched my tits shake as I did so. Then I began trying on the tops. All three were too small across my bust.
"Just what size are you?" she asked.
"I'm not exactly sure," I answered.
"Well we had better find out," said Ann flatly. She pulled out a tape measure and walked around behind me. "Hold your arms over your head," she told me."
I lifted my arms, and she reached around in front of me and wrapped the tape over my heaving knockers. It felt strange to have the tape pressed against my breasts, and she rubbed it back and forth a few times, getting it in place.
"No good," she announced, "I can't get an accurate reading. You'll have to remove your bra."
I looked at her reflection in shock.
"What's the matter," she asked, "You never took your bra off to get measured."
"No," I answered honestly.
"No wonder you have trouble buying blouses," she answered, "No one ever took my measurements properly. Come on, take it off so we can fit you."
I reached up to unhook my bra and hesitated as I stood there and saw Ann watching me. There was an impatient look on her face.
"Are you afraid I'm going to rape you?" she joked.
Off came my bra, and my big tits hung free from my chest now. They did not hang down loosely, like many big-titted women. My tits, though huge, were very firm and held their shape even without a bra.
They just hung there, two perfect, milky-white globes, with two bronze nipples on the end.
"Now lift your arms," she said, and I did so.
Once again she reached around in front of me, and her hands brushed against my firm tits, causing a strange chill to pass through my body. She laid the tape right on top of my nipples, and then began to rub it back and forth, trying to get it into place.
The friction while she was doing so, however, was causing my nipples to grow erect, and the longer she waited, the harder they got.
By the time she was ready, my nubs were rock hard, and I was sort of embarrassed and hoped she did not notice.
"Okay," she said flatly, "Now turn this way."
I turned around and faced the woman, and I noticed that her nipples were erect also. It was very obvious through her silk dress. I could see the two points poking out of her dress.
She leaned forward and brought tape around my back, and I shivered as I felt her face brush against one of my huge tits. As her face leaned so close to my breasts, I began to get a tingling sensation in my cunt.
She brought the tape to the points of my breasts, and then pulled the tape off me.
"One more measurement, and we're done," she announced.
She then reached out and actually wrapped the tape around the boob itself. The tingling in my cunt became an itch, as she entrapped the tit, and began to pull it back and forth.
"Damn," she snapped, "I can't seem to get this right."
Saying this, she reached out and took hold of my breast in her hand.
"Ohhh," I sighed, much to my own surprise.
Ann looked up, and must have seen the yearning in my face that originated in my cunt.
"T think you will need a special check of breast size," she told me, and reached out with both hands and took hold of my tits.
I just leaned back against the wall, still holding my hands up over my head, and the lovely lady grabbed my knockers and sent thrills into every corner of my body. She did not say a word, but began kneading them slightly, and watching my face intently.
I recall having my eyes half closed, and all I could feel were her soft fingers on my firm breasts.
"Keep your hands up," she whispered, and then I felt her hands leave my breasts and begin tying something around my wrists.
It was one of those thin leather belts, one that was in fashion. She had pulled it off her own dress, and now was tying it tightly around my hands. She cut slightly into my skin, but I just winced and took it, until my hands were securely bound.
Then she pulled me up, making me stand on tippy-toes, and hooked the belt over the clothes hook that was on the wall. Now my arms were suspended over my head, and my chest was completely available to the young woman.
She scooped up the big breasts in her delicate hands and just weighed them. It felt nice to have her finger one them, and I stood there with my eyes half closed with pleasure. She noticed my reaction, and her fingers began to squeeze my tits, digging into the pliant flesh, and then releasing them.
Then she grabbed the jugs firmly, and twisted them both, making my body tremble and banged against the wall as I hung there.
"You like that, don't you?" she whispered, "You got a great pair of breasts, and I intend to use them properly.
She began bouncing the tits about on my chest, watching them dance and jiggle for her as I groaned in sensuous delight. I had never had my tits fondled so delicately and thoroughly before. She did not start out by harshly grabbing them as men did, but rather began by teasing, slowly working her way to the rougher things.
She kept varying the sensations on my pendulous tits, first stroking and rubbing them with her palms, and then suddenly pinching them lightly. This never allowed me to become accustomed to any one sensation, and therefore every touch was new and explosive.
I could hear my breath coming in heavy gasps now, as the woman stood there and kept working over my tits. The belt was cutting rather painfully into my wrists by now, as I hung there, unable to stay on my toes, my weight pulling at the tight strap. But I did not move, for I did not want the pleasure to stop.
Each second made me hotter and hotter, and there seemed to be no end to the variety of sensations Ann knew. She would poke, stroke, pull, bounce and knead, and then do something entirely different. Each manipulation of my hanging meat sent waves directly to my cunt, and I felt my slot getting hot and wet.
After all of this fondling, she had not touched my nipples, but now she turned her attention to the fat, swollen buds. Any pleasure I had experienced before was nothing compared to what she brought me now.
She took her long fingernails and grasped one of the nipples between them. Lightly, just like the feet of a butterfly landing on it. But then she began to apply pressure, slowly, inexorably, making me quake and rock as she did so.
Eventually, there was the keen pleasure of her nails pinching my nipple, and I sighed to the feel of it, but the pleasure finally turned to pain, as the nails dug into the tender flesh and sent shocks throughout my chest.
Abruptly, it was over, as she released that nipple and moved to the next. This was how she worked it, jumping back and forth from the two nubs, bringing me pleasure and pain with her tweaking.
My entire body was covered with perspiration now and I felt myself trembling, not only from lust but from exhaustion as well. I could no longer stand up, and if I let my entire weight pull on the strap, it caused the belt to cut into my wrists.
Ann could see this, and she moved to the last stage of her tit treatment. I suddenly felt something warm and wet on my nipple, and I looked down through lust-crazed eyes to see the woman's beautiful lips locked on my bronze knob.
She was sucking my tit, or should I say licking it, for she was sliding her tongue all around the tender pebble as she sucked and pulled at the tit with her mouth. Her hand was rubbing and kneading the other tit gently, and my body began to sway back and forth from the terrific sucking of my breast.
After awhile, she switched over to the other tit, and drawing it up into her mouth, and mouthing it and making it wet and slippery with her saliva. Her hand was spreading her saliva all over my other tit, rubbing it along the soft flesh, and making my nipple tingle from the cooling effect of the air.
Then I came, my body shaking wildly, and banging against the wall. I felt the wonderful sensations of my climax, oddly mixed with the terrible pain in my wrists, arms and shoulders, as I hung there limply.
My juices literally spilled out of my cunt, and I felt them trickling down my legs. Ann took a tissue and wiped them away, then released my hands and helped me to sit down. As I sat there, too tired to say or do anything, she put on my bra and blouse and gave me a glass of water.
Then she gave me a blouse for free and showed me to the door. Not a word was spoken between us during the whole time, and only when I was about to leave did she talk.
"What is your name and phone number?" she asked meekly.
I told her, and she smiled, and locked the door.
I recall when I got home that night that I was too tired to eat, and went straight to bed, falling asleep in a matter of minutes. I had an erotic dream about lying naked on a raft in the middle of an ocean, and a mermaid came up out of the water, and it was Ann.
She climbed on top of me and began lapping at my tits with a tongue that was like a dog's, all rough and wide. Then she licked me all over, and I even spread my legs and she licked my cunt. It felt very good, and when I woke, I was wet and juicy in my twat.
I had a lot of guilt feelings after that day, as well as a lot of anger. I felt that I had been tricked and used by the black-haired woman. Besides, I had always thought that homosexual sex was wrong, and now here I was doing it.
I vowed that if she ever had the nerve to call me, that I would tell her off good. I even thought of going to the authorities and telling them about her. I was certain that they would close down her shop.
But a week passed, and I did not hear from her, and I began to feel disappointed that she had asked my name and phone number and never used it. I began to be angry that she did not call me, knowing that she would not be able to find a better pair of breasts than mine.
Finally, that Sunday, she called.
I was happy, elated at the sound of her voice, but for some reason, I answered her coldly.
"I would like it if you came over to my place today," she told me, "I've arranged a little buffet dinner for the two of us, and I have some great grass we can smoke."
"I'm really too busy," I said.
"Oh, that's too bad," she replied sadly.
At the tone of her voice my anger subsided, and I added, "But I can break my plans. What time should I be over?"
"Is an hour too soon?" she asked.
"That's just perfect," I replied.
I quickly took a shower, shaved my legs and put on my best perfume. It was very strange as I thought about it, for I was acting exactly the same way as when I was going on an important date.
I was there exactly on time, and was impressed by the large home. It was long and flat, one of those ranch types, with lots of windows and natural wood.
I rang the bell, and Ann answered wearing a chic lounging suit. She hugged me and I walked inside.
"Is this all yours?" I asked incredulously.
"Yes, it is," she smiled, "My parents left me some money. I invested it, turned a profit, and reinvested it again. Then I bought the shop, and the rest is history."
We had great lunch, and we talked a lot. I won't get into that, but I will say that we ended up in her bed room, both of us stark naked, holding each other in our arms. Ann had a really nice body.
It was lithe, smooth, and kind of cool to the touch. It was as though her body temperature was slightly lower than normal, and she always felt cool to the touch, even in the heights of passion.
And we were very passionate that afternoon. We ended up in a sort of similar position as in the shop. She had me up against the wall again, with my hands tied over my head, but this time it was with soft straps, that would not leave marks like the belt had. It had taken three days for those marks to go away, and I had a hell of a time hiding them.
The other major difference was that she had also tied a rope around my tits. It was a soft, silk rope, pure white and was tied over both my knockers, pulling them together, and making my already deep cleavage even deeper.
It stretched from the base of my tits, almost to my nipples, and the crack was getting hot and moist from my lust. Ann was licking in between the jugs, lapping and drippling into the artificially created valley, as she squeezed and fondled the bound jugs. It felt good to have my hands tied, as well as my swollen tits, and to be serviced as well. Her mouth felt delightful sucking along the white meat of my tits, her tongue slipping and sliding along my hot flesh.
She was working my nipples as well, pinching and tweaking them between her nails, giving me ripples of pleasure that shot up my tied tits and then down to my cunt. I was grunting out loud, twisting and begging her for more.
"Yes, yes, that's it," I whimpered, "Pinch them like that. Ohhh! Do it again. More!"
And whatever I requested, she did, until my cunt was dripping wet and my body convulsing against the smooth wall of the room.
"Now here I have something that was not available at the store," she said, and she whipped out a large, plastic vibrator. "Let's see now, which head would you like? She rummaged through a number of hard rubber hoods that fit over the end of the head of the dildo. There were all types, one with long hanging tentacles, one with rings, another with studs, but the one she chose had a long, thin point at the end, like a tiny horn.
"Yes, this one is for you," she smiled, as she slid it into place, "I'll bet anything that you have a deep cunt that can never get enough." As it turned out, she was right. Ann has used all the other rubber hoods on me since that day, but that one is still my favorite. It just tickled my fancy.
She turned on the vibrator and touched it to my cunt. It was as if she had touched a live wire to my vagina, I jumped so high and grunted so loud. She just held it there for a few seconds, and let me get used to the quivering tool, and then began to send it inside.
The long, probing horn slid in first, almost unnoticeably, but then the fat head followed and soon the entire thing was inside my twat, giving me thrills I had not imagined before.
Let me try to explain to you what a vibrator feels like. It is like having a rocket inside your cunt, that is on the verge of exploding. It just sits in there, quivering and shaking, making you feel that any moment, it and your cunt, are going to explode. And then she began fucking me with it. She sat there on the floor in front of me and shoved that thing in and out of me, making my entire body quake as she did so. The horn was really going into action now, for as the vibrator shook, it caused the horn to move about, making it whip the inner walls of my vulva like a tiny little lash.
And as it moved in and out, every inch of my soft, wet channel was smacked and tickled by the long, rubber tip.
The best was when it was all the way inside me, for then the rubber horn was pushed up against my cervix. I rarely felt a dick pressed against my cervix, maybe I have a deep hole, or the guys had short cocks, but whatever the reason, it was a rare experience for me. And when I had felt it, all that it consisted of was a soft, spongy cock head pressing against it.
This little horn, however, was vibrating wildly, and as it rested against my cervix, it smacked and licked at it, as if it were the tongue of an ant-eater. It tickled my back wall, and yelled in pleasure from its touch.
Ann was really getting into it, and she was making the vibrator literally fly in and out of me. He hand was moving so fast it was only a blur, and it wasn't long before I came. It was a really heavy climax, and I thought my shouts of relief would bring the police.
Ann was smiling as I screamed and coughed and sobbed all at once, and my body banged against the wall, as my head tossed back and forth.
Finally, it was over, and Ann untied me and helped me over to the bed. She took the rope off my tits as well, and then she went and got some sort of oil and rubbed it all over my body. It smelled wonderful, and the fresh odor was the last thing I remember before I went to sleep.
I guess that what you're saying right now is that the relationship between Ann and myself seemed pretty good, so what was my problem. Well my problem was Mark Douglas. I had been engaged to him for about six months, and we were supposed to get married in eighteen months.
Ann sort of put a kink in those plans. You see, Mark was handsome, worldly, witty and bright, but he couldn't make me come like Ann could. It was actually deeper than that, but the way I felt when I came with Ann seemed to sum it all up.
I felt closer to the black-haired woman than anyone else I had ever known, and that included Mark. I loved Mark, and everything, but there was still some sort of void there, that was not present between Ann and me.
Maybe it was because we are both women, or something, I don't really know, but whatever it was, it changed my whole outlook on Mark.
I saw Mark two weeks ago, he goes to a college in the Mid-west, and I told him how things were. I told him that I loved him, but that we had to call the engagement off, and forget about marriage.
"What happened?" he asked perplexedly, "We had everything all planned. What changed your mind?"
"It's just one of those things," I replied, not wanting to go into the whole thing.
"Was it something I did, or didn't do?" he asked.
"No, no," I said lovingly, "It has nothing to do with you. It's all my fault."
"Is it another man?" he asked.
"No," I said, and I felt so strongly that I wanted to be open and honest with him, that I told him the truth, "It's a woman."
I then told him what happened with Ann and I, leaving out all the details that I have included here, and he was not able to handle it. He flew into a rage, started calling me a lesbian bitch, and telling me that I was sick.
"Lesbianism is unnatural," he told me and then stormed out of the house.
I was crushed. I had not wanted it to end like this, and I broke down and started crying. I was bitter and disappointed, for I still cared for him deeply, and I began to feel that this entire thing was Ann's fault.
That was why I finally sought professional help. I need someone to help me sort out my feelings and the realities of the situation. I know that I still care for Ann, emotionally and sexually, and yet I resent her also, for having disrupted my life with Mark.
I only hope that I will be able to settle the conflict in my mind, for I so want to be back with Ann, as close as we once were.
CASE HISTORY FIVE
Subject; Rose C. - Age 42
Initial Interview; March 22, 1979
Rose's case was almost omitted from this study because I was not certain that it was a wise idea to present a woman that was such a nationally known figure. . Her husband is a well-known senator and I was afraid that someone might discern his identity.
But I have since reconsidered, deciding that this case was too important to omit. I have been careful to disguise the name and identity of the senator and his troubled wife, and I felt that it is important that the reader realize that anyone, even the powerful, can be plagued with sexual problems.
Therefore, I present Rose's story, completely uncensored as follows.
I am ashamed to even think about what I have gone through, and continue to go through, let alone talk about it, but I will try to do so anyway, as the doctor tells me that it will help me in resolving my conflicts.
I am the wife of a very renown, influential, and admired senator. He has followers everywhere, even outside his own state and his opinion is often asked by people in high places. He is seen as kind, considerate and dedicated, and he is all of these things. But there is a side that the public does not know, one that I am well acquainted with.
I am his wife, also dedicated and willing to serve Dick in any way I can, though this often requires me to do things that I would ordinarily shudder at. It is also very important to explain what I look like.
I am a tall, stately woman in my early forties, with a lithe, slender body. I have a good pair of hips, really sleek legs and a sizeable pair of breasts. My face is cool and aristocratic, with a thin nose, high cheekbones, and a beautifully sculpted chin. I have long, black hair, that I wear tied up on top of my head and I walk with the poise and style of a model, which is what I had been in my early years. I was very sexy, very desirable, but I was faithful to my husband.
The problem all started one evening when we were driving to the airport in my husband's chauffeured limo.
"I don't think he's going to go for it," he stated nervously.
I rubbed my hand over his leg and tried to reassure him.
"Of course he will," I stated, "He knows what a winner he has in you. He will back your campaign."
At the time, my husband was running for re-election against a very strong opponent. The liberal party in the state, still uncommitted, would decide the vote. Their candidate was a man from Dick's own party, and he was causing the vote to split, thus giving Dick's opponent the edge.
He was trying to convince the man that he should pull out of the race, thus unifying the party, and insuring victory for him. It did not seem that he was going to get it, but the man had agreed to meet him on his jet, where they would discuss the matter.
Dick had taken me along, as he always did, commenting that my presence often was the deciding factor in his favor. I was always flattered by the thought, and I must admit that I was charming and just flirtatious enough.
The Lear jet was revving on the airstrip, and we were showed inside my the small crew of carefully picked individuals. Once on board, we were greeted by my husband's opponent, whom I shall call Bob, and then the jet took off.
I hardly felt it lift off, it was so smooth, and we were still standing and talking when it did so. Drinks were served and we chatted glibly for awhile, not even mentioning a political issue.
All the time we were talking, I felt Bob's eyes on my body. They were slipping across my bare shoulders and down my back as well, drinking in my smooth body. I am a little on the thin side, but that does not detract from my attractiveness.
His eyeing of my body, however, was beginning to take on the aspects of ogling as he drank more and more champagne.
He was literally stripping me with his eyes, mentally looking up my dress and caressing my smooth legs, and pulling down the front of my low gown to look at my tits. On several occasions, he stood very close to me and stared down the front of my dress, trying to get a good look at my tits.
I figured that if it would make him happy, he might give Dick what he wanted, so I purposely bent forward in front of him, making it look as if I were selecting an hors d'oeuvre, and allowed him to look down my dress.
I stayed that way for almost a minute, and he used every second of it, as he perused the gentle swell of my breasts and inspected my narrow cleavage as well. I could feel him looking deeper and deeper, trying to see all of my firm breasts. I exhaled a little, allowing more to show, and he had a good view of the swell of my breasts, almost up to my areolas.
Then the show was over, and I stood up and gave him my warmest smile, bordering on sexy. He smiled back and clung close to me the rest of the night. While we chatted and talked, he was secretively fondling me as well.
He did it right in front of my husband, trying not to let him see. His hand was constantly on my back, and several times he placed a hand on my thigh. Finally, the time for business came, and he released me and the two of them went into his private cabin. Dick came out about half and hour later, hot, sweaty and confused.
"He says he'll give me his support," he told me, "If I'll give him something in return."
"Well, what does he want?" I asked.
"You," he blurted out, "He wants to use you for three hours, no questions asked, and nothing refused."
I was too shocked to speak. The very thought that he wanted me to allow him to touch me, and God knows what else, revolted me.
"He's an animal," I snorted.
"He's very firm about his demands," said my husband, "He won't compromise. I've offered him a dozen other things, and he keeps insisting on you. It's the only way I'm going to win this election."
My face turned white with shock.
"Are you suggesting I do what he wants?" I asked sharply.
My husband looked at the floor and pursed his lips.
"I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do," he said finally, "But just consider how important this is, and remember, three hours isn't that long."
I just sat there, trembling with rage and fear, as I realized my husband had offered him my body. I downed my drink, and then three more in rapid order, until my head was spinning and the room was hazy.
Then I got up and walked to his cabin, shutting the door behind me as I walked in. Bob was sitting there in a chair, his jacket off, his shirt unbuttoned, obviously expecting me. He did not say anything, but walked behind me and unzipped my gown.
I felt the sheer fabric slide off me and to the floor, and I stepped out of it, now dressed only in my bra, panties, stockings and garter belt. I could feel his eyes on my body, as I kept my back to him, and then he touched me on the ass.
Shivers raced up and down my spine, as he began to rub and fondle my small, tight ass. Then he unhooked my bra, and slid it off me, throwing it on the floor, and he reached around and grabbed tits in his hands. His finger dug into the soft mounds, and I began to groan and be turned on by his cold use of my body.
I was nothing more than a whore right then, giving my body for something else, and that was exactly how he used me. During the next three hours, I was used in every possible way.
He had me kneel on the floor and blow him, sinking his big dick into my carefully painted lips, and cramming my head down on it, until I was choking on the big cock. He kept stuffing the tool in and out of my mouth, all the time looking down at me and smiling. I could picture what he was thinking, looking down at this haughty bitch, that was now sucking so ardently on his fat prong.
He creamed in my mouth without warning, and I coughed and spit up the salty scum, and he kept pouring more and more of it between my locked lips. I was forced to swallow several mouthfuls of the thick scum and when he was done, he wiped his dick on my face.
Then he threw me on the floor and fucked me. First up the ass, and then in the cunt. His shoved his tool into my virgin asshole and rammed it back and forth, until I was whimpering and begging in a mixture of pain and pleasure.
Then, once I was really hot and wet, he rolled me over and slammed the dick into my cunt. His rod shot up into me with no problem, and he began shafting me.
I must admit that I was enjoying every minute of it, I was completely enthralled by the fat, alien cock slamming home, and my legs wrapped tightly about his waist. I pulled myself onto him, making his stiff dick go into me as far as it could.
He was treating me like a dirty whore, and I was loving every second of it.
Before he shot his second load, I came, screaming and yelling through a heavy climax. My cunt walls spasmed, and I gushed juice all over his ramming member. He never let up for a second, and just kept fucking me over and over again.
I was squealing with joy when he finally pumped his seed into me. The hot scum splattered on my inner walls and I bucked and thrashed to the delightful feeling. Wad after wad was deposited in my obliging, sucking hole and I felt myself completely filled before he pulled out.
The dick slid out with a loud sucking noise, and I felt the stringy semen dripping from it onto my snatch and legs. I stuck my fingers down to my cunt, and rubbed the oozing jism all over my crotch and legs.
While I was doing so, Bob opened the door and let my husband in.
He must have heard everyone of my frenzied cries, and even if he had not, the sight of me writhing on the floor, rubbing the stranger's come all over my body, must have let him know that I enjoyed what had happened to me immensely.
After that, I began an added feature of all his business deals. Any agreement with another politician was sealed by letting the man use me. Sometimes it was only a wild blow-job in the back of a car, sometimes a stiff fucking that lasted for hours, but whatever it was, Dick would sit and watch me used, thrilling to every muffled cry or loud groan.
Recently, however, I was subjected to an ordeal that I shall never forget. My husband is running for president, as are about a dozen other men, and he had thrown a benefit fund-raiser for his campaign. Only the top politicians were invited and it was a very private affair. After being there for awhile, I realized that I was the only woman among all these men, and I began to wonder which of them were going to use me that night.
As it turned out, Dick had promised all of them the service of my body. After all the speeches and jargon, when everyone was pretty well smashed, he walked over to me and pulled my gown off. I stood there, surprised, and then all of the men gathered about me, touching and squeezing my tender body.
I realized in a split second that this was to be a fund-raising gang-bang, and that I was the lucky woman. I had heard of this sort of thing before. The party boss hired some local tart to entertain the men, and she ended up being the sole object of their lust.
The fucked and humped her all night, degrading and abusing her, and leaving her holes stiff and scummy by the next morning.
But this time, the whore was going to be me, and I was going to be filled with a dozen stiff cocks and over-loaded with steaming semen.
"No, no, Dick," I muttered as I felt the men pulling at my underclothes, "Not this. One of them, maybe two, but all. I can't"
"You've got to," he smiled, as he helped remove my bra, and my jugs were scooped up my anticipating hands.
I felt my stockings being stripped off, and my panties were tom from my body. Hands were running all over my tits, and ass and cunt, as I tried to struggle free of the men. I was panting and sobbing, as I knew what was coming, and they only laughed and enjoyed my fear, as someone pulled a chair over and I was forced to sit down in it.
Where they got the ropes from, I'll never know, but they had them, and they were tying me up. The bound my hands and arms to the back of the chair, and then tied my kicking legs and ankles to the legs.
A rope was tied tightly around my chest, just under my tits, and another one resting just on top of them, trapping the fleshy spheres in between the cords, and squeezing them lewdly. I struggled and fought against them, but in seconds, I was secured to the heavy, wooden chair and further fighting only caused the rope to cut more deeply into my flesh.
I was just sitting there now, stripped naked, my jugs sticking out between the taut ropes, by legs spread and exposing my pussy invitingly. That was when they all began to unzip there pants, whipping out there organs and stroking them as they laughed.
Then they encircled me, and they began to... they started to... I can't go on!
SECOND INTERVIEW - March 29, 1979
I'm sorry that I got so emotional last time, but thinking about that night makes me sick. It was so degrading and humiliating what they did to me, and my husband even participated this time. It was truly a perverse evening.
But let me try to go on. I was tied to the chair, chest jutting, legs open. They were all around me, twelve of them, with their peckers hanging out, pulling on them as they shoved them at me. It is a fearful sight to see twelve erect organs dangling in front of your helpless form, knowing full well that all of them are intended for you.
"Please don't," I whimpered, trying to pull away from the dicks, "Don't do this to me. I do you all, but one at a time next week."
"That would take all the fun out of it," said one of the men, as he rubbed his fat, red dick on my breasts.
I trembled to his touch, and was then aware of cocks rubbing all over my bound form. A dick was sliding around on the side of my pale face, and several of them were slipping over my smooth back.
I could see the dicks pressed against my tied chest, one on each boob, and others were on my shoulders and worming along my arms. I was totally smothered in cock, and I began to cry and sob, large tears running down my face.
"I think you should stop that noise," suggested my husband to one of the other congressmen.
"It will be mah pleasure, suh," said a stout, Southern politician, as he grabbed my chin, lifted my head and forced his dick in my sobbing mouth.
I was totally unprepared for this attack, and the thick cock was buried between my lips before I could even react. He sighed as he looked down at this sophisticated Northern woman's mouth clamped around his dick, and then he began mouth-fucking me.
The others stood around, still tickling me with cock, and watched me suck this man off. My body was jerking and hopping on the chair as I did so, and the tight, rough ropes were cutting into my sensitive flesh.
The tears were still running as I blew him, and they trickled down onto his rod and were slid into my mouth as he pumped in and out, in and out, in a slow and sensuous tempo. I was sucking earnestly on his pecker now, submitting myself to the fact that I was going to be used by all of these men and there was no way to stop it.
I began using my talented tongue and lapped and licked his shaft as it slid in and out. I wanted to take the fat rod in my hands, but they were tied down at my sides, and I had to be content to just sit there and let him plug me.
Suddenly, I felt a hot dick pressed against each of my hands. The men must have seen my fingers opening and closing as I blew the congressman, and they were more than glad to give me something to squeeze.
The took of their pricks thrilled me, and I did, indeed, begin to fondle and stroke them the best I could. In the meantime, my tits were being massaged and tugged. Fingers grasped the erect nipples and pulled them forward, tugging at the tits and making the rope scrape along my fair skin.
the pain made me squirm and wince, but there was no way of stopping it, and I could not even yell out in pain as the dick clogged my throat with pungent meat. I had never been to totally used before, as I sucked on a cock, pumped off two others, and had hands pulling relentlessly on my tits.
Oh, yes, I mustn't forget to mention that was cunt was being occupied as well. One of the men had positioned himself on my lap, between the senator and myself, and had plunged his dick down and into my cunt. I was getting it in both holes now, and loving every inch of it.
A major part of the thrill was the fact that I was tied and bound, rendering me completely helpless and open to any of the whims and desires of the twelve men. It left me no option but to please them, as well as I could, while they pleased me.
As they fucked and rammed and fondled me, the entire situation started to become like a dream. It seemed impossible that I was in this situation, forced into bondage, and getting gang-banged by a dozen men as my husband stood by and watched, his own cock hard and waiting for its turn inside my squirming body.
But it was happening, and I was aware of every grunt and jab as the men dicked me wildly. The congressman in my cunt was really getting into it now, and due to the fact of his position, the shaft of his cock was rubbing against my clitoris constantly, so it was not long before I came.
"Mmmmm, mmmm," I muttered, as the dick kept slamming against my tonsils.
Then my cunt exploded, and the love juice spilled out and ran over my legs, dripping off them and onto the floor. My entire body was convulsing as I was jerking an bouncing about on the chair uncontrollably.
This caused an odd mixture of pleasure and pain my body, for as I came, and jumped about, the movements were causing the coarse ropes to rip and tear at my flesh. They tore at my bound tits and cut into my tied arms and legs. It felt terrible but I could not stop.
"Look at her," grinned one of the younger senators, "She's a hot little piece. God, I always heard that older women were sometimes nymphos, but this bitch beats them all."
"And she's still sucking that cock," laughed another, as he pointed at my face.
"You... should feel... how her... hands are... moving," snorted out one of the men I was jerking off.
I think the poor man came then, for I felt a splash of scum on my arm and shoulder, and then his dick began to get limp. The dick in my other pumping hand also came, but I did not feel any semen. I did not know why then but I would find out why later.
Then, the two other cocks came, simultaneously pouring spunk into my cunt and mouth. The scum in my hot twat was hardly noticeable, as me cunt was already so wet, but I could feel the powerful bolts slamming against my walls, and it gave me shivers of delight.
This dick in my mouth, on the other hand, was a different story. It was hot, and creamy and thick, and I could feel every heavy blob of it spilling into my sucking orifice.
"That's right, sugah," groaned the senator, "Keep those pink lips a yours working on mah tool. I have got plenty of Southern Comfort for your mouth."
And he did. I never had a man come so much. I was gulping it down as fast as I could, but it was so thick, and creamy, and there was so much of it, that there was still plenty to roll around on my tongue and stick to the roof of my mouth.
His spunk did not blast out like other loads, but instead, it. leaked out of his slit, in a slow, steady stream of salty liquid. I was swallowing and smacking my lips together in pleasure, feeling the roof of my mouth sticking to the spending tool, and I opened my jaws as wide as I could, so that the senator could actually see the dick head spurting into my mouth.
"Ah say," he roared in delight, "you have an uncommonly obliging woman here, suh."
And he watched as the scummy load pumped into my mouth, and my tongue swirled it around and made it stick to my teeth, and palate and lips. Eventually, it was over, and I could feel the thick, stringy globs covering my mouth.
Then I was surprised to notice that his dick was not entirely limp, and he was starting to shove it in and out of my mouth once again. I began sucking hungrily, thrilling to the taste of his pungent sperm in my mouth.
"The South gonna rise again!" he thundered, as his dick swelled to a full erection. And now .my body was being used in a different way. There was a dick resting in the shallow valley of my roped boobs, and it was sliding in and out as I blew the senator for a second time. It was an obscenely wonderful sensation to have the dick pressed against my swollen jugs.
My tits were aching from the rope abuse now, and the hot meat only added to the feeling of total abuse they were subjected to. The smooth tool sped in and out of my cleavage with a vengeance, and after just short while, began to shoot onto my chest.
The man kept fucking it back and forth, making it wet with the scum, and rubbing the slimy load all over my bosom. Most of it splashed against my chest, and dribbled down between the knockers, but the rest of it was spread all over them, making my tormented chest white and come-covered.
At that point, the senator came again, and I was flooded with fresh come, which I swallowed and gulped down into my stomach, filling it thoroughly.
All I remember after that were dicks, dicks of all sizes and shapes, stuffing into me, reaming me, plugging up every hole I had, as the men went wild and fucked my helpless body. There were cocks wherever I moved or looked, stabbing and grinding against me or into me, making sticky and wet with fresh loads of jism that kept pouring into my cunt and mouth. I was not even able to swallow anymore, and the scum was running out of my mouth like water.
My body was tossed all about, as it sat bound in the chair, and I could feel my limbs burning from friction bums as I writhed in agony and pleasure. The cuts hurt even worse as scum dripped onto them, the salty liquid searing the open flesh like fire.
I recall screaming, but not being able to hear anything, because my throat was full of cock, and then, the number of dicks grew less and less, until only one was firing a sticky load onto my already wet, smeared face.
He aimed it well, and shot it up my nostrils and all over my disheveled hair. It splattered across my eye and over my cheek, and dripped from my chin. I had never been so degraded, and all I could do was sit there and submit to him using my face as a target for his spunk.
Then, the room was silent, and as the scum dried on my body, I opened my eyes and looked about. The congressmen were all seated once again, their chairs in a tight circle all about me. Their dicks were still hanging out, but nowhere I looked did I see an erect one.
I had serviced them all. All of them had been driven into my struggling form, or had been rubbed and pumped off onto my soft skin. I had been used like the cheapest whore by these supposed gentlemen as I sat tied to a chair.
But the worst was yet to come. I remember it clearly. Oh, God, do I remember it. I feel sick just thinking about it. It was totally sick, depraved. I..I can't talk about it.
There are some things worse than injury and death, and I was forced to perform one of these things. I really can't talk about it. I'm already getting that awful taste in my mouth. It was so sick and perverted. My husband must have thought it up. After all, he brought it over to me.
As the others sat around and watched, Dick walked over with a large goblet in his hand. It seemed to contain some drink, and he smiled as he brought it towards me.
"I thought you might be a little exhausted," he smiled, "After your... fun, so the men in the kitchen prepared this especially for you."
Even when I saw that the goblet was filled with a milky white liquid, it did not dawn on me what it held, until he moved it under my nostrils and I smelled the horrible, pungent odor of semen.
The entire glass was filled with it, up to the brim. All of the men in the kitchen must have pumped off into it, mixing together at least ten loads of scum into the one glass, as my husband waved it around in front of my terrified eyes he laughed.
"I think it needs to be mixed up," he said, "After all, we heave several different nationalities and ethnic groups represented in it."
Saying this, he lowered the glass, and stuck his dick into it. His was the only one that was still erect, and he swirled it around in the scum, as he jerked off. I sat there and watched as he came, adding his wad to the glassful of jism.
"Now, my dear," he said, "a toast. Drink hearty."
He brought the glass to my mouth, but I clamped my lips tightly and shook my head. I was not about to let him pour that odious stuff down my throat, and my chest was heaving in fear and revulsion.
"Come, come," he said, "It's not that much. Drink it down. I promised the fellows."
I could see all of the spent congressmen watching in anticipation, dying to see the one, big load slip between my lips and down my throat. I kept my lips firmly shut.
"If you want to do it the hard way," said Dick, "We can do it that way too."
Saying this, he grabbed my nose, and pressed the edge of the glass up against my lips, as another senator grabbed my chin and forced it down. Slowly, inexorably, my mouth was forced open, and the glassful of scum was poured into my mouth.
Dick did it slowly, letting the salty spunk pour into my open mouth a little at a time. It coated my tongue and ran down to my throat, and I tried desperately not to swallow it. I succeeded at first, and some of the scum began to trickle down the comers of my mouth, but as they held my nose, and I could not breath, I was finally forced to allow the sperm down my throat and into my stomach.
It was a gruesome task, and my stomach was churning at each drop of semen that fell into it. There seemed to be no end to the thick, stringy juice and I was coughing and sputtering as it kept sliding down my throat.
It was the most disgusting thing I have ever done, and after it was all over, I opened my eyes to see that the glass was completely empty, and only a little of it had spilled out of my mouth and run down my neck.
"Clean the glass," directed Dick.
My tongue moved out automatically, and licked at the inside of the glass, but it was so scummy and coated with the thick spunk, that it was unable to clean it. Then he pulled it away and showed it to the other men.
I heard applause as they saw that I had drunk every last drop of it, and that was when I fell into a deep stupor, from which I awoke two days later. Every hole in my body was sore, and my stomach was queasy. I could not eat for two days, and I still cannot even look at the white of the egg.
The sick part is, that I want to be tied up again. I want to feel the ropes around me, and feel them biting into me.
I do not want to eat scum again, or be used by so many men, but once I am tied and bound, Dick is liable to do anything to me. There is no end to the perversions he could force upon me, so I am tom between my desire to be bound and fear of what will be done to me next time.
CASE HISTORY SIX
Subject; Yolanda W. - Age 18
Initial Interview; March 2, 1979
Yolanda represents the only black woman found in this study, as well as an important part of our society. The worshipping of media idols is a very common occurrence in our society today. They are found in television, the movies and in music, and millions of teenagers try to be like their heroes.
Yolanda's case is one in which the influence of her idols caused a permanent and destructive change on her life, one which she is still trying to cope with, as you will learn. Here is her story.
I always liked the Base Heart, that's a disco group, in case you don't know. They've had three hit songs, all of them are already gold and will soon be platinum. I liked to dance to their music and somehow or other I became a solid fan of theirs. That means that wherever they played, I followed.
I never missed even one of their appearances, and after awhile, they got to know me by sight. Some people might say I was a groupie, but I don't call it that. Just loyal, that's all.
Anyway, as I was saying, they got to know me by sight, I saw to that. I always got close up in the front, and I made sure to wear real revealing clothing. I have a good body to begin with, nice ass, good hips, thin waist, big tits, and great legs.
My face is real nice too, with wide lips, a small little nose, and big, Eurasian eyes. They come from my mother's side of the family. Like I said I'm a good looker. So whenever I got up front, wearing some skimpy blouse, with no' bra, and a sheer skirt, they paid attention to me. After awhile, they got to know who I was, and they used to wave and smile at me.
It was a big thrill, but I would still have wet dreams about fucking one of them. It was no one in particular. Each night, it was a different one. I was impartial. As I said, I went to everyone of their concerts, and finally, after one in Madison Square Garden, something wild happened.
This big dude came over to me and told me that I was wanted backstage.
"What are you talking about?" I asked, suspecting something, "I don't know anyone back there."
"The Base Hearts want to .see you," he told me flatly, "You want to follow me?"
He began walking, and I ran after him, my heart pounding at the chance of actually getting to meet and talk with the members of the group.
There were dozens of people back stage and I couldn't find them anywhere I looked, but the large man seemed to know where they were and he weaved his way through the crowd and made directly for them. In a minute, I was standing in their midst, trembling with excitement and sexual energy.
I think that I should describe them to you so that you'll know exactly what they look like.
The leader of the group, and the main vocalist was called Rick. He was a thin, but wild kind of guy with electric yellow hair and a frenzied face that always had a devilish grin on it. He could say something that was perfectly harmless and innocent and just by smiling, make it seem as dirty as an explicit message.
Al was the drummer, and back up vocalist. He was the most normal of the three, and he had long, brown hair, a moustache and always wore mirrored sunglasses and a tank-top T-shirt. He didn't talk much, and in fact, seemed to tune out whenever the band wasn't playing a song, but when they were, he came alive.
The last member was Sabo, and he was the strangest of all three. He had long, kinky hair, that he wore in tiny pig-tails, like Hendrix used to do, and he had a scraggily beard and moustache. It always looked as if he had exactly three days growth of stubble, it never varied at all.
I walked up to them with a feeling of being in the presence of an omnipotent force and I could hardly find words to speak.
Rick was dressed in a jet black outfit, that revealed his chest and almost his ere as well. It opened all the way down the front, and was laced up tightly, the black leather cords pulled tight against his skin.
Al was dressed in his usual T-shirt, dirty jeans and boots and he still had on his sunglasses, even though it was quite dark in back of the stage. He was not saying anything, he was just standing with the other two and listening.
Sabo was in a bright red, silk shirt, with satin pants, and he was joking and jumping about with one of the stage hands. He seemed vibrant, electric, hyper, as he laughed and joked frantically.
"Here she is," said the huge man flatly, and then left.
All three of my idols turned and looked at me, studying my face and body. I could see Rick and Sabo checking out my nice, firm legs and heavy tits. My jeans outlined my body perfectly, and I even saw them staring at my crotch, where the jeans were pulled up tight against my cunt, the seam digging between my lips and separating them slightly.
Al was probably looking as well, I was sure of it, though I could not see his eyes, and his face showed no expression on it.
"Baby, baby," smiled Rick.
"She makes me want to snap my C-string," laughed Al.
I felt my body reacting to their provocative stares, as my nipples began to harden and my cunt to tingle. It felt as if a small spark had started glowing there, and it was getting hotter and hotter with each passing second.
I could feel myself getting a little moist as well, as the three men began talking to me, looking at my face, but throwing repeated glances to my cunt, as if they could not take their eyes off of it.
"We saw you at the concert," Rick informed me, "We see you at every concert. You're a steady fan."
"I... I try to be," I muttered, "I just love you. I think you're the best rock band around."
"Shit, we're the best anything band around," snorted Sabo.
"I guess you're right," I agreed meekly, as I studied them.
"Yeah, we saw you bouncing around out there," said Sabo, "Like you do every concert."
As he said this, he looked as my unrestrained tits, and it was clear what he was watching bounce as I leaped up and down in my seat. It gave my cunt another tingle, but I didn't mind because that was the very reason I didn't wear a bra. I wanted to give these men a thrill.
"And since you are so dedicated," added Rick, "We thought that we should let you meet us. So here you are. What's your name, black beauty?"
"Yolanda," I answered.
"Very sensual sounding," said Rick, "I'll bet you make a great lover. Yolanda, let me introduce you to the group. This is Sabo, and that's Al, and I'm Rick."
"You don't have to tell me," I beamed, "I know all about you three."
"Oh, really," said Rick, "Like what do you know, babe?"
"You were born in Ohio, and you played in a jug band "before you went east and met up with Al and started a duo," I told him proudly."
"Shit," he replied, "Anyone can know that kind of stuff. What time do I get up in the morning, which side of the bed do I get out of, only special people know that."
"Bet you-can't tell me the size of my cock," suggested Sabo lewdly.
Again, my cunt tingled, and I could feel it getting wetter and wetter due to their suggestive comments.
"No, I can't" I replied.
"Some women can," he snapped back, and all of them, even Al, laughed.
"Look, Yolanda, you're a really nice piece, but we can't get acquainted here. It's too busy and noisy," said Rick, "Why don't you come back to our hotel room with us?"
I hesitated for a moment, I must admit, because I knew musicians were pretty wild, and I didn't want to get into anything really heavy with them.
"We've got some great coke," said Sabo, "and we can really get to know each other there."
He looked at my tits again, and I felt the nipples jump as if her were pinching them instead of just looking at them.
The coke settled my mind and we were soon climbing into their chauffeured limo and heading to the hotel. While we drove there, Al pulled out a joint, and we smoked it, passing it from hand to hand, and really getting high. It was good stuff, and by the time we got to the room, we were giggling and smiling happily.
"Sit down," said Rick, and out of the comer of my eye, I watched Sabo hang the "Do not disturb" sign on the doorknob before shutting and double locking the door.
It did not bother me at all, because I knew that they would not want anyone barging in when we had the coke out. They wasted no time in doing this, and we all had a few snorts and were really feeling good.
"So tell us about yourself," suggested Rick, as we sat around casually on the floor, propped up against the soft furniture.
"I'm just your ordinary woman of the twentieth century," I replied light-heartedly, "With a typical crush on the world's foremost disco band, just like a million other young women."
"But you're here, and they're not," observed Sabo, and he took another snort.
He handed my the coke and the onyx spoon, and I took another, small hit. It was not often that I got coke, and this stuff was really pure and I was feeling it. My body felt all tingly, especially my cunt, which was already turned on, and I felt as if there were no tomorrow.
"Come on," insisted Rick, "Tell us something real about yourself, something important."
"Right now," I laughed, "I'm feeling very good," I said, "and my body is tingling all over."
"That's funny," said Rick, "My body is tingling too, but particularly in one place."
Al handed me the coke again, and I reluctantly took another snort. I did not want them to be offended, though I had already reached my limit.
"That's not a fact," said Rick, "We want some hard facts about you," he insisted."
"Like what?" I asked loosely.
"What's you bust size," grinned Sabo. "Thirty-six, D," I answered truthfully, not feeling the least bit embarrassed.
"It'll do," he smiled, and he started staring at my chest again.
Then Rick lit a joint, and we began passing the smoke around in an unusual way. Rick would take a drag, and he would hold the smoke in his lungs, and then he would put his lips over mine, and exhale the smoke into my lungs.
This way, they insisted, none of the smoke was lost. They passed the joint around among us. I don't know when it began, I noticed that the smoke wasn't the only thing going into my mouth. All three of them were taking turns sticking their tongue between my puckered lips, and they were swirling it around for awhile before pulling away.
My head was flying now, by the time the joint was finished, and I was leaning back on the seat of the couch, my chest sticking up into the air, and my legs casually parted, even though I was wearing a skirt.
"Tell us more, Yolanda," insisted Rick, "Do you have a tight cunt?"
"So I've been told," I admitted, all of my inhibitions dropped.
"Really," smiled Rick to the other two men, "And what about giving head, do you give a good blow-job?"
"Now what do you think, fool?" I asked mockingly, "Look at my lips. Don't they look like they would feel great wrapped around your cock?"
I ran my tongue around my lips, and then formed a tight oval. I thrust my face forward provocatively and closed my eyes, picturing a cock in my mouth, and making them picture the same thing.
"What kind of legs do you have?" asked Sabo.
"Take a look for yourself," I smiled, and lifted my skirt.
The men all scrambled about me, and looked up my dress, as I held it up, feeling the air-conditioning cooling my legs. It must have been a great sight. As I said before, I really did have a terrific pair of legs, shaped just right and firmly tapered.
They were given a clear view of them, all the way up to my white panties. My legs were parted, and they were able to see right up into my crotch.
"Very nice," said Al, for the first time since I had met him.
The men grabbed the hem of my skirt, and I wondered if they had made me change my jeans on purpose when we had first come into the hotel room. They pulled the material from my hands, and rolled it up around my waist, leaving the lower portion of my body clad only in panties.
Then they began touching me, all three of them, stroking my silky legs, all the way up to the top of my thighs, but not yet feeling my crotch. It was driving me crazy, as I sat there and knew that I should make them stop, but enjoying so much I could not, Then one of them leaned over my face, it was Rick, and began kissing me. I expected him to puff some smoke into my mouth, but all that came between my lips was his slippery tongue as it explored my mouth.
"Mmmmmm," I sighed in pleasure, as I felt his thin lips pressed against my wide ones, and also felt the six hands running along my quivering legs.
My limbs were actually shaking now, all of the drugs having served to relax me to the point that it did not bother me that I was letting three men feel my legs. They were doing it so nicely as well, stoking the black limbs from the soles of my feet, they had removed my shoes, all the way up to my sensitive thighs.
In fact, it was beginning to annoy me that they did not wander over my aching mound. Rick kept kissing me, until I was passionately kissing back, pulling at his mouth with my lips, and lashing my tongue about.
Then he pulled away, and Al took his place, letting his tongue roam over my teeth and inner cheeks. He stabbed at my opening more harshly, but kept his hand slowly gliding up and down my shivering legs.
Sabo was last, and he licked and teased my lips before he entered. He waited until my mouth was gaping open, and trying to grab his mouth before he closed in on me. They had all tongue-kissed me now, and they had carefully explored my legs, there was only one logical place for them to go next, and Sabo made that move.
As he kissed me, I felt his hand resting on my belly, and he grabbed the thin fabric of my shirt, and pulled it out from my skirt. He dragged it out completely, and then began to pull it up.
He reached the swollen bulge of my tits, and paused momentarily, letting his hand rest against the bottom of my knockers, and then, with the help of Al's hand, yanked the shirt up and of my chest, leaving it bunched up over my naked tits.
I knew I was in a fine position now, with my skirt hiked up and my legs bared, letting the three men run their hands over them, as all of them took turns kissing me, and now I had let them expose my jutting boobs as well.
But I didn't really mind, the drugs had allowed me to pass of the morals that had been drilled into my head, and I was allowing myself to do what I had so often dreamed about. In the back of my head, I thought that I was going to end up getting fucked by Rick, and maybe giving hand-jobs to Sabo and Al, but I was mistaken.
What they ended up doing to me was far worse than anything I had ever dreamed. I still have nightmares about it. But that's getting ahead of myself. Let me continue where I left off.
They had just exposed my tits, and I felt two hands take hold of them. One, I was certain, belonged to Sabo, because he had always been staring at my tits, and the second, I think, was Al's. It didn't really matter though, as I could not see who was fondling me.
I could feel the strong, sweaty fingers taking a firm hold on my fevered tit flesh, and it made me moan in pleasure.
"Listen to her," beamed Rick, "She's really got it on. She's far enough out to let us do anything we want, aren't you, baby?"
Sabo pulled his mouth away and let me speak.
"Touch my tits," I mumbled in pleasure, as my jutting knockers were used by the two men.
"Noooo," said Rick, "That's not enough. You have a good pair of jugs, baby, but you have to do better than that to hang out with us. You have to perform, baby."
"Perform?" I repeated.
"That's right," smiled Sabo, as he gave an extra strong tug to my firm globe, "You have to let loose, and let it all in."
He pinched my dark nipple, and a surge of lust went through my body. This was feeling so good that I knew that anything else they did to me would feel even better.
"Yes, yes," I agreed, as they held my squirming body steady, "Use me, anything."
"That's all we wanted to hear," scoffed Rick.
Then my body was jerked about, as they grabbed my short and pulled it completely off me, and yanked the pantied off my body as well. Oddly enough, they left the skirt on, but tore a long rip in the front, all the way up to my belly.
My head was pushed back on the seat of the couch again, and a pillow was stuffed under my back, shoving my chest forward, and really thrusting my hot melons up into the air.
"Will you look at these," exclaimed Sabo in delight, "What a pair on this soul sister. Not the biggest I've had, but round and firm. Look how beautiful they look. Two firm globes that have just the right give and just the right firmness. They sit on her chest like two giant chocolate kisses, waiting to be eaten."
Saying this, he went to eating them, sucking up the nipples into his mouth and licking and slurping at them wildly.
"Oh, yeah, baby," I screamed, "Do it good."
And he was. He sucked on the black tit flesh with just the right force, and his hand was hoisting the jug up into the air, so that it was pulling at my body as he did so. His tongue seemed to be all over the rubbery nub, first swirling and stabbing at it, then lapping at it with a wide, flat tongue, like a dog's.
Al was still working on the other tit, though he was not sucking it. Al was more one of those abusive men, that liked to roughly fondle a woman's breasts. He had half of the fat globe and was squeezing it firmly, almost crushing it in his grip.
The nipple was poking between his fingers, and as he grabbed the dark meat, he also clamped his knuckles together, thus pinching the sensitive tip. I was really enjoying this treatment as well, as he twisted my heavy melon, pulling it forward and making my body jerk with each grab.
Rick seemed to be working completely on my legs, running his hands up and down them, as Sabo and Al did the same with their free hand. There were two hands on each of my outstretched limbs, and they slid along, sometimes smoothly, sometimes taking grabs of my pliant flesh.
Maddeningly enough, they refused to touch my cunt. They went all the way up to it, but never on it, and my hole was getting wetter and wetter with each passing second.
"My cunt, my cunt," I moaned in a fever, "take it already, get into it, fuck it if you have to, but do something to it!"
I was shocked at my own words, but at the same time I felt relieved that I had said them, especially since they had the desired effect.
Al and Sabo grabbed my ankles, and jerked my legs apart, until they were painfully spread. I could feel the cool air rushing into my parted cunt lips, and then I felt Rick's hands running up my legs.
"Delicious little bitch," he commented, "A pair of tits, a terrific set of legs, and a twat that looks like you could loose a battleship in it. We are going to have a good time tonight." My body began to tremble wildly, and I was not sure whether it was the reaction to his suggestive comment or his hands nearing my pubis. Whatever it was, I was shivering and shaking, as his fingers finally touched my twat, and sunk into it slightly.
"Oh, God, finally!" I yelled, and my hips began to wriggle and push forward, trying to drive his fingers all the way inside me.
"Man, she's wet," said Rick in delight, as he poked his fingers in and out of my steaming twat, "I don't think she needs anymore warm up. Let's get the show on the road."
Then they grabbed me, and my ordeal really began. Before I could react, stout rope was wound around my wrists, tying my hands firmly. The end of the long rope was thrown over the chandelier that was hanging from the ceiling.
"Will that be able to support her weight?" asked Rick, as he held me squirming body.
"Checked it last night," responded Al flatly, "It's plenty strong."
Then he began to pull the rope, pulling my hands up over my head, and stretching my body up and up until I was standing on my toes. Rick and Sabo had grabbed two chairs from the dining room, and brought them over to me. Sabo slung me over his shoulder for a minutes, as they set the chairs in place, and then they put me on the chairs, a foot on either chair.
The slack that had been caused by this was instantly taken up by Al, and my hands were once again jerked over my head. Then they began pulling the chairs apart, and I spread my legs accordingly, knowing that if I slipped off the chairs, I would be dangling by my wrists over a foot off the floor.
"Stop it!" I screamed, "What are you doing to me?"
"Remember," laughed Rick, "You wanted it, baby."
Then he pulled the chair out some more, and I opened my legs wider, and wider as they kept moving the chairs further apart. Al had tied the end of the rope around the leg of the heavy couch, and I was suspended there, my arms stretched over my head, and precariously perched on the two chairs.
My legs were as far apart as they would go, and my calves were already beginning to ache as I stood there. They nudged the chairs apart some more, until I was only standing on them by the tips of my feet.
"I think she's ready," said Rick.
Then they put on music, loud, blaring music, so loud I could hardly hear them talk, and I realized with apprehension that they did this so that no one would be able to hear my screams, should there be any.
When I realized for the first time that I was totally in their power, I felt weak and afraid, but it was too late to turn back now. Sabo climbed up on one of the chair, with a clothes pin that had a strong piece of cord attached to the end.
It was the type that had a spring and clipped on, and he went over to one of my nipples and clamped the device painfully on to it. It smashed the rubbery tip completely flat, and the pain went dully through my tit. He did the same to the other tit, and then he got off the chair, unwinding the cords as he did so.
The two clothespins hung there lewdly, twisting down my dark nipples and giving me a throbbing pain in my tits. He pulled the cords now, jerking my tits forward by my nipples, until they were stretched taut, and then tied the ends of the string to a chair.
I was really strung out now, hanging from my hands, as my legs were spread an I tried to straddle two chairs, while my chest hung out and two clothespins pinched my nipples and pulled on my tits.
It must have been an obscene sight, and I could see that all three of the musicians had hard-ons in their pants.
"Let's get the meat out for the black bitch," yelled Rick to the two men.
Then all three unzipped, and yanked out their tools, showing that all three quite large and fat and thick. They were all bright red, and really swollen with lust. I knew that they were all going to be used on me, in much worse ways than I had ever imagined.
"Get me down!" I demanded, "My arms and legs are killing me. I don't like this. Let me down!"
As I screamed, they all laughed.
"You'll like it a lot more once we start shoving these things into you," said Sabo, as he stroked his fat tool, "Once you feel the second one plugging you, you'll scream with pleasure."
"You're not all going to fuck me, are you?" I asked in a frightened yell.
"Of course," laughed Rick, "We do everything together, including you. But don't worry, we won't all plug into your cunt, we may all take one hole and shove instead."
The disgusting picture of the forcing a cock into my cunt, ass and mouth flashed across my brain, and I began to yell. "Help!" I hollered, "Help me! I won't let you do this to me. You can't all fuck me. You just can't"
"Of course we can," said Rick, as he walked over to me and began stroking my leg.
Sabo moved behind me, and began to fondle the other leg, as I was forced to simply stand there and endure their gropings. Their hands slithered up and down my shaking limbs, this time poking at my twat occasionally, and running their nails lightly along my inner thighs.
I was sobbing and twitching in revulsion and pleasure at the same time, and I quivered lustfully as I stood there, perched on the two chairs. I dare not move my body much, as I might slip off the chair, and I tried to stand still, as they fondled my limbs.
Both of the were chuckling, and Rick began to run his tongue along my smooth leg. He slid the wet spear up from my knee, all the way to the top of my thigh, leaving a slimy, chilling trail of spit. He had pulled my skirt up and allowed me to see his pink tongue go sliding to and along my dark flesh.
It looked every bit as good as it felt, and goosebumps appeared on my leg as he licked past my ripped skirt, and all the way to my ass cheeks. He squeezed and patted the firm half-spheres and then parted them with his fingers. I shivered as I felt him expose my anus, and my worst fears were confirmed as he drove one of his digits up into the puckered opening.
I rocked as I hung there, and I felt myself almost loose my footing, my foot stretched out desperately, for I did not want to hang there in mid-air, only suspended by my arms. I managed to gain my footing and was then forced to stand there and endure the reaming of my rectum by Sabo's vicious finger.
He was slamming it up into me with long, violent stroke, as his other hand continued to caress my quivering leg. I could feel the muscles in my calves and thighs aching already, and I had only been there for a short while. What would happen if I stood there for hours. I did not want to think about it, and I tried to adjust myself to the ramming finger in my ass.
The only way I could do that was to engross myself completely in Rick's licking of my other leg. I felt my breath coming in short gasps as he reached closer and closer to my cunt.
Then his tongue finally touched my slit, and tremors wracked my tormented body.
"OHHH!" I gasped in relief.
His tongue nudged and ground against my slit, and finally his fingers pulled apart the lips and the fleshy spear began to slither inside. He was standing almost underneath me now, and my cunt was the perfect height for him to stand there and eat my pussy. All he had to do was lift his mouth up a bit, and his nose and tongue and chin was buried in my wide gash. The tender inner lips were already exposed to his attack, due to my widely parted legs, and he took advantage of this to sink his tongue all the way inside me.
He must have had a long tongue, for he reached so far up into my cunt that I could swear it was a dick inside me. He began jabbing the spear in and out of my hot twat, in tempo with Sabo's fucking finger, and my body jerked wildly between the two attacks. There was not an instant of relief, as the two men kept working relentlessly on my two holes. Rick's tongue was stabbing and poking deliciously into my cunt as Sabo kept fingering me. Their -hands kept running up and down my legs, and all of the sensations were making me wild with passion.
As my body jerked and twitched, of course, my tits, and particularly my nipples, were being abused. The clothespins were still clamped onto them, and by now the hard nubs were quite sore and red.
The boobs were all stretched out, as I looked in horror at their deformed shape. The crude and painful device kept an unyielding yank on the dark mounds, and the slightest shiver of my body sent pain racing through my used body.
It seemed that the only way I would be able to escape this, carnival of pain would be too faint, but the agony was not quite that bad, and I lingered in my tortured world, spasming and panting to the stabbing finger, lashing tongue and pinching pins.
"She's really coming around," muttered Al, as he stroked my perspiration covered back. "A little more and she should be ready.' "Will you look at that," admired Sabo, as he studied my captured tits, "Her boobs are still sort of round, even though they're stretched. Can you see the globe, suspended there by her lovely, black nipple? Her knockers are some set of meat."
Then he plucked the string on my right tit, and it caused my jug to bounce up and down, yanking at the nipple, making it feel as if it was going to be tom off.
God, it was awful. My tits ache just talking about it. I still have a slight dent where the clothespins were attached. I'm not going to go into the next four hours, it is just a repetition of what I already said. Basically, I was abused over and over again, with the probing finger, and the tit-pulling device.
The men took turns lapping my cunt, and that was the only truly pleasurable thing that they were doing to me. The stroking of my legs also felt good, but all of the pain was killing me.
Imagine, they kept me there for four hours! Four hours! Four hours of tweaking, and poking and fondling. They licked my cunt so much that their combined spit was running down my quivering legs. And they didn't stop for an instant, not a minute.
My hands were getting numb, because even though I was standing on the chairs, supporting most of my weight on my legs, my arms were still pulling down on my tied wrists, making the ropes cut into my flesh.
It was horrible, and there were several times that I began to scream hysterically in frustration and anguish. They ignored every outburst, and just kept working at my body, as if they had done it dozens of times before, and the screams of agony were so commonplace that they did not even hear them.
Unbelievable as it may seem, things got worse.
They had been working on me, and had gotten me into a very lusting state, without ever satisfying me. They never let me come, and they never put anything other than a tongue up my cunt. My legs were killing me, and muscles spasms were occurring in my thighs. That was when they pulled the chairs out completely, and my entire weight dropped onto my hands and arms.
This time, I did pass out, but they woke me up an instant later, by throwing water in my face.
The pain was far worse than I am able to describe, so I will simply say that I thought my arms had been pulled from their sockets, and the ropes had cut off my hands, for I could no longer feel them. There was no feeling at all and for a moment I thought I'd die.
Rick and the other two literally tore the skirt off my limp form, and began to swing me back and forth, in a little triangle among them. My entire body had lost all of its life, and my head just rocked from side to side as they shoved me about, still hanging in the air.
"Okay," snapped Rick, "She's ready.
Suddenly, the pain stopped, and I felt my body lowered to the ground. I was stretched out on my back, with my hands still tied and pulled over my head. Then, they began... do I really have to go into this?
It is so sick, so dirty, it makes me frantic with anger whenever I think about it. I... I don't really know if I can think about it. It was so perverse of them. Do I really have to say it out loud? Is it really necessary?
Alright, if you think so. They laid me on the ground, my legs apart, and then all of them fucked me. All of them, all in a row. Three dicks rammed themselves into me and fucked me, one after another.
And the worst part was that I just lay there, without moving a muscles, without uttering a single protest, and took all eighteen inches of their three, rock-hard cocks. It was not that I enjoyed the idea of getting gang-fucked. It was simply that there was no fight left in me to resist.
I felt so good having been released from hanging in air, that I did not want to fight anymore. It was the first time my legs had relaxed in hours and hours, and the spasming of my muscles was beginning to stop.
My tits had also been released, and the nipples were starting to return to their natural shape and texture, and the soft rug and floor felt so good under my body. I felt as if I could fall asleep there in a second.
And it was in a state of semi-stupor that the three men used me, and stuffed my cunt full of pounding meat. The recollections I have of the fucking are vague and general, thank god.
the first one, Rick I think, pulled my legs apart, dropped on top of me, and slid his tool in. I can recall it pounding in and out, and he was talking to me, laughing and joking about something humiliating, and then he came.
I don't remember feeling his spunk unload into me, but he must have, because he climbed off me and... this is so humiliating. I can't talk about something so terrible, something so personal that happened to me because of my stupidity and their lust.
After... after he fucked me, another dick slammed into me. It was Sabo, and I can remember him the best, because as he fucked me, he grabbed hold of my tits again, as if holding on to them like I was a bucking bronco.
The pain of his fingers just brushing over my nipples brought me around. Luckily, he did not grab me by the sore knobs, but grasped me around the base of my breast, pushing them up in the air, and shaking them as he fucked me.
He lasted for what seemed to be a long time, and then he came forcibly in my already dripping snatch. It was a revolting feeling to have his dick jerking about inside me, sloshing against the hot scum load that had already been deposited in me.
I did not think I could feel any lower and debased, until he climbed off me, and Al positioned himself over me. Now I felt completely like a piece of meat. A hot piece of black meat that was there simply to relieve these three men's desires, and catch all of their spunk.
He was still wearing his mirrored glasses, and his dick slid right into my sopping cunt. I felt it push out some of the other two musician's loads, and the cum trickled down my ass cheeks and legs.
Then he was pumping at my twat, driving his rigid cock in and out of me, as I lay there, unmoving and seemingly uncaring. It frightens me when I think back on how dream-like the entire event was. The three men fucking me, Al the last, finally spilling the load in my hot twat, and leaving my cunt spasming in abuse.
That's really all there is to tell. They had one of their people dress me and get me out of the hotel without being seen. I was driven home, completely nude, and left in my room. They must have gotten the address and keys from my pants.
They didn't even dress me or clean my cunt, and when I woke up, the next day, my cunt was still leaking their foul spunk. It was a totally humiliating experience, and I only think about all the other girls they must have done the same thing, or worse I know that it really fucked my head up, and I don't really think I'll ever forget the pain I suffered as I stood suspended there by my arms, with my tits being savagely pinched and pulled.
CASE HISTORY NUMBER SEVEN
Subject; June A. - Age 27
Initial Interview; March 14, 1979
The next case in this study is, as far as I am concerned, the most bizarre and unusual. It covers a variety of sexual deviations, including bondage and incest, among others. June's case is one that I had never encountered before or since, and I felt that it should be here to indicate all of the types of sexual encounters that are possible. June will never be completely better, I have already told her that, and she is learning to accept this.
Now, it is best that I begin the transcript, for I could go on for volumes about the psychological reasons for this story.
This whole thing came about in a great part due to my brother Mike. I mean, it wasn't his fault or anything like that, but if he had not been working where he was, I would never have been forced to suffer the way I did.
My brother worked in the Ames funeral parlor. He was a mortician, or at least studying to be one. I know, I know, it seems like a bizarre job, but it's something that has to be done, and all in all, it's just a job, like any other.
My brother is three years older than me, and he had never really decided an occupation until then. He was one of those soul-searchers, that went all over the world looking for the whys and wherefores of the world.
He was very philosophical, and any lengthy discussion with him eventually turned into one of philosophy. But don't let me make you think he was a stuffed shirt, or an egghead, because he wasn't that. He had his fun side as well as his sensuous one, and wherever he went, he left a sad woman behind him.
He had been all over the world, Australia, Germany, and throughout Europe, and we were surprised when he finally came back to Clarksville, Ohio, and said that he was going to settle down.
"I don't believe it," I told him, "but I'm glad. Then he set about choosing a profession, and we were even more shocked when he decided to be a mortician. It seemed like such a dull job, but that was what he wanted, and it was good to finally see him set his goals on something and stick to it.
He decided he would go see the owner of the parlor, Mr. Ames and asked him for a job. Surprise followed surprise, and the day he went for the job, he appeared at my place with his full beard shaved off, his back hair combed back and wearing a pressed suit.
"Is that you?" I asked him.
It was no surprise, however, that he got the job, for he was bright and personable and made a great impression. So that was the start of his career, and the unknowing start of my problem. It took months for it to develop, but it did.
I would often drop by and see Mike, after he was finished working of course, and we would sit around the funeral parlor among all the flowers and coffins and talk. It gave me the creeps for awhile, but I got used to it, and it actually became sort of pleasant.
After all, it was quiet and smelled nice, and Mr. Ames was a nice old man.
When I say old, I mean about fifty. He was tall, thin and distinguished. He sort of looked like John Carradine, with grey hair and always dressed in a snappy, black suit. He didn't talk much, but he was very nice to me when he did, and never seemed to get mad, no matter what Mike did wrong.
And so it happened, that one afternoon, I dropped by the parlor and went about the back way to see Mike.
"I'm sorry, June," said Mr. Ames, "He's not here. He went into the city to get some chemicals. This hot spell has brought on some extra business, and we were running low."
"Well how long will that take him?" I asked.
"A few hours," he replied, "but why don't you sit in the waiting room and wait for him, I'll keep you company."
"Are you sure I won't be keeping you from your work?" I asked him.
"Not at all," he smiled, "I can't do anyone until Mike comes back. I have a few hours to kill, and I can't think of a better way to do it."
Like I said, he was always nice and friendly, and we sat in the waiting room and chatted for quite awhile.
"But how did you get into this whole thing?" I asked inquisitively, "What prompted you?"
"My father was a mortician," he explained, "And my father's father was a mortician, and so on and so on. There have been morticians in my family for generations. This business is passed on from father to son. The parlor was established fifty years ago."
"Don't you feel kind of strange working among all these coffins and things "Not at all," he laughed. "Come here, I want to show you something."
He took me by the arm, and for a second, I thought I felt his touch being a little more than just friendly, but I dismissed it as my imagination. After all, I was always worrying about some guy making a pass at me.
You see, if I must say so myself, I am rather good looking. Mike says I'm terrific, in fact, but I say I'm okay.
I had long, fluffy strawberry blonde hair, with a long, slim neck. My body is supple and not the slightest bit over-weight, with a nice bust, round hips and nice legs. All in all, I'm quite pretty.
My face is very attractive, with my full lips, bright blue eyes, and pug-nose. My complexion is perfectly smooth, and people make fun of me sometimes for having such perfect teeth.
So it is not unusual for a man to make a pass at me.
Anyway, Mr. Ames led me over to a coffin, and opened the top, and rubbed his hand around inside it.
"See," he said, "There is nothing to be afraid of. I simply think of coffins as beds, where the deceased rest their weary heads, after life's long journey."
Now I could see why he and Mike got along so well, they were both so philosophical.
"I still think it's creepy," I persisted.
"Come over here," he said, leading me to another room. "This is my masterpiece. I want you to try it out."
"What!" I exclaimed in shock, "I'm not going to get into a coffin until I have to."
"Come, come," he smiled, "You're not a child. I want you to get into this one because once you do, your entire view on coffins will never be the same. This coffin in particular is very special."
I don't know how he talked me into it. because I am terrified of coffins and corpses and the like, but he did. He has that incredibly persuasive tone, as I was later to find out. At any rate, I climbed into the box and sat down. "Okay, that's fine," I said, "Let me out."
"Not yet," he chuckled, "You have to lie down first, so you can see how roomy and comfortable it is. I have had people tell me that it is more comfortable than their own bed."
I tried to figure out if he had been talking to his deceased clients, or he had talked many people into trying out the box, but either way, he was weird.
To humor him, however, I lay back, with my hands at my sides, staring up at the ceiling. And I'll be damned, but that coffin was comfortable! It was roomy, and soft and not at all frightening when I laid in it, except of course that I felt like I was dead.
"Here, let me move that out of your way," he said, as he reached in by my arm.
In one lightning movement, he pulled a wide leather strap from the side of the box, lashed it over my lower chest and arms, and secured it to the other side. I instantly tried to scream, but his hand dipped into his pocket, pulled out his crisp handkerchief and stuffed it into my mouth.
"Now, now," he smiled, "None of that. You know you're supposed to be quiet here."
Then, as I struggled, he went down to the end of the coffin, and pulled out another strap, and secured my legs. There were more for my wrists, and one for my neck, and then I was totally strapped into the box. I was still squirming and straining against the leather straps, to no avail.
"You may as well stop struggling," he told me with a smile, "Those straps could hold a strong man, though they never have. I only allow women into this little beauty."
I kept fighting, with no results, other than hurting my flesh.
"They never listen," he said, "Now let me make you comfortable, before we start."
He reached into the coffin, and began to unbutton the front of my dress, and I tried to scream, but the cry was stifled by the gag. He undid my dress completely, from my collar to the bottom hem, and then managed to pull it open, even with the restraining straps.
Due to the fact that it was hot outside, I was not wearing any slip, and he looked down at my squirming body, clad only in a skimpy bra and small pair of briefs.
"Yes, you are as beautiful as I imagined," he sighed.
He rubbed his hand over my flat stomach, and I quivered and tried to draw away from him, but there was no escaping his cold hand as it stroked me.
"So warm, and firm," he grinned, "I am going to like this very much."
My body froze as I heard these words, and I tried to imagine what he meant. I did not know what he had in mind for me then, and if I had, I would have done anything to get free of my bonds.
"Of course, these will have to come off too," he said.
His thin fingers slipped the bra straps off my shoulders, and unfortunately, I was accustomed to wearing bras that hooked in the front, so it was an easy matter for him to open it and push it totally off my jutting chest.
Then he grabbed my panties, and after some struggling, managed to pull them down over my hips and all the way down to my ankles, where the strap stopped him. Now I was completely nude before this man, and he started to take full advantage of my helpless position.
It started by him placing his hands over my two firm tits. I shivered violently as I felt how cold they were, and I could not prevent my nipples from becoming hard and erect.
"How beautiful your breasts are," he told me, as he squeezed them, "So full and firm, and wonderful to grasp."
And he was doing a lot of that, as he took as much of the fleshy globes as he could into his hands and squeezed. His fingers sank deeply into my warm flesh, and it sent tremors through my body. As much as I hate to admit it, as I think back on it, I realize that I was turned on by having my tits fondled while I lay in my helpless position. It was like I was playing some sort of crazy game.
He kneaded them slowly and erotically, and with each tug and push, I felt myself growing a little moister between my legs. He was really enjoying himself with the massaging of my tits, and I was straining my ears, hoping to hear some indication that Mike was back and would save me from this man. His fingers were prodding and digging delightfully, and I have to admit that he was very sensual.
Eventually, just one hand worked my heaving knockers, and the other trailed down my belly and over my legs. It was delightful to feel his fingers moving over my skin, tickling and arousing me at the same time.
He was touching me ever so lightly, stroking all of my tender sensitive spots, as if he knew precisely where every one was. I could feel my cunt twitching as he did so, and I could tell by my heavy breathing that his manipulation of my body was really getting to me.
Finally, after a long interval, he touch my cunt. The gag restrained a low moan as he did so, and I felt myself involuntarily trying to spread my legs for him, to give him greater access to my cunt. But the leather straps held me motionless, and he just began to rub the swelling clit.
His fingers moved over it in a small, delightful circle, and it made me hotter and hotter with each pass. I was now beginning to writhe and wriggle under his touch, and I could feel the straps digging into my hot flesh, but I didn't care.
Then, he stopped his fondling, and pulled the lower half of the coffin closed. Then he turned, looked at my terrified face, and slammed the upped half shut as well. My heart stopped for a second, and then I began to scream for help, thought the gag muffled me.
It was absolutely dark in the coffin, and I began to wonder if it was airtight as well. Suddenly, a light splashed on my face, and I looked up to see that a small hole had opened directly over my face.
And as I looked at it, I saw a penis descend into the box through the hole, aiming at my mouth. It stopped in mid plunge, the top opened, and Mr. Ames reached down.
"How silly of me," he smiled, and pulled the gag from my mouth.
Then he slammed the lid back, and the dick plunged through the hole again.
I pushed and banged, but I would not let it in.
"You might as well blow me now, June," said Mr. Ames through the small hole, "You will, sooner or later. They all do."
I shivered at that line, trying hard to imagine how many other women had been trapped like me, and where were they now?
"Why not make it easy on yourself, and just suck me off right now. After that, you can go free."
"Never!" I screamed, "I never let that disgusting tool of yours into my mouth. You're sick, Mr. Ames, sick."
"Alright," he said, "Have it your way, but you're going to regret this."
Then he closed the brass opening, and I felt him wheeling the coffin somewhere. I could not tell where, but I was certain that it was somewhere that No one could hear or find me, including my brother.
Now I was frightened, really frightened. I had been scared before, when I thought I was going to be raped by the manager, now, more than ever, I realized how unbalanced he was, and I was frightened for my life.
Perhaps he intended on leaving me where I was, until I died a slow, lingering death, from thirst and starvation. Or perhaps he would bury me, making me believe I was deceased, and I would never be seen again.
The possibilities flooded into my fevered brain, each worse than the preceding one, and my breathing became more and more frantic. Was it the fact that I was terrified, or was the air running out of the coffin?
I lay in the absolute blackness for what seemed like hours, then days, until I began to scream and yell, just to hear my own voice. But the thick padding and plush velvet absorbed the sounds as fast as I made them and after a short time, I stopped, more out of breath than ever.
Then I simply lay still in the box, trying to preserve my air and hoping and praying that he had not forgotten me. My limbs were stiff now, from the lack of movement, and the leather straps, but there was nothing that I could do.
Then, light exploded in my eyes, and fresh air rushed in, and I began to gasp and cry and smile, all at once.
"Have you had enough?" asked Mr. Ames calmly.
All I could do was lie there and breath deeply, and try to stop crying.
"Are you ready to suck my cock now?" he asked.
His crude phrase calmed me down, and my spirit revolted at the idea of being forced to blow the man, especially under these conditions.
"No," I snapped.
"Very well," he said placidly, "A while longer in the box will change your mind."
He closed the hole and I was plunged back into the darkness, and I felt my heart begin to race.
"Wait!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, "I've changed my mind. I'll do it'" The hole opened immediately, showing that he had never even walked away.
"What was that?" he asked.
"I'll do what you want," I whimpered.
"And what is that?" he teased.
"I'll... I'll blow you," I said meekly, "I'll let you stick your cock in my mouth, and I'll suck it and suck it."
"Until what happens?" he asked, tauntingly.
"Until you come," I conceded, "Until you shoot your wad into my mouth."
"That is more like it," he smiled.
Then I felt the coffin moving about, and I saw his dick sliding down into the hole again. It was no longer erect, and barely reached my waiting lips. I had to reach up with them, as I could not lift my head due to the strap around my throat, and nibble and pull at the soft head.
I used my tongue as well, and licked at the fleshy tool, until it began to respond, and started to swell, as if it were a balloon that someone was pumping air into. It expanded at a remarkable rate and son I had to part my lips to allow the head to slide into my mouth.
It hung just inside my lips, and I circled them around it and began pulling at it, as my tongue slipped in and out of the tiny slit, making him hotter and hotter. I was really working at the dick, trying to get it hard as fast as possible, so I could make him come and get this over with.
I figured that if I was going to be forced to perform oral sex on this madman, then I might as well do it as quickly as possible.
So my tongue was slashing at the heated head, and as the dick grew, it fed more and more of its length into my willing orifice. Soon, the shaft was sliding in along my teeth, and my mouth was really beginning to get full. His dick was surprisingly hot, for a man that had such cold hands, and it was big and fat as well.
My jaw was really being forced to open wider and wider in order to fit it, and I began to think how, under the right circumstances, Mr. Ames might be a terrific lover. The dick was really plowing into my orifice now, and it filled my mouth from side to side, and was pressing against the roof of my mouth.
The head was no longer soft and yielding, but rather hard and rubbery, and it pressed against my soft upper palate with great strength. Finally, my mouth was full, and I could feel that the dick was fully erect, and ready to go.
And it did just that, as Mr. Ames began to slam it in and put of my mouth, stuffing the mushroom head over the back of my tongue and into the entrance of my tongue. The was no way to avoid it now. My head could not move at all, and once I had allowed the dick past my teeth, it would remained lodged in my sucking mouth until it came.
I imagine that Mr. Ames was fucking my mouth in the following fashion. He must have been lying on the coffin, his head where my feet were, grasping it and. lying on it as if he were fucking a woman. His dick was plunged through the opening, and instead of fucking his dick forward into a cunt, he was cramming it into my mouth.
As I pictured him, I wondered if he fantasized that he was fucking some beautiful corpse.
I went back to my work, and my mouth was pulling like a vacuum cleaner at his driving rod. I wanted to suck all of the sperm out of his cock, but the other result of this was that I was sucking the head of the dick deeper and deeper into my mouth, until it was stuffing its way into my throat.
I choked somewhat, but I realized that I better get used to it, for I was not going to stop the invading cock now. It was going to stuff itself as far as it wanted into my velvet passage, and all I could do was take it.
"Oh, oh, oh," I could hear Mr. Ames grunting, as he stuffed my obliging throat full of stiff cock. The entire coffin was shaking, jumping about slightly, and all of the sensations entering my body began to blend into one.
The ramming prick was making my throat and cunt spasm, and the straps were making my body throb with a dull, erotic pain, as the coffin vibrated and shook all around me. In the midst of all this, I started thinking about Mr. Ames' come.
I had never swallowed scum before. I know that you may not believe that, but it's the truth. I am a sexually active young woman, but even thought I have given many blow-jobs, I have allowed only one to come in my mouth, and I did not swallow that load, it went into a tissue.
It was simply that the taste of semen revolted me. That's all. It was so salty and pungent, that I could not bear to taste it. But I was in a position where it was certainly going to shoot off in my throat. I wondered if I could force the tip of the dick out of my mouth at the last moment, and let it spill on the velvet, but that was impossible. I also considered catching it all in my mouth, and holding it, and then spitting it up when he pulled out, but that seemed more revolting that just swallowing it.
So when Mr. Ames finally did come, and stuffed his dick into the back of my throat, I started gulping down his semen as fast as he fired it. I still tasted the awful flavor, as wad after wad of it splashed into my passage, but I held my breath and just kept sucking, drawing it down my channel and into my stomach.
His dick was really kicking in my throat, and I could feel the sperm pouring down and into me. It was one of the most disgusting feelings I have ever experienced, and it seemed to last forever, as Mr. Ames just kept spending his seed down my hungry throat.
But eventually, it was over, and he pulled his dick out and climbed off the coffin.
"Excellent," he said, in a weak voice, "So good, in fact, June, that I want you do blow someone else as well. You will have to stay right there while I call him. Don't worry, though, I will be right back.
I was unable to protest as he closed the hole, for my mouth was clotted with thick globs of scum, that refused to go down.
I rubbed my tongue around the back of my mouth, and pulled some of the scum off my palate, but some still remained, leaving a bad taste in my mouth. As I lay there, the smell of the semen hung in the air, and the thought of blowing another man terrified me.
I did not know if I would be able to swallow another load of scum. I was afraid that I would choke to death, but then I realized that I had no choice, and I would remain imprisoned here until I had satisfied Mr. Ames. I only hoped that he did not bring more friends after this one, for the thought of multiple blow-jobs made me sick.
In a short time, the hole opened again and Mr. Ames called in, "Alright, start sucking."
A dick appeared and moved towards me. It was already partially erect, and the smooth, swollen head touched my mouth, and my lips caught it and closed around it tightly. A satisfied grin came from the unknown man, and the cock jumped in my mouth.
This dick was smooth and sweet tasting, and I was not at all reluctant to let it slither between my lips. The fat shaft grew to its full width and crammed every comer of my sucking mouth. I applied the same vigor to this dick as I had Mr. Ames, and got even wilder responses. The cock absolutely kicked my tongue, and I rubbed the fleshy spear up and down along it, making it jump even more.
I must admit that I was enjoying making this man's dick jump, and thought I did not know him, I was also safe in the fact that he could not see me, and never would. This seemed to release whatever inhibitions I had and I gave the man the best blow-job I had ever given any man.
My loud slurping and sucking noises must have been heard outside the box, for I was really pulling and licking at this dick. I felt my spit running down my chin and neck, and kept the cock moving about in my mouth, tickling every inch of it with my tongue.
The man was obviously enjoying it, as he jumped and thrashed about on the coffin. He was really pumping in and out of my mouth furiously now. I had never felt a dick fly so fast, and he started to yell as well.
"Come on, baby!" he yelled, "Suck that cock, you little whore."
And as he said this, my mouth dropped open completely and my actions stopped, for I recognized the voice to belong to that of my brother!
It was Mike, my own bother, that was lying on the coffin, stuffing his dick into my mouth. Ames must have waited for him to return, told him he had set up some bizarre amusement for him with some whore, and now he was preparing to drop his load in her mouth.
I tried to talk, but Mike's dick was slamming so fast and furiously into my throat, that all I could do was sputter. He never missed a stroke, and the dick just kept plugging me. I had no choice but to get this over with, and I locked my lips around his dick once again, and began blowing him as best as I could.
It was a strange feeling to have my brother's dick plowing into my face. I had often seen his pecker, but that was when we were little. Now his dick was large and wonderful, a tool that would satisfy any woman, and I began to feel envious of all those woman that he had fucked all over the world.
This was my only chance to get a taste, as it were, of what they had experienced, and I decided to take full advantage of it. Then my tongue really began to move, stretching all the way it could, stroking his dick from top to bottom, as my lips reached up and pulled even more of his shaft into my throat.
That was when he came. His first hot blast slammed into the back of my throat and clung there for awhile, as I gulped it down into my belly. The rest just fired into the greedy passage, disappearing. I made sure some of his thick jism was deposited on my tongue, for I wanted to taste my brother's sperm.
He had the biggest load I have ever seen, and he just kept spending in my sucking mouth. All the time he was yelling and pounding on the coffin.
"Oh, yeah! Suck it down, eat my scum, bitch. Eat every last drop of that steaming semen, you filthy little whore. Oh! I can tell you're loving that scum, bitch. Keep swallowing!"
Even his dirty words thrilled me, and without touching myself at all, I had a climax.
I just lay there and trembled, as the dick finished up in my throat, and my cunt got dripping wet.
When it was over, he pulled out, and I heard the two men talking. Then the top of the coffin was lifted up and Mike looked down to see me lying there, my mouth still open, and scummy from his heavy load. My brother took it hard at first, and almost killed Mr. Ames, but I told him to stop, and we went home and had a nice long talk, after which, he fucked me. I still feel strange having sex with him, and I think he even feels worse about it, but we both enjoy each other so much, we just can't stop.
The problem is, I just lie there now, unmoving, as if I'm a corpse, and I know it's all because of the bondage coffin. Right now, Mr. Ames is making one just for Mike and me.
CASE HISTORY EIGHT
Subject; Jill R. - Age 22
Initial Interview; February 24, 1979
I first began to treat Jill through the special services I do in the prison system of the state. She had always been an offender, and was arrested many times, but they had always been minor charges, and she had been sent to local, correctional institutes. It was when she had been sent to the state facilities that she was forced into bondage and used by the other inmates. There has since been a strict investigation and shake-up of the guards that let this happen, but that has not spared Jill her anguish. But she can explain that better than I.
I don't really want to talk about this, but the doc says it'll help, so I will, because I need to get this thing out of my system.
I was raped when I went to the state prison. Not just raped, actually, but tied and bound, while the guards stood around and watched.
I was new in the prison, and a little intimidated by all the armed guards and steel gates and locked doors and all. I was put in a cell with two other women, older women, who had been in for a long time, and would probably be in for a lot more. Their names were Ann and Meg. Both of them were real bastards.
"Well look what floated into our cell," said Meg, as soon as the guards left, "A little bit of fluff."
That's what all new girls were called, unless they already had a long prison record and had just been transferred.
"What'd you do, hon, rob a baby carriage?" teased Ann.
"I stole some money from my employer," I answered snottily.
"Look, babe," warned Meg, "Don't get fresh with us. I'll wipe up the floor of this cell with you."
I sneered, but inside I was scared shitless.
Meg was a big red-head, with husky arms, a deep voice and a big pair of tits. She looked like a rough customer, and I didn't really want to mess with her.
"You got any butts on you?" asked Ann.
She was a thing blonde, that looked real pretty. I later found out she stabbed her husband to death when she found out he had been cheating on her.
"No," I lied.
"That's funny, they always let the fluff have a pack of butts when they come in," insisted Ann.
"I don't smoke," I responded.
"Well I hope you listen, fluff," said Meg, as she positioned herself in front of me. "You're staying in our cell, and while you do, you'll do as we say. I you get out of line, you'll get yours. Understand?"
I nodded my head. That was our first conversation. Things got worse from there. My real trouble started the first time I took a shower. In prison, everybody takes mass showers, and when the other women saw my body, a lot of talk started.
Let me explain. I'm on the thing side, with hardly any tit, narrow hips and a boyish face. It was almost like having a man living with them in the cell, and little by little, it became too much for them.
The only thing in my favor was that I had long, brown hair, down to my waist, but that was only until that one night in January.
Things had been very uneasy in the cell, and I could tell that something was brewing, though I could not tell what. I was soon to find out.
"Hey, Jill," snapped Ann, "Why don't you get that damn hair of yours cut?"
"I like it long," I responded.
"Well it's s goddamn pain," she said.
"How?" I sneered.
"It gets all over the place," She answered, "On my food, in my mouth. Why don't you get it cut short. It'd be easier to manage that way too."
"I've always had it long, and that's how I'm going to keep it," I replied.
Listen, fluff," interjected Meg, "I'm not as nice as Ann about this. I want that hair of yours cut, you understand me? Next time the barber's in, cut it."
"No way," I said, and that was when the trouble started.
"Then we'll cut it for you," She snarled, and she grabbed me before I knew what was happening.
She had me by my hair with one hand, and the other grabbed one of my arms and twisted it behind me. I tried to struggle, but she was very strong, and as I did, Ann reached under her mattress and brought out a knife from the kitchen.
I had no idea how she had gotten it, but she was coming towards me with it, with no good in her eyes.
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
"Just give you a little haircut," she smiled.
Then Meg shoved me face down on the bed, and the two women sat on my arms and began slashing the knife at my hair. They were not very careful how they cut it, and much of it was yanked from my scalp.
I could feel the hair falling on my back, and see it dropping on the floor, and I began to cry.
"Stop struggling," warned Meg, "You might end up getting cut."
I realized she was right, and that I was out-numbered, and I just lay there and let them cut and hack away at my once beautiful hair.
When they were done, they let me up and Ann slid the knife into her gown.
"There, that looks much better," she smiled maliciously, "You look much prettier now."
Meg just laughed, and there was a strange gleam in her eyes.
I walked over to the small mirror and stared at myself, barely able to recognize the woman who stood there. My hair had been clipped very short, like a crew cut, though not so carefully or well.
"You look real pretty now," snickered Meg, "Like a little man, a regular little man."
"I wonder if she's built like a man?" asked Ann, as she moved closer to me.
She reached over and pulled my dress up and I quickly pulled loose from her grasp and stood at the far side of the room.
"I can't tell when you're wearing all those clothes," she said, "Strip."
I just stood there, unmoving, hoping that this was all a bad dream.
"Okay," she muttered, "If you want to do this the hard way, we will."
Saying this, she walked over to me and ripped open the front of my dress. My small, bra clad tit stuck out, and we began to struggle. For awhile, Meg stayed out of it, confident that Ann would be able to subdue me, but as the fight dragged on, and she saw that I was holding my own against the blonde, she joined in also.
Against the two of them, I didn't stand a chance. Meg grabbed hold of my arms, and pulled them behind me. I tried kicking her, but Ann was pressed against the front of my body, and my legs were not able to move.
"Leave me alone," I yelled, as I felt them pulling and ripping the material of my grey dress.
"Hah," snorted Ann, and she pulled my belt off and then ripped the front of the dress down completely.
My body was exposed to them now, clad only in my skimpy bra and little pair of panties. I distinctly remembering shivering as I stood there, by arms twisted behind me, and my body exposed to these two women.
Ann tore the fragments of my dress away from me and looked at my firm, lithe body. There was a look of lust in her eyes that was unmistakable, and she began to run her fingers along my thin, shiver "Pig!" I shouted, and kicked at her, catching her in the stomach and sprawling her out on the floor.
"Damn you," snapped Meg, as she wrapped one of her powerful arms around my neck.
I knew what they had in mind, and I was damned if I wasn't going to make them fight for it,.
I began to try and break Meg's grip, but the hold around my throat got tighter and tighter, and soon, I began to loose consciousness. Everything was beginning to go dark, and my head was swimming.
Then I blacked out, from lack of oxygen.
When I awoke, I found that I was unable to move. I looked around and saw that I was tied to the bunk beds. The two other women had ripped up the cotton sheets and had made strong cords out of them and had tied them around my wrists and ankles.
I was tied standing up with my hands tied over my head and my ankles tied to the bottom of the bunk beds. My legs were spread, leaving my quivering, moist pussy open and vulnerable to any of their perverted demands. I don't have to tell you that I was most uncomfortable and embarrassed, as well as scared.
"Now that's much better," smiled Ann as she looked at me, "Now we can have a lot of fun."
Meg walked over and grabbed my bra and pulled it off with one strong jerk. My tiny breasts were hard and ready, as my erect nipples showed. I could not believe they were "Nice," muttered Meg, as she palmed one of my tits.
I pulled and struggled at my bonds, but that only caused my arms and legs to ache. I soon stopped, as the two women advanced on me and began rubbing and fondling my jugs. They handled them roughly, tweaking and pinching them and causing them to ache with lust.
"Stop, stop," I murmured, but my pleadings became more and more lustful and less and less violent.
I have to admit right here, that I was beginning to enjoy the rough treatment of my body at the hands of these two, and I was beginning to wonder what they had in store for my cunt.
I quickly found out, as they grabbed hold of my pants and tore them off of me. The elastic dug into my skin painfully before it snapped, and then my pussy was exposed to their exploring hands.
Meg seemed more interested in my tits, as she grabbed and fondled them, and she also leaned over and began kissing me.
"Oh, baby," she said, "It's so nice. Kiss me."
I had no choice but to respond, and my tongue slithered and pressed against hers.
Ann, in the meantime, was rubbing my cunt expertly. She was tickling my clitoris without really making it too hot. She was just doing it delicately enough to make it burning. "Mmmm, she's really beginning to like it," announced Ann, as she felt me push Meg was not even listening, as she pressed her mouth against mine and her fingers were kneaded and working my breasts. She had hold of the erect nipples now and she was yanking on them viciously.
"No more," I cried, as I pulled my mouth off of Meg's. She was in my cunt, and it was working over my slippery walls. In and out it thrust, making me shiver and shake with delight. It stroked, the walls delightfully, and all I could do was gasp through my nostrils as I stood there and squirmed "She's really getting hot," said Ann, as she fingered me, "Her little cunt is all on fire with desire. "Good," said Meg, as she stopped kissing me for a moment.
Then the cell was silent, except for the sound of Ann's finger slipping in and out of me. They kept using me like this until all three of us were satisfied.
