The Slut I Am, A Letter To My Therapist (After Our Session) Goose's imagination gets wilder Dr. Watkins, We covered so much in our last session that I don't even know where to begin. I know that you are right about many things. My Uncle Jack was not my fault. His raping me falls all on him. It is true as well, that my father sending me to live with Charlotte was not my choice either. The abortion or becoming a prostitute... all the men... everything was, I guess, beyond my control. You are right. I became a puppet, my strings controlled by those around me. Still, I am what I am. I sell my body. I allow men and sometimes women to use me for their own pleasures. I understand when you say I don't have to do this anymore. With the money I have, I could go to college. I could choose any career. Hell, I could become a psychiatrist. What do you think of that idea? According to you, I could even meet someone and fall in love and get married. I could become a housewife. Wouldn't that be special? Ex whore turned homemaker. Really Doc, you and I both know those things only happen in Fairytales. My name is Cindy but I am not Cinderella. The only balls I know anything about are those between a man's legs. After I told you about my first date, you explained to me that going out to dinner with a man, even if he was a client, without charging him was a big step. Of course, you also pointed out that just because we had dinner did not mean that I had to fuck him. Truly, I understand what you are saying. Still, that is what I do. I fuck men. That is my purpose in life. That is why God put me on this earth. We all have a function in life. Mine is to provide sex for rich men. I know I said that I felt like a prom queen as I dressed for that date. That is true. I was excited. I also told you that the sex was different, that for the first time in my life I actually fucked a man because it was what I wanted at the time. I even spent the night with him in his bed and had breakfast with him. Those were first too. I cannot deny either, that the orgasms I felt that night were unlike any other in my life. I will admit all of that felt special at the time. In reflection however, the date ended with me fucking him. The only real difference, I wasn't paid; I fucked him free. You explained to me that I have many issues to be resolved. There are no quick fixes for me. I need closure on Uncle Jack and my parents. You also reminded me that Aunt Charlotte, even though I tend to make her into my heroine, used me. You're right. I do rationalize my relationship with Charlotte. I know she had my baby aborted. I know she had my tubes tied without my previous knowledge. I also know that she made me a whore at the age of fifteen. I know all of those things and I know that what she did was wrong. No one has the right to take advantage of a child the way she did. Maybe I should hate her as much as I do Jack and my parents. In my mind however, there is a difference. Need I remind you that it was Charlotte, aside from taking advantage of my youth and situation, that didn't turn her back on me? Yes, she prostituted my body. She also fed me, clothed me and made sure I received an education. More importantly, she may be the only person on this earth that really loves me. Remember... Charlotte never took a dime from me. Everything I earned, she invested and handed over to me when she got married. She even gave me her penthouse. Now I must tell you what I have done. Before I begin however, it is important that I remind you of your oath of doctor to patient confidentiality. I am no longer the fourteen-year-old child Uncle Jack raped. She and I bare no resemblance. She was a child. I am a woman. Therefore, Jack had no idea who I was when he saw me in his favorite bar. He made it easy, coming on to me as soon as he walked in. First, I let him buy me a couple of drinks at the bar. Then we moved to a table located in a dark corner of the bar. We had barely sat down when I felt his hand go up my skirt. Before I could protest, he was already tugging my panties to one side and trying to poke a finger into my cunt. I pulled back, slighting feigning shock. "Whoa, slow down big boy." Undeterred by my rejection, he pulled me to him, kissing me hard on the lips. His breath brought back memories of that night so long ago. He tasted the same, reeking of cigarettes and whiskey. Continuing to molest my cunt with his dirty finger, he broke the kiss. "Let's not play games," he said. "We both know the game. The only question is how much." I had not expected that question. It never occurred to me that he would offer to pay for my services. I just assumed he would try to seduce me. I had to think fast. I couldn't tell him that I usually get fifteen hundred dollars an hour. I had to think like a street hooker. "Fifty bucks for a blowjob. A hundred if you want to fuck me." He was appalled. "Who are you trying to kid? I'll give you fifty for the night. And we`ll go back to my place. I don't know where you're from but around here that's the best offer you'll get." I fell into the role of hooker more easily than I would have thought. "Seventy five," I said. He smiled. "Sixty and I won't fuck you in the ass." "Money up front," I said. "You'll get your money when we get back to my place." Jack lived in a tiny one-bedroom motel apartment within walking distance from the bar. The place was a dump inside and out. He was all over me as soon as the door closed behind us, pulling at my clothes while at the same time brutalizing my tits with a big powerful hand. I had forgotten how strong he was. "What about my money?" I asked. He didn't answer. Instead, he ripped the front of my blouse open, exposing my braless tits. "I love little bitty tits," he moaned as he bit down hard on one of my nipples. I struggled to push him away. "I said give me my money." "Your money? Bitch, the only thing I'm giving you is a hard dick." The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back on the bed, Jack sitting straddle me. It was happening again, just like the first time. He was tearing at my clothes, a stupid self-indulgent smile on his face. Again, I was no match for him. He was too strong, easily holding me down with one hand while undressing us both with the other. My mind raced. It was just like before. He was sitting on top of me, both of us naked. His hard cock pointed toward the ceiling. He was going to rape me again and I couldn't stop him. The only thing I could do was try to appease him until I could get the upper hand. "Okay," I said. "You can do anything you want. Please though, let me get a condom out of my purse." "A condom! Fuck, I don't use rubbers." "Please," I begged. "Fuck you," he said as he put a strangle hold on my neck. "Now spread those fucking legs." I did as he said and could feel the head of his cock poking against my cunt. He was using his free hand to try and guide it into my hole. Over and over, he pushed to no avail. My pussy was dry and closed up like a clam. "Fuck," I heard him say in anger. I thought he was cursing his inability to get it in. But when I looked down, I saw that he was Cumming. The continual probing must have set him off. His white sticky semen was shooting out in long streams, landing on my cunt and lower belly. His anger and frustration did not stop him from milking his cock however. Between loud groans, with his eyes rolled back into his head, he continued stroking and pulling on his dick. Finally, his ejaculation decreased to nothing more than a few drops dribbling from the tip of his cock. I reacted to the loosing of his grip around my throat immediately. Rolling sideways, I reached for the steel lamp beside the bed. With every ounce of strength I could muster, I slammed it against the side of his head. Jack fell to one side, unconscious, his dick still in his hand. This was not the way I had planned for things to work out. The result however would be the same. That, I told myself, was all that mattered. Standing over him... I was still naked, my pulse racing, his cum still fresh on my lower belly. I searched for my purse. Finally finding it, I reached inside and pulled out the straight razor I bought for the occasion. Suddenly, I was calm. I knew what I was going to do. My plan was back on track. It was difficult but I managed to arrange Jack on his back, spread eagle on the bed. Using pieces of the sheets, I tied his hands and feet to the bed. I stuffed his mouth with one of his socks. Then I waited. When he came to, he seemed unaware of what had happened. His first move was to try to free his hands and feet. He looked up at me and saw the razor. The fear showed in his eyes. A muffled scream escaped from around the sock, as he fought against his restraints. Calmly leaning over him, holding his balls in one hand and the razor in the other, I started. Stretching his sack, it took only one swipe of the razor. I stood up right, holding his balls in my hand. His attempts to scream and the look on his face were precious, even more than I had hoped for. Smiling, I lay his detached testicles on his stomach. I might add here that there was a lot less blood than I expected. Evidently, I had not cut any arteries. That was good though. It made it much easier to see what I was doing as I sliced through his cock. I'd seen enough dicks to know that there was a large vein on top. So starting on the bottom side, I cut through carefully avoiding the vein until last. When I finally cut through blood started spurting everywhere. I laid his detatched cock beside his balls. God what a mess. Jack continued trying to scream, as his heart continued to pump life-sustaining blood from his body. By the time I washed up and dressed, the stream of blood had slowed drastically. By now, he was lying in a pool of blood, barely conscious. Certain that he would eventually bleed to death, I moved close enough to look down, staring him straight in the eyes. "Do you still like to fuck little girls?" I thought I saw a hint of recognition as he stared back at me. I wanted to be sure however, that he knew exactly who had done this to him. "Have you fucked any more of your nieces? Taken anymore little girls cherries?" To make sure he couldn't call for help. I disconnected the telephone. I was just about to walk out the door when I stopped, turned and lifted my skirt. Pulling my panties to one side, I said. "This is what you are dying for, was it worth it?" That Doc is real closure.