I have decided to give this volume a particular title, because hitherto, we have not attempted to categorize the motivations of females in their pursuit of the ephemeral carnal happiness which they obtain through the seduction of boys in puberty or adolescence.
To be sure, all of them in most instances, seek the illusory fulfillment of their thwarted yearnings. In the majority of instances, we have seen that they do so out of several basic motivations: rejection, traumatic repressions, disillusioned love for husbands or sweethearts-these have been the primary causes which have served to turn the mature female into a kind of predatory huntress who finds a quicker road to rapture by undertaking the sexual tutelage of the innocent, gullible, oringenuous yet virile young male in his nascency.
In many of the case histories I have presented in other volumes, to be sure, we have observed women who are either aggressive or passive, either sadistic or masochistic. Such women attempt to accomplish their almost desperate desires for harmonious sexual union through the utilization of corporal punishment, which they themselves inflict or allow to have inflicted upon them, depending upon their temperament. But this specific volume deals exclusively with the female who, for one reason or another, either out of traumatic causation from her own adolescent period of impressionable erotic circumstance, or because of a secret yet tremendously powerful temperamental urge, requires the prelude of what we may call "voluptuous chastisement" in order to be aroused to that point where she may herself become, rather than the passive acolyte in coitus, first the initiatress and then truly the huntress, which we are told by psychiatrists that Woman invariably becomes!
Of late we have observed in our struggle for what we may call a complete and uninhibited sexual freedom, that pain and love, hate and desire, violence and sensuality, appear to be inextricably interwoven. Thus this volume will seem very contemporary, and I hope that my faithful readers will find within it some purposeful and articulate considerations on the eternal theme of the female's constant search for sexual happiness and release. Perhaps by paradoxical contrast, indeed, the adult reader who is himself married and forgetful of the needs of the female may infer useful notions which within his own household may right the wrong he may have committed by ignorance, neglect, selfishness, or fear.
Dr. Willis Lamb
CHAPTER ONE: VIVIAN, PRIVATE-SCHOOL PRODUCT
The case of Vivian J., a stunningly handsome, intelligent and quite articulate young woman of twenty-seven, bears out my theory that early experiences in childhood have the power of conditioning the human psyche in a way that often cannot be "seen" even by close relatives or parents and yet may well leave indelible flaws and warpings in the character as maturity is achieved. Certainly Vivian, who was given every advantage, and who began with an extremely keen and sensitive mind, would probably never have become the ardent masochist she turned out to be even during her marriage if it had not been that at the private school to which her fond and doting parents sent her, she was forced into a secret "cult" of snobbery, hazing and humiliation, and actual sexual servitude.
Vivian was born in Wichita, Kansas to a prominent veterinarian and his attractive young wife. She was an only child, and apparently her birth had serious repercussions on her mother's health, for the latter was sickly for the next decade until her tragically early death at the age of thirty-two. Nonetheless, both Vivian's father and mother showed her every love and affection, gave her every toy and luxury which the highly successful veterinarian could easily afford from his lucrative practice. After her mother's death, the father suffered a nervous breakdown, and it was at this period that Vivian was sent away to a private school in St. Louis, recommended to the father and his older brother (who then became Vivian's guardian) for its high scholastic rank.
There is no doubt (and Vivian's father could hardly know, any more than the uncle) that at the school there was an undercurrent of lesbian sadism which was to enslave Vivian and corrupt her so that even in her marriage, she sought and found masochistic fulfillment with young boys simply because her own husband did not understand her aberration and utterly refused to gratify her wish to be humiliated, spanked or whipped and bound so that she might feel herself the ecstatic slave she had been at the school.
There were actually two parts to this school, one an elementary section which took the pupil through the eighth grade, and then a regular high school. It was in high school that Vivian was introduced to the perverse joys of Sapphism.
When she was fourteen, she entered the advanced section of the school, and by this time her father had died. Her uncle and ailing aunt were therefore her only living relatives, and while they visited her occasionally, she was left almost entirely throughout the year at the school. Her father's death had left her a considerable legacy, not only of the home in Wichita, but a good deal of money and stocks and bonds. A young veterinarian took over the practice and paid the uncle a considerable sum of money for the privilege, this money also being credited to Vivian's trust fund.
Hence she had already at the outset no financial problems in later life, and this was perhaps disastrous to her. It meant simply that she would not have to worry about conforming to the demands of a conventional society, earning her living on a routine job from nine to five and taking Orders which would have brought about a kind of coping with reality-which she utterly lacked simply because of the clannishness she found in the private school.
As a freshman in the high school at fourteen, Vivian was at once pledged by a junior girl of sixteen, Mavis B., sophisticated, from an extremely wealthy family, black-haired and already extremely sexually precocious. At the age of fourteen, Mavis had willingly given her virginity to the family chauffeur, and somewhat later engaged in a kind of "menage a trois" with the chauffeur and his girlfriend. She had also, during that time, learned how girls can amuse each other, for the chauffeur had made both his girlfriend and her enact sixty-nine and tribadism. Indeed, one of the reasons she was sent to the private school was that her mother had discovered the illicit sexual "parties" and decided to send her daughter quite a distance away from their home in Wilmette.
Mavis had already organized about a dozen other girls into a clandestine society. All these girls were from well-to-do families, had more spending money than was good for them, and all were between the ages of sixteen and eighteen. All of them also had had at least lesbian experiences; and five of the girls, like Mavis, had already lost their virginities at a much earlier age, one to a cousin, another to her own brother, and a third to an uncle.
Unfortunately, also, the school was plagued by having two matrons who were extremely complacent as to what went on in the private rooms and dormitories late at night, for the very good reason that they themselves were lesbians and, to quote Vivian in her remarks to me, "knew a good thing when they saw one and sometimes joined in the fun and games."
One of the matrons was readily bribed to surrender a key to the gymnasium, and it was here that most of the "orgies" and hazings took place. Mavis quickly "took over" Vivian, who was dark-brown-haired, of medium height, with already well-developed breasts and buttocks and a fine pale white skin which incited the sadism of the young girls who formed this secret cult of lesbian sadism. We have often remarked that the female of the species is sometimes far deadlier than the male, and this apparently holds true when it is the question of sorority initiations or bondage groups in which the female takes the aggressive role. Invariably, she seems to savor the anguish of the "weaker" female whom she dominates, and since she is a woman also, knows more particularly and specifically how to cause the utmost pain and shame in the infliction of physical torments.
At any rate, Vivian was told to report one Friday night to the gymnasium about midnight, and when she wonderingly asked Mavis how she could possibly get out of the dormitory, Mavis giggled and said, "Don't worry, honey, Mrs. R. is on duty tonight and she'll look the other way. You just get your fanny over to the gym if you know what's good for you."
It was with a certain amount of fear and excitement, the kind of excitement which is born out of doing something forbidden, that Vivian went down the hallway at midnight as bidden. The directress of the school went to bed early, and slept in her private apartment in an adjacent wing of the school building. Mrs. R. was, indeed, on duty, but when she saw Vivian, she nodded and winked, then jerked her thumb towards the exit at the side of the building, which led directly over to the gymnasium.
At this school, it was compulsory for the girls to wear uniforms, and it was a difference between the elementary school pupils and those of the high school. In the earlier years, Vivian had worn a kind of tunic which went down to the middle of her thighs, old fashioned bloomers, anklet socks and white shoes, as well as a middy blouse. Her high school costume, on the other hand, comprised a short-sleeved blouse, a black cotton skirt down to her knees, gray cotton stockings held up with elastic garters (which she detested) and black shoes. She also wore a kind of camisole, in lieu of a bra (the girls from sixteen on were allowed to wear brassieres) and a pair of white cotton panties which, to her mind, was a vast improvement over the ridiculous bloomers of the earlier grades.
When she found her way to the gymnasium, it was in total darkness, but conspiratorial whispers from her friend Mavis led her to a door at the side, which led down the steps to a wide kind of storage basement. Here the lights could be turned on without any danger of being seen by any of the faculty members in the school building, and here the orgies and hazings took place.
To Vivian's surprise, she saw six of the girls including Mavis wearing only bathrobes and slips. These were permitted in the evening in their rooms, but only to the girls who were sixteen and over. No girl, by school rule, could leave her room or dormitory in such summary attire without permission from a monitor or one of the matrons, unless, of course, it was to go to the bathroom down the hall.
Vivian was to be the only "pledge" initiated that night, and it was to be the beginning of her masochistic acceptance of mingled pain and pleasure the Lesbian way.
As she told me, "I hadn't made too many friends in school during the elementary grades, I guess, because I was a little scared and shy, and also very lonely at being so far away from home. My uncle and aunt came to see me about two or three times a year at most, and though they would write, it wasn't the same as when Dad and Mom were alive. I tried to do well in my classes, so I suppose I got the reputation of being a teacher's pet. Anyway Mrs. G. (the head of the school) was always holding me up as a shining example, and I certainly wished she hadn't, because I got all sorts of nasty and snide remarks from my classmates about what a little goody-goody I was."
Mavis had chosen Vivian as a perfect victim exactly because of this preferential status in school. Also, because of her innocence and loveliness. Adolescents can be extremely cruel to one another, and this memorable night was to inculcate in Vivian's psyche the pernicious seed of servility and proneness to trial and tribulation. Hazing should be outlawed in all schools, and for the most part it is, but it is the secret cult in society such as we find in that St. Louis private school which causes incalculable damage to the personality of the sensitive introvert, whether male or female.
Down in this basement, the six girls had arranged several apparatuses from the gym itself which they found particularly adaptable to their sadistic little games and torments. One was an old worn vaulting horse, with two handles in the very middle, a padded leather body and heavy metal legs. Vivian was blindfolded, her wrists tied behind her back, and three of the girls lifted her up astride this horse and set her down exactly between the two handles. Another girl then corded her bound wrists to the ring behind her, while still another let down a pulley rope, clambered onto the horse facing the blindfolded young victim, and tied the rope to a sheaf of Vivian's hair which was then pulled up high until it tractioned her sensitive scalp.
Before they had sat her down astride the horse, however, they had pulled up her skirt and petticoat and pinned them up above her waist, so that her straddled pose made her thin panties feel as if they would split at any moment from the distension of her buttocks and legs.
She began to sob and to beg to know what was to be done with her, and Mavis jeeringly retorted, "You're just a silly little crybaby, but we're going to make that yellow streak of yours stain your panties." This obscene remark drew giggles and taunts from the other girls, and now Vivian was really mortally afraid.
Vivian next cried out after a long moment of waiting when she suddenly felt cold water being sloshed against her bottom. Mavis had taken a bucket, filled it with water, and doused it over the victim's panties, soaking them completely. The other girls then gathered around the horse, all armed with either leather soles or strips of rubber tubing cut from an old bicycle tire, improvised whips which they often used on their "pledges."
For the next ten minutes, Vivian was in agony, and her cries were deafening. There was no danger that anyone would hear them, and they enjoyed them, which was why they did not gag her. Obsessed with the terrible feeling that she was going to fall from the horse, and held up only by her hair and by the bonds connecting her wrists with the ring behind her, she kicked and wriggled on the horse as the whips and soles smacked against her soaked panties, till it felt as if her bottom was torn and bleeding, though it was not.
When they finally stopped, she was hysterical with pain, and brokenly pleaded to be released.
"Oh no you don't," Mavis sneered. "You're going to do whatever we tell you to, pledge, and if you dare breathe a word of this to anybody, we'll take you down here and give you a lot worse, don't you forget it."
Then she said in a teasing voice, "You know, girls, I think we ought to see how Vivian's big bottom looks now. Besides, I want to spank her some more on the bare skin."
Frantic with terror at this threat, Vivian cried out, "Oh no, oh please don't beat me any more, I'll do anything you want, just tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it, but please don't hurt me any more, I can't stand it!"
"Let's see if she means what she says," the president of the secret sorority spoke up. Her name was Bess T., she was buxom, a sandy-haired blonde of eighteen, and she already was boasting that she had seduced a married man and was going to take him away from his wife. About six months later, the wife discovered this liaison, lured Bess to her house and gave her a sound thrashing, then divorced her husband. Bess was later sent home in disgrace from the school where, it was said, her parents both gave her a sound thrashing and then put her in an even stricter school for a year as a punishment. But at the time, Bess was to be the one who initiated poor Vivian into the forbidden pleasures of Lesbos.
"All right," Mavis reluctantly agreed. "Let's take her down from the horse, girls, and strip her bare-naked. Then we'll see how obedient she is. Otherwise, back she goes for more spanking!"
They untied the girl's hair and wrists, dragged her down from the horse, and soon had all her clothes off except her stockings and garters. Then she was made to kneel down, still blindfolded, with her wrists still tied behind her. Bess approached, unbuttoned her bathrobe, hoisted up her slip, and pressed her pussy against Vivian's mouth. "Lick and suck and kiss it nice," she instructed, "or else!"
Vivian uttered a cry, for she was still blindfolded as well as bound. But she quickly surmised what was wanted of her, when Bess salaciously began to rub her pussy against the sobbing girl's nose and mouth and chin. "I said, kiss it. Mavis, help her along. Maybe she didn't get all the spanking she has coming," Bess angrily commanded.
Vivian was about to protest when suddenly a stinging cut from one of the rubber strips slashed across her already discolored behind. With a shriek of pain, she leaned forward and began to gamahuch Bess, while the latter grabbed her by the hair and, twisting her fingers in it, gave her explicit and obscene directions until at last she achieved orgasm.
In turn, Vivian was compelled to gamahuch each of the five other girls, and then only was the blindfold taken off and she heard herself congratulated for becoming a member. But it was a member on probation, Mavis strictly reminded her, and she would still have to be a kind of slave girl to all the "sisters."
And so for the next six months, until Bess was finally disgraced and sent away from the school for her own long-overdue punishment, Vivian was obliged to go out to the gymnasium at least once every ten days, and there take part either as a witness to other "pledges" who were initiated before her horrified eyes, or herself yield as a loveslave to the older girls. She was made to lie on an old couch, for example; and while Bess straddled over her face and made her gamahuch her, another girl took off all her clothes and got on top of Vivian and began to pussy-rub.
As soon as the ringleader of this vicious and corrupt sorority was dismissed from the school, the other girls became more wary. Vivian was at last able to break away from them, but the damage had been done. She had already learned how to masturbate, and when she was given a roommate who was fourteen to her fifteen, she soon initiated that pretty, shy black-haired girl into the delights of mutual pubic friction, fingering and oral devotionals.
The death of Vivian's aunt and uncle by the time she was sixteen caused a further change in her life. A bank executor had been appointed to look after her estate and to see her through her majority, visited the school, decided that it was not the best place for this lonely girl, and managed to get her a partial scholarship at a Southern Illinois girl's private school. Here she finished her high school curriculum and with honors, and then went to a nearby women's college, intending to major in sociology and perhaps education, since she wanted to be a teacher.
In college, she found no such secret organization as she had at the St. Louis school, but she was still inclined towards Lesbianism. She had, for instance, a crush on her sociology teacher, a handsome widow of thirty-six, who quite quickly understood Vivian's feelings but did not encourage them. She did have a private talk with Vivian in the latter's senior year, and intimated that it would be well if Vivian accept a date occasionally with a man so that she would round out her life and understand the pleasures of normalcy.
After her graduation from college, Vivian abruptly decided that she didn't want to be a teacher. She went back to Wichita to reclaim her parents' house, and she got a job in a department store first as a sales clerk, and then about a year later as a private secretary to one of the merchandising buyers.
At the age of twenty-three, she fell in love with her boss, who was a handsome, aggressive and yet considerate young man of twenty-nine, and it seemed that at last a happy ending might be written to Vivian's disordered life.
To her great dismay, after the first year, she found that she was sterile. Her husband accepted this without any loss of love for her, but Vivian felt extremely guilty. She had gone to church during her marriage, and she was suddenly obsessed with the thought that this sterility was visited upon her because she had been "wicked and sinful" as a young girl, back in the private school.
Her husband, whom we shall call Dave B., had had two or three brief premarital affairs, and he understood that his young beautiful wife was a virgin. He took particular pains to allay her natural fears of the wedding night, and as Vivian told me, "Dave was really a wonderful guy, and there aren't many men who would have put up with my tizzies. I was really scared, because, of course, of all the sex I'd had in school and then later playing with myself. I guess I married Dave because I respected and admired him, and because he was so courteous and decent to me even though he was my boss. Maybe also I felt that the naughtiness I'd been through as a girl could only be wiped out by being-well, normal, because I guess that's what marriage makes a girl-or that's at least what they say it does."
Vivian herself had mixed feelings when she discovered that she could not bear a child. She was disappointed for Dave's sake, to be sure, but when she learned that it didn't really matter to him, because as he told her, they could always adopt children if they really wanted them, she began to wonder if this sterility was not really a curse sent down from heaven upon her to punish her for her girlhood deviations. Also, she inferred somewhat naively that because she could not have a child, her husband would thus be able to have all the sex he wanted with her, even deviate sex, without any danger of pregnancy, and that this too was a sign that her earlier "immorality" had not been entirely "forgiven."
By the time she was twenty-seven, Vivian began to brood more and more about her "guilt." Dave's parents loved her dearly, and she made an excellent housekeeper and cook, while she tried faithfully to fulfill her role as a wife in bed. And yet something was lacking. Not that her husband wasn't virile and at the same time considerate, to be sure; it was simply, as Vivian explained to me, "I just couldn't get excited. I don't know why, because certainly he knew how to touch me with his fingers, even between my legs, when he was making love to me and usually that's supposed to make a girl just crazy for a fellow. But it didn't waken me at all. There were times when I told him to go ahead and have his fun and I would just wait until the next time. Only I knew the next time wouldn't come-and neither did I, to make a very bad joke!"
So it was then that Vivian began to analyze herself, to think back over the days at the St.
Louis school and to realize that in those days, in the midst of her pain and humiliation at the hands of all the sorority girls, she had had many sexual gratifications. Thus it was that she reasoned that if those elements of pain and humiliation could be restored now that she was mature, she might once again experience desire and thus be able to requite Dave's physical love for her.
That was when she first proposed to him that he take her over his lap and spank her. She thought up some pretext, and he only laughed and shrugged and said, "Honey, that isn't anything for me to spank you about, not really. Now if you were cheating on me with some other guy, well, I might want to turn you over my lap and smack some sense into that lovely behind of yours. But that's not my style. Now come here and let me kiss you."
So, dutifully, she submitted, and soon he was caressing her bosom and thighs, moving over her, inserting himself, and performing the act of coitus. And as she told me, "I just lay there with my eyes closed and I wished I could make a better wife for him, but I just couldn't. He had turned me off by laughing at me. What I really wanted was for him to get mad at me and give me a good spanking and then take me by force."
Thus we see how the seed of masochism, sown at such an early age in Vivian's life, had flourished and was now dominating her psyche.
Several times in the next few months, she made allusions to her need to be punished, to be spanked and then loved, but Dave ignored them. Finally, frowning, he told her one evening that he wasn't "kinky," and that he felt that she ought to forget that particular subject.
Realizing that for all her husband's considerateness and affection for her, he still could not communicate with her growing, obsessive need, Vivian at last determined to find her own source of gratification.
One August weekend when Dave was going on a buying trip to Chicago, Vivian asked the sixteen-year-old boy next door if he would like to earn some money by watering her lawn. He readily accepted, and when he had finished, Vivian invited him into the kitchen for iced tea and cookies. He was sturdy, dark-brown-haired, and Vivian shiveringly knew that somehow she was going to force Kenny to spank her and then perhaps make love to her. She didn't quite know how, but she thought a great deal about it as she sat there across the kitchen table from him.
Slyly, she got the subject of conversation around to girls and dating, and Kenny blushingly admitted that he was stuck on one or two girls. Then she asked him if these girls ever teased him, and he admitted that they did. She asked him what he did, and he got red in the face and looked down at the floor and finally stammered, "Well, I guess I just had to go along with it and wait until they got some sense before I went out with them again, that's all."
"But didn't you feel like spanking them, Kenny dear?" she pursued.
"Well, gosh, I guess maybe I did, but I wouldn't do that to a girl. Gosh, she might tell her folks and then I would really be in trouble."
"No, you wouldn't. Lots of girls really want a boy to spank them, a boy they like. For example, if I liked you an awful lot, and I did something naughty, I'd be awful happy if you'd take me over your lap and punish me good and hard and then kiss and make up," Vivian proposed.
"You would?" He stared at her incredulously.
"Yes indeed, I would. Kenny, why don't we pretend I'm your girl? Then I'll show you what I mean. Would you like to try that?"
"Gosh yes, Mrs.-"
"Call me Vivian, please, Kenny dear," she interrupted. "Come along to my room, and we'll play our little game. Then the next time you go out with those naughty girls, you'll know just what to do to them, won't you?"
Wonderingly, but curious all the same, the sturdy boy followed lovely Vivian to her bedroom. Once inside, she locked the door, and then to his amazement, she began to take off her dress and slip. When she was down to bra and panties, garter belt and hose, kicking off her shoes, she explained, "Now you see, when a girl is supposed to get punished, she doesn't wear very much. Now I'm your girl, and I've given you an awfully bad time. I didn't like the movie you took me to last night, and you saw me flirting with another boy today. Now pretend I'm your girl, and go ahead and spank me. Take me over your lap and spank me good and hard so I won't ever do such naughty things again to you."
"But gosh-I couldn't-that is-I don't want to hurt you-" he quavered.
"Please, dear. It's just a game," Vivian said, but her voice was husky and she was trembling and perspiring with her own anticipated lust.
So finally the boy agreed, and Vivian draped herself across his lap, clutched the rung of the chair, and then, looking back up at him, whispered, "Go ahead, I need it! I've been an awfully naughty girl, Kenny. Spank my bottom good and hard. Please, I want you to. Do it till I cry!"
Hesitantly, he applied a light slap, and Vivian impatiently called out, "That's not a spanking, do it hard, I mean it! I've teased you, I've flirted with other fellows, and I really deserve a good hard one. Now go ahead and do it, darling!"
Fascinated by the sight of her plump round bottom in the thin panties, squirming enticingly over his lap, Kenny fell in with the "Little game." As he applied a stinging slap, Vivian gasped and closed her eyes, once more reliving the burning shame and delight which mingled in her psyche back in the private school days. "That's it, dear," she excitedly exclaimed, "only harder, harder and don't stop, even if I cry, I mean it!"
The feel of the resilient flesh against his hand, the sound of her gasps and squeals, the sight of her already scantily clad and beautiful body twisting and wriggling over his lap, produced the desired effect in the sturdy young adolescent. He began to have an erection which Vivian could feel as she twisted and wriggled over his lap and as the spanks grew progressively harder, indicating that he was sharing some of her excitement.
Finally he stopped, out of breath, and by then Vivian was really crying. He had given her about fifty slaps, and her bottom was hot and throbbing with pain. But as she straightened and lifted herself from his lap, rubbing her bottom, she felt warm floods of ecstasy seethe inside her loins. "Now I'm all yours, I'm your girl, Kenny," she panted. "Now I'll show you what a girl will do for you after you've spanked sense into her. Come on, I'm going to show you, darling."
With this, she led the dumbfounded boy to the bed, sat him down beside her, drew his hands to her breasts, made him remove her bra, and then allowed him to fondle and then to kiss her superb round full white breasts. By now the boy was in a frantic state of excitement, unable to believe his good fortune. But Vivian had more in store for him. Lying on the bed, she whispered to him to draw off her panties, and then helped him unzip his fly, drew out his organ, and told him to get over her and love her.
That was the first time she was unfaithful to her husband.
For the next several months, on various occasions, she committed adultery with this juvenile. At least seven times in four months, she told me.
Then Kenny's parents decided to sell their house and move to Tulsa, and the trysts were at an end.
For a few months, Vivian resumed her conjugal duties with Dave. They were unsatisfactory as before, and once again she entreated .him to spank her. She went so far as to wear a filmy nightie, pulled it up to her waist, and placed herself over his lap as he sat reading the evening paper. "Whip me, spank me, darling, I need it," she begged.
But Dave gently lifted her up, shook his head and said, "I don't understand you, darling, you know I don't do that to a woman. Now you go to bed and I'll be along shortly, and I'll see if I can't make you happy the regular way."
But of course he couldn't. And so it was that she turned to another boy, and then another, until finally one terrible afternoon, Dave came home early from a buying trip in St. Louis, and discovered her lying across the lap of a fifteen-year-old boy who was spanking her naked bottom at her order.
It was all he could do to restrain himself from thrashing the boy, and as soon as the frightened youngster had left the house, he told Vivian, "I don't know what's come over you, darling, but you need mental help. I'm going to take you to Chicago to a doctor I know, and see if we can't work something out. I'm not blaming you, but I have to find out what it is that makes you so unhappy with me."
I was visiting Chicago at the time, and my friend called me in on consultation, knowing that this was in my field. Vivian was candid with me, and her husband had several interviews with me in private. I brought them both together, and I suggested that Dave understand Vivian's background better so that he would not judge her and condemn her for the quirks which had led her to masochism.
I also suggested that, for a time, he go along with her wishes and give her a playful spanking, and perhaps try some of the variations in the game of lovemaking which would further her imagination and help her achieve the gratifications she needed. If she could find it with a mature male, and then he in turn could teach her to appreciate the steadfastness of love, I felt there was hope for their marriage.
And so there is indeed, and they have adopted a girl and a boy, and Vivian is gradually leading a life which may be called happily normal, which might not have been hers at all after the private school corruption which very nearly turned her into a pathological masochist.
CHAPTER TWO GRACE, SPURNED SPOUSE
As we mentioned in the foreword, often the female blossoms after she has experienced repressions and subjugations from the male to whom, as Plato reminded us centuries ago, she is equated in polarity. But Plato's philosophy, dealing as it did with hypothetical and idealistic situations, could never have conceived of the complex fears and inhibitions which have been piled upon our growing away from what I like to call honest and candid sexual behavior. In the days when there was less complexity, when we were less concerned about the infinitesimal techniques and prefaces to lovemaking, we tended to act more directly and naturally. To be sure, the high-priced fiction writers and the pseudo-psychiatrists of today would have you believe that men and women, until our own decadent time, were unable to consummate their union and find bliss.
The odd fact of it is that even with the Masters Clinic and its intensive surveys, many a man or woman can be quite frigid simply because, by the computations of scientific tests and all the nuances of what is called "imaginative and contemporary wooing," the woman does not really achieve a full orgasm. Yet if our ancestors were alive today, they might well laugh at us from their Olympian abode and tell us that we have sometimes grown so obsessed with the forest that we cannot see the trees.
Grace E-, a demure, intelligent, twenty-eight-year-old, brown-haired insurance file clerk now living in Chicago, was the victim of a glib neighbor who, herself a divorcee, believed that she could diagnose Grace's sexual problems. More than that, to be sure, Grace was also the victim of a rather inconsiderate husband, who, like so many other men, was quite content to have coital relations, achieve his ejaculation, and then turn calmly onto his back and go to sleep without concerning himself with whether his wife was fulfilled and her nervous system properly appeased.
There are many women who, again stemming from our mid-Victorian precepts that sex is unnatural and sinful when experienced or expressed by the female, believe that it is unnatural and shameful to discuss the marital act with their husbands. Moreover, they have the fatalistic belief that they must submit willingly to the sexual act, lest they be charged either with being "teasers" or "frigid." We are much too prone to fling around designations or epithets these days, and certainly Grace was victimized by what was said to her by a well-meaning neighbor. And yet, had this not occurred, perhaps she might not have embarked upon the erotic adventures which led her to seek out young boys and teenaged males who would dominate her and then grant her coital release.
She was born in Bangor, Maine, and her father was a commercial fisherman going out with fleets for tuna, whitefish, lobsters, and the other piscatorial delicacies which are so prized by the rest of the country. Her mother was a farmer's daughter, the third of five girls (with two brothers), so that Grace at an early age was acquainted with her mother's theory that women were meant to do housework and bear children and keep their men happy. This was fine in itself, except that at the same time, Grace's mother intimated that a woman's lot was not a happy one, and that if Eve had not committed the fatal error in the Garden of Eden, women might not be cursed with the agony of childbirth, the shame of passive submission to the male animal's whims, and all the other shibboleths with which puritanical mothers have beleaguered their daughters for lo these many years.
Grace was given an excellent high school education, had two years of college, and then her father suffered a stroke which prevented his further work. Most of the money he had earned had gone to the education of his daughter, the domestic needs of both his daughter and his wife, and paying off the mortgage on the house, so very little money came in after he was unable to continue with his occupation. Grace went to work in New York City, where she became a file clerk in an insurance company, lived in a cheap coldwater flat in Queens, and sent back as much as she could of her weekly paycheck to her mother.
By the time she was twenty-four, both her parents had died within six months of each other. There was very little money left, except for the house. But Grace, by this time, had decided to make a go of her career in the city. She married Matthew E-, the assistant supervisor of her department, a man of forty-one, waspish, meticulous to a fault, and given to morbid sarcasms. It was the very worst possible marriage she could have made, but perhaps the fact that she was late in her wakening to the call of sensuality, and also perhaps because this man remotely resembled her father, whom she deeply admired, she felt she could find happiness with him.
It was actually more a kind of father-daughter relationship than it was a relationship between man and wife, although Matthew E lost no time in taking Grace's virginity and actually hurting her in the process, but since her mother had told her that this was the common lot of all women who bore the curse of Eve's disobedience, she thought nothing about it and resigned herself to doing her "conjugal duties."
Since she was an extremely attractive young woman, her husband made love to her on an average of three to four times a week during the first year of their marriage. Not once did Grace have, as she told me later when we came together for consultation, what might be called a full orgasm. Her husband was possessive, even sadistic, and he was content with his own ejaculation, considering her merely the vessel of his offertory. He told her that he did not wish to have children for several years until he was "sure of her," for he privately considered her "too flighty."
By the middle of the second year of the marriage, Grace was convinced that her husband liked nothing better than to hurt her and to demean her, mentally as well as physically. Whenever he had the neighbors over for a bridge party or for dinner, he would lengthily and loudly expiate on Grace's shortcomings as a wife, belittling her cooking, her attire, her make-up, and even her wifely ardor as a sexual partner. She would sit there with her head bowed and her cheeks scarlet with shame, wishing she could sink through the floor when he launched into his usual diatribe.
By the time she was twenty-seven, Grace knew she could not bear this marriage any longer. By this time, Matthew E had taken a mistress, and was openly bragging about it to Grace, remarking that "A man like me has to have his satisfaction, and since you can't cut the mustard, I'll go on supporting you. But under the circumstances, you can't expect me to stay in your bed all the time. That's the way it's going to be, and that's it."
Grace tolerated this trying situation for another two or three months, and the upshot of it was that when Matthew brought his mistress home one July weekend and calmly announced that he expected Grace to cook and serve them both and do the housework, she exploded. It cost her a thorough beating. Matthew went to work with his fists, taking care not to hurt her too badly or to break any bones, but at the end of about fifteen minutes she was black and blue, and finally he had flung her to the bed and sat astride her while his young Toronto-born red-haired mistress gigglingly whipped Grace's bottom with a wire coat hanger.
She immediately filed suit for divorce, and Mathew did not contest it. He wanted his freedom so he could marry his Lisa, which he did about five months later. Grace was left the little house and a fair amount of money, and after her features were again unblemished, she went back to work, this time as a stenographer in a large department store.
Her life was to be further complicated by a prying neighbor, a divorcee of forty, Laura F-, who had actually had three marriages and was trying the switch-hitter bit for kicks. One afternoon she walked over and introduced herself, though of course Grace had already met her and had not been particularly interested in pursuing the relationship. She caught Grace on her day off and in a wretchedly dismal mood. She began to flatter the young woman, telling her that she was meant for better things, that she was right in getting rid of "that louse," and that there were more pleasant ways of finding affection.
She plied Grace with several potent drinks of rye, and the young woman became somewhat tipsy. Laura was an excellent weeping-post for her, and tried to comfort her. Before Grace knew what was happening to her, she was in her own bed, undressed down to her panties, garter belt and hose, and Laura was naked in her garter belt and hose, lying beside her. Grace feebly protested, but Laura was not to be denied. Insatiably, she mounted Grace and began to introduce the young woman to the pleasures of tribadism. Her prying fingers, her sly tongue-and lip-kisses, and her sensual greediness, at last drew the young woman to the most potent sexual climax she had ever known.
When it was over, Grace sobered enough to be thoroughly disgusted with herself, and she begged the divorcee to leave the house. Laura did so, smiling triumphantly and knowing perfectly well there would be other occasions. Grace showered and scrubbed herself violently with soap; as she told me afterward, it was perhaps a kind of Lady Macbeth reaction in which she tried to purge herself from what she then believed to be a contaminating act of depravity. It was the first time she had had sexual intercourse with one of her own sex, but what bothered her most was that she had responded. She began introspectively to analyze herself, which is always dangerous for a person who is an introvert to start with. The introvert knows all the answers in advance, and can justify his or her reactions by the most specious and complicated logic, thereby continuing the very circumstances which drove him or her into that emotional tizzy.
She concentrated on her work at the department store and achieved a small raise, which encouraged her considerably. But Laura's desire for the fresh, unspoiled and voluptuous body of the younger divorcee was rekindled when, one summer afternoon, she saw Grace out in the garden wearing only a sleeveless polo shirt and white shorts and sandals, watering the flowers. Grace's fair pink skin, beautifully rounded calves and thighs and buttocks and the jut of her swelling bosom filled the older woman with concupiscence. That evening she walked over to Grace's house to ask the younger divorcee to invite her for potluck. Rather grudgingly, Grace agreed. Laura had come over wearing only a yellow cotton dress, brown shorts and sandals, and it was quite evident she had come ready to bed her neighbor.
While they were washing the dishes together, Laura put her arm around Grace's waist and tried to kiss her on the neck. Grace angrily shoved her away and Laura stumbled and fell, bruising herself painfully. Infuriated as only a Lesbian can be when she is thwarted, Laura swore revenge. Grace coolly told her she never wanted to see her again.
But Laura was to have revenge after all, through her own prying jealousy, as we shall see.
About two months later, a fifteen-year-old neighborhood boy came to Grace's house to ask if he might mow the lawn. He was a handsome adolescent, rather chubby, with mild blue eyes and soft features, curly light-brown hair and quite sturdy. His name was Albert. Grace at once engaged him and told him to come every Saturday afternoon. The following Saturday afternoon was quite warm, and Albert showed up wearing a T-shirt and sandals. His bare flesh was as soft and fair as a girl's. The day was oppressive and one of the main air conditioners in the house wasn't working. Grace was going about in a slip and bedroom slippers, glancing around outside occasionally to make sure the boy was doing his work properly. At noon she decided to call him in for lunch, put on a bathrobe and summoned him to a hastily assembled lunch of cold cuts, iced tea and crackers.
As they sat there together across the kitchen table, Grace saw that Albert was staring at her, and that his face was quite red. She glanced down at herself and saw that she had forgotten to button the bathrobe at the very top. The slip was of beige nylon, and it showed the round thrust of her breasts, the brown aureoles and the pert nipple buds. Blushing scarlet, she hastily buttoned the bathrobe to the neck, and then perhaps some coquettish instinct, or again, her loneliness, made her unexpectedly tease him about looking at girls.
"Don't you have one of your own to look at, Albert?"
"Oh no, ma'am," he blurted.
"Well, it's very flattering. You're a very nice boy, Albert. You mustn't mind me. I was just making a joke. It's very warm outside, so you don't need to be in a hurry to finish the lawn if you don't want to."
"But I do want to, Mrs. E-, " he protested.
Grace warmed to the boy and his polite manners. She made him sit there for a while, urging him to have another glass of tea and some cookies as well. She elicited from him something about his background, and found that he was a loner too. He had excellent grades in school, but it was well known at school that his parents were on the verge of separation. He was unmercifully teased, and he wasn't the sort who was pugnacious enough to defend himself; consequently he was always being subjected to ridicule.
One of the chief traits which we notice in the study of the masochist is his or her capacity for self-pity and the need for sympathy. It is also a well-known truism that misery loves company. Perhaps Albert's innocent avowal of his own loneliness helped to bring about all the sooner the strange, complex union between the lonely boy and this frustrated, lonely adult female.
After they had concluded lunch and their conversation, the boy went back to work. Laura, across the way, was snooping from her bedroom window. She saw how long Albert was in the house, and when she saw him emerge, she began to conjure up all sorts of erotic ideas. She hated Grace for having yielded to her so passionately once and then having denied her the next time.
So, she thought to herself, that bitch is going to play around with a kid, is she? All right, I'll give her enough rope to hang herself.
By four o'clock Albert had finished his work and came into the house to receive his pay. Grace was in the shower, and the boy innocently wandered through the house looking for her. He saw the bathroom door closed, knocked on it, and Grace inadvertently opened it as she reached for a towel to drape around her voluptuous body. As she did so, she saw beyond the open door the figure of the boy, goggling, his mouth open, and realized that she was stark naked. With a Cry of embarrassment, she slammed the door shut, draped the towel around her middle, then put on her bathrobe before she opened the door again. Her face was scarlet as she met his eyes.
"I-I'm sorry, Albert. I thought you had gone already. Wh-what do I owe you?" she stammered.
"F-five dollars, ma'am. I-I didn't mean to look." He seemed crushed, and Grace suddenly felt a wave of tenderness surge through her.
"That's all right, dear. I know you didn't mean to. It was my fault. I just forgot maybe it was you. I don't know what I was thinking. Anyway, let's go into my room and I'll get my purse and give you your money. And a tip too, for being such a nice boy. You'll come back again, won't you, next Saturday?"
"If you want me to, ma'am."
"Of course I do, dear. Come along now."
In her bedroom Grace opened her purse and took out six dollars. Albert was overjoyed and didn't want to take the extra dollar tip, but Grace insisted. Impulsively the boy flung his arms around her, hugged her and kissed her, and that set off the spark which released all the pent-up fervor which Grace had suppressed since the day of her unfortunate marriage, till that afternoon when she had allowed the divorcee to seduce her. With a sob, Grace clutched the boy to her and they stood there in the middle of the room, straining in each other's embrace.
"Oh, Albert, you're such a nice boy-I'm sorry I teased you before. I was naughty. I ought to be spanked for it," she blurted out.
And as she said it, a trembling fit seized her, and she stared at the boy as if seeing him for the first time. The spankings and the beating which Matthew G had inflicted on her had, unknown to herself, left their psychic mark.
Going to the door, she bolted it, and then she whispered, "I won't feel good about it until you do give me a spanking, dear. Please do it-I want you to. Then we'll be all fair and even, and you can come back next week and everything will be fine. I want you to, Albert."
With this, she pushed the amazed boy towards a chair, made him sit down in it, then laid herself across his lap. "Spank me hard," she murmured huskily. "I deserve a good one." Then, gripping the rung of the chair with both hands, she bowed her head and waited.
"I-I don't want to hurt you, Mrs. E--! " he gasped.
"Oh please, call me Grace, Albert darling. But I want you to-good and hard. Please use your hand good and hard on my bottom. Go ahead."
A throbbing note of masochistic yearning was in her voice. The boy, just out of puberty, could not understand fully, but he found this strange situation fascinating and almost incredible. Moreover, since she wore only the towel around her middle and the thin bathrobe, her ample, rounded, full bottom cheeks loomed up at him in the most enticing way. Before he knew what he was doing, he had raised his right hand and given her a tentative spank. Grace sighed wistfully.
"Harder than that, dear. That's not a spanking at all!"
"Are you sure, ma'am?" he nervously inquired.
"Of course I am. If you don't spank me hard, I won't ever let you do my lawn again," she countered.
So the boy began to spank her. He was hardly an expert, but the rapidity of his spanks and the vigor of them produced in Grace's proffered posterior a glowing sting, which roused her sexuality. Sobbing with joy, she suddenly halted him a moment, reached back, grabbed the hem of her bathrobe and lofted it, to expose her naked behind, already crimsoned from his handiwork.
"On the bare. Good and hard, now, till I cry. I'll be a good girl when you do," she promised.
Albert had never before seen a woman naked. The revelation of Grace's naked bare bottom stung him, and it also roused him physically. She could feel his boyish erection prod against her belly as she flattened herself against him. And when the first crisp smack of his palm fell on her naked flesh, she sighed ecstatically, for this was what she needed. Closing her eyes, she surrendered herself to the exquisite and perverse pleasure of masochistic acceptance of pain. The perverse fact that a boy was spanking her naked bottom, and she a grown woman, added immeasurably to her enjoyment.
Finally he stopped, out of breath and fearful that he had hurt her. But she reassured him by scrambling to her feet, lifting him to his feet, then hugging him passionately and then kissing him full on the mouth. Her fingers fumbled feverishly with the buttons on the bathrobe, and it fluttered to the floor and she was naked except for the towel. A moment later that joined the bathrobe, and she stood before him in all her naked, opulent loveliness.
"Oh, Albert, that was just what I needed! Now you've taught me how to be a good girl, and I'll do anything you want. Would you like to play with me a little? Would you like to feel my titties and my pussy?" she whispered in an urgent, vibrant tone.
He nodded, his face flooded with crimson, too flustered to speak. She led him to the bed then, and whispered, "Let me take off your things too, dear, so we can be more comfy together."
He demurred a little, being shy, but soon she persuaded him to allow her to strip him naked except for his socks. His young penis was already in a violent state of erection and she nuzzled it as she caressed it in her soft, warm palms, and made him turn on his side towards her. Her left hand on his shoulders, her right hand reaching down to fondle his prick, she arched against him, her panting round titties mashed against his chest and her mouth crushed against his. He moaned with delirious ecstasy at this his first carnal cohesion.
"Have you ever played with a girl like this before, darling?" she whispered.
He shook his head, trembling, dazed with the most violent wakening of his young healthy body.
"Then I'll show you what to do, dear. Now then, I'm going to put this lovely little thing right into me. like this." She took hold of his cock with left thumb and forefinger, then opened the lips of her pussy with the fingers of her right hand and introduced him into her. Then, gripping him by the hips, she rolled onto her back and drew him over her.
"Now then, go up and down in me, darling, and kiss me hard. I need this after that good spanking you gave my naughty bottom," she urged him.
In the warm tight housing of her churning cunt, Albert's young stiff ramrod knew the paradise of first-time fulfillment. Sobbing with delight, he moved up and down on her in jerky, abandoned movements, but Grace did not mind his ineptitude. Her fingernails gouged his shoulder, her lips met his and her tongue demandingly entered his mouth. She felt the jet of his young spunk, and then she felt her own body jerking in a turbulent release. It was the most glorious sensation she had known, surpassing even that with Laura.
When it was over, Grace made much of her young lover. Gently easing him off onto his back, she turned to him and affectionately kissed him as a kind of thank-you for the pleasure he had accorded her. Her hands stroked him, and she exclaimed over his young sturdy manhood, promising that soon he would have even greater pleasure with her. She sponged his limp cock with a handkerchief taken from the night table, and at last under the ministrations of her fingering caresses, she felt him return to rigidity again. But this time she wished to control him a little more, as a kind of compensation for the brutal way in which Matthew had used her.
Spreading her thighs, she whispered to him lovingly, "Darling, get between my legs and kiss me there. Right here, darling-" pointing to her vulva.
The boy, entranced, obeyed. Grace's hands clutched at her titties, her head turned to and fro on the pillow, her body arching to that eager mouth and darting tongue. Once again she experienced a powerful climax, and she lay half-swooning in delicious bliss.
Now, to reward Albert for his performance, she had him lie on his back while she crouched between his thighs, bent her head and took his young organ into her mouth. Delicately tonguing it, sucking gently, she produced another slood of spunk, which she swallowed. It seemed to her that this was not at all revolting, for he was clean and young and fresh and virginal until this hour.
This time she went to her purse and gave him another five-dollar bill, telling him to keep it for himself and spend it on sodas and other pleasures he would like. She also urged him to return the next Saturday. It was a tired but memorably sated youngster who left her house and was seen by the growingly jealous divorcee across the way.
Now Laura was certain that Grace had seduced the boy, or he never would have stayed so long in her house after having finished the lawn. During the following week she carefully planned her revenge.
The next Saturday Laura kept close tabs on the proceedings in her neighbor's yard. It was nearly six o'clock. She bided her time, however, while Albert mowed the lawn, then went into Grace's house for a snack. She left her own house and slipped into the backyard next door. She managed to gain entry through a half-open window in the basement, and clambered quietly up the stairs to the pantry, opened the door slightly and eavesdropped.
She was just off the kitchen, and she could hear Grace telling Albert tenderly how much she had enjoyed last Saturday and how, after work today, she was going to let him make love to her again. A crafty smile was on Laura's somewhat vulpine features. Now she had Grace where she wanted her.
She decided to stay in her hiding place all that afternoon, for her own salacious lust demanded that she be witness to the lovemaking between this handsome young boy and her coveted lesbian partner. Sure enough, when Albert finished he went back into the house to get his pay. Laura waited until they went upstairs, then left her hiding place under the steps, got into the pantry and tiptoed down the hall, just close enough to the door to be able to hear. She heard the sounds of spanking. Once again Grace had urged Albert to begin their amours by preparing her bottom through pain to waken her entire body to voluptuous delights.
Soon the sounds came from bare flesh, for once again Grace had removed her bathrobe and allowed the boy to spank her naked seat with all his might. She could hear Grace's cries and sobs and moans, and she began to masturbate herself under her dress, shuddering and closing her eyes to imagine all sorts of erotic scenes in which she did the same to Grace. Then the voices were more hushed, but the bed creaked significantly, and finally she heard Grace cry out in the throes of climax.
She tiptoed back out of Grace's house and back to her own, prepared herself a luxurious supper, opened a bottle of wine and drank a toast to the beautiful younger divorcee next door.
Late the next afternoon she paid a visit to Grace's house. Grace had slept until almost that time and was wearing only her bathrobe and slippers. When she opened the door and saw Laura, she frowned and was about to close the door, but Laura pushed her way inside and insinuated, "Don't be in such a high and mighty state with me, Grace honey. I know what you've been doing with Albert there."
"Wh-what do you mean?" the younger woman stammered.
"Come off it! What I heard last night would be enough to send you to the pen. Contributing to the delinquency of a minor like that! You'd be run out of town-they ought to tar and feather you and put you on a rail!" Laura said vituperatively.
Grace turned pale as death, and began to tremble. Laura's mouth curved in a cruel smile. "I knew it! Well, do you want me to telephone the authorities and have you arrested for the dirty bitch you are?"
"No, n-no, please don't do that," Grace faltered faintly.
"I won't-on one condition. From now on, honey, you're going to let little Laura have fun whenever she wants-and Laura wants right now. Take off your bathrobe and get into your room this very minute! So you like to be spanked, do you? I think I can accommodate you there too. Come on, get moving! My, you've got a gorgeous shape. I'll bet Albert jacks himself off at night, thinking about it until the next Saturday. Doesn't he?" Laura jeered.
Naked, her head bowed, Grace resignedly moved toward her bedroom, Laura after her. Once there, Grace seated herself on the edge of the bed, her head drooping. Laura sat down beside her and brusquely pulled Grace across her lap, then proceeded to inflict a very painful, thorough and sound spanking. When it was over and Grace was sobbing, the attractive young woman found herself forced to her knees and heard Laura's voice hissing in her ear, "Now gam me, you dirty bitch. Anything you can do with a boy, you can do better with little Laura, and I'm here to make sure you do!"
Since she had come prepared, with no under things beneath her thin cotton dress, she had only to haul up her skirt to present her furry cunt to the tearful victim.
Thus began about six months of bondage for the unfortunate young woman. Grace was allowed, thanks to Laura's ironic sense of "fair play," as she put it, to continue her affair with Albert. In return,, she had to let Laura into her house to eavesdrop and hear all that went on, and then she had to relate, in detail, to Laura after supper, all that she had "been up to" with the boy.
Laura's domination of her became more and more tyrannical. Now the spankings were replaced by actual whippings. Grace had to lie on the bed, her wrists and ankles spread-eagled by cords, and then she was blindfolded. Laura would spit at her, slap and pinch her, promising gloatingly how hard she was going to be whipped tonight. Then would follow a belting, or sometimes a flogging with a wire coat hanger, or perhaps a heavy leather strap. After that, Grace would have to gamahuch Laura and then pussyrub against her.
At last Grace could bear no more. The final blow came when Albert's parents had to move out of town because the father had been offered a better job in Chicago. Albert bade a tearful farewell to her that final Saturday, and Grace had her last fucking and gamming from the now talented youth. Immediately after Albert had left the bedroom, Laura entered, locked the door behind her, took Grace over her lap for a good hard spanking, then made Grace gam her good. On Monday morning Grace decided to throw off the shackles of this distasteful bondage, which seemed to have no end in sight. As it happened, I was lecturing in that city and had several engagements lasting over ten days, during which time I provided an occasional psychiatric consultation with the patients of a few of my professional colleagues. One of them called me to talk to me about Grace E and I agreed to see and talk to this attractive young woman.
Her story was as I have told it to you, and the end of it is not yet in sight. My advice to her was to sell the house and go to another city, like Chicago or Boston, and start a new life, eventually marrying a man who would be considerate and passionate at the same time. She is now in Chicago working for a realty firm and appears to be happy in her job. She has not yet met the man who can assuage her needs, but I do not think she will again seek in her masochistic yearnings a young boy to be her lord and master. The complexity of Grace E-'s case was the blackmailing sexuality of Laura. The victimization is part of the sadist's bag of tricks, and so Laura had entered Grace's life at the worst possible time.
CHAPTER THREE ALMA, STEPFATHER'S SLAVE
In the female, masochism may be said to be latent in the pre-puberty stages. It is most often developed in puberty and immediately after, during the teenaged formative years when the girl is most impressionable. Consequently, since it is the instinct of the child to turn for affection to the parent or parents closest to it from which it draws its knowledge and understanding and its ability and latencies to cope with the conflict of personalities, it stands to reason that when a girl is exposed to physical and mental and psychological duress, her latent masochism is greatly stressed and may well overtake her psyche until she becomes a confirmed masochist.
This is precisely what happened to Alma O-, a comely thirty-one-year-old Denver housewife. Alma was born in Salt Lake City, her father being a Mormon deacon and her mother a singer in the choir at the church where he officiated. It was a love match, and Alma was very definitely desired. During the first ten years of this marriage, by which time Alma was nine, her life was idyllic. Her mother could have no more children according to doctor's orders and consequently her parents made much of the lovely blonde youngster. At the same time, she was taught propriety and respect for authority and went to church regularly. One would never have guessed that she was in anyway to show delinquency, most particularly in sexual matters.
Her father died from an infection which developed into gangrene, and Alma's mother and the little girl were left in financial straits. Consequently, Alma's mother remarried about eight months later, and her choice of a second husband was destined to affect Alma's life.
Carl, forty, was marrying for the second time, having been divorced a decade earlier. If Alma's mother had ascertained the real reason, she might have hesitated in her choice for the successor to her easygoing, gentle husband, for Carl had shown a streak of sadism and beaten his wife severely until at last she sought an attorney's aid in dissolving the marriage. There were no children in that first marriage.
Deceptively, he wooed her, showing the little girl a great deal of attention, for Alma was already developing physically and was even at the age of twelve enticingly alluring. She had a sweet heart-shaped face, large blue eyes, a dainty nose, and dimpled chin; and her soft pink skin and budding breasts and long coltish legs and compact buttocks must surely have registered in the sensual appraisal of her stepfather. Suffice it to say that about two months after the marriage, Carl began to find fault with Alma's conduct around the house, her alleged disrespect to him and even to her mother, and began to invent pretexts whereby he could scold the girl and finally, through his own dominant personality, convince her mother that Alma required corporal chastisement.
Of course Alma had never before been spanked, so the very first occasion was a horrifying and embarrassing shock to her. Called into her mother's room, she found her stepfather there with her, and both were in agreement that she had been saucy in her replies in the kitchen that evening and was thus condemned to punishment. Although she pleaded with her mother, the latter was adamant and said that from now on her stepfather would be responsible for her corrections. Naturally Alma felt betrayed and rejected by a mother she had always loved and respected. She tried to protest and then, when her stepfather seized her preparatory to putting her across his lap, to struggle and run. The upshot was that it became a noisy and hysterical scene. Screaming in fear and shame, she kicked at him, until finally her mother had to restrain her, and it was only then that she was laid across his lap. Clamping his leg over her calves, he pulled up her little skirt and petticoat, then yanked down her panties, and proceeded to spank her chubby, naked behind with the flat of his hand until her flesh was an inflamed, dark red, and she was hoarse from screaming for mercy.
Sent to her room then and told that she would be brought her breakfast and be reunited with her stepfather to apologize for her unseemly conduct, Alma cried herself to sleep. The next morning, her eyes red and swollen, her face downcast, she confronted the new ogre of the household. He lectured her at great length, and she showed evident fear of him, which delighted the sadistic older man.
For the next two years, Alma's life was one of constant lectures and humiliating spankings. Several times, her stepfather ordered her mother to take her across her lap, bare her bottom and apply the spanking herself. And on those occasions, he would always find reason to complain that his wife was showing too much leniency with the child, halt the spanking, seize poor weeping Alma and put her across his own and conclude the spanking so cruelly that she was always breathless and hoarse from crying out in supplication.
Finally, at the age of sixteen, after she had finished high school with an excellent record-she actually plunged herself into scholastic endeavor in an attempt to escape from the gloomy and dour atmosphere of home-"-, she ran away to Denver where she lied about her age and got a job selling sheet music in a music store. She played the piano rather well, and was soon plugging songs with a raise in salary. By the time she was eighteen, she was virtually independent, and yet she still felt rejected and lonely and had made few friends in Denver.
Six months later, she believed she had fallen desperately in love with a suave, black-haired commercial artist named Dane who visited the music store, was stricken by her blonde loveliness, and asked her out for a date. A month later they were married. Dane was thirty-one, and he was a good deal of a philanderer. He was also considerably experienced in coital lovemaking, and when he first demanded that Alma perform fellatio on him, she was shocked and horrified and flatly refused.
To her despair and shame, she found herself yanked unceremoniously across his lap, her nightie furled up to her armpits, and given a sound thrashing with the sole of an old leather slipper until she pleaded for mercy. Sobbing wildly, both hands rubbing her blazing behind, Alma slipped down to her knees between her husband's legs bowed her head and performed the obscene act which was anathema to her.
From then on, Dane had her at his mercy. The marriage lasted three years, and the singular thing was that even though Alma was often repelled by her husband's cruelty and diabolical methods of "getting even" with her, she found that she responded to his sexual cruelty and domineering possessiveness. It was obvious, though not to her at that time, to be sure, that her masochistic latencies had been developed during the regime of her stepfather Carl, and Dane now supplanted him as her lord and master, and sexual tyrant.
Two months before the end of their marriage, she discovered that he was having an affair with a nightclub singer. When she remonstrated, he flung her down on the bed, tied her wrists to the bedpost, rolled up skirt and slip, yanked down her panties, and whipped her buttocks with his belt until she promised never to be suspicious again. But Dane had an even more sadistic and humiliating punishment in store for her. The very next night, he brought his new mistress, an auburn-haired chorine of twenty, to the apartment. The two of them stripped Alma naked, tied her hand and foot on the couch, and then whipped and spanked her, amusing themselves by forcing her to perform cunnilingus on the chorine and then fellatio on Dane himself. As a culmination, while Alma lay panting and suffering from the pain of her whippings and the atrocious humiliation of her denigration, Dane and his mistress copulated before her.
The next morning she went to an attorney, and the marriage was quickly dissolved.
Alma went back to music to earn her own livelihood after Dane had made a small settlement on her and did not contest the divorce action. She discovered that she had a penchant for teaching piano, and so she set herself up as a music teacher. First, she rented a house on the outskirts of Denver so that the noise of the piano would not disturb close-by neighbors. By this time, she was ripely endowed, with full round breasts and buttocks, thoroughly feminine thighs and calves, and her sweet features and soft voice made her extremely desirable. But at this point, understandably, she wanted no more part of selfish, sadistic men. Quite by accident, her very first pupil led her down the pathway which her earlier traumatic experiences with her stepfather and then with her husband had begun: the path of masochistic surrender, but this time to a teenaged male.
This first pupil, whom we shall call Earl L-, was fifteen, exceptionally precocious for his age with a glib tongue and quick mind, and he played quite well even as a beginner. Alma had always loved classical music, and she had prepared herself for her new situation by studying with a retired former concert pianist who had often played in Denver and the mountain areas. She was therefore able to teach her students Bach, Haydn, Mozart, as well as the exercises by Czerny and Henselt and others. Also, from her work in the store plugging songs, she could improvise and play popular music quite well.
Earl was interested in classical music, and after a few preliminary pieces, Alma gave him a Beethoven sonata to study. He did quite well, but after about the fifth lesson on the sonata, she mildly found fault with his execution and tempo. "But that's the way the composer wrote it, Miss Alma," the youth protested. He was black-haired, not unlike her husband, and perhaps in his way as suave and imaginative. He was already sensually aware of her as a woman, and he had already learned how to masturbate and to conjure up illusions of attractive naked females in bed at night.
Alma continued to argue that she was right, and finally produced the score. Somewhat to her chagrin, she found that one of the tempi which he had used was optional, and therefore stammeringly and blushingly admitted that perhaps she had been too quick in her judgment. "Now if I were the teacher and you the pupil, Miss-, " Earl slyly rejoined, "I'd have to punish you for that. And if I were wrong right now, I'd expect you to punish me.
"Why, Earl, whatever do you mean?" she innocently asked.
"Oh I don't know," he smiled. "There was one teacher some of us kids had some years back, that was before I was studying, though, and I heard she used to smack their bottoms with a ruler."
At this seemingly innocent phrase, Alma turned scarlet. It summoned up for her all the memories of the past, in which she had gone over first her stepfather's lap and then her husband's, to submit her bare behind to a severe and painful spanking. She glanced at the young boy seated beside her. He was tall, lanky, and his use of diction and manners were certainly more than one expected of a fifteen-year-old. He returned her gaze levelly, and her blushes deepened. "You mean-you think I ought to be spanked, do you?" she tried to make a joke of it.
"Sure. What's fair is fair, isn't it?" he replied with the pitiless logic of the young.
As Alma told me, "When Earl said that, all of a sudden I felt almost faint. The insides of my legs were beginning to twitch, and I could feel myself getting warm, just as I did when I knew I was going to have relations with Dane. Sometimes even when my stepfather Carl was spanking me, even when I was that young, I'd get the most curious feelings. Later at night, when I was all by myself in bed, I would put my hand between my legs and tickle myself there-you know where-and I would always be excited. I guess maybe it was Earl's looking at me so domineeringly, just as if he were Dane or my stepfather Carl, that set me off. I don't know what came over me, but all of a sudden I heard myself saying, 'Well, if you think that's what I need, maybe I ought to let you, then.' "
"I'll bet you don't dare, Miss O-, " Earl replied. Alma rose from the bench, and stared at him almost unbelievingly. She couldn't believe that this fifteen-year-old boy actually meant to subject her to so humiliating and sensual experience.
"We were joking, weren't we? Maybe we ought to call the lesson off for today," she finally stammered.
"Oh no. Fair is fair, that's what my folks tell me, and you said that yourself when we first started. You said you'd tell me if I made mistakes, and that I would have to learn to own up to my faults. Well, teacher, the same should go for you by rights, shouldn't it?" Once again his youthful logic was irrefutable.
"Well, why don't you pretend that I've had a spanking and that I'm sorry and I apologize," she finally proffered.
But the precocious youth would have none of this casualistic argument. Shaking his head, he declared that he insisted that she accept the spanking, or else he wouldn't be a pupil of hers anymore. Moreover, he would tell his other friends, some of whom were already studying with Alma, that she wasn't a good teacher. Thus he used sexual black-mail to achieve his own purpose. But this could never have happened if Alma not already been masochistically inclined, as we shall see.
So she found herself leading him into her bedroom, and there, after drawing the shades and locking the door, telling him falteringly, "I'm going to let you, but of course you're going to do it over my clothes."
"Oh no I'm not. If you gave me a spanking, you'd give it to me on the bare, wouldn't you, teach?" was his ironic and astonishing counter.
"Oh please! You know perfectly well-my goodness, you're just a boy and I-I'm a grown woman-"
"That's got nothing to do with it. I know all about sex and stuff, so you don't have to worry, teach," he callously and glibly reassured her. Then, seating himself on a straight-backed chair, he patted his lap and said, "All right, Alma, pull your clothes up and get your panties down and get over my lap. I'm going to punish you for being wrong about that sonata."
As she told me, "I stood there as I had done when Carl used to lecture me and then get myself ready for a spanking. All of a sudden Earl was Carl over again, and maybe Dane too. I was all mixed up. I stooped and pulled up my skirt and slip, and then I came over towards him. The boy was really a devil, I don't know where he learned all that at such a youthful age, but he certainly knew how to take advantage of me. And the strange thing was I went along with him, all the time feeling terrible excitement between my legs, as I always did whenever I had love made to me after a spanking. I sort of felt it was going to happen, and yet I was helpless to stop it."
Earl stopped her so that she would remove her panties. She wore a garter belt whose tabs hooked to the tops of her flesh-colored nylons, and he stared greedily at her plumply rounded thighs and calves as she blushingly slipped down her panties, trying to hide the bushy thatch of her pubic hair from him. "Pull your panties all the way down to your ankles," he insisted, "and then get over my lap this minute. The longer you keep me waiting, the longer I'm going to spank you, Alma." By now, as one notices, the boy was using her first name as if they were equals.
With a choking sob, Alma hastily draped herself across his lap. He continued to astonish her with his savoir faire by shoving up skirt and slip, high on her back, and then adjusting her to his liking, pushing her close to him. His left arm at last went round her naked waist, and he stared for an entranced moment at the pink-sheened round shrinking globes of her upturned naked behind.
Then he put his right palm over the young woman's posterior, and Alma said to me, "I felt myself just melt then. I felt like a little girl over Carl's lap, with my big bottom up in the air, and that boy looking at me. He saw everything I had, because I had had to take my panties down all the way before him and he saw my pussy. I was just helpless, and I couldn't move. I knew he was going to spank me, and maybe do more than that, and the strange being a little girl again, feeling so helpless and humbled and knowing I was in for a painful punishment."
Finally he began to spank, but at first lightly, amusing himself to see his hand dance off her resilient buttocks, first left and then right. Then, pausing a moment, he told her, "Now, you're really going to get it. Alma. You've been a bad girl and you argued with me and you didn't want to take your punishment as you should. Get ready!" Thereafter, the spanks rained down upon her naked behind, and soon Alma began to kick and squeal just as a young girl would have done under a similar circumstance. Her buttocks turned a bright pink and then red, and the burning pain surged throughout her entire nervous system. She kept crossing and recrossing her legs, but she was helpless to prevent the spasmodic twistings of her naked hips, and at times she knew that she was showing him everything she had.
It excited her enormously.
And he was excited too.
At times also, he would draw her closer to him with his left arm, for three or four extra hard spanks. Finally he said, in a thick voice, "All right, I'm finished. Now get off my lap and say you're sorry that you were wrong and didn't teach me right, that you deserve this spanking."
Slowly she stumbled to her feet, her panties twisted round her ankles, her clothes still uptrussed, knowing that she was exposed.
She wanted it and didn't want it!
Giving forth a big sob, she reached out her arms to him.
Earl rose and clutched her to him, and she could feel his young prick thrusting hard against her crotch. "Oh oh, we shouldn't be doing this-oh please, Earl, let me go, let me put my clothes back on," she weakly protested.
But she knew perfectly well that she didn't want to. She knew fatalistically that she wanted this strange boy-man, so domineering and so reminiscent to her of Carl and Dane, to continue exactly as they would have done.
And that is what happened. He led her to the bed, thrust her down on her back, and then opened his trousers and exhibited his sturdy young prick. Her eyes widened at the size of it, and the angry red rigidity of it. A moment later, he was kneeling between her legs, his hands on her breasts, squeezing them, grinning at her. "You know you want to get it, you know you do, Alma," he muttered. Then he sank down, and she made a stifled cry and averted her face, averting her eyes as if to hide herself, ostrich-like, from this event which she had feared and yet secretly yearned for.
"He fucked me hard, and he had a lot of self-control. I was so amazed, he did it so well. He would stop several times and wait, and I could feel myself just melting as I held him in me. And then he went in and out quickly, and all of a sudden I felt myself nearly fainting. I guess I had a climax."
When it was over, Earl lazily got off the bed and drawled, "Want to finish the lesson, now, or shall I come back tomorrow afternoon?"
Aware of what she had done, Alma was consternated. She stammeringly begged Earl not to tell anyone what had happened, and he assured her that he wouldn't-for a price. "I want to spank you and make love to you whenever I want, you understand? Otherwise I'll tell my folks. You know they'd put you in jail, because I'm under age," he blackmailed her.
For three months this singular situation persisted. Beyond that, Alma found herself almost insatiable in her lustful desires to be dominated, for all her masochism had come back to the surface now. She had two other boys, and one of them was about seventeen, with tumbled brown hair, and glasses, but quite sturdy. On some pretext, she gave him a wrong lesson, and then apologized, saying with a little giggles that she really ought to be spanked for wasting all his time. He too took the hint, and a little later, stretched out on the couch with him sitting there, Alma submitted to a bare-bottom spanking. The boy, however, had never before had such relations and did not move to coitus with her. Instead, she taught him to perform cunnilingus on her, while in return, she knelt down fondled his penis and finally took it into her mouth and sucked him to climax.
Finally Earl's father discovered the affairs quite by accident, when he overheard his son boasting to a neighborhood crony of his exploits with the attractive music teacher. Earl's father went directly to Alma O-, and confronted her with what he had heard. Shamefacedly, she tearfully confessed. He told her that he had a good mind to have her thrown in jail, and she pleaded with him to allow her to go to a psychiatrist to determine what it was that made her succumb to this depravity.
That is how she came to my office, and I treated her for about three months. She understood quite intelligently how it had happened and how her traumatic experience with her stepfather Carl and then with her brutal and selfish husband Dane had prepared her for wanting to be a masochistic slave to a youth. Perhaps, as I showed her, she believed that an impressionable young male might be more considerate, yet while dominating her in a way that her flesh needed. Her psyche was definitely passive, and she needed to have someone take the initiative.
I told her that the danger was that she might come to the point where she could never enjoy sexual relations without the preface of corporal punishment, so that eventually the latter would take the upper hand and become the pleasure itself, which would be perversion.
She is now living in a small California city, working in a music store, and the last I heard from her she was engaged to the store manager and they expect to be married. He is not a sadistic type, Alma assures me, and she also expresses some doubts that she will be physically happy with him. But perhaps, knowing her needs, she may be able to induce him to what we may call "domestic and voluptuous" chastisement. If this brings about a happy and fulfilling union, then perhaps she may have successfully overcome the shadows which darkened her psyche at such an early age.
CHAPTER FOUR: JENNY, GANG-SLAVE VICTIM
As has already been indicated, the hidden personality, or what we psychiatrists sometimes call the libido or psyche, is determined at a much earlier stage than can outwardly be known or suspected in the individual. This is often true when the male or female is particularly sensitive and introspective. There are changes in personality through the years, and there are associative tendencies which cannot always be detected unless, to be sure, a psychiatrist or psychologist is in attendance at all times. This is one reason why I steadfastly believe in assigning such a counselor to every elementary and high school in every major city in the United States so that the definitely dangerous antisocial tendencies in the young may be found out and the individuals rehabilitated, or else provisions made to give such individuals intensive psychiatric counseling.
I say this, remembering in my youth the exploits of William Heirens. At thirteen, the product of a broken home, he was already committed to a reformatory where it was found that he had tendencies to steal, to lie and to create a thoroughly fictional character whom he named "George." This was already a sign of schizophrenia, or, in layman's terms, split personality. Heirens would rob an apartment, open the drawer and take out female lingerie, masturbate with it, and sometimes even defecate in it. Such tendencies were dangerously homicidal, but because in those days back in the Forties there were few caseworkers and practitioners assigned to cases like his, he was allowed to go on through college, where he exhibited unusual brilliance in his studies. However, during his tenure at the University of Chicago, he committed three horrible murders, the last of an eight-year-old girl whom he mutilated hideously. Prior to that, he had killed an attractive WAC and written on the wall in lipstick, "Please catch me before I kill more."
Now if these symptoms of his had been exhibited in this modern day and age, it is quite likely that some school counselor would have made it his or her business to investigate the youth. He was an usher at Orchestra Hall, and when he was finally captured, he blamed all his murders on "George." He is still serving a life term, though he has sought repeatedly for parole. In his tragic instance, the fault was not perhaps entirely in himself, but rather in the early lack of concern shown by the first counselors who had him sent to the reformatory and who could not diagnose the true danger of his latent pathological traits.
By this I do not mean that we should coddle the criminal, nor blame his or her crimes entirely on the broken home, the rejection by parents or peer groups and the like. I simply feel that more intensive psychiatric care is called for than has ever before been needed, to be able to understand the vagaries of which the human mind is capable. With Jenny F-, a lovely, demure, twenty-three-year-old auburn-haired secretary for a Detroit advertising executive, it was the experience of gang brutality which turned her from a heretofore prim and extremely virtuous teenager into an almost wanton masochist. The traumatic harm wrought her sensitive mind at the time of the gang assault did not heal, though the superficial physical wounds of her ordeal quickly did. The mind is a sensitive and delicate instrument, easily thrown off balance just like the tuning of a fine hi-fi system. It is well even for all of us who are supposedly "normal" to have others of diagnostic psychological ability look within our minds and attempt to keep us sanguine. For example, we know from our studies of the young (and also of the adult) that all of us have one type of fetish or another. But the degree to which these fetishes become an integral part of our lives and our personalities and our concepts of sexual behavior, determines whether we are really "normal" or not-and here again we have conflict, because our present-day standards call for total lack of inhibition, total release and "freedom."
Jenny was sixteen when one sultry July afternoon her widowed mother sent her to the grocery store five blocks away to bring home some cold cuts, potato chips, cheese and a pound of coffee. At that point, she was a junior in high school, admired by her teachers and her classmates. She did not think of dating, and faithfully did the chores at home and tried her best to console her mother for her father's death some three years earlier in an automobile accident.
Her mother worked part-time as a beautician, and also did sewing and fine needlework for neighbors to supplement the small insurance which Jenny's father had left. Jenny indeed had plans to become a school-teacher, and she was assiduously devoted to her books. For her, after her beloved father's death, the world of books offered escape from the sometimes harsh realities of a mundane existence and deprivation. Not that she wasn't well fed and clothed, but there were many little things and vacations which of course the limited family finances made impossible to enjoy.
As she left the grocery store with her purchases bound for home, two loitering teenaged youths who had observed her going into the store seized her in the alley. One of them clapped his hand over her mouth to prevent any outcry, while the other bodily lifted her up. Both carried her to a waiting jalopy in which three other youths were waiting. Their ages ranged from fifteen to nineteen, the driver of the car being the oldest as well as having already been arrested twice on accusations of attempted rape which, for one reason or another, had never come to trial.
The two in the back seat who had abducted Jenny forced her down on the floor on her back, one of them stuffing a handkerchief into her mouth and tying a piece of her torn skirt over it to serve as a gag. The other amused himself by pinching her already beautifully developed thighs and warning her that to resist meant death or mutilation, showing her a jackknife.
Cowed by terror, the attractive auburn-haired girl was nearly swooning in her anguish as the jalopy drove out past the city limits and into a wooded park. It was an area which the boys knew well, for they were members of a hoodlum gang which often conducted its initiation of "debs" (young girls who are taken into a gang and first stripped, whipped, and then made to take on all comers) in that very locale.
Once they had reached a secluded and densely forested area, the five youths dragged Jenny from the car and took her to a little shack which was often used by not only their own gang, but also by occasional lovers who wanted to meet far outside the city to avoid recognition by their friends or relatives. There was an old broken-down couch and an armchair, some throw rugs and other conveniences which the gang members had furnished, since they used this shack as their headquarters for just such occasions as the unsuspected capture of this tempting auburn-haired female victim.
Jenny was now ordered to take off all her clothes and to do it slowly. The boy in the back seat who had been pinching her and showing her his jackknife was sixteen and he told her that unless she obeyed, every member of the gang would cut his initials into her back and buttocks. Paralyzed with terror, the pretty teenager sobbingly obeyed. Lewd whistles and obscene remarks praising her charms made her die a thousand deaths of shame as she finally undressed down to only stockings and old fashioned elastic garters and her pumps. Naked otherwise, she attempted to cover her breasts and loins with her trembling hands, and the gang jeered at this show of virginal modesty. Then two of them dragged her over to the couch and pushed her down on her back, sitting down at one end and holding her arms dragged well out beyond her head while the driver, the oldest whom we shall call Mack, himself tested her virginity. Jenny shrieked with shame and pain as he dug his forefinger into her tender vulva till he found the obstruction of her hymen. Then swaggeringly he announced, "This little bitch is sure enough cherry! And I'm going to bust it first, get me? I'm the head guy, I own the car, and I was the one who spotted this sweet piece of quim. Get ready and watch how a real man operates, you pretty bitch!"
So saying, he opened the zipper of his trousers, and drew out his prick, and crouched between Jenny's thighs. The two other boys obligingly held the girl's slim ankles so that she was absolutely helpless. When she felt his organ probe into her tender orifice, she hysterically pleaded with him not to do it to her. This only inflamed his sadism more, and he promised her a sound whipping for being such a cry baby and a prick teaser, to use his own salacious expression.
Then, his hand squeezing her titties, which were already beautifully rounded and developed, he pressed himself against the obstruction and shattered her hymeneal seal.
Thereupon, he fucked her violently, despite screams of pain and hysterical entreaties for mercy.
When he had finished with her and rose, boasting of his prowess, his organ stained with her maiden blood, he declared that she had shown a very bad spirit and therefore needed a good lesson. The four boys thereupon turned her over upon her belly, and her rapist tugged off his black leather belt and began to whip her buttocks and thighs mercilessly.
In her agony, Jenny found herself babblingly promising that she would do anything in the world to escape more whipping, and so her assailant told her that he was going to give her a chance to prove that statement.
Accordingly, the sobbing, almost naked teenaged girl was ordered to kneel down on her palms, and then each of the five boys in turn lined up before her, with her first rapist being last in line. The boy her own age was first, and his penis was already in violent erection as he arched himself lewdly towards her. She was then ordered to perform the act of fellatio on him. Choking and retching, Jenny surrendered out of sheer terror. By the time she had finished with the third boy, each of them having ejaculated into her mouth and she being forced to swallow their seed, she piteously begged to be spared any more.
In view of this lack of "cooperativeness," two of the boys forced her back onto the couch, kneeling and with her upper body pressed down over the surface, while the leader of the gang, the youth who had first raped her, used his belt on her already inflamed naked behind to compel her to continue the shameful servitude. She was then able to complete the act of fellatio on the other two boys.
But her ordeal was not yet done. Once again she was flung down on the couch and held on her back with her arms dragged out beyond her head by two boys who crouched at the other end of the couch and exchanged bawdy comments on her charms and her sexual potential. The three other boys then raped her in turn, and one of these then replaced one of the youths holding her arms who had not yet had intercourse with her. Thus she endured five coital attacks, in addition to the oral servicing she was compelled to render.
As a finale, each of them took her across his lap as he sat down on the couch and spanked her livid buttocks furiously. Jenny fainted twice, but had to endure this quintuple chastisement to its cruel finale. Then she was given back her clothes, blindfolded and gagged again, her wrists tied behind her back, and driven back into the city, finally being abandoned on a vacant lot where there was no traffic. She found her way to the police station and was taken to the hospital, where her mother visited her.
Fortunately for Jenny, no pregnancy or disease resulted from this vicious criminal assault upon her. But what it did to her mind was to render her helplessly masochistic, in a way that was to define her future sexual behavior and bring it to my own attention in my practice of consultation with psychiatrically disturbed victims.
Jenny completed high school with excellent grades, and decided to take a job during the day and go to evening school, a kind of business college where she learned shorthand, typing, and a little accounting. By the age of nineteen, she was self-supporting, and by then also her mother had died of pneumonia. There was hardly any legacy at all, of course, but Jenny was quite happy in her new life. She worked in a stenographic pool, and her assiduity and efficiency had already brought her to the attention of the executive whose private secretary she was later to become.
Naturally, she avoided any involvement with males, which is understandable after the traumatic shock of her abduction and multiple rape. And yet, as she told me, "There were times at night when I got so feverish about sex I just couldn't sleep. I would toss and turn, and I would live over again all those moments in that old shack with those awful boys. And the worst thing about it was, even when they were doing it to me, even when I was just shocked and wanted to die and everything, I was starting to feel some pleasure from it. I thought it was wicked of me, that I was a sinful girl, and I prayed to have the stain of my sin removed."
This moral guilt-feeling, as is so obvious in a good many cases which take place under the rape syndrome, very often stems from childhood upbringing, particularly in puritanical homes. Jenny's mother had indeed initiated her daughter in sexual education, but in a very prim and circumspect way, letting her believe that sex was permissible only with marriage and then only when one was in love with the husband. Since these acts of sexual attack upon her were acts of hate and violence, obviously the teenaged girl equated them with sin and evil. That was why she was so horrified to discover that her nubile body was responding to her young ravishers.
But this kind of guilt also leads to a kind of masochism, which is precisely what happened to Jenny P--. By the time she was twenty, she had become private secretary to the industrialist who admired her work, and she found herself torn between the desire to remain uninvolved with men and her deep respect and also hidden sensual interest in him. Fortunately in a way for her, he was not only married but also kept a mistress on the side, and for that reason made no sexual overtures towards her. It was true that he was sexually fascinated by her beauty, for she had now become an extremely desirable young woman, with full ripe breasts, rounded, compact buttocks, long shapely thighs and calves, and her creamy skin and winsome face would be enough to attract any virile male's attentions.
When Jenny discovered that her boss in no way returned her secret affection for him, her now wakened sensuality sought a new outlet. She had already learned how to masturbate and to relieve her tensions, but even this she regarded as being another sign of her "guilt." And since she had no mother now in whom to confide, and also as she was not exceptionally religious and did not go regularly to church or make any kind of confession, she was left with the brooding thought that at her mature age such sexual feelings were conclusive proof of her shamelessness. She even came to the conclusion that perhaps what she had suffered at the hands of those five youths in the forest preserves might have been ordained because of her wanton nature. We know very well from our psychological studies of people that many individuals have a kind of "accident-proneness," a kind of fatalism which leads them to believe that they are destined almost from birth to all sorts of misfortunes and woes in the manner of Job of the Bible. Thus it was with Jenny F-, who was tortured by her sexual needs, fearful of them because of the way in which she had discovered those needs even during her greatest emotional and physical crisis, and imbued with a sense of shame that demanded punishment for her "sins and guilt."
About all she had inherited was the little house in which she and her mother had lived, and she lived next door to a family comprised of a mother and father who traveled constantly, a married daughter who sometimes visited and stayed over for the weekend, and a sixteen-year-old boy whom we shall call John Z--.
John's parents were importers, and made many trips to New York and Miami to obtain merchandise and to deal directly with distributors, setting up franchises in their business. John was quite precocious, already a senior in high school, and quite able to cook and shift for himself. His parents therefore had no compunction in letting him remain at home by himself for sometimes two or three weeks at a time, though his married sister occasionally visited him of an evening when that occurred.
One August afternoon, during Jenny's vacation, she saw John Zout in his yard sprinkling the flowers and shrubbery. He was wearing only a pair of slacks and sandals, naked from the waist up. He had curly brown hair, a pleasant, somewhat rounded face, a sturdy body and pale white skin. In a way, he reminded her of one of her assailants, and all of a sudden, she told me, "I felt a certain kind of hot sexiness take hold of me, for no reason at all. I was out on the porch, and I sat down in a wicker chair and watched him for a long time. Finally he noticed me, and waved, and I got to talking to him. He was an awfully well-mannered boy, very bright for his age, and very well built. Yes, he did remind me of that second boy who took me while I was being held down on the couch and whom I had to use my mouth on also. And when I thought of that and thought of John Zthere, almost naked, I felt this awful, itchy feeling between my legs, and even my nipples seemed to get hard and to ache."
At the same time, Jenny realized that what she was feeling for John Zwas "immoral" and wrong. He was a juvenile, a minor, and she was already past the age of consent and thus an adult woman. And yet the passionate longing in her nature, which had been attuned so savagely when she was only fifteen, came to life again and compelled her to an involvement with this handsome youth.
She invited him in for iced tea and a chocolate cake which she had baked the night before. Nothing loath, John Z accepted her invitation, and soon they were chatting pleasantly. She drew the conversation around to girl friends, and discovered that he really had none. At the same time, she had noticed that his eyes covertly fixed on her. She had been wearing a plain blue cotton dress with a rather short skirt, the hem of which ended two inches above her knees, and she was not wearing stockings. Hence her creamy calves and lower thighs excited him, and he kept looking at her as she sat in the chair opposite him.
To make certain of this effect, Jenny crossed her legs repeatedly, each time allowing her skirt to hike up a little. She wore a thin satin petticoat, panties and bra, and her body was voluptuously outlined by this scanty attire.
Finally she got around to asking him whether he had ever kissed a girl, and he got red in the face and shook his head. "But I bet you'd like to, wouldn't you, John?" she pursued.
He nodded his head vigorously, his blushes deepening. "Well," she went on with a sly smile, "I wouldn't mind if you kissed me-that is, if you like me well enough. We're neighbors, and I hope we can see a lot of each other, especially when you're alone."
As she told me during our interview, "I knew that I was just leading him on, but I couldn't help myself. I felt so sexy, showing my bare legs to him. And he was looking at me the way a man looks at a woman, too. Not with that dirty look which those awful kids showed when they were doing things to me back in the forest, in that old shack, but with a nice healthy desire. And I wanted him to have me. But because it was wrong, I wanted to be punished for having such thoughts, and I wanted him to do it to me. Yes, I wanted to be spanked."
When the boy stammered that he would very much like to kiss her, Jenny got up from the armchair and came over to him on the couch, then plumped herself down on his lap, put her arm around his neck, and offered him her mouth. It was a long and passionate kiss, and she could see that his hands were twisting, eager to touch her and yet fearful of so doing. "I don't mind if you hold me, dear," she whispered to encourage him.
Then with her other hand, she took one of his and guided it to one of her breasts. As she told me, "The minute I felt him touch my tittie, I almost fainted. All my hot emotions kept flooding into me, just as they had that time in the shack.
She took him by the hand and led him into her bedroom. Then I directed John how I wanted it done. And then of course, because I had been a naughty girl in trying to get him to do such things, I was going to have him punish me good and hard. That way, the sin I was doing would be paid for."
These remarks are exactly characteristic of the rationale which so many masochists as well as seductresses of young boys experience when they try to justify their carnal needs.
Encouraged by the lovely auburn-haired young woman, John explored freely with his hand. She allowed him to thrust his hand under the bodice of her dress, and even into her bra so that he might squeeze to his heart's content the naked soft round love globe and even rub the nipple which began to turn hard as flint. Panting and trembling, she began to feel the inexorable urges of desire.
"Wouldn't you like ta make love to me, darling, the way a man does to a girl?" she whispered seductively.
"Ohh, yes, M-Miss Jenny-"
"Then you shall. Only you have to promise me you won't ever tell your parents."
"Oh I would never do a thing like that, honest I wouldn't!" he fervently avowed.
"Come along then, dear," she urged, her voice trembling with desire.
She took him by the hand and lead him into her bedroom. Then, to his astonishment, she said, "I'm an awfully naughty girl to want to do this, and I deserve to be punished. Before I let you love me, you have to promise me you are going to take me over your lap and give me a good hard spanking on my bare bottom. Will you do that for me, darling?"
"But I don't want to hurt you, Miss Jenny!" he protested.
"That's very sweet, dear, but I need it. And I'm not going to let you do what you want to do to me unless you promise in advance that you'll give me just what's coming to me. Will you or won't you? Because if you won't, then you can leave right now and I won't ever talk to you again."
As she later told me, "I was just desperate to be loved and spanked. I wanted him so badly I was almost dying for it, but at the same time I knew it was wicked of me. That's why I had to be spanked first. Also it would make me feel that I was being forced to give myself to him, and then there couldn't be any sin."
Once again we have the classical syndrome of rape justification, which so many women utilize as a kind of excuse to enjoy the pleasures of fornication, at the same time believing themselves to be "quits" of any "sin." It is also one of the reasons why many women never report rapes, because secretly they yearn for mastery by the male, knowing that then they cannot be held responsible for the morality of the act since they themselves were overpowered by the stronger individual.
When John finally stammeringly agreed to do what Jenny wanted, she took off her dress and petticoat, and stood before him in bra and panties. Then, gesturing to him to sit down on a chair, she tugged down her panties and hobbled over to him, promptly draped herself across his lap and clutched the rung of the chair. "Now spank me hard, good and hard till I cry," she commanded.
She arched and squirmed herself, and her creamy round buttocks fascinated the boy. Tentatively, he gave her a hard slap on one of the upturned naked globes, and she gasped with pleasure: "Harder, hurt me, make me cry, you promised you would. If you don't, I'm not going to let you have me, you understand?"
His young desire was now frenzied. She could feel, as she later told me, the pressure of his erect organ through the fly of his trousers pressing against' her abdomen. His left hand pressing down against the small of her back, John Z began to spank her vigorously and swiftly, and although he knew nothing of the voluptuous game of corporal punishment, it quite sufficed to inflame the passions of this beautiful young masochist.
Soon she was really crying in earnest, her buttocks a fiery red, kicking her legs, and arching and twisting herself so that he could often catch glimpses of the thick dark-auburn patch of pussy curls at the apex of her round thighs.
Finally he stopped, out of breath and also contrite because he believed that he had hurt her.
"I wanted you to, darling, oh how I wanted that!" she breathed as she slowly stood up, rubbing her swollen bottom lingeringly and letting him see all she had. Not quite all, for of course there was the bra. "Wouldn't you like to take my bra off and get me all naked for loving?" was her next question.
The boy lost no time in unhooking the bra, and Jenny let his eager hands fondle her panting titties for a long moment, while she put her hands on his bare back and caressed him, arching herself to him. The heat in her behind from the vigorous spanking he had inflicted was making her furiously excited, but she knew that she had to coach him in the art of love.
By now, she was aflame.
"Have you ever made love to a girl, darling?" she whispered.
When he shook his head and turned beet red, she giggled softly, "Never mind, I'll show you. Now come along to bed like a good darling."
First, however, she unbuckled the belt of his slacks, and drew them off, and then herself unbuttoned his shorts and removed them. She gasped with delight to see the stiff, virile young male organ exhibited to her, and she took hold of it and caressed it gently. It was true that she was gambling, since she had used no contraceptive and wore no diaphragm, and of course the boy had no condom. But passion had overcome all such considerations at this moment for Jenny F--.
Lying down on her back, she spread her thighs and raised her knees aloft. Then she guided him to kneel between her straddled legs, and told him, "Now play with my pussy a little, darling, make it hot for me. Just do what I tell you, and it will be beautiful for both of us."
She arched and squirmed, for the warmth of her spanked bottom was acting like a cantharis. The boy, dazzled by her naked beauty, wonderingly incredulous of his good fortune in being initiated by so beautiful a partner, hesitantly touched her vulva with his finger. Jenny instructed him how to put his finger inside the lips and to find the clitoris, and then to rub it gently. When he complied with her order, she experienced a frantic urgency and panted, "Oh shit, darling, I can't wait! Get into me, put that big wonderful thing right into my little pussy and fuck me!"
These words, she told me, she had learned during the ordeal in the shack in the forest preserves at the age of fifteen. Now she repeated them, savoring their lascicious inspiration, which whetted her desires beyond bounds.
She took his penis in her hand and, with her other fingers, opened the lips of her quim, and introduced him into her. Then she told him, "Go slowly, and try to hold it back all you can."
Of course, the first act of copulation for a young male is never satisfactory. Nor was it for John Z this time. After a few moments, he uttered a cry and felt himself gush into Jenny's vagina. However, she consoled him, petted him and made much over him, and then took him into the bathroom for their ablutions.
"It will be better this next time, darling, you'll see," she said. But because he was so quiescent, she made him lie on his back and then she knelt down over him and took his cock into her mouth. This reminded her, she said to me, of what she had been made to do in the shack. And since she had been spanked and "forced" to do these things, she believed again that she was being "purged" of her "sin."
When she had roused him to erection again, she got on top of him and once again guided his cock into her pussy. Then slowly she moved up and down, letting him fondle her titties, kissing him, putting her tongue into his mouth and urging him to do the same with her.
This time, they both had climax, and it was glorious for Jenny F--.
For the next several weeks, she continued this illicit liaison with the boy. He became more adept, but each time they met, she insisted that he spank her first before proceeding to love play. She taught him how to perform cunnilingus on her, and often came to climax just that way.
About two months after that, John's parents moved to New York, and Jenny Fwas disconsolate. Then fate smiled on her again, because the people who bought the house after that had a seventeen-year-old black-haired, tall, athletic boy named Vincent. It wasn't long before Jenny F resumed her seduction tactics, taking advantage of the absence of his parents in Chicago for a weekend to invite Vincent to her house.
He, however, had already had several quick affairs with girls in high school, and was much more adept than her first lover. He enjoyed spanking her, and often used his belt on her behind, then forced her to kneel down and to suck him off before granting her the pleasure of a fucking. He also enjoyed having her use "dirty words" and she herself found great pleasure in such usage-this is a not particularly rare fetish, the love of obscene language, which incites many a shy and reticent person in the act of sex to cast aside inhibition.
But this tryst was discovered by Vincent's mother who had come over to the house unexpectedly one afternoon to call on her new neighbor. Jenny answered the door wearing only her bathrobe, and the mother caught sight of her son skulking in the hallway just beyond. Putting two and two together, she denounced Jenny Fas an immoral whore and threatened to have her imprisoned. In despair, Jenny promised to leave the neighborhood, and then came to me for psychiatric advice.
I showed her that her error was in trying to "justify" her desires, and to channel them back to minors instead of to a man of her own age who could requite her needs. She is now married and the mother of two fine young boys. She visits me from time to time, and tells me rather blushingly that she still enjoys being spanked by her handsome husband. But she has also learned to enjoy the act of coitus for its own sake, and so there is hope that the masochistic trauma which was forced upon her at such an early age may at last be removed.
CHAPTER FIVE: STELLA, STEPMOTHER'S SLAVE
Many fiction writers have capitalized on lurid tales of wicked stepfathers and stepmothers, and perhaps the two most famous in literature are, to be sure, that of Cinderella and Snow White. Both of these involved wicked stepmothers, and certainly Stella R., a vivacious, dark-eyed, black-haired, olive-skinned young matron of twenty-seven, stands as a living documentary to how a sadistic stepmother can warp the psyche, of the unfortunate weaker females whom she seeks to dominate.
I met Stella six months after her marriage, because her husband had come to my office when I was practicing in Toronto at the time, to ask my help in "straightening out my wife, because she's just sick about being spanked, and not by me, but by women. I can't figure it out, Dr. Lamb."
I could and did once I had him bring his reluctant shy wife to my office and spent an hour with her in earnest consultation. The story she told me is not out of a chamber of horrors by any means, and if you expect to read a case similar to the horrifying Indianapolis file of about a decade ago where a woman and her four children brutalized a girl left with them to have room and board while her mother worked Out of town, you will not find it in these pages. What you will find, however, is a chronicle of sexual sadism which is not at all rare in a woman who is nearing the menopause or who has just achieved it, and who feels herself rejected and seeks to vent her spleen upon the nearest and weakest member of the family at hand.
Stella R. was born in Sandusky, Ohio to a father who worked as a mill hand and to a mother who had been a waitress. There was one other child, an older girl who, seeing how things were turning out after the father had remarried, promptly eloped at the age of seventeen and a half with a college senior. Fortunately, her marriage was successful, the boy's parents aided the young couple, and all went well for her.
Stella was therefore left to bear the brunt of the sadistic tyrant who replaced her mother when she was only fifteen.
Stella's mother had continued to wait on tables, but only part-time after the two children were born in order to supplement her husband's earnings. He had occasional seasonal layoffs, and she worked so that there would be no financial problem for the growing family. Actually, it was this work which led to her death, for she worked during a December when the weather was bleak and violently cold, contracted bronchial pneumonia and died within three days.
After about six months, Stella's father remarried, and his choice fell on a handsome, rather flamboyantly dressed and opulently formed woman of thirty-eight who had previously been divorced and whose only child had died at the age of six. Later investigation showed that this little boy had probably died from the result of beatings which the woman applied.
However, she was never held for this, and she had successfully convinced Stella's father that the divorce was because of a philandering husband, which it was not at all-it was her own philandering and not his which led to the breakup of that marriage.
However, Stella's father was then forty-two, and possibly his lapse of judgment may be attributed to the sexual flare-ups which often beset a man just as they do a woman in the fourth decade of life. Certainly Stella's stepmother was attractive enough and desirable from the physical viewpoint, and she had a cajoling attitude when she got her way.
But about a month after she entered the household, she told Stella's father that in her opinion both girls were unmanageable, rude, and undisciplined and that it was high time he turn over the authority of that disciplining to her since he seemed to be unable to inflict it himself. He was so infatuated with Mae, Stella's stepmother, that he agreed. It was Josephine, Stella's older sister, who first endured the humiliating and painful experience of a bare-bottom spanking in front of her own father. Stella's stepmother had seized the girl by her earlobe, marched her over to the couch, seated herself and flung the girl across her lap, then pulled up her skirt and slip, tugged down her panties, leaving her in garter belt and stockings and, clamping her right leg over the girl's slim calves, proceeded to give her a sound and very painful manual chastisement.
It was shortly after this that Josephine eloped with her boyfriend, and one could hardly blame her, in view of what poor Stella had to endure in the months ahead.
At the breakfast table the very next morning after having spanked Josephine, Mae gloatingly remarked to the scarlet-faced older girl and to the aghast Stella, "Your older sister got it last night but good, Stella. You're next. You had better watch your manners and the way you tidy up your room and everything else around here, young lady, or you're going to find yourself over my lap with your panties down, and this time I'll use a hairbrush instead of my hand. That goes for both of you, Josephine too. Isn't that right, Richard?" turning to the bemused father who at this point would have agreed to anything if only to continue in a satisfactory conjugal relationship in bed with his new wife.
Actually Mae was an insatiable nymph, and possibly, although there is nothing to confirm it, was nearing the menopause a little earlier than most women. This sexual flare-up asserted itself not only in her concupiscence with Stella's father, but also in her tyrannical treatment of the attractive black-haired younger girl.
Exactly a week later, on a Saturday afternoon, when Stella had come home from a movie which her father had given her permission to see, Mae called her into the kitchen and laid down the law to her. "I happened to go upstairs to your room this afternoon while you were out lollygagging at a movie, young lady," she began, "and the state of your room is absolutely shocking. Now you get up there and tidy it up this minute, before you think of sitting down to supper. And tonight at nine o'clock, I want you down to your pajamas and waiting for me in your room, do you understand me?"
"Yes, ma'am," Stella answered, tears springing to her eyes. She was always a sensitive and rather shy girl, her studies were excellent, but she had made few friends at school because of her reticence.
The room was really not quite so bad as Mae had portrayed it. Understandably, it was simply a pretext by which the stepmother intended to gain her first conquest of this tempting, nubile morsel of passive and helpless femininity. Knowing that the father would back her up, Mae intended to make Stella nothing more nor less than her own slave.
At nine o'clock, exactly as the last stroke chimed from the grandfather clock downstairs, Mae turned the knob of Stella's bedroom door and peremptorily entered, a hairbrush in hand. She found the pretty young girl seated on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped as in prayer, tears glistening in her eyes, her face flushed. She obviously had undergone a crisis of tears and shame at the thought of the oncoming punishment. Until this moment, Stella had been absolutely immune from corporal chastisement, as had Josephine. The mother and father previously had been gentle, using logic and reason to direct their daughters, rather than physical violence. It was all to be changed now.
Closing and locking the bedroom door, Mae demanded, "Now then, young lady, just take off your pajama bottoms and pull a pillow over onto the middle of the bed and go lie over it. I'm going to spank your big bottom and teach you to be tidy if it's the last thing I do."
Stella lamentingly tried to protest, to explain that her room wasn't really so bad and that she would never do it again, but Mae overrode these supplications. Indeed, they delighted her sadistic nature. She could see at once that the younger girl was scared to death of her, and this only increased her vengeful and sensual greed to compel and coerce the charming youngster.
"If I hear another word," she exclaimed, "I'll call your father in and he'll take you over his lap while I give you a real thrashing. Now do what I told you to!"
Stella tearfully obeyed. When she had stretched herself out over the pillow which upraised her oval-shaped, olive-skinned, twitching bottom-cheeks, she buried her face in her hands and gave vent to doleful tears. Mae prolonged the chastisement by enjoying this obvious anguish, prolonging the suspense as long as she could until at last Stella looked piteously back, as if begging her stepmother to begin the punishment and thus end it the sooner.
Hoisting up her own skirt to her hips, May knelt upon the bed, placed her left palm upon the small of the girl's back, and commenced the vigorous spanking with the hairbrush, alternating on the squirming, jerking, reddening oval globes of the young girl's behind and warning Stella not to budge from her position or to dare to put her hands back to cover up unless she really wanted a severe thrashing.
It was severe enough, a good fifty spanks, and it left Stella hysterically weeping, kicking and twisting, her bottom livid and swollen.
She was ordered to put back on her pajama pants and to go right to sleep and not to dare to put any cold water or cold cream on her behind.
That was the first of many such thrashings. After about a month, Stella was horrified to hear her stepmother sentence her to a spanking one evening, and then calmly turn to her father and say, "I would be very much obliged, Richard dear, if you'd hold the girl for me. She's absolutely unmanageable, and I have quite a time making her take punishment. Perhaps if you'll give me a firm hand, she'll realize what a naughty girl she's been."
He agreed, to Stella's horror. Thus she was betrayed and rejected by both parents, although of course she never considered her stepmother a replacement for her mother, and never once did she address Mae as "Mother." For that, by the way, she received several harsh spankings, one with the bristled side of the hairbrush, another with an ivory club which left many ridges and painful welts upon her behind and made it difficult for her to sit comfortably in her classroom, to the amusement of many of her classmates who guessed the reason.
And so Stella was obliged to hoist her skirt and petticoat, lower her own panties, and then go over to the couch and stretch herself over her father's lap. Mae ordered her to put her hands behind her back and ask her father to hold her hands so that she wouldn't get loose. This being done, Mae proceeded to apply a blistering spanking with the back of the hairbrush, finishing with about a dozen energetic smacks from her own strong hand which left Stella kicking and shrieking in agony.
This kind of treatment went on for about two years, until at last Stella's father had a heart attack and died. Mae, greedily inheriting everything except the portion which was allocated to the two daughters, promptly disappeared and so Stella at seventeen and a half was virtually an orphan. However, her life was considerably brighter now that her stepmother was no longer around to harass and punish her. She had finished high school with an exceptionally high scholastic average, and she went on to business college in the evening, working as a waitress during the day.
In the restaurant, she met a matronly and very handsome woman of thirty, a divorcee, who was assistant hostess. Her name was Lorraine, and she took a imagine to Stella, for Lesbian reasons, since she had divorced her husband because she was already involved in several secret Lesbian affairs and preferred her own sex to the male.
Lorraine saw to it that Stella got good stations and her good share of tips, and gradually made a friend of the lonely girl. Then she proposed that Stella move into her apartment, since it was large enough for both of them. Two months after Stella had done this, Lorraine drew up a schedule as to who was to do what, and Stella had the kitchen duties. The next evening, when Stella accidentally broke a dish, Lorraine wagged a reproving finger at her and playfully remarked, "I ought to spank you good for that, young lady."
Stella turned crimson, and Lorraine pursued, "As a matter-of-fact, I think I will. Come into my bedroom, young lady, this minute!"
There, despite her blushing protests, Stella was made to strip down to bra and panties, garter belt and hose and go across Lorraine's lap as the latter sat on the edge of the bed. Lorraine drew down the little panties, despite Stella's anguished pleas. The girl's virginal shyness excited her, and even more so did Stella's beauty. The spanking was playful, with the flat of the hand, and from time to time she would slyly slip her fingers along the anal groove or into the vulva, tickling and frigging Stella until the latter experienced sensual awareness. Till that time, amazingly enough, Stella had never masturbated or felt drawn toward the opposite sex in any way. The tyranny of the household in which she had lived under Mae's rule had completely, apparently, obviated any such ideas.
But Lorraine's deft and expert fingerings and manipulations, together with the voluptuous spanking which did not really hurt so much as arouse, made Stella yield her virgin body in a furious Lesbian embrace.
For a year, the two women lived together, and Stella was almost a slave, although it was a love slave and not a tyrannized slave as had been the case with Mae.
Then Lorraine accepted a job in Cleveland, and there was a tearful parting between the two women. Stella continued her work at the restaurant, and was promoted to the role of assistant hostess in Lorraine's place.
It was in this restaurant about a year later that she met her husband, Dick D., a successful salesman of farm equipment.
Stella shyly yielded her virginity to him, and he was deeply in love with her. Yet next door there lived another divorcee, nearing forty, by the name of Helena J., who coveted Stella and who herself had often tried the switch-hitter game. One evening when Dick was out of town, she invited Stella over, served refreshments, gradually engaged the young woman in sensual conversation, and ended up by taking her to bed. Stella found that she responded violently to the skillful Lesbian divorcee, for she had had exquisite climaxes with Lorraine, which had attuned her to Sapphism.
But now the masochistic psyche which had been instilled in Stella through Mae's tyrannical efforts and idealized under Lorraine's more benign adaptation, came into full play. Helena one evening, again when Dick was out of town, had a little argument with Stella and playfully told her that what she needed was a good spanking. Stella quickly agreed, blushingly lowered her own panties and went over Helena's lap to be spanked.
This game was continued for several months, until one evening Dick tried to make love to his wife only a few hours after Stella had had a passionate session with the woman next door. When she was diffident, he demanded an explanation, and Stella suddenly burst into tears and confessed her flagrant infidelities.
Although not too well educated, Dick was an understanding man and he loved his wife very dearly. He brought her to my office after he had come to tell me that he was worried about the "perversity" which she was showing towards Helena. She had also told him something of her life with Lorraine and with her stepmother.
I managed to show her that the "guilt" she felt in wanting to be spanked before lovemaking stemmed entirely from the sadistic domination of her stepmother. I told her that she had already experienced happiness with Dick, which she had initially if hesitantly avowed, and that she should pursue this.
Today, I am happy to report, Dick and Stella are blessed with three fine children, and the only spanking that goes on is an occasional love-spanking when Dick takes his lovely wife over his lap and playfully spanks her behind and then makes love to her. This, as a prelude or preface to love, is certainly not deviate. But it could well have become so if Dick had not discovered his wife's fondness for being spanked by a woman and determined to learn the reason.
CHAPTER SIX: GERALDINE, ART STUDENT
Aldous Huxley, who wrote "Brave New World" and "Eyeless in Gaza," once made the pithy and certainly probing remark, "High brows, low loins." What he meant by that was simply that often the more intellectual and introverted the individual, the more flamboyantly erotic and complex that individual's sexual proclivities when once he or she lets down the barriers and seeks the powerful, uncontrollable expression of those pent up emotions which have been so long suppressed because of the order and necessity of convention in our smug, prohibitive society.
Geraldine K. is a prime example of this. She was brought up as an only child by a German governess, who, however, unlike the traditional governess of the erotic novel, did not believe in corporal punishment but rather in lectures and cold logical reason. Her parents were interior decorators, and doubtless it was from them that she inherited much of her feeling towards art and culture, her love for books and music and paintings.
Geraldine's parents lived in Anaheim, near Disneyland, and so at an early age the precocious, sensitive little girl began to understand the world of imagine and illusion. So as her parents traveled extensively, she was left in the charge of Fraulein M., a dictatorial woman in her early fifties who was nonetheless fair and gracious. Perhaps because Geraldine was such a well-behaved child, there was little reason to chastise or correct her. If anything, the governess leaned in the other direction in trying to balance the little girl's excessive artistic flair with a greater and more extroverted appreciation of the people around her and her companions at school. For Geraldine was a "Loner," living quite happily in her world of books and music and painting, being content to go to museums and to art shows, symphony concerts or chamber music recitals instead of playing with dolls or playing the hoyden with young boys as she grew up.
Her parents had been foreign-born, and very possibly this accounted somewhat for their indulgence towards her. They also lived a creative life and they did not get along too well with the trades people. There are those in life who cannot suffer fools gladly, so make enemies of them; and when the fools are in the majority, alas, then the sensitive minorities suffer. So it was with Geraldine's parents. Generally, in the neighborhood, it was whispered about the little girl that she was the product of "foreign snobs and people who think themselves a lot better than we are," and so there was a kind of aversion in the school and in the neighborhood to the lonely little girl. She rarely mixed, she did not date even in high school, and this it was that she entered college near Burbank with the intention of cultivating her watercolors and perhaps even making a career as a commercial artist if she could not attain the highest pinnacle of creative painting.
Her parents died in a plane crash in the Swiss Alps when she was twenty, and she deeply mourned them. By then, the German governess had departed, doubtless to seek retirement in her homeland near the Black Forest. So more than ever Geraldine was left alone. Financially, there was a considerable estate for her inheritance, and a kindly banker who had been her father's close friend to advise her in the investment and wise use of her money, stocks and bonds left by her father.
So by the time she was twenty-one, she was a kind of ethereal virgin, who had pretensions only for the "finer things of life," and who knew absolutely nothing of the rough-and-tumble fray of daily living, much less the complex relationship between male and female-or even a female and female. She had no sexual longings, and so far as I could tell, from her candid if bashfully blushing avowals to me when she consulted me, she had not even learned the secret pleasure of masturbation in her adolescence.
It is hard to believe in this day and age of inflammatory erotica that such a girl could come to the age of twenty-one without having been kissed, having done even mild petting and necking, and have gone through life without any kind of emotional involvement. But that was actually the case with Geraldine K.
She graduated in the year of her majority, and decided to take a post-graduate art course at the same college. It was summer, and hence she decided to pass the next three months by studying live models. She had been told by her senior teacher in art composition that she lacked precision and feeling for the human figure-no wonder, since she had never seen either a boy or a girl naked to that very day, except of course her own voluptuous body. Geraldine K. was rather tall, about five feet seven inches in height, willowy, with long, light-brown hair styled in a thick pageboy. She had a cameo-like oval-shaped face, large, inquisitive blue eyes which were a trifle myopic, and a sweetly tremulous mouth. But her bosom was ripe and firmly rounded, and from her slim waist there flared almost opulent hips and bottom-cheeks, with long slender thighs which made the contrast between them and the magnificent posterior above all the more physically alluring to the male.
Thus far we have seen no traumatic experience which could have caused this lovely, sensitive young woman to turn down the pathway which she ultimately took and which brought her into my concern and care. Perhaps her introspection might have led me at the very outset to guess that she would be more masochistic than sadistic, and yet who could have predicted that within six months Geraldine K. would find physical ecstasy in allowing a boy of thirteen or fourteen to turn her over his lap and spank her naked behind and then compel her to kneel down and take his organ in her mouth?
But that was exactly what happened, and it all began during the second week of her live-model class at the college.
It was a warm, early July day, and Geraldine was sketching the torso of a thirteen-year-old sturdy black-haired boy by the name of Robin. He was English, and he was visiting with his parents from London who had come to pay a long-deferred visit with their cousins in
Burbank. The art instructor had found it difficult to secure live models, and Robin, who did some dabbling in watercolors himself and was extremely precocious, calmly volunteered. His parents regarded it as a great joke, and gave their permission. He was paid a small token fee, but his parents had to sign a release which would clear the instructor and the class in the event of any liabilities-a mere matter of legal form, to be sure.
But what the instructor and still less Geraldine K. did not know about Robin was that at thirteen he was already quite cynically oversexed. His parents were extremely indulgent, and even went so far as to have affairs on the side which both the wife and husband knew about and even shared vicariously. So it was no wonder that Robin, brought up in such a tolerant atmosphere of libertinism, should himself make investigations out of curiosity and interest into the tender passions of Cythera.
At the age of twelve, he had lured his father's pretty French maid Annette, a girl of twenty-two, into the greenhouse and there run his hands under her skirt and caressed her loins and buttocks, while kissing her so passionately that she very nearly let him possess her. Frightened by the turn which this serious wooing on the part of the youngster was taking, she made him content himself with being masturbated by her soft hand in a handkerchief, although she did let him tickle her vulva with his finger until she achieved climax.
It was true that he had not yet consummated the act of copulation, but that did not mean that Robin was not quite aware of how the act was done. He had access to a good many luridly explicit books and magazines which his parents read and left quite freely about the house, nor did they chide him for perusing them.
The art class was small, comprising only about fourteen students, and the art instructor had instructed Geraldine to sit in the very front row. When she entered the class and saw the black-haired sturdy boy seated calmly on a stool, his hands on his knees, his legs spread, his genitals in full display, she turned scarlet as a rose and closed her eyes. Then the dry voice of the instructor began to express the purpose of the lesson, commenting on the human figure, showing its development at the age just beyond puberty, and mentioning that Robin was a particularly excellent specimen of good health, good bones and fine skin tone.
His hair was unruly and tumbled, and he had such a gamin look on his face that when he looked at Geraldine, she felt a shiver run down her thighs. It was her first awakening knowledge of carnal reality. And it was stirred by a thirteen-year-old boy who, if the truth be known, had already boldly marked her out as the prettiest girl there and was asking himself what he could do to meet her and perhaps see her in the altogether just as she was seeing him at that moment!
The instructor came down the row of seats to glance at the work done by the students, to comment here and there, and paused most lengthily beside Geraldine. "Oh no, Miss K., " he said rather briskly, "you don't have the concept at all. The joining of the waist with the hips, that's very awkward. His figure has much more fluidity to it. Stand up, Robin, that's a good chap!"
Whereupon the boy calmly stood up, arms at his sides, coming to the front of the platform. Geraldine's eyes widened and fixed on his dangling penis and testicles, already quite well developed for a boy of his age. Frequent masturbation had, to be sure, produced this effect to some extent.
Once again she blushed vividly, but the instructor spared her feelings and did not dwell on her obvious embarrassment. Instead, he made gestures here and there with his pencil on her rough sketch, adjusting where the lines might be improved to give a better sense of proper bodily proportion and physical reality.
At the conclusion of the lesson, Geraldine rose, collected her supplies of materials, and left the classroom. Her cheeks were flaming, and her bosom was rising and falling quickly. She owned a little Datsun, and drove to the house where she had rented a room and bath with a kindly old landlady during the summer term of the college. Her senses were awhirl. All she could think of was the naked body of that boy, and of his large penis and testicles, with hardly a fringe of pubic hair. He was fair-skinned, even ruddy, and vigorous and sinewy. And suddenly she found herself wondering what it would be like to be naked with him, and then she rebuked herself hastily for the shamefulness of that thought.
Once again, as we have noticed in other case histories, the sensitive female who first experiences the lurking twinges of desire for the younger male has at the same time a consciousness of guilt and of shame and of wrongdoing. Intermingled with this comes always, eventually, the desire to be punished so as to obtain forgiveness for the "sin." It is an all-too-familiar case to us psychiatrists, but for Geraldine K. it was new and terribly if morbidly exciting.
Robin's parents had rented a house with a huge yard and several fruit trees, and they were enjoying the countryside around Burbank.
California was delightful.
A cousin had invited them to spend several evenings over at his even more palatial mansion, which had a private swimming pool, a huge rolling lawn, and even a little forest of cultivated trees. They left Robin more or less to his own devices, and that was how he determined to seek out Geraldine K. For the rest of the week, while he was a model on that stool, she could not take her eyes off his body. Several times he caught her looking straight at his penis and he smiled knowingly and once or twice winked at her. When that happened, she gasped, quickly lowered her eyes, and began to work furiously.
By Friday afternoon when the class was over, the instructor thanked Robin and announced to the students that there would be a new model, a mature woman, beginning the next Monday. Geraldine felt her heart sink. She knew then she must meet this boy somehow.
She left the classroom, and walked down the hall and waited. When all the rest had gone, she finally saw the boy, fully clothed of course, emerge from a side door and come down the corridor towards her. His eyes widened and then a mocking little smile curved his thin lips. He was something of a cocky sadist, this Robin, and if he had not been what he was, perhaps Geraldine would not have become what she did become.
"I-I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed-I mean, you were a wonderful model. I think I've learned something," she blurted. It wasn't at all that she had meant to say, and she was miserably aware of it as he stood there with a smug little smile, obviously enjoying her discomfiture.
"Well, I say, that's great nice of you, Miss-Miss?"
"My name is Geraldine K. And you're English, aren't you?"
"I say, you're very clever, Miss Geraldine.
Yes, I am. From London. My pater and mater are here visiting Cousin Gerald and his wife, don't you know. I say, it's awfully hot here. Could we go somewhere and perhaps have a spot of tea or something cool?"
He wore a man's suit, complete with long trousers, and he certainly looked older than his thirteen years. He hadn't combed his hair, it was still tousled, and Geraldine suddenly had the impulsive urge to run her fingers through it and to kiss him on the mouth. Horrified at the sensations that were going through her, she bit her lips and stammered, "That would be very nice. There's a little shop off campus where we can get a soda or something nice like that, if you care to."
So, a few moments later, Geraldine and the boy were ensconced in a booth in the sweetshop which did a thriving business even in summer. No one noted this oddly assorted couple, but Geraldine was all the happier for it. During their sodas, she asked many questions about England, and Robin revealed a surprising knowledge of art, since he had been to the British Museum and seen many of the finest art collections of Europe in Paris and Berlin and Ostend, thanks to trips with his parents.
The next day being a Saturday, Robin happened to know that his parents would be staying the entire day and evening over at the cousin's house. It had been optional as to whether he wanted to go, and now he knew what he was going to tell his parents; he wasn't going. He would use the house they had rented to be closer to this delicious piece of American quim, a word he was already using rather vulgarly in association with such females as the complacent Annette and other girls with whom he had had some mild if rather torrid attempts at seduction. What he was really aching for was to "fuck," another word he relished particularly because as yet he had been denied that privilege. Even Annette had scolded him laughingly when he was tickling her pussy, saying, "Good heavens, Master Robin, you are a one, you are! Why, one would think you're a man at your age, and yet you're not. You couldn't even take care of a girl."
He had angrily told her that if she wanted a demonstration of his powers, he would be happy to oblige. But the pretty French maid-who was actually his father's mistress, a fact which the mother knew and tolerated, because she also had Annette to bed herself for Lesbian pleasures-did not care to get herself involved with the young scion of the household when she had such a good thing in the parents.
And so, after he had thanked her for the soda, Robin said slyly to Geraldine K., "Maybe you'd like to talk to me some more tomorrow. I'll be free all day, and maybe we could talk about art and some of the things I've seen in Europe."
"That would be lovely!" she impulsively exclaimed, then blushed violently and lowered her eyes before his knowing gaze. Her feelings were in a turmoil. She realized that he was only a child, really, and yet there were glints of something far more mature in his speech and in his looks and in his attitude towards her. Actually, he was treating her with a kind of patrician contempt, just as a young lord of the eighteenth or seventeenth century might have deigned to hobnob with the commoners for the sole purpose of fucking them.
He asked for and obtained Geraldine's phone number, told her that he would call her tomorrow as soon as he knew that he was free. He did so about ten in the morning, because by then his parents had told him they were going off to Cousin Gerald's and that he was welcome to come along if he cared to. He drawlingly responded that perhaps he would drop in for dinner. Meanwhile, he told them, he was going to play a spot of tennis with a great nice fellow whom he had met at the art class. They laughingly told him not to try to play tennis in the nude, and went off to their reunion, leaving Robin in charge of the house and anticipating a delicious afternoon with the ingenuous young art student.
And so she came over to the house after lunch, and Robin promptly took her into his room. He showed her some illustrated guidebooks, and then the conversation turned to art, and finally, specifically, on the modeling he had done this past week.
"You didn't seem to be getting it right, did you, Miss Geraldine?" he boldly demanded as he put away the guidebooks and stood up, looking straight into her face.
She blushed and shook her head. "Well, one reason I wanted to take live model studies this summer term was that I'd never done it before, you see, Robin."
"I'll bet. And I'll bet also, to use your American phrase, you'd never seen a fellow peeled down the way I was before, eh what?"
Mutely, she shook her head, her blushes violent now. He took advantage of this confusion by whispering, "Maybe you'd like to see me again, maybe I could give you a private lesson in sketching, Miss Geraldine."
"I-I really don't think you have to do that, Robin," she stammered.
"But I want to. Here now, you go over and sit in that chair, and I'll stand right here and take off all my clothes."
"Please-I don't-"
"Now take it easy, I won't bite. You can stare at me all you like and draw me the way I should be. I know the instructor was giving you pointers."
"Don't be embarrassed," he added.
Geraldine had never in her life met a youngster so precociously glib and sure of himself. He acted indeed like a young man who had seen a great deal of the world, which of course he had. He had also had sexual experience, which she had never had before.
And before she could stop him, Robin was calmly undressing until he was as naked as when he had been there on the platform before the art students.
Then, walking over to his desk, he brought her a pad and pencil. "Go ahead, sketch me," he ordered with a wry smile.
Geraldine hastily seized the pad and pencil, to hide her ever-growing confusion, and began to draw. Once again she saw his penis and testicles, and again she was fascinated by the sight, by the nearness, by the intimacy of their privacy together. She was deeply troubled, and the sensual waves that were stirring in her body were leading her inevitably towards the conclusion which Robin himself hoped for.
After about ten minutes, he walked calmly over to her to glance at her work. "Oh my, no, Miss Geraldine! That's not right at all!" he chided her. "Gracious me, if you were a pupil back in a class in dear old London town, I think the instructor would have you bent over the desk for a dozen of the best on your sitmedown!"
Geraldine uttered a startled gasp at this sly innuendo. It summoned up an image to her which went hand in hand with her own deep consciousness of having led this boy on and having "wickedly" entertained "immoral" feelings towards him. Suddenly she knew exactly what should happen to her; she should be punished, even beaten. And what better executioner than this boy whose youth and innocence she had offended by allowing him to strip naked before her and to sketch him here in his own room with no one else to chaperone them.
"I think you are right, Robin," she heard herself saying in a faint, husky voice. "I think you ought to punish me, because I'm certainly very clumsy at drawing you. And I shouldn't have let you do this. Why don't you punish me?" And with this, she walked over to his desk, leaned across it, pillowed her head in her arms, and extended her bottom towards him.
Robin, the precocious opportunist, gasped with pleasure and surprise. This was better than he had hoped for. He moved quickly, and before Geraldine could know what was happening to her, he had lofted skirt and slip, folded them neatly back on her waist, and was busy tugging down her thin white nylon panties. There, framed above the garter belt and set off below by the sheer beige nylons, was her magnificent, opulently rounded bottom, with a dark shadowy groove between the cheeks which instinctively tightened.
Her flesh was milky, with tiny rosy flecks, and Robin uttered a cry of joy as his left hand palmed her back and forced her down on the desk while his right swiftly applied several stinging slaps all over the spacious posterior.
Geraldine, shocked beyond speech by his sudden denuding of her most intimate person, suddenly felt the sting of those spanks, and the ignominious degradation of being spanked by a naked boy was exactly the masochistic tonic which her long-denied sensuality required. With a groan, she closed her eyes and abandoned herself.
Seeing that she put up no protest or rebellion, he continued, increasing the vigor of the spanks as his own sensuality was roused. His penis was stiff with longing, and her bottom bounded and shuddered and flattened, and he was excited by her little cries and sobs and gasps till finally he stopped, out of breath. Her bottom was furiously crimson, and there were tears on her cheeks.
Then suddenly, gripping her by the waist, Robin thrust himself against her virgin orifice and engaged the head of his young ramrod into the lips of her vulva.
"Oh no-oh darling-oh, please don't-not that! Aahh! Oh, Robin, aahh!! " she moaned. But it was already too late. A moment more, and he had perforated her virgin seal. And then, of course, knowing that the sin had been done and that she had been punished in advance for that sin, Geraldine abandoned herself.
But the damage had been done, and even as she swooned under his vigorous thrusts and felt the hot jet of his sperm, Geraldine K. knew that this was the very epitome of her desire.
Thereafter, throughout the summer term, she contrived to meet Robin in various places, once even bringing him into the room she had rented from her landlady when she knew the latter was away for two days visiting an elderly sister in El Centre Shamelessly she had allowed Robin to spank her, and then to make love to her. It was he who taught her the pleasures of lying sprawled with her knees high in the air, while he crouched between them, put his tongue and lips to her churning vulva and brought her to furious climax.
But always the lovemaking was prefaced by spankings. For this was Geraldine's "justification" for her "sinning" with the boy. Finally, Robin told her that he couldn't see her any more, and the reason was quite simple. He had found a fifteen-year-old girl who had two girl friends of about her own age who fawned upon him because he was English and spoke with an accent and who wanted to hear all about his travels.
He had heard from some of the new friends he had made in the neighborhood that this new girl was something of a nymph, and he thought that he should go on to new conquests. Also, he was perhaps a little afraid of being caught with Geraldine and endangering her reputation which sentiment is the only credit which can be given that young opportunist.
But having tasted the joys and the "wickedness" of copulation prefaced by corporal punishment at the hands of a boy just out of puberty, Geraldine K. found herself longing for a recurrence. It was then that she decided that the pathway she had chosen might well be dangerous for her, and sought psychiatric care. This was immediately after she had purposely accepted a date with the thirty-five-year-old art instructor and allowed him to attempt to make love to her. She found herself repelled, and discovered that it was only through the arousal with a boy and the spanking at first, that she could be drawn to ardent response.
A member of the faculty at the college where she was studying that summer happened to be a good friend of mine, and when she confessed to him her desire to find a psychoanalyst who might help her with an emotional problem-the details of which of course she did not reveal to my friend-he recommended me, as I was there in Los Angeles. Geraldine K. visited me, and we were able to diagnose how her obsession had begun. It had begun mainly out of repression, and then the inflammatory and dramatic presentation of a naked young male so close to her for the very first time in public had produced the chemical spark which had lit the conflagration in her emotions.
I tried to draw her out and show her that fear of sex is often akin to a self-martyrizing attitude which leads the individual to demand punishment, which of course is pure masochism. I probed her background, and I showed her that what she wanted was affection, and that she must give it instead of submission and the will to suffer.
She writes to me occasionally even now, and it was two years ago that I first saw her. She is now engaged to a man not quite thirty, and she is looking forward to bearing his children and leading a happy useful life. She has become an excellent painter, and her real name will not appear in this book, for she is already on the threshold of fame. What a tragedy it would have been if she had allowed her momentary obsession with a naked, arrogant and precociously oversexed boy to ruin her career and her potential as a loving and lovable woman!
CHAPTER SEVEN: MEREDITH, INCESTUOUS LOVE SLAVE
If we were to examine the court records for the past generation of all incest cases appearing on formal indictments, I should be willing to stake a claim that the majority of those females involved in such criminally carnal acts were decided masochists. For generally, the man who seduces his daughter, niece, cousin or sister is able through aggressive and domineering attributes-including very often physical acts of coercion-to compel the weaker-willed female to acquiesce to his desires. That is undeniably what happened to lovely Meredith G., a twenty-two-year-old, slim, golden-haired, blue-eyed Omaha postgraduate history major.
Meredith's father was sales manager of a small meat packing company located on the outskirts of Omaha, and her mother had been a society debutante of great beauty and wealth before her marriage. Their first child was Benjamin, and four years later Meredith was born to them. After that, physicians told Meredith's mother that it would be dangerous for her to conceive, and a hysterectomy was accordingly performed.
Both Meredith and Benjamin were sent to private schools, which may not have been the healthiest thing in the world for them. One is conscious of position, social status and wealth in one's adolescence when enrolled in such institutions, and the catering and pampering by school authorities to and of the offspring of the influential rich cannot be said to be the most sanguine regimen so far as the ego and psyche are concerned. Benjamin, less intellectual than his younger sister, thrived in his school and became something of a bully. As a sophomore in what would be called a high school educational level, he had already made a "fag" out of a timid young bespectacled freshman, hazing him unmercifully whenever he failed to run an errand or to perform any of the capricious orders which Benjamin gave him.
Meredith, on the other hand, went to a girl's school where there was no contact with boys, of course .just as her brother had no contact with girls where he was studying. But there, at about the age of fourteen, she was seduced by a bolder fifteen-year-old black-haired hoyden who was an insatiable nymph and experimenting with Lesbianism until she could go back home to Missouri and renew her clandestine trysts with a sixteen-year-old boy to whom she intended to give her virginity.
Meredith was not repelled by her schoolmate's advances. Indeed, since the school was a hundred miles away from Omaha and she went home only once every three months, her loneliness led her to accept this show of affection. Moreover, her voluptuous young virginal body responded, and within a month, she and Elise, her seductress, were involved in a passionate Sapphic affair.
One night a school monitor, who wished to be officious and show her authority, decided to make a bed inspection. She tried the door of Meredith's room, and found it locked. Banging on the door with her fists, she loudly demanded that it be opened. Meredith was horror stricken, because Elise and she were both naked and embracing. Hastily Elise crawled under the bedcovers, while Meredith got out of bed, hurriedly donned her bathrobe, and finally opened the door to the indignant monitor.
It did not take long for the latter to surmise what had been going on when she saw the covers bunched around what looked like a body. Moving quickly over to the bed, she flung them away to reveal the huddling naked body of black-haired Elise.
At once she went to the head of the school and denounced both girls. Meredith, dying of shame and in tears, was summoned the next morning to the woman's office, and there scathingly rebuked for her shamelessness. Elise, who had already something of a reputation in the school, was expelled in disgrace. But for Meredith, there was to be a traumatic aftermath of this really innocent acquiescence to her partner; it was decided that Meredith was to go home for a week on a kind of suspension. The head of the school was kind about the suspension, explaining to the distraught girl that it would be better for all concerned and for the state of her own nerves to leave the school for about a week and to have the guidance of her parents. She also penned a note to Meredith's mother, in which she masked the offense, suggesting only that the girl's mother had a long talk with her about sexual education and perhaps even take her to the family physician.
Meredith went home, and as it happened, Benjamin's school was let out for ten days because of a serious fire in one of the buildings and the crippling of two of the instructors who had attempted to put out the fire. So brother and sister were reunited at a time when Meredith faced her most distracting emotional experience.
Meredith's father was away in Denver on an assignment from his company, and so the girl's mother was the only one who knew of the contents of the letter which the school director had asked the girl to bring home with her. Anxiously, she queried Meredith as to what had happened, and her first fears were that perhaps Meredith had become involved with a boy. Relieved to find that this was not at all the case, she dismissed the veiled implications of the letter as to Lesbianism, and merely told Meredith that one of these days they would have a nice long talk about sex and boys and things, and meanwhile, Meredith shouldn't worry and should rest up because she was looking a little peaked.
Meredith's mother had continued her social life after marriage, and she was an officer of several important fundraising and cultural organizations in the city. Hers therefore was a kind of sloughing off of maternal responsibility, and it is charitable to say that she simply did not believe her daughter was capable of any wrongdoing and therefore did not concern herself about what really might have become a dangerous situation. But indulgence can sometimes be as fatal as strict vigilance, and this was true for Meredith G.
The day after Meredith arrived home, her mother decided to spend most of the day and evening with a PTA group. After that there would be a dinner at the home of one of the members. Consequently Meredith and Benjamin were left together in the spacious house in one of Omaha's swankiest residential sections. Meredith was then a month away from her sixteenth birthday, while Benjamin was already a junior in the private college which had sent him home for ten days till repairs could be made after the fire and damage. His young "fag" had already become a sexual slave to him, for Benjamin was what we may call bisexually inclined.
He had made the young boy service him orally and also attempted sodomy with the passive youth, and when the boy had refused, Benjamin had had two of his classmates hold the youth over the back of a couch while he whipped the victim with his belt until the latter consented to the pederastic act.
Having eavesdropped the evening before just outside Meredith's mother's room, Benjamin was aware that his sister had been sent home in a kind of disgraceful suspension, though he was not quite certain as to the reasons. But already the lovely teenager was physically desirable, with high perched, widely spaced, full young breasts, a small waist and spaciously round buttocks, full womanly thighs and calves, while her soft carnation-tinted skin, her large, innocent-looking blue eyes, and sweet ripe mouth were already enough to tempt the most hardened of rakes.
Meredith was in her room napping. It was the middle of May, and the weather was unseasonably warm. She had therefore put on only a slip, bra and panties, no stockings or shoes, and was lying on her bed when Benjamin tiptoed into her room to have a chat with her. His avidly sensual mind had already been mulling over what he had heard the night before, and he was certain that Meredith had got into some kind of sexual scape. His guess was that, since it was a girl's school, she and perhaps one of her roommates had been guilty of what he called "pussyrubbing and fiddling around." Several of his sophisticated classmates had told him how their sisters had gone the "Lesbian route" for a lark because there weren't any boys around, since they also were enrolled in private girls' schools. He wanted to satisfy himself as to the carnal details.
Meredith had always been in something of a state of awe of her older brother. Her father seemed openly to prefer Benjamin to her, obviously believing that the boy might well succeed him in the plant. The father was a bluff, hearty man, who enjoyed good food and liquor and was not averse to an occasional extramarital affair of which thus far his wife was not at all aware. He therefore had a greater tolerance for the boy's "hell-raising," as he called it, for Benjamin had already been expelled from one private school back in his high school days because he had been seen in the school town talking with a known prostitute and had accompanied her up to her apartment. This the father considered simply a mark of manliness, and his only warning to Benjamin was, "Use a safe so you won't get a dose, but have your fun. Hell, when I was your age, I was one of the best cocksmen around."
As we have often remarked, parental indulgence can be often just as misguidedly harmful as parental strictness and over-suspiciousness. So Benjamin felt that he had carte blanche in his sexual escapades, and doubtless knowing this had much to do subconsciously with what he did to Meredith that fatal May afternoon.
The lovely golden-haired girl lay on her back, and of course atop the bed and without covers or sheets drawn over her. She was sound asleep, and her gentle regular breathing lifted the round firm globes of her breasts tightly against the slip and bra. Benjamin experienced an erection at once, and he turned and locked the door silently, then moved towards the bed, staring down at the golden-haired beauty. Her arms were drawn above her head, and he could see the soft golden tufts of private hair in her armpits. He bent down, put his hands on her breasts, and gave her a passionate kiss on the mouth.
She uttered a stifled cry as she woke and recognized him. "Benjy!" she gasped, for that was her favorite name for him, "what are you doing?"
"Relax, honey, I'm not going to hurt you.
Hey, what went on in that imagine school of yours, anyhow? Tell Benjy," he grinned as he seated himself on the edge of the bed. His hands still fondled her titties, and Meredith's face flamed as she hastily disengaged his hands and tried to shove them away.
"Don't do that to me-you know it isn't right, I'm your sister," she remonstrated.
"So what? You're still quite a dish, baby. Now give me all the nice details. I'll bet what really happened was that you and your roommate played around and somebody caught you at it, isn't that right?" he hazarded.
This shot in the dark struck home, for she turned pale, her eyes were enormously widened, and then she gasped faintly, "You mustn't say an awful thing like that, you just mustn't!"
"Oh ho! So that's the way the wind blows, is it? You shy sly mouse, you! Here all the time I thought my little kid sister was a pure innocent. I'll bet you could teach old Benjy a couple of tricks. Tell me, how do girls do it, anyway? I always did want to know. Do you get all naked and then rub pussies together, or do you suck and lick and get over in reverse? That's sixty-nine, you know. I even heard that some of the girls strap on an artificial cock and fuck-is that what your roommate did to you, baby?" he went on.
Meredith was speechless at his lecherous innuendos; she sat up, her face flaming, and stammered, "I don't want to hear such awful talk, Benjy! Please get out of here, you see I'm not dressed!"
"I'll say you're not, baby. You're a dish. I'm going to have some of you, too. Relax, it's all in the family," he complacently urged.
He pushed her back down on the bed, tugging up her slip, and then ripped off her panties. Meredith uttered a scream and tried to fight him. "Oh no you don't," he snarled. "You think you're so high and mighty, and all the time you and your girlfriends up there at school have been pussyrubbing and pussy lapping to beat the band. What you need is a good dose of cock, baby, and I'm just the guy who can give it to you. Fight me, will you? I'll show you, you little bitch!" This last, because she had scratched his cheek in struggling.
Now he was violently aroused, and all his bullying nature came to the surface, inflamed as it was already by the sight of her lingerie-clad young loveliness. Seating himself on the edge of the bed, he dragged the hysterical golden-haired girl across his lap, furled her slip up over her head so that it blindfolded her, and then ripped off the bra, leaving her stark naked. The spacious round globes of her behind squirmed and shuddered as he tucked his left arm around her satiny waist, raised his right hand and gave her a vigorous smack with his open palm against the ripest curve of her right buttock.
She cried out and kicked her lovely legs, and
Benjamin, finding this game exhilarating, continued it with gusto. At least thirty times his hand rose and fell, alternating on the plump resilient cheeks of her bottom, reddening the skin vividly. When he stopped, Meredith was sobbing wildly, twisting and wriggling over his lap. He wore only a pair of Bermuda shorts and a polo shirt, socks and sandals. His wiry body was extremely hairy, and he was extremely strong so that he was able to master her readily.
"Had enough? Had enough?" he cynically asked. "Now are you going to be a nice girl and tell Benjy what went on at that nice school of yours, huh? You won't talk? Then I guess you want some more." With this, he resumed the spanking, but this time using his fingers like the thongs of a whip, flicking her reddened bottom-cheeks.
Meredith wailed and pleaded hysterically for him to stop, and finally, when she could bear no more, sobbingly, avowed, "Owww! Yes, yes, only please stop, Benjy darling, please! I'll tell you anything you want to know, don't spank me any more, please don't."
"See that you keep your word, then. All right. Now start in from the beginning. Why did you get kicked out of school?"
Under the duress of her brother's cruel and unjust chastisement, prompted by his own savage lechery, Meredith haltingly sobbed out the circumstances of the suspension. He made her tell him all about Elise, even to describing the girl's breasts and thighs and buttocks and loins, and then salaciously grinned, "So, my little kid sister knows what it's like to be a woman. Well, it's better that you learn the right way from a guy, not from one of those dirty little dykes. And I'm going to show you what it's like right now, honey."
From the pocket of his shorts, he produced a packet of condoms, and then lifted her and flung her down on her back on the bed, an arm over her face, sobbing wildly in her shame and helplessness. The pain of the spanking made her twist and arch herself uncontrollably, and her brother saw in this the proof of her sensuality. Hurriedly, he removed his shorts and then his undershorts, fitted the safe onto his bulging ramrod, and got atop her. His hands squeezed her round panting titties, his mouth came harshly on hers, and he thrust his tongue deeply between her lips as he brushed her vulva with the tip of his rampant penis.
Meredith tried to struggle, to groan, to protest against this incestuous attack, but her senses were already seething from the hot pain of the spanking and the sensual awakening of her young voluptuous body through its aegis.
He forced himself against her cherry, thrust deeply, and penetrated into her vagina. Knowing that she was undone, the golden-haired girl abandoned herself because his vigorous and brutal conquest frightened her. Twisting her face away, closing her eyes, biting her lips, she suffered the rape. But the singular thing was that it had wakened her more than she knew, and when at last he emerged from her, and felt somewhat contrite at having lacerated her hymen, he tried his best to console her.
Hurrying to the bathroom, he soaked a towel in warm water and sponged her, then himself, and lay down beside her. Glib and persuasive, as he was always in his personality, Benjamin comforted her, explaining that he was "crazy about you, baby, and I just had to. Besides, you're a decent girl, and I don't want to go around with some whore. You were so gorgeous, I just couldn't resist. I'm sorry. I really am, baby. I'll make it up to you, you'll see."
She was naked now, quivering and trembling, and he was soothing her, kissing her and stroking her buttocks. The warm sting of that spanking still permeated her flesh, and made her shiver and press against him. And then the inevitable happened. The proximity of their naked bodies, the furious dramatic crisis which precipitated this assault, began to work on Meredith's psyche.
Before the afternoon was done, she had of her own volition consented to his possessing her again. And this time she had climaxed along with him.
For the rest of the week, whenever the two young people could sneak off to his or her room without danger of detection, Meredith and Benjamin coupled in their incestuous passion. And each time, feeling herself bad, guilty and ashamed over what sin she had committed, she tried to resist at first, and invariably he would take her over his lap and spank her till she finally begged him to possess her instead. This again, as we can see, was the age-old syndrome which justifies yielding to rape because of superior force and thus eliminates the "sin" from the female participant.
When she went back to her girl's school, Meredith had already becoome a passionate masochist. Benjamin went back to his boys' college, finished his junior term the following month, and returned home for the summer along with Meredith. Their parents took both of them on an extended cruise to Europe. In Paris, Benjamin who had studied French in school, sought out a cabdriver who could take him to an elegant whorehouse where one could watch acts of love and perversity for a price. While his mother and father were visiting the Louvre, Meredith and Benjamin slipped off to the southwest side of Paris to visit a brothel where the admission charge was considerably expensive and where, in a small room with a peephole, they could watch women making love together, a Negro raping a chained and blindfolded young white girl, and other orgiastic acts such as a girl and a Great Dane. The two became so excited that they made love then and there on the narrow couch beside the wall in which the peephole was located.
After Benjamin's senior year, he spent the summer working for his father's packing plant, while Meredith, who had finished her high school curriculum, spent the summer on vacation in Kennebunkport, Maine, staying with her mother's cousins.
There she met Edward, the fourteen-year-old son of her mother's first cousin, and he was, very much like her brother, a remarkably precocious male for his age, with a keen mind, and an already stealthy and unhealthy interest in sexual activity. He and several of his schoolmates, indeed, had formed a kind of secret club to which girls of twelve and thirteen were invited, and there would be "petting parties" and "forfeit games" staged during' these meetings. Most of these games turned out to be spanking games, and hence Edward was already something of a young sadist.
Meredith, who could not forget the powerful sexual hold her brother had over her, was attracted to this blonde, tall, fluently articulate boy, and the two of them played on the beach quite a few times during the week. One Saturday afternoon, Edward proposed they have a game of hide and seek, and Meredith laughingly agreed. Both of them were wearing their bathing suits, and Edward ran away and hid while Meredith counted to a hundred. He had hidden himself under an abandoned rowboat, and so she failed to find him during
,he requisite time. When he finally shoved the rowboat over and emerged, she giggled and shook her head, "I would have never thought of looking there! That was very clever of you, Edward."
"You lost the game, Meredith, so you have to pay a forfeit," he declared.
"All right, what do I have to do?" she smiled.
"I think you ought to have a good sound spanking, that's what," he told her.
Meredith blushed violently, lowered her eyes, and began to shiver. For all this recalled to her exactly that May afternoon when Benjamin had spanked her so cruelly that she had had no recourse but to yield to him. She tried to hedge, tried to suggest something else, but Edward was adamant. Finally, in order to avoid an embarrassing situation, she haltingly agreed. He sat down on the rowboat, ordered her across his lap, and then began to spank her bottom energetically. Soon Meredith was kicking and squealing like a little girl, for he spanked very hard. Her bathing suit was short, and the legs hiked up to show the voluptuously rounded base of her carnation-tinted posterior. Sexually excited, Edward had an erection, and as Meredith wriggled and twisted over his lap, she could feel his hard young organ rubbing against her belly and her crotch.
When at last he released her, she stood rubbing her bottom, tears running down her cheeks, and then Edward, whose erection was massive by now, seized her and flung her down on the sand and began to caress and kiss her, his left hand rubbing her pussy through the thin material of the bathing suit. She tried to stop the boy, but all her sensual instincts rose to the fore again, and she knew herself to be vulnerable and defenseless.
Before the afternoon was over, she had tremblingly allowed him to pull down her suit, and to put his penis into her pussy and to fuck her. Once again she experienced a violent climax, brought about by the spanking and the repetition of the situation which very much was akin to that which had first begun her downfall as a masochist and an incestuous accomplice to her own brother's lust.
The fornication lasted three months, and by the end of that time, Meredith was hopelessly enamoured of the precocious boy. Only twice more, however, did she allow him full copulative privileges, probably aware that she was committing a gross indiscretion and that there would be danger of blackmail from one so young and likely to boast to his fellows of his conquest. On the other occasions, she did allow him to gamahuch her, and in return would fondle his organ and several times perform the act of fellatio on him. But Edward, continuing his sadistic bent, exacted a "forfeit" from her each time she refused to let him have coital relations with her: she would have to agree to a spanking. Thus, Meredith's masochistic psyche was intensified by these humiliating and sexually demeaning experiences.
When she returned home that fall, she went to a girls' college and there was initiated into a sorority. The usual paddling and hazing went on, and her "Big Sister" noticed that Meredith seemed to take her spankings much more humbly and almost eagerly, in contrast to the other pledges. It wasn't long before the girl, a twenty-year-old junior, initiated Meredith into Sapphic games, including mutual cunnilingus, and even went so far as to procure an artificial penis and use it as a man might his own penis to fornicate with the golden-haired beauty.
This Lesbian relationship lasted until her "Big Sister" was graduated, and then Meredith went back to her "first love" of a young boy, who much resembled her distant cousin Edward. In her senior year, majoring in history, she had her own apartment in a little town in Southern Illinois, and the landlady's son, Michael, who was thirteen, often ran errands for the lovely golden-haired young woman.
Meredith tried valiantly to quell the sensual instincts rising in her, but once again the fatal fever caused by spanking and coitus with her brother reasserted itself. One Saturday afternoon when her landlady was away for the weekend visiting a sick friend, and had asked her to look after Michael-which of course Meredith was only too happy to do!-she prepared lunch for the boy. She made him a sandwich of something he had never eaten before, and he refused it. Sympathetically, she offered to make him another, and he scolded her for offering him such "junk." A moment later, out of a clear sky, he announced, "If I fixed anything like that for Mom, she'd spank me. I ought to spank you for doing what you just did, Miss Meredith."
And thus it began again. Trembling, shaken by the voluptuous wave which surged over her, Meredith G. found herself consenting to pay this "forfeit." Then, stretched over the boy's lap, having furled up her own skirt and slip, and lowered her own panties, she submitted to a rather painful spanking. Then it was that she initiated him into cunnilingus, promising him that she would let him go to bed with her if he would do that for her.
She was very nearly caught by the landlady, who returned a little earlier than expected, but there were no recriminations on that occasion. It wasn't until about a year later, when she was doing postgraduate work, that the landlady actually caught her with Michael, the boy kneeling and applying his mouth and tongue to Meredith's vulva, while the golden-haired young beauty stood, eyes closed, trembling, holding up her own clothes and having lowered her panties to permit this intimate act.
The landlady wanted to have Meredith sent to prison, but a friend of mine who was a member of the faculty of the college where
Meredith was studying urged her to have the young woman sent instead for psychiatric consultation. I was brought in, and I was able to help Meredith understand that she must not allow herself to be victimized by what her brother had done and that she must seek to eliminate the "martyr" complex from her psyche.
That was a year ago, and she is making efforts to rehabilitate herself. She is now engaged to an assistant professor of history, who plans a lengthy trip on his sabbatical to the South Pacific and the Orient, where both of them are to research a book. This may be a healthy solution to the problem besetting a young woman whose only sin was in being overpowered by an opportunistic brother. But it is from just such incidents that the seeds of masochism often are nurtured in the female.
CHAPTER EIGHT DEBRA, WHO TURNED THE TABLES
Frequently we have observed that the masochistic female attempts to right the imaginary wrongs done to her by trying at times to play the role of sadist-but not always successfully. When this occurs, it is generally because the individual has felt that her suffering was not compensated by the pleasure accorded, and consequently sought to rectify matters by attempting to be the aggressive partner in a new relationship. Debra P-, a comely twenty-six-year-old auburn-haired New Orleans nightclub singer, found herself dominated first by her uncle, then by a domineering lesbian roommate, and finally attempted to assuage her needs by seducing a boy still in adolescence and making him her slave-but it was actually he who turned the tables on Debra rather than the other way around, as we shall see.
Though of white parentage for at least the first two generations that she knew of, Debra must well back in her lineage have had at least one Negro or part-Negro forebear, since she looked very much like a lovely Creole, with tan-colored skin, high-set cheekbones, full lips, and rather thick nostrils, with very dark-brown, large and limpid eyes. Her speech was soft and slurred, in the Creole patois, but this in itself did not proclaim any Negroid ancestry. It was perhaps both skin pigmentation and emotional reaction which betrayed her distant origin and perhaps, because of that, condemned her to a kind of half-world in which, although all her antecedents known to the town were white, she herself had the fearful misgiving that one day someone would come forward and denounce her as trying to pass for white and thus relegate her to the "other side of the tracks."
Debra's father and mother were happily married and it was very evident that they desired her as a love child. Her father was an accountant who wrote up the bills of lading for a cotton warehouse, and his honesty and thoughtfulness made him well-liked at his job and with all the people who came in contact with him. In an age of racism, he showed a special kindness and decency towards all Negro employees, treating them indeed so much like whites that often his employer gently chided him. Debra's mother was an attractive seamstress whose parents were decidedly French and English. The little girl went to public school, was not at all pampered, and appeared to be leading a perfectly normal and happy life when suddenly her parents contracted swamp fever and died, within a month of each other. Debra was twelve at the time, and her mother's older brother, whom we shall call James R-, a man of forty-seven, dissolute and spendthrift, became her legal guardian. He was able to trick the courts into obtaining full legal rights over the attractive black-haired girl, because he professed to be married, when in reality he was living with an attractive young harlot who gave herself out as his wife and who was perhaps, by reason of tenure, his common-law wife. At any rate, since there were no other living relatives and James Rappeared to have sufficient finances (he was the maitre d' of a fashionable New Orleans restaurant and made excellent wages), the judge awarded such guardianship to him and his "wife."
The "wife" was twenty-six, red-haired, something of a spitfire, and extremely wanton.
It is evident that she cheated on James Rjust as he had in turn cheated on her. So at an early age, Debra was exposed to the vagaries of adult infidelity and learned very quickly what sexual behavior was between male and female. (One night, when she was going to bed, she happened to go past the half-opened door of her "aunt's" bedroom and saw her uncle and the woman in the act of fornication.) It is not surprising, therefore, that soon after, Debra began to finger her tender vulva and to appease the gnawing sensations which permeated her after she had seen just a few of these salacious scenes.
By the time she was fourteen, Debra discovered that she had a lovely, throaty contralto voice, and that her Sunday School choir teacher was encouraging her to study music after hearing her in the lovely old hymns of the church. In that same year, however, her uncle cast aside his mistress, after a particularly violent scene. One of the redhead's accusations was that he had aspirations towards his own niece, which was actually true-though till that moment James Rhad made no overt move to seduce lovely young Debra. By fourteen, she was exceptionally lovely, with long coltish legs, a compact, jouncy bottom, and high-perched, firm, pear-shaped breasts which were already budding splendidly and which, together with her lovely soft tan complexion and exquisite oval-shaped face, sufficed to draw the roving eye of many a virile male.
But about three months later after James Rand the redhead had come to the parting of the way, he did make overtures towards his niece. It was a mid-September Friday evening, and he had taken her to supper at Antoine's, one of the traditionally great restaurants of the nation. He was celebrating not only his own good fortune (he had spent the afternoon in a gambling den and won thirty-thousand dollars at faro), but also his intention of taking his exciting young niece to bed with him that very night. After terrapin, oysters, and a superlative rack of lamb, together with a bottle of excellent red Bordeaux (he coaxed Debra to drink two glasses of it and the indulgent waiter did not protest), the young girl was understandably drowsy from all the good food and the rich dessert and the unaccustomed wine.
A thunderstorm began soon after they arrived home in a hansom cab. Indeed, James R was courting Debra much as he might have courted some expensive harlot whom he intended to ravish without further ado. But he was suave, gentle, flattering and at his very best, so the girl was easily deceived. Lonely as she was after her parents' deaths, it was also understandable that she came to turn to her uncle, who more and more had begun to praise her intelligence and beauty and particularly her gift for song.
Debra was terrified of thunderstorms, and couldn't sleep. Her uncle knew this, and had slyly planned his campaign, adapting it now because of the circumstance of the unforeseen weather change. He told her he was going to bed, and went into the bedroom next to hers, assuring her that he would be close by in case she was frightened. The young girl put on her nightgown, could not sleep, and began to cry in fear as the thunderstorm grew louder and the lightning flashes more and more frequent and violent. Finally she flung aside the covers and ran to her uncle's room, huddling against him and sobbing that she was afraid.
He kissed away her tears, his hands began to caress her young flanks and breasts, and before she knew it, Debra's nightie was lofted to her waist, and she felt her uncle's fingers slyly caressing the insides of her velvety thighs and then, at last, her pussy. With a moan, as a particularly loud crash of thunder rang out, she convulsively twisted in his arms, turning to him, mounting over him, and as he wore only his pajamas and had already stealthily unbuttoned the fly of the trousers, his boldly rigid cock had already emerged and awaited the sacrifice. Gripping her by the buttocks, he forced her down upon this fleshy sword, and a moment later Debra's cry rang out as another crash of thunder muffled her strident announcement that her hymen had been taken.
She tried to resist him, knowing now what he had done, sobbing in as great fear as for that of the storm. But already he was plunged to the hilt inside her, and his fingers gripped the satiny cheeks of her behind and forced her to surrender herself. Then he proceeded to fuck her, savoring her cries and groans and pleas to be freed. When he finally felt himself explode inside her virgin sheath, he knew at last the salacious joy of conquering this delicious, nubile virgin, and the excitement was the greater because of the incest involved.
He allayed her fears, gently douched her, and finally made her fall asleep in his arms, as the storm began to abate.
The next morning, he begged her pardon, swearing that he would never do a thing like that again, assuring her that nothing dangerous had really happened, and praising her beauty which, he avowed, had made him forget himself, the highest tribute he could pay her. Since Debra was ingenuous, and perhaps had some real affection for her uncle, she reluctantly accepted this explanation. But the assault was repeated the very next week, again when another storm fell upon New Orleans, this time with greater force than ever, flooding many aqueducts and putting out power lines. This time, Debra fought her uncle, feeling the shame of being his sexual plaything. Infuriated by her beauty and her rebelliousness as well as by his own insurmountable lust, James R flung her over his lap, ripped off her nightgown, and proceeded to give her a sound spanking on the naked behind until at last she screamed out that she would let him do anything he wanted if he would only stop.
When he came to her, as she lay sobbing and trembling, squirming and twisting uncomfortably from the burning of her bottom, she found to her own horrified surprise that the union was not quite so repugnant as she had dreaded it would be. Indeed, she found herself responding to him. Thus the seed of masochism had been sown, and it was to flourish in Debra's psyche until at last she sought to reverse her personality and become instead the initiatress instead of the initiate.
Once she tried to run away, having met a kindly old shoemaker on the other side of town who talked to her like a father and listened to her sing and advised her to find a teacher and even offered to help. She knew where he lived, and she made her way to his house, only to find that he had been taken ill and was in the hospital and not expected to live. Enraged by her attempt to escape him, James R drove throughout the city until finally he spied her, walking wearily down a side street in the French Quarter. He got out of the car, dragged her into it, cuffed her and promised her a sound thrashing when they got home.
Once inside the house, he dragged her to the bedroom, ripped off her clothes and, leaving her only in stockings and elastic garters, bound her on the bed face down, tying her wrists and ankles to the bedposts. Then, blindfolding her, he took off his belt and proceeded to whip her bottom and thighs slowly and cruelly, telling her that he was going to flog her until she begged him to go to bed with her. Debra tried her best to resist, but at a point in the thrashing, the agony of the white-hot lashes suddenly became strangely pleasurable, and she began to writhe and groan and squirm, in the very throes of sensual attunement.
Her uncle then stripped naked, clambered onto the bed and, yawning apart the welted cheeks of her voluptuous young bottom, buggered her. Even though this was atrociously painful for the young girl, she derived pleasure from it, for the dissolute man put his left forefinger to her vulva, found her clitoris, and began to rub it delicately while he made his in-and-out thrusts inside her tight rectal sheath till at last she experienced orgasm even in the midst of her pain and suffering.
This attack further developed her masochism, and she remained submissively her uncle's mistress till she was eighteen, when he had a stroke and died. The money which her parents had left in trust to him had, alas, been almost entirely dissipated. He lived luxuriously, bought clothes and jewelry, and although he lavished such finery on his niece as well, he lost as much at gambling as he won after his one great coup. Consequently, he had even used some of her trust funds, and so at the age of eighteen, lovely Debra found herself nearly penniless.
She went to work in a little nightclub as a kind of hostess, selling drinks, though not herself. Of course her beauty inflamed many a man who made indecent proposals to her, but she turned them all down. She had no wish to be a slave of any man again. She felt shame, and went to church and confessed what had been done to her, though she did not mention that it was her uncle nor his name, not wishing to speak ill of the dead. In many ways she was ingenuous, and she was also alone with no one to help to guide her. That was how she fell into the hands of Alma D-, a sadistic lesbian of thirty-eight, still quite buxom and handsome, who had been a former prostitute and was now chief hostess of the nightclub where Debra worked.
Alma was quick to offer the young girl a place in her own little house in the heart of the French Quarter. They would share expenses, she suggested, and it would be much easier for Debra. Also, having heard Debra sing an occasional popular tune (one night when the club's regular singer came down with a sore throat, Debra volunteered and won a great deal of applause for her performance), Alma saw in the lovely Creole-looking girl a chance both for monetary profit and her own selfish physical enjoyment.
Once again Debra agreed, because she was lonely and needed affection. Alma had successfully "conned" her, and it was the last thing in the world that Debra expected to find that her roommate was cruel and tyrannical, even more so than her uncle had been.
After a week, the happy menage disappeared, and Alma coldly informed her young protegee that henceforth she would be expected to do a certain amount of work around the house in order to earn her keep. Debra was more than willing, though gently reminding Alma that the latter had invited her to share expenses, and Alma flew into a pretended rage at this insolence. She slapped Debra's face, called her a stupid little upstart who was really not more than a child and needed a good spanking. This gave her the exact cue she wished whereby to dominate the lovely black-haired girl. Seizing Debra by the waist, she pulled her down across her lap as she seated herself on an overstuffed armchair, turned back Debra's skirt and slip, yanked down the girl's little panties, and proceeded to spank her naked behind with the flat of her hand, scolding her all the while as she would an errant child.
Taken by surprise, Debra could not defend herself. When she tried to do so, it was much too late. Alma was vigorous and of course long-experienced in such sadistic games. But once again Debra's flesh and psyche betrayed her. As the rain of spanks continued to fall upon her livid bottom globes, in the midst of her cries and muffled sobs and babbled entreaties, she began to feel the curious warmth pervading her loins, seeping into her pussy, making her nipples stiff with longing.
Soon she began unconsciously to arch her behind up as if begging for more spanks, a maneuver which Alma at once shrewdly detected. Stopping the spanking, she lifted the sobbing young woman to her feet, drew her over to the bed, pushed her down onto her back, and a few moments later Debra was swooning in Alma's vigorous tribadistic embrace.
This brought her to a climax, and Alma then teased her about being such a naughty girl and hiding the fact that she was really a passionate little slut at heart. From then on, Alma promised, there would be many such spankings whenever Debra didn't do her chores.
And so this bondage began, a new kind of bondage, which in its way was perhaps even more despotic than anything that James R could have concocted. Enjoying the humiliation of the lovely young beauty over whom she exercised such imperious command, Alma would make certain nights "punishment nights." She would type out a kind of schedule which informed the shamed and submissive beauty of exactly the kind of punishment she might expect for so many demerits, and she would keep a ledger book into which she wrote down every feigned and actual mistake or misdemeanor on Debra's part. On this "punishment night," poor Debra would have to present herself in Alma's room, wearing a special punishment costume which consisted of a child's little short dress which went only to about the middle of Debra's thighs, anklets, sandals, a ribbon in her hair, and under the dress only a short little camisole of fine white silk. The dress would be removed at Alma's order, the camisole would then be hoisted up to Debra's armpits, and then Debra would have to come stand beside her "Mummy," a term which Alma insisted the girl use at punishment time.
Next, the lesbian would tie Debra's wrists behind her back and buckle them tightly with a strap. Then, taking the sobbing young girl by the earlobe, she would compel Debra to go across her lap and to beg humbly for the punishment due her. She had already been informed of how many demerits she had incurred, and if she forgot exactly what the punishment for that number of demerits was, Alma would of course add to the sentence.
The spanking was prolonged, first with the flat of the hand, then with a ruler, then perhaps with a hairbrush. It was divided into three parts as a general rule, and after each poor Debra would have to get up, kneel down, kiss Alma's feet, and then beg her to continue the punishment until her sins were absolved.
After the punishment, of course, there always ensued a kind of sexual reconciliation, and finally Alma vented her "butch" tendencies on her victim by purchasing an artificial dildo, strapping it onto herself, and fucking poor Debra exactly as if she were a man.
Nonetheless, in spite of this increasingly severe bondage and humiliation and degradation which Alma visited upon her charge, Debra found a certain kind of happiness. Alma did keep her word about finding a music teacher, a kindly old white-haired woman who had once coached members of the New Orleans Opera Company, and who was quite erudite in musicology and had quite a feeling for good music. Under her tutelage, Debra learned how to sing both classical music and popular, and soon she was given a chance in the nightclub where Alma was still the chief hostess and she herself an assistant.
When she was twenty-four, this relationship ended abruptly. Alma had a stroke during one of her sexual exploitations of Debra, and fell to the floor speechless, dying in the hospital two weeks later. Debra was stricken with remorse, and felt that it was her own sin in compliance which had caused the death of her benefactress.
She was promoted to Alma's job, and also made a feature singer, singing at least three nights a week, three shifts, forty-five minutes at a time. Her salary was increased of course, and for the first time in her life she was relatively free from poverty and its many encumbrances.
But by now masochism was a definite part of her life. She found that Alma's will had left her Alma's house and some of her clothes. She decided she needed someone to help her do errands and clean the house, because she was quite busy at the nightclub. A young Creole boy of sixteen, Edouard, lived nearby with his widowed and ailing mother. She found him pleasant and handsome, well-mannered, and engaged him as a kind of major domo.
About three months after he had gone to work for her, she found fault with his cleaning of the house, and slapped his face. He burst into tears, and Debra suddenly sensed that for the first time in her life she might become the dominatress instead of the dominated. Moreover, her sensuality had reawakened, and she had gone back to masturbation. She told Edouard that he was only a crybaby and not a real man, and that crybabies needed a good spanking. She forced the boy to let down his trousers, then his shorts, and lie across her lap. She spanked him hard, and had the satisfaction of hearing him sob and beg for mercy, while at the same time she could feel his erect young cock prod against her loins as he lay struggling over her lap.
This scene was repeated a week later, for an imaginary fault which he had committed. But this time, the tables were turned with a vengeance. After she had spanked him, she commanded him to kneel at her feet and then to kiss them. She was wearing only a slip and dress, without lingerie, and it was her intention to teach him how to apply his lips and tongue to her pussy for the fulfillment which Alma had once taught her was so beautiful and thrilling. But Edouard refused, and, springing to his feet, seized her by the wrists and dragged her over to the couch, then seated himself, half-naked as he was, pulled her over his lap, pulled up her slip and dress and revealed her naked bottom. He began to spank her furiously, hurling invectives at her, telling her that she was a bad woman to treat him so, and that she deserved worse than he had for whatever he had done. Under the spanking, Debra kicked her legs and pleaded for mercy, and began to feel once more the exquisitely perverse thrill of masochistic surrender. Before the afternoon was done, Edouard had mounted her and fucked her, and from then on she and the boy had the relationship of slave-mistress to his lover-master.
But Edouard was perhaps too opportunistic for his own good, and soon he began to demand that she service his friends for a price. He wanted money for his ailing mother, who needed hospital care. Realizing into what toils her passion had carried her, Debra sought psychiatric counsel. One of my friends, knowing that I was in town for Mardi Gras, phoned me and asked me to come over to his office. It was there I met Debra, and I heard her story.
She was shown how she had tried to reverse her character in a way of striking back, and she saw also how it had recoiled upon her. What she needed was marriage to a strong yet considerate man, who would respect her beauty as well as her artistry as a singer. And this occurred some six months after our consultation together. She writes me that she is making headway, as she finds her passion fulfilled by his expert lovemaking, and that whatever sadism there may be comes only in gentle spankings which stimulate them both.
The human psyche is a frail and complex and intangible entity. Sometimes it seems damaged beyond repair, but with a girl as ingenuous as Debra and in need of love as she was throughout her life, there is always hope for rehabilitation. This is the virtue of the work I do, in consultation with those who are disturbed and who seek to find the cause of their disturbance and eliminate it so that they may lead happy, useful lives.
CHAPTER NINE: LANI, SUBORNED SEDUCTRESS
Our readers, astute as we know them to be, have doubtless already detected in their perusal of the foregoing case histories that most dominatresses of juvenile males had the nascent seed of either masochism or sadism in their psyches. Further, they sought these triumphs over the budding adolescent by way of compensation for earlier psychic (or physical) rejections, whether those came from sweethearts or husbands, or their own kin.
With Lani G., we might truly say that here was a beautiful, passionate and mature woman whose being suborned through rejections of race and bigotry undeniably led her to the bypaths of seduction, wherein she might feel herself to have "proved" her womanhood, so sorely tried and maligned by adults.
To understand Lani G., we must first understand something of the setting where I first met her and where she was born: Honolulu. Originally, the Hawaiian Islands were discovered by Captain James Cook towards the end of the eighteenth century and were named after his patron the Earl of Sandwich-hence, the Sandwich Islands. Later, they became United States territorial acquisition and Sanford P. Dole, founder of the world-renowned pineapple canning firm that bears his name today, was one of the first American governors. Hawaii had a monarchy up to the end of the nineteenth century, and it had an intensely proud and patriotic native-blooded Hawaiian population.
Over the years of this century, that ethnic heritage was lessened by the advent of the Chinese, Japanese, Portugese and Filipinos to the islands, as well as the commercial ascendancy of the haoles (whites) who ultimately formed the "Big Five" of vested industrial interests and made Hawaii quite profitable for themselves. It is still a gently ironic joke which Hawaiian entertainers make to guests at luaus (feasts) when they say, "The missionaries taught us how to pray. They told us to bow our heads. We did, and when we looked up, the land was gone."
Today, as this book goes to press, Honolulu is the largest city of all the Hawaiian Islands, with Hilo on the "Big Island" next with a paltry 10,000 inhabitants. To Honolulu came about a million-and-a-half tourists a year, and building of high-rises-yes, and even smog!-is even more visible to the first-time visitor as the big 747 jet flies over Diamond Head and Waikiki Beach than the tropical palms and the lavish floral beauty which make the islands so memorable. But of this resident population which nears half-a-million in Honolulu, at least half is Japanese, and the Japanese now own the major hotels, most businesses, and control the legislature.
Thus since Pearl Harbor in 1941, Honolulu has been in a state of flux and growing pains; military rule imposed business restrictions till well after 1945. From then till 1959, the year of Statehood, Honolulu became a Mecca for tourists with money. Inevitably, this expansion brought higher living costs till today prices for food and rent are exorbitant, the state income tax is the nation's highest, while wages remain at the low level of many Southern states. Moreover, among the whites, there is a snobbery which precludes entry into social and business life for the non-white or kanaka (an insulting term which means half-breed). I cite all this to emphasize the difficulties which Lani
G. faced in a shifting world that had once been unique and self-sufficient unto itself, and is no longer.
She was born two months before December 7, 1941, that day which the late President Franklin Delano Roosevelt characterized as "a day that will go down in infamy," with the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor. Her father was an Australian, an Anzac engineer who had come to Oahu (the island on which Honolulu is sited) a decade earlier to do construction work under contract. Her mother was of Polynesian extraction, part Tahitian, part Samoan. The result was a stunningly beautiful child, for indeed Hawaii, the melting pot of the races, has long been known for its exotic female beauties. But beauty can be a curse, especially when it spans two alien and hostile worlds, as Lani's did.
Lani went to public school (and here again in Honolulu the choice of school means much for future social recognition; the elite is Punahou, which hasingenious rules that eliminate "riffraff"), and grew up with girls and boys very much like herself. By the time of Statehood, she was eighteen and superbly beautiful, with waist-length black hair, a voluptuously ripe figure, a lovely oval face with huge brown eyes and full red mouth, and a complexion that admixed the white and soft brown of her parents' races. Her father died of a heart attack soon after her graduation from high school, and-her mother, who was only thirty-seven at the time, promptly remarried a Japanese tourist guide.
There was no possibility of college for Lani; money problems alone would have militated against that. Nor did she have skills that would be prized by the Caucasian world. Hence her destiny was to find a husband, and to this end her stepfather and mother planned. This was the beginning of her subornment, for her stepfather was an arrogant, ambitious man who intended one day to have his own profitable teahouse, and it is even possible that he planned to channel his own stepdaughter into the role of geisha entertainer-and more than that.
Lani discovered this when he began to foist a husband-candidate on her, lecturing her on the propriety of a daughter's obedience to the father-a traditional Japanese dictate. When Lani naively protested that he was not her true father, he angrily told her mother that he proposed to discipline her into manners befitting an unmarried and rebellious young girl. And her mother helplessly stood by while Ito Surbayahsi took Lani by an elbow, ushered her into the parental bedroom, seated himself on the bed, and, after proceeding to roll up her skirt and petticoat, began to thrash her shapely ripe buttocks with his leather belt.
-This was the first of many whippings her stepfather administered, for Lani. Once, she ran away from home and tried to find work as a salesclerk in a tourist garment shop in
Waikiki. The proprietress scornfully told her that the shop did not hire "Orientals or Hawaiians," and drove her away. She did manage to find a job as a waitress in a little restaurant in the downtown area, but her vengeful stepfather found her, brought her home and compelled her mother to hold her wrists while he lofted her outer clothes and lowered her panties, then beat her with the flat of his hand like a child to humiliate her, and finished with so severe a belting that she nearly fainted.
Lani G. came thus to resent not only her sadistic stepfather but also her own mother who had failed to take her part. Meanwhile, he repeated his demands that she marry the young Japanese he had selected for her. It was this which prompted the black-haired young beauty to escape his tyranny by finding her own husband, and so she did-a choice that turned out even more disastrously.
Lani had already seen in her own household the clash between Polynesian and Oriental. Knowing herself to be defined as a Polynesian because of her facial traits and the color of her skin, she decided to choose a husband of her own kind; that is to say, either a half-breed or a true Polynesian. She had met a waiter at one of the smaller hotels on Waikiki Beach, Henry Gusato, whose mother had been pure-blooded Hawaiian and whose father had been an English sailor. He seemed kind, and he was only twenty-nine, and had a steady job, a little bungalow on like-like Boulevard, and he thought her extremely beautiful and desirable, which indeed she was. It is easy to understand how her starved hunger for affection and her suffering at the hands of her stepfather drove her towards the first seemingly eligible men who wanted her. What it was to do was deepen her masochistic psyche by still another, even crueler rejection, till what she finally did to seek compensation was very likely inevitable, from the psychiatrist's viewpoint.
There was a stormy scene at home when she confronted her stepfather and mother with the news that she was going to marry Henry Gusato. Ito Surbayashi furiously scolded her, swore he would prevent such a step, and ended by taking his belt to her naked bottom once again as he had done so often. But by now, though of course lovely naive Lani had no way of understanding what had happened to her, the whipping served to drive her into Henry Gusato's arms. That was proof already of her masochistic nature, for Lani had been induced to arousal-without understanding it as such, to be sure-by the frequent thrashings which the forty-three-year old Japanese stepfather administered to her on the bare flesh, not only outraging her virginal modesty but insidiously letting her become aware of her sexually exciting effect on him when he was whipping her. At least twice, Lani told me during our interview when I happened to be vacationing in Honolulu and lecturing on sexual mores to large mixed audiences at the Civic Center in the University of Hawaii campus, Ito Surbayashi mockingly called her a harlot and told her that by her twisting over his lap and her feverish struggles during the whipping, she had roused an unworthy and ignoble passion in him and thus made him "Lose face." Lani told me also that invariably after these whippings, her stepfather would take her mother into another room, lock the door and have sexual relations with her.
We see thus that the adolescent girl was conditioned to equating pain with sexual stimulus, with this powerful additional factor: at eighteen, a girl of Polynesian or Oriental origin is, very much like the European girl, already a woman. Lani G was ripe for love, yearned for it, but suddenly in her most impressionable teenaged years her tyrannical stepfather had pointed her down the shadowy road of masochistic response, which was to condition her mind as well as her luscious flesh.
And so after he had whipped her that last time, Lani ran away from home and went directly to Henry Gusato's bungalow to tell him that she wanted to be his wife and that she had broken away from home and burned all her bridges behind her. He was stocky, and she had mistaken his phlegmatic, rather cunning nature for kindliness and tolerance.
What he really had in mind was making Lani his mistress. To be sure, he was flattered by her blind devotion to him, by her offer of herself with the passionate declaration that she now had no one in the world except himself. The fact was, Henry Gusato had the-temperament of one of those earlier Hawaiian beachboys who lived from steamship tour to tour, constantly hoping to find some beautiful white American woman who would, of course, be very rich and take him back to the land of milk and honey with her. Occasionally, he had managed a few furtive affairs with divorcees or single and voracious women who looked upon their first visit to the land of aloha as an ideal time and place to let down their puritanical inhibition, since, after all, once they went back home, no one would be the wiser.
Nevertheless, Henry married Lani, and his ego led him to keep her constantly aware that he had taken pity on her and that she owed her security to his charitable act. Sexually, he was coarse and brusque, seeking only his own pleasure. Lani soon discovered that the adoration she had thought he had for her was nothing more than a transient, all too fleeting immediate lust for the possession of her voluptuous, ripe body as his passion-receptacle; and that, once the act of coitus had been concluded, he was tired of her and either went out to be with his drinking companions or, more and more frequently, to prowl along the corridors of the hotel to see if some white woman clad in a seductive nightgown might not open the door and welcome him into her bed as the answer to her spinsterish prayer.
The marriage lasted three unhappy years, and after the first year, Henry Gusato began to whip her, having discovered one night during a drunken quarrel that after he had struck her on the face a few times and then cuffed her bottom, she seemed to be more receptive to his sudden, violent desires to ravish her-for that was what the marital act turned out to be that night. Cunningly, he understood just enough of the female psyche to realize that he now had the upper hand over Lani and a perfect weapon to "keep her in line" whenever he chose.
Soon Henry Gusato began to cheat openly on his wife, and when she timidly complained, he made skillful use of that weapon by thrashing her. Often he would rip off her clothes and lock her up in her room till he came back from work. Then, unlocking the door and entering, naked but for shorts, having fortified himself with several cans of the island's potent Primo beer, he would take a bamboo cane or a belt or a leather strap to her thighs and bottom till his passions mounted enough to dispense with the whipping and fling her down on the bed and enjoy her carnally.
By the end of the second year, Lani was crushed, virtually little more than a slave. Her mother had succumbed to a heart attack, a further annihilating blow to any hope she had of perhaps admitting she had made a mistaken marriage and trying to effect a reconciliation between herself and the only person who had really loved her.
Six months into the third year of this tragically wrong marriage, Henry Gusato was discharged from his job on the complaint of a dignified forty-year-old widow who swore he had come to her room and urged her to have a sexual affair with him. Also, the maitre d' of the restaurant where he worked had begun to discover certain discrepancies between the checks turned into the cashier and the actual food dishes taken from the kitchen. For three months he was out of a job, and he drank and beat and raped Lani till she sometimes thought of suicide.
Finally, he found another job, as a busboy in a new restaurant whose manager was short of help and needed anyone who would show up. Henry minded his behavior and for three months managed to hold a job and even be promoted back to waiter's status. For a time, Lani believed her husband had reformed. But she was again in error. Discharged for theft because temptation was too great and his desires for extra money for his constant drinking overcame his attempt at proper on-the-job conduct, he came home that night totally drunk and in a savage rage. Beating her with his fists and then taking a coat hanger to her breasts and belly, he abused Lani so that she was taken to the hospital. There doctors told her that her husband had so brutalized her that she could never bear a child.
With that, her marriage came to an end; she preferred charges of assault against him, and he was sent to Oahu State Prison for two years. Lani remained in the hospital till she had recuperated, got her divorce and at the age of nearly twenty-two began to remake her twisted life.
She began as a waitress in a new nightclub which served sandwiches, salads, deserts and drinks, found herself a cheap rooming house near the club, and worked there two years, saving what little money she could, and putting aside any thoughts of romance. When the club closed down, her experience aided her in finding a better job in a new Waikiki hotel as a hostess, and her ripe beauty, now fully matured and dazzlingly seductive, was displayed at its best in a clinging satin cheong-sam slashed up one thigh nearly to the gunmetal-gray stocking top. After two years, she realized the bitter loneliness of this new life, and yielded to a wealthy, handsome white tourist's importunities for a date. He was a man of forty, an industrialist who, during his vacation, had decided to invest some capital in the future of Honolulu, and determined to stay there for a year or two to see the project underway. Lani became his devoted mistress.
With Elmer T-, physical passion was much more a matter of romance than it had been for Henry Gusato. He knew how to waken Lani, performing cunnilingus on her for the first time that had ever occurred to the lovely half-breed beauty and rousing her to furious fulfillment. Yet his white heritage could not let him forget that she was, when all was said and done, a "half-breed," a kanaka, and that she was not much better than a lowly secretary or waitress whom he had picked up as a Pygmalion attempts to mold a Galatea into the bed-creature of his whims and fancies. Elmer Talso enjoyed voluptuous chastisement; not, it is true, the brutal thrashings of her husband or of her stepfather, but almost ritualistic spankings, preparations which while they stirred the seductive warm, brown-skinned young woman, nonetheless made her fully conscious of a kind of slave ethos, of being his plaything and his harlot who needs must submit. As she told me, "Even when I cried and begged him please not to make me so ashamed, we both knew I would do whatever he wished. And when he held me over his lap, or made me kneel on all fours on the bed and pull up my skirt and petticoat, or my muumuu, and lower my panties, my insides began to churn and I wanted him to abuse me and then to have me."
Thus the seed of masochistic submission which Ito Surbayashi had planted and which Henry Gusato had nurtured and sprung to full fruition in this mature young woman's psyche. As yet, however, it had not grown into that final harvest which she was to glean and through which alone, in the later years, she found her only satisfying sexual experiences.
This liaison lasted four years, and Lani, at her lover's request, cut her working hours to only a few, certain nights when he would be back on the mainland or an occasional weekend when his business duties required socializing that could not include her. Thus, because of her half-Polynesian blood, she was relegated to a "back-street mistress" role; and as the snobbery lines between the haoles (whites) and the non-whites grew more and more distinct as tourism reached its peak in the last few years of the decade of the Sixties, Lani was made to feel her social rejection all the more keenly. And the affair terminated when Elmer Tcasually announced that he was marrying a Detroit debutante and bringing her to live in a house he was having built in the swanky Kahala district. To be sure, he suggested that she continue as his mistress, proposing to set her up in a cozy apartment near Waikiki, but Lani refused.
Generously, he gave her several thousand dollars and paid the rent on a small apartment for a year by way of gratitude for her concubinistic services. Thus it was that as she neared the milestone of thirty, unable to bear a child and decidedly submissive in her sexual attitudes, Lani began her life anew for the third time.
It was perhaps ironic that the little apartment which her white lover had found for her was to be the locale where the final phase of her masochistic sexuality should take place.
In that building was a forty-five-year-old widow from Los Angeles who was living there with her fifteen-year-old son, Allan. He was a handsome, well developed boy, with curly blonde hair, blue eyes, and a considerable egoist; being an only child and enrolled in a good school, he had been made conscious of his "superiority" by his mother, who had been left reasonably well off at her bereavement through a heavy insurance program her airline pilot husband had carried. Allan, despite his youth, was already sexually precocious-which his doting mother did not know.
Lani had noticed the adolescent several times in the elevator, and his admiring, bold glances had somewhat startled her with the awareness that he was regarding her much as a virile male might a desirable female. And about a week later, when his mother decided to go to the leeward side of the island to visit some old friends and left Allan home, he went one step further. Having learned where Lani lived, he went up to her apartment and introduced himself. Glibly, he asked if she were a nightclub entertainer or a hula dancer, explaining that he wanted to learn the native dance of Hawaii.
The beautiful half-breed divorcee, as she confessed to me, felt a curious duality of emotions at his bold essay. She found herself physically drawn to him, even though at the same time her moral judgment told her it was forbidden. And yet because he was white, the epitome of racial superiority as opposed to her own rejected and suborned admixture of bloods, she felt the desire to be physically aligned with him. Subconsciously, I am convinced, she sought to conquer him, thus proving that her desirability had nothing to do with her low-caste status.
So she encouraged Allan by telling him she would show him how to dance, and put on a phonograph record, showed him the elementary steps. Wearing a short muumuu which accentuated all the lush curves of bosom and buttocks and ripely rounded thighs, Lani soon had him wildly aroused. As he joined her in the dance, he put his hands on her hips and pressed himself against her loins. Soon it was evident to Lani that her precocious young pupil had a violent erection. She turned scarlet with emotion and tried to ignore his excitement. But Allan, growing bolder, suddenly kissed her and ran his hands over her plump round buttocks. And the old masochistic fervor betrayed Lani Gonce again. Trembling violently, she returned his kiss, and when his hands slipped under the short skirt of the muumuu, she knew herself to be lost.
As she told me, she really had not believed so young a boy would take such aggressive initiative, but Allan led her into the bedroom and, pushing her down on the bed, began to kiss her with voracity, his hands roaming under the muumuu to caress her thighs and breasts.
Lani tried to protest laughingly, but this seemed to antagonize her young suitor. And suddenly, as she twisted away from him, the muumuu was ripped to expose her naked buttocks. Instantly, Allan began to slap them, panting, "You aren't going to be a teaser and get away with it, Lani, not with me you're not!"
Thus it was that Lani Gsuccumbed to a fifteen-year-old boy. For when the stinging heat of the spanking warmed her smooth-sheened bottom and she began to squirm and twist, she felt fierce desire, having been denied coitus since her break-off with Elmer. And soon, half fainting with desire, she felt herself being penetrated and possessed.
Thereafter, Allan sneaked up to her apartment whenever his mother was out and repeated his conquest. His precocious instincts led him to see how he could make this beautiful mature woman his sexual vassal, and again and again he resorted to pummeling her or spanking her.
It was two months later that his widowed mother, wondering why he seemed to find so many errands to run without consulting her, followed him as he pretended to leave the building. She saw him go up the fire escape to the top floor, enter an open French window. Marking the site of the apartment, she went up in the front elevator and knocked on Lani's door. And the affair between a fifteen-year-old boy and a woman twice his age was exposed.
Allan's mother furiously threatened to have Lani sent to prison, but when the unhappy beauty promised to move and never to see Allan again, she relented. Lani Gsought professional aid, and one of my colleagues, whom I had visited while in Honolulu, arranged an interview between us. It was then I could show the tragically suborned beauty how it had come about that she was easy prey through having endured unjust rejections.
At last notice, Lani has remarried, this time a man who is part Portuguese and part Hawaiian, and they have adopted two children, a boy and a girl. Her life has become full, and she has won her hostages against a fortune that threatened to despoil her entire life.
Thus we see that masochism in the female can lead her not always to the servitude imposed by the adult male, but to the compensatory surrender to the immature adolescent, from whom she dreams of achieving a stronger place as a woman and, if she needs must subscribe to slavery, one that she can control by the wiles of her sex and her desirability. Where the adult could dominate and exact his will, the boy on the threshold of sexual wakening is far more pliable and thus may more readily fulfill the thwarted female who yearns to be dominatress but whose latent weaknesses will never permit such complete triumph.
CHAPTER TEN: RUTH, WHO GLORIED IN BLACK DOMINATION
We speak of fatalism and the pre-knowledge of ordained doom. In our complex society, which prides itself on being so far advanced over medieval and primeval ways, we still pay secret homage to esoteric cults of devil worship, or, in some provinces of Central Europe, the blood rituals by which human sacrifice is offered to the earth for fertility. The more cultured we become, the farther we retrogress in our basic carnal emotions, and when lust drives, the devil seems to guide.
Instinct is ancient, sophistication new. But if we scan history with impassive eye, we see the recurrence of motivations which are as timeless as the earth itself. In the Middle Ages, when the plague-the Black Death, as it was then called-decimated the towns and villages, there arose groups of religious fanatics, who wore sackcloth and scourged themselves with whips as they walked through the land. They sought by this self-martyrdom and penance to purge their sins and thus in turn to purge the earth of the foulness of the deadly plague. Today, those jaded and debauched pursue the worship of Satan, much as did Alistair Crowley, in the name of hedonism-"Pleasure is all the law." Beyond the difference in centuries and the trappings of modernity, there is not much difference.
To the psychiatrist, therefore, the wish to punish oneself for alleged wrongdoing is as ancient and primal as the act of coitus itself. It serves as a cloak, a disguise, by which we hide the darker reasons which drive us to self-inflicted punishment. It is a masochism, a self-defense mechanism by which the weaker passively allow pain to be meted out so that they will be "purged of the sin" they so yearningly long to commit. We have heard of "accident-prone" people who have a series of incredible mishaps, and if we were to psychoanalyze them, we should doubtless find an innate yearning for self-destruction, not always to the ultimate end of death, it is true, but at least by the way of pain which for them becomes the transfiguration of carnal joy.
So it was with Ruth E-, a cultured, and one may say, almost ethereal woman of twenty-eight, who, remembering a secret joy from pain and shame in her young girlhood, sought subconsciously for some years beyond adolescence to relive and reincarnate that situation which alone could bring her physical gratification by degradation, shame and self-sacrifice.
Ruth Ewas born in a small Mississippi town to a wealthy landowner father and a mother who had been the belle of that town. Though born during World War II, Ruth grew up in an atmosphere that had not changed much since the days of the Civil War. True, the slaves were freed, but her parents still righteously believed that blacks were inferior, should be "kept in their place" and that "they were happier with white masters than they could ever be if free." An only child, sent to a private school and given every luxury, Ruth became understandably introspective, living in a world of books, making few friends.
At thirteen, she was already lovely, with a cameo-like face, delicate features, a slim, graceful body and soft white skin which her glossy black hair accentuated. Her parents never failed to praise her, to remark on her genteel, aristocratic breeding, till she became imbued with the doctrine that she must necessarily be superior to any other type of race.
Then her parents died, and she found herself lonely in a shattered world. The adjustment was the hardest for her because of the traditions she had absorbed. And so when her father's younger brother and his wife became her guardians, having inherited the stately old house and the land which had once been a rich plantation, Ruth discovered that her new world was vastly different and troubling. Her uncle, at forty-three, was a bluff, well-read man who, though born a Southerner, had no sympathy for the theory of white supremacy. His handsome wife, ten years younger, was a girl from Cleveland who had been brought up with Negroes, gone to school with them, accepted them as her friends, and shared his feelings that one judges people by their integrity, not the color of their skin.
Six months after her uncle and aunt had come to the house to live with her and bring her up as their own daughter-for they were childless-the incident occurred which was to alter Ruth's life and lead her ultimately to the all-consuming passion which she dreaded, which shamed her and yet without which she found she could not live.
A Negro boy of about fifteen made a delivery of groceries to the back of the house. Ruth's uncle was in town on business and her aunt was taking a nap. She let the boy in, and very stiffly told him to leave the groceries on the table. He did so affably and then wheedlingly asked her for a tip. The girl flared up and angrily told him she would report him to his boss, ordering him to leave at once. Later, when her aunt had awakened, Ruth told her what had happened and indignantly remarked, "The very idea of that dirty nigger boy asking for money to do the work he was hired to do!"
To her astonishment, her aunt reprimanded her for such an inflammatory remark. Even more that that, she reported Ruth's comment to her husband when he came home that evening. So, after dinner, he took Ruth into his study and gravely lectured her for showing such vicious prejudice. When she burst into tears and almost hysterically declared that her parents had taught her that Negroes were little better than animals who had to be kept in their place, he tried to reason with her. Finally, exasperated, he pulled her across his lap and for the first time in her life, Ruth received a sound spanking. At first, she was horrified at being so treated, and tearfully and indignantly protested the injustice of that chastisement. But her outcries and her vehement avowals that she had done right and should not be punished for it only antagonized her uncle to continue the spanking. Finally, yanking up her little skirt and petticoat, he began to bring his hand down on her panty-sheathed bottom.
Subtly, without her knowing it, to be sure, the stinging pain of his spanks began to arouse her, as did the awareness that she was so scantily clad before a man. As she continued to kick and wriggle over his lap and his sonorous slaps to rain down on her burning posterior, Ruth was permeated by sensations which were far from being punitive or unpleasant. In a word, she was being aroused towards sexual climax. And when he at last stood her on her feet and lectured her sternly, leaving her just short of this fulfillment, she was nearly swooning with the mingling of pain and sensuality.
Sent to bed and told to meditate over her thoughtless cruelty to the young Negro, Ruth tearfully undressed and studied her flaming posterior in the bathroom mirror. Trying to alleviate it with a cloth dipped into cold water, she used her other hand to rub the insides of her thighs, which had begun to tingle and twitch and seemed as hot as her spanked bottom. In so doing, she accidentally touched her vulva and that contact crystallized her needs and her desire. Though till then ignorant of sexual byplay, she masturbated herself to orgasm.
Some weeks later, her aunt, seeing that her menses were soon upon her, instructed the girl in the fundamentals of sex. Ruth felt a great sense of guilt and shame when her aunt alluded to the harm one could do by playing with oneself. She began to reason that she had sinned and therefore should have been punished even more severely-not so much for showing contempt to the Negro delivery boy, but for her own onanistic reactions to her spanking.
And thus there was nurtured in Ruth E-'s psyche the secret and as yet unconscious longing to be dominated by a black, to be punished for having "failed" her uncle, whom she respected and loved, though with a love that was perhaps more fear and awed respect than love. Perhaps, too, one may see the growth of an incestuous impulse, since it was through his spanking her that she associated pleasure with pain. And in this way, the several factors of the situation coalesced to produce the trauma that was to channel her sexual longings into masochism that was linked with miscegenation.
She finished high school and college, showing little disposition to date boys of her own age. Upon graduation, she decided to teach, for she loved books and felt more at home with them than with people. For several years, she taught in the rural school near her home, and then, when she was twenty-seven, the rural superintendent of schools asked her if she would care to become assistant principal of a Negro school about ten miles away. Ruth hesitated for some little time, and then finally accepted.
By now she was a beautiful woman, about five-feet-seven in height, with classical features, poise and dignity, a true aristocrat. Softspoken, reticent, she awed the Negro children whom she came to teach. Her uncle and aunt applauded her having "grown up," and told her that it was selfless humanitarianism that would ultimately lead to better understanding in the South.
But the real reason for her having accepted this position was that the long-retained sense of guilt she had ever since her uncle had spanked her for slighting the young Negro boy had formulated into an almost overpowering need to confront her "guilty" past and to reconcile herself to it. Brooding over the episode so many years after, she came to feel that the Negro boy had in the most direct sense been responsible for her having felt the shameful "sin" of lust through the spanking she had earned from her uncle; and since Ruth had held herself back from all other natural relationships, she was inevitably and inexorably drawn to the Negro as her potential instrument of sexual release. One might well have said that she was fatalistically led down the path she took to her tragic end.
Still, for the first few months she tried to acquit herself with fairness and impersonal efficiency. She made decisions for her subordinate staff, talked to many boys and girls sent to her office for discipline, actually made an earnest effort to accept them as equals. But the initial upbringing by her parents had left too strong, too indelible a mark on her psyche; against it, diametrically opposed to it, clashed the agonizingly haunting recollection of the passionate moments she had known in the privacy of her own bedroom when she had touched herself and found pleasure after pain.
So it was not surprising that she should be led finally to seek that same dualistic pairing: to know pain and shame and directly by the doing of the very people she had offended and "sinned" against, so that she might, once purged of the sin, find the pleasure so essential to her innermost sensuality.
The opportunity presented itself the fourth month of her tenure as assistant principal.
A sturdy sixteen-year-old Negro boy was sent to her office to be disciplined because he had allegedly stolen some money from a classmate. The youth defended himself vigorously and even angrily, but Ruth E-believed on circumstantial evidence that he was guilty and ordered him suspended for two weeks, after which time his parents were to come to see her. During that interval, the same teacher who had reported the youth came to her apologetically and upset; she had just caught a boy in the act of stealing, and when she had confronted him with his wrongdoing, he had confessed the theft for which the first boy had been suspended.
Ruth was aghast. She remembered how angrily and contemptuously she had talked to the youth in the certainty that he was guilty; all her earlier animosities towards the race had come to the surface during that time. Now she had to make amends. She went that same evening to the boy's house and apologized. His parents were hostile and suspicious, but finally accepted her protestations of regret and her eagerness to rectify the harm she had done, and the boy returned to school the next day.
As the weeks went on, Ruth found herself studying Amos. She went out of her way to call on him to recite, to praise his papers and his class recitations, yet he always seemed to eye her suspiciously, as if he had not forgotten her earlier scathing insults. She had temporarily replaced his regular teacher, who was on sick leave.
So one afternoon, at the quitting bell, she asked Amos to stay behind. When they were alone, she asked him plaintively, "Can't you forgive me for what I said? I was wrong, I admit it, and I'm sorry, Amos, truly I am."
Grudgingly, he agreed that she had done all she could to make up, and then he added, "But I'se black 'n I guess I'll always be the first to be wrong when a whitey looks to blame somebody."
Ruth trembled. Her face coloring, her voice stammering, she said in a low tone, "Amos, I want to prove to you that I misjudged you and I'm just dreadfully sorry. You know, if you'd done that thing I blamed you for, your parents would have whipped you if they'd found out, wouldn't they?"
"Yassum," he said. "They would."
"Then you spank me," she said, removing her bathrobe and baring the bottom of her pajamas. The youth gulped at the prospect, but he could not resist those white luscious buttocks, and he administered the treatment.
For several months afterwards she found reasons to detain him or get her to her house where she let him spank her, though she never permitted him to have coitus. Her neighbors noticed these visits, and their warped minds festered with hatred.
At one of their sessions they were suddenly broken into by twenty Ku Klux Klan men, and the youth was castrated and shot. Ruth was tied to a tree, whipped, sexually assaulted by fifteen of the men, and left there as a warning. A Negro farmer brought her to a hospital where she recovered from her physical wounds, but the psychological effects were more than she could bear. The night she returned home she took her own life with sleeping pills.
The demon of mingled guilt and lust had led her to the end of her tragic yearning for self-sacrifice and self-destruction.
If only people could be candid and honest about sex their children might be free from neuroses and repression. We do well to remember Ruth's unhappy history when we talk of liberated sexual freedom.
