Restraint. Some people have to be tied up or restrained in some way in order to really enjoy sex. What is the reason for this? Usually, it is guilt. They do not want to take command of their own actions. They do not want to take responsibility for their own desires.
In this book of tape-recorded interviews with patients who visited a psychiatrist's office, you will read the stories of some women who had have to suffer in order to really enjoy passion.
These women include:
Rita, who takes turns with her gentleman friend. Sometimes she beats him and sometimes he beats her.
Regina, who submits to her own teen-aged son because she does not want to lose him.
Kim, who is forced by her lover to beat his brother.
And Terri, who is beaten and hurt by her lesbian lover, who feels guilt because of her own father's death.
These women are just like the many millions who walk the streets every day, except that they have come to a professional for help.
Who knows how many others are out there, needing restraint and bondage, needing to be tied up and hurt.
CASE HISTORY ONE
SUBJECT: Rita C. AGE: Thirty
INTERVIEW ONE
When Rita came into my office for the first time, I thought that she was much younger then thirty.
She had that certain, cute, almost wild, little-girl look that some men find very attractive.
And I must admit that that has always been one of my favorite looks in a woman too.
But, when Rita sat down and started talking to me, I noticed the lines in her face. This woman, I thought, was all of thirty. On close inspection, she looked like she had been through a lot.
And she told me a story about her relationship with men that made me shiver.
She did not waste any time or any words.
Doctor, all my life I have enjoyed sort of a battle between me and men. I think sometimes that I am a loser, and I guess that I am, because I have not really accomplished anything.
But I don't feel like a loser when I battle men.
It all started when I was about eighteen years old. That was when I met Gary.
Gary was a tall, thin guy with a beard and I met him at a party. I liked him right away and he asked me if I wanted to go with him. I was no virgin, and I thought that it might be fun to spend some time with a guy like that. So I went home with him.
But, when we got back to his little apartment, I tasted a new kind of sex, Doctor.
Gary had been so nice to me before, when we were sitting at that party and talking, but the minute I came into his apartment, he changed. He turned around and growled at me.
"Get your clothes off, bitch," he said. "I am going to get the ropes."
Now you would think that I would hate something like that. You would think that I would be afraid of a man who talked about ropes and called me names. But I just stood there and I sort of fell in love with Gary. He seemed to answer a need that was in me. I smiled, When he left the room, I stripped quickly. I did not want to keep him waiting.
I did not even give myself time to think about what was happening to me, what he was doing to me. I did not give myself time to be afraid. I just took off my clothes and stood there in the middle of his living room and waited for him to come out of the bedroom.
But he kept me waiting. He did not come back with the ropes right away.
I stood there for what seemed to be an eternity and I wondered what was happening to rue. I felt the need to go to Gary and beg him to put the ropes on him. I started to get very confused. I shivered there in the living room.
And then I fell on my knees and I crawled toward the door of the bedroom, the door that he had shut between us and I rapped on it softly.
"Gary," I said softly. "Are you in there, Gary? Please, Gary, come and tie me up."
I never questioned my actions. You see, Doctor, the only way that I can explain it is to say that a fog came over my brain. I just knelt there naked by the door and I called to him. I wanted him as I had never wanted any other man. That is, no other man until I met Lee.
But that was later, much later. I just felt excited that night, and I wanted him to come out of there and tie me up. I did not know what was happening to me, Doctor.
I called into the bedroom and I said, "Come out, Gary. Come up and tie me up like you promised."
And then the door opened and he stood there naked in front of me. I looked at his cock first and then I looked up at the ropes and I smiled.
I had become a slave to him that quickly, Doctor. I don't know how it happened, but-
Anyway, Gary stood over me and growled down at me.
"Slut," he said. "I knew that you were a slut the moment that I saw you. I knew that you would like this kind of treatment."
And, Doctor, I did not know how he knew that I would like that kind of treatment. I had never even thought that I would like it. I had never-Oh, Doctor, I can't talk about it!
Yes, I can. I must.
Gary pushed me back on the floor and I lay there, trembling with need for something that I could not even understand. And then he bent down over me and he pulled on my nipples. Yes, Doctor, he grabbed both of my nipples with his hands and he yanked on them.
And that pain shot through me, that delicious pain, that wonderful pain. It seemed to run right down to my cunt and make it all watery and juicy. I sighed with that pain as if he were fucking me. Yes, Doctor, I did.
God, what was happening to me? I did not know. I just knew that I liked it. I wanted to rebel against what he was doing to me, but I did not rebel. I just lay there and felt the fucking pain in me.
He yanked on my nipples until he had had enough of that. Then he picked up the ropes that he had dropped beside my naked body and he started to tie me up. Obviously, Doctor, he was an expert at tying girls up. Obviously, he knew what he was doing. He tied me quickly and firmly. When he was finished, those rough ropes were biting into my flesh and I felt more like a loser than ever. But I did not mind being a loser with Gary, Doctor. I did not mind suffering under him. There was something about him that drove me almost mad with need.
Let me tell you how he tied me up. When he was finished, my arms were tied in front of me. One rope went around my wrists and another one went around my nipples and my tits. He rubbed that rope into my nipples with his hand and I felt that pain and that need again.
And my pussy began to leak juices, Doctor. I had never been so flooded in my entire life.
There was thick rope tied all around me down there, tied so that it rubbed against my pussy lips and then moved back up me and rubbed into my ass too. I felt like a piece of raw meat, Doctor, raw and excited meat.
"What are you doing to me?" I murmured. "I love it, Gary. I love it. I want more and more and more."
And all of that was true, Doctor.
But then something strange happened to me. I felt a sense of rebellion run through me. I looked up and I saw Gary standing over me. He was playing with his cock and I somehow knew that he was not going to fuck me with that cock. I just knew that he was going to get his excitement in some other way.
And the fact is, Doctor, that I wanted to be fucked. I thought that it did not do any good to be tied up if I did not fuck the man. I wanted him to pull that rope out of my pussy lips and slam his cock in there. My cunt was raw and wet just for him!
"Aren't you going to fuck me?" I yelled.
He just cackled. He played with his cock and he groaned. I could tell that he was about to come, and I felt an anger in me.
That anger grew into some kind of red wrath when he came all over my body. He shot his load of come all over my naked, tied form, Doctor.
He came with what seemed like gallons and that come burned into my flesh and made me think that something terrible was happening to me, something that I still could not understand.
And then he turned and walked away from me and he closed the door to his bedroom.
I lay there in those ropes and I tried to get up, but I could not do it. I felt that come. It was on my tits and my face and I hated him. I hated him for leaving me unsatisfied like that.
And that bastard left me out there all night. The next morning, I woke up when he started to untie me and I cursed him.
"You fucking loser," I said. "You can't even fuck a girl. I did not mind the ropes but you did not fuck me."
"I never fuck," he said. "I never fuck a girl. That would be impure."
I did not know what to say to that. I smelled his come on my body and I felt cheap. I wanted to get out of there and go home and take a shower.
And I certainly never wanted to see Gary again.
But, even today, I can feel those ropes on my body and I can feel that cold come on my flesh.
And I hate him even more today than I hated him that morning. I hate him for everything that he did to me. He made me feel like such a fucking loser, Doctor.
But I have never told this story to anyone. I have never even wanted to tell it to anyone. I have tried not to think about that story either.
I went through life rather normally, fucking around a little bit and feeling like a real loser and working in offices, until a few months ago when I started to think that it might be fun to fuck Paul. That was when everything came back to me. That was when all of those terrible, almost volcanic emotions that I had had with Gary hit me again.
But not right away.
Let me tell you about Paul. Paul was the manager of the office where I worked and we flirted around a little bit and had a good time. He lived with another girl, a girl he had lived with for years. She was so normal, Doctor, boringly normal. I remember thinking that when I first met her.
And one night Paul told me that he thought that she was too normal too, too dull.
He said that he was looking for some other kind of woman, some kind of woman who would excite him and do the things that he liked for a woman to do.
And I was the woman for him.
So, one afternoon, after most everyone had left the office, I walked up to Paul. He was sitting in the back looking over some figures and I stood in front of his desk and put my hands on my hips. I tried to look like some kind of noble woman, some kind of woman who was used to getting what she really desired.
I just looked at him and, when he looked up at me, I said, "Are you going to fuck me or not?"
I think that that shocked him. In fact, I know it did.
He swallowed and looked at me. I could see that he wanted to fuck me, but he was also afraid of me in some way. In retrospect, I guess he had a right to be afraid of me. I guess he was right to be afraid of what I stood for in his life.
And finally he said, "I would like to fuck you very much, Rita."
"All right," I said, feeling more confident. "Saturday afternoon at my apartment."
And then I turned and walked out of the office. I knew then that I had won. I knew that he would be in that apartment, frightened as a small child, on Saturday afternoon.
We worked through the rest of the week, but Paul did not speak to me at all during those two or three days. I knew why he was avoiding me. Every time he looked at me, he probably thought of Saturday afternoon, that thing that was going to come.
And I also think that he often wondered if he was man enough for me.
Friday afternoon, before I left the office, I walked by his desk and I said, "One o'clock tomorrow afternoon. Don't be late."
He mumbled, "I won't. I promise."
When I heard that, I thought of what a little boy he really was.
He had not had a very eventful life. This was probably going to be the biggest adventure of his life and he was almost thirty. I knew that the adventure both intrigued and frightened him. But I also knew that he would come over to my apartment on Saturday afternoon and fuck me. Something in his feelings of manhood would demand it.
He was there at one o'clock on the dot. I let him knock for about two minutes before I opened the door. I don't know why I did that. I guess I just wanted to put him in his place.
He came in and stood in my apartment and just looked at me. I thought that he looked like a dog who knew that he was going to be punished, and I found that I liked that. I really liked that look on him.
That was the first time I really noticed this tendency that I had to put men down, Doctor. I would work with that tendency more over the next few months, but it was with Paul that I felt it first. I thought of all the men who had fucked me and then left me and I thought that I was nearly thirty then and had not accomplished much of anything. I thought about Paul's stable home life and his job with a future. I remembered that he was my age, in fact a few months younger, and I realized that I hated him for all of that stability.
I wanted to wreck his stability and I knew that I could do that by fucking him.
Doctor, I know that that was not right. I should have just wanted to fuck him out of lust or friendship or something like that. But I looked at him standing there and I wanted to fuck him out of anger, out of anger because his fucking life was so fucking normal.
I thought then that if I had had a shotgun, I would have blown his fucking head off.
I guess that I am getting too excited now. I have to calm down a little bit. I have to tell my story calmly so that you won't think that I am some kind of screaming weirdo. Right, Doctor. Let me get my breath here. Do you have some water? I would like to take one my pills. I don't know what I would do without these little pills. When I get too upset, they just calm me right down.
Thank you. Let me drink this water and take this pill.
Okay. I will feel better at any moment now. I will just take a few deep breaths and then I will carry on with my story about Paul. In many ways, the story does not make sense, but I know that this is the most important story in my life, Doctor. Really. The most important.
Well, Paul just stood there in front of me. It was very cold outside and he was wearing a big coat. I looked at him and I frowned and I said, "Take that fucking coat off."
I was not being a very good hostess, but I knew in my heart that he wanted me to do this shit to him. I knew that he wanted me to act hostile and dominant. That was part of what he did not get with his dull and normal girlfriend.
I had met his girlfriend, you know. Yes, Paul and his girlfriend had met me for a drink one night just a few weeks before that Saturday afternoon. His girlfriend was pretty in a dull sort of way, but she seemed afraid of me. She did not even speak to me all night long. Paul and I talked about the office and laughed about the people there, but she did not do anything. She just sat there like some kind of dead person.
But yet I felt that she was looking at me and feeling that she was better than I was.
After all, she had Paul and I did not have anyone. I was there in that bar alone. I hated that bitch for her silence. She acted like she did not have to be interesting. She did not have to be sexy. She had her man and she was complacent as a fucking cow.
After they left me there in that bar to go home to their little apartment and fuck the night away, I picked up a guy who smelled to high heaven of cologne. I took him back to my place and he could not even get it up. He claimed that nothing like that had ever happened to him before. I just threw the sucker out and I lay in my bed and started to cry. I kept thinking that that cow of a girl was getting fucked that night and I was not getting anything.
Yet, I knew that, down deep, I deserved a fucking more than she did. I was certainly more exciting than she was.
Paul took off his coat and handed it to me while I stood there and thought about that night. It had been a terrible night for me and I got part of my revenge on Paul and his cow-like girlfriend by dropping his fucking coat right there on the floor and stamping on it with my foot.
He just looked at me when I did that. He should have tried to stop me. But he did not even say a word.
He shivered. He was very nervous, and I decided that I would do absolutely nothing to make him feel more at home in that apartment. After all, that apartment was not his home. It was my home, my fucking domain, and I was the queen of that apartment.
I decided that I would turn Paul into my slave, a slave for the queen of that place.
I pointed toward the bedroom and I snarled at him.
"Get in there and get your fucking clothes off," I said.
And he turned and went into that bedroom without even looking back at me.
It was then that I knew it, that I realized that he obviously enjoyed this kind of treatment from a woman. I stood there and I wondered if his girlfriend ordered him around like that.
Then I decided that she did not do that at all. If she had done that, Paul would not have been there with me that night. He would have been home with his cow-like girlfriend.
And I knew then that I had the upper hand. I knew what I wanted to do to him. I would make him more of my victim than my lover that cold, Saturday afternoon.
You see, I had once known a guy who needed that kind of treatment. I had known him about a year before that. He had liked it when I had dressed up in my black leather pants and my high heels and he had even bought me a whip to use on him.
I had thought that it was vaguely silly at that time, but I was so lonely for male companionship that I had gone through with all of the things that he wanted from me.
And then the guy had done what all the other guys had done to me.
He had just forgotten about me. After one visit, he just did not call me any longer. And I had cried because I was lonely again. I knew that the sucker was sick, but I could not get over the idea that it was better to have a sick man with you than no man at all.
But he had left that whip that he had bought for me. I went to the little bureau in the living room and opened up one of the drawers and pulled out that little whip.
The strange thing is, I had never really gotten turned on by the whip and the treatment when I had been with that guy.
I guess that there was no reason for me to want to whip that man.
He had never shown me his cow girlfriend. He had never acted better than I was. He was just as much of a loser as I was. But I knew that Paul was going to be a success in life and I wanted to use that whip on him. As I started to take my clothes off, I could feel my pussy pulsing with desire.
I wanted to beat the shit out of that man. I wanted to get back at that cow girlfriend in that way.
I wanted to be the complete dominatrix.
I was naked in my living room, and I knew that Paul was naked in the bedroom.
I knew that he would follow my orders in there. He was probably waiting for me to come in and order him around at that very moment, I thought.
I picked up the whip and wished that I could dress like a real dominatrix, that I had a fine, black-leather outfit. But I would just have to settle for the nudity this time.
It was at that time that I knew that I would buy a complete outfit later on.
I felt that I had finally figured out the way that I wanted to deal with men.
They would not be successes if I could just keep whipping the shit out of them, I thought. I would keep them down just as I had been kept down.
I picked up that whip and I walked into that bedroom. I marched like a proud, female general.
And Paul was standing in the corner of that room, looking at me.
His eyes were filled with a strange combination of terror and lust.
I had never seen that kind of expression on a man's face before, but I liked it. And I knew that that combination of emotions in his mind would make me memorable to him. All of those other guys I had fucked might forget me, I thought, but Paul would never forget me. I knew that, every time he fucked his cow girlfriend from now on, he would remember the afternoon that I had given him.
And I felt like a girl who had just found a new religion.
I let the rage that I felt against the whole universe explode in my head and I yelled at that man.
"Slime! You fucking piece of slime!"
I moved in on him and he cowered there in the corner, but that would not save him. He knew it and I knew it too. I started to beat him with that whip. I listened to the cracks as the lash fell on his body and I listened to his moans and I thought that those were the kinds of sounds that I had been waiting for all my life. I thought that those sounds were great, were really passionate sounds.
He jerked there in the corner and he pressed his face against the wall and he started to weep with the pain of that lashing that I was giving him, but I showed him no mercy. He did not deserve mercy from me, I thought. He was too fucking successful.
"Worthless piece of shit!" I yelled. "Be sure and tell your fucking girlfriend about this!"
And he yelled and I kept beating him with that whip. The whip did not cut him but it left red marks on his back. I knew that it stung him like a thousand bees.
And I loved seeing those marks on him. I knew that I was leaving my mark on someone.
I felt like I was a real success at something. I could give him pain, even though I could not give him stability.
And he whimpered and leaned against the wall and I beat him until I was exhausted and my arms were numb.
I was tired from beating him, Doctor, and he was sliding down into the floor. I just looked at him and I felt that exhaustion in my system and I blamed him for that exhaustion, Doctor. In fact, in my heated brain at that moment, it seemed as if everything that had ever gone wrong in my life, every failure that I had ever had, was Paul's fault.
"You worthless piece of garbage," I snarled at him. "Get up on that bed."
And he crawled toward the bed and moved onto that bed and lay on his back. It was then that I noticed that his cock was hard. Yes, hard, Doctor.
He had gotten turned on by that beating, by the pain and the abuse that I had given him.
Even though that did not surprise me, it did disgust me. I moved toward the bed and I looked at that cock and I spit on that naked man. Yes, I spit on him. I was aiming for his cock, but my spittle landed on his stomach and Paul moaned with desire when I treated him that way. I was sickened by that man, so sickened that I did not know what to do with him now.
When he had first come to that apartment, I was certain that I had wanted to fuck him.
Remember. That was the way that I was going to get my revenge on his cow girlfriend.
But I did not want to fuck him any longer. I did not even want to touch him. I felt torn. One part of me wanted to walk right out of that bedroom and leave him there, never speak to him again, never see him again. And the other part of me knew that the ordeal was not over for Paul, that I would have to do other things to him. I would have to get my own sexual release by hurting him, even though it made me almost physically ill to think that he was getting a sexual joy out of being hurt.
I kept thinking of all the other men who had left me after one night.
I wondered if all of those men would have stayed around me if I had hurt them instead of fucking them.
But I honestly did not know, did not understand what made men tick any longer.
Then I remembered that that other man, the one who had left his whip with me, had also liked to be tied up. I thought that that might be a secret to Paul's desire too.
So I went back into the living room and I opened that drawer again and I pulled out the ropes that that one slave had left with me when he had stopped visiting me. I held those ropes and I wondered what I had done wrong with that slave, why he had stopped seeing me.
And I determined that I would not do the same thing with Paul. I wanted Paul to come around to me regularly and beg for it. Then I would refuse him. I would not hurt him any longer. I would spend my time hurting other men and making them crawl and whine like whipped dogs in the rain.
I knew instinctively what I had done wrong with that other slave. I had not really gotten into hurting him.
And I figured that that man could tell that I did not really enjoy going after him the way that I should. That was why he had stopped calling me, had stopped visiting me. Paul would certainly not have that complaint, I thought. I held those ropes in my hands and I felt my pussy flooded with juices.
I have a sweet pussy, Doctor, a sweet and cute cunt. A lot of men have told me that.
But I know that my pussy had never been sweeter in my life than it was at that moment. Paul had brought out some kind of ultimate sweetness in me. He had given me something that I could not understand myself, but I knew that I would be able to enjoy beating up on other men after this.
I pressed those ropes against my cunt and I rubbed the rough fibers of those ropes against my pussy lips. That hurt a little bit, but it thrilled me even more. I knew that I was going to tie Paul up with those ropes and I wanted him to smell that aroma of my sweet and cute cunt on those things.
Then I took the ropes away from my pussy and I smelled those ropes myself.
Yes, I was there. My aroma was there on those rough fibers.
And that aroma was magical in a way. I thought that I reeked of sexuality. I remembered what someone had once said to a friend of mine. That guy had told this friend of mine-a girl-that she had an aroma of sexuality that seemed to fill the room the minute that she walked in.
No one had ever told me that, but I knew that men would tell me that if I made them, if I controlled them like a queen controls her slaves.
I smiled, and I knew that I was not a complete failure any longer.
Then I walked back into the bedroom and I looked at Paul. When he saw me, he jerked his hands away from his stiff rod. I gasped. The man had been lying there in my bed, with my spittle on his stomach, playing with himself.
"You scumbag!" I yelled. "You worthless piece of rat feces!"
And the man just lay there and looked at me with his eyes wide.
Again, he was like a dog who had wet the carpet and had been caught. He knew that he was in trouble now.
And I knew that he would remember me forever.
I moved toward that bed and Paul trembled as I held the ropes out.
"Turn over," I said, snarling at him again.
And he did turn over on that bed and I climbed onto the bed and pulled his hands behind him.
I started to tie his hands behind his back and the man groaned. I knew that he had his stiff cock trapped under him, that he was moaning because he was filled with agony with that stiffness. I liked to think of that as I tied him up. I liked to think that his manhood was hurting him. I spit on his back and I slapped his ass with my hand just to add to that pain, just to give him something more to remember me by.
Just a few minutes before, I had been exhausted by my work on his body, but now I was newly strong. Something had added strength to my mind and my body and I thought that it might be the ropes, the ropes that I had put next to my pussy. Those ropes had soaked up some of my juices and they had made me strong again by doing that.
Then I leaned over and I whispered the words ruthlessly in his eye.
"Those ropes have been near my pussy and now they are around your wrists."
I took another rope that had been soaking up my juices and I turned the man's head with a sharp jerk of my hands and I slammed that rope right into his face.
"Smell that pussy juice, you mangy motherfucker," I said. "Smell it and know that I have been turned on by you because you are fucking garbage, because you are a fucking slave."
And then the man just took a deep breath and muttered to me with a dreamy sort of voice.
"Yes," he said, "I am your slave." I hated him for saying that. I wanted him to fight me.
Oh, Doctor, I do not know what I wanted. Perhaps Paul could not have done anything on that night to please me. Maybe I was too worked up by my own sense of failure and excitement and strange passion to be satisfied with anything that that slave said to me.
But I know that I hated it when he admitted his slavery. I thought that that took some of the glory away from me. Yes, Doctor, that was it. If he had fought me more, if he had not been like a whipped and frightened puppy, it would have meant that I was stronger. Then it would have taken more for me to succeed with this man.
But he gave in so quickly that I did not know for certain if he gave in to every woman, even to his cow girlfriend, even to that silent, haughty bitch.
So I leaned down and I slapped his ass as I asked him the question.
"Do you let her do this to you too, you piece of trash?"
"Who?" he muttered. "Who do you mean?"
I hit his ass hard with my fist and he flinched.
"You know who I mean. That bitch you live with. Do you let her do this to you too?"
And the man was silent for a second. I had to hit his ass again, hard, before he would answer me.
"No!" he yelped. "No; I don't!"
"She has never hurt you at all?" I asked.
And I hit him again, hit him right in the back with my fist.
And he yelped and jumped again.
"No! She does not know about my needs!"
That made me feel better. That made me feel more passionate and powerful with him. I knew that I had beaten that girlfriend of his. I knew that I had given him something that she had never given him.
I put my hands on his shoulder and I turned him over on his back. He lay there on his hands, which were tied behind him and he sighed. His cock was still long and hard. I flicked that cock with my finger and he jerked again. I smiled at him.
Before, I had not wanted to fuck him. I had been disgusted by the idea that he got hard when I hurt him. I had thought then that Paul was the one who was sick and perverted. But now I knew that that sickness had infected me too. I was turned on because I was hurting him. And I wanted to fuck him for sure.
My pussy seemed to wash with juices as I moved over him. I looked down and I saw that other rope, the one that I had smashed into his face. It was lying there on the bed next to him.
I picked up that rope and I held it taut with my hands. Paul opened his mouth to moan in pain.
And I slipped that cunt-stained, juice-coated rope into his mouth.
The man tossed on the bed under me, but I kept that rope in his mouth. As I held it down there, choking him with that rope, I slipped down on his hard cock. It was easy to get that thing into my pussy. I seemed to be drawn to that cock as if it were a magnet. And my cunt was so wet that I took it into me easily.
"Fuck me," I snarled to Paul. "Fuck me if you know what is good for you."
He started to buck under me, to follow my orders. The fucking was jerking and spasmodic and it was not the most stylish fucking that I have ever received. But it was great. The force that I was applying to his body and the way that he was reacting to that force made the fucking wonderful. I rocked on top of him and held that rope in his mouth and I came.
Boy, how I came!
I had never come like that before, Doctor, even though the fucking did not last very long. I came with shivers of power and he came too. He shot his wad of come right up into my cute and sweet pussy.
And then I moved off him and pulled the rope out of his mouth. It was then that I noticed that the sides of his mouth were bleeding. I supposed the pressure of the rough rope there had caused that.
When the fucking was finished, Paul rolled over on his stomach. I saw the bruises on his ass where I had hit him with my fists. I smiled at those bruises and at the blood on his mouth. I wondered how he was ever going to explain any of that to his cow girlfriend.
And I started to laugh, to giggle right there in that bed.
Remember what I said, Doctor? That I had never laughed before I was eighteen years old?
Well, I laughed more that afternoon, lying there and listening to Paul gasp and groan, then I had ever laughed before in my life.
I laughed and I knew that I had found the secret to making men remember me.
I would not be a failure, I thought, if I could control men like that all the time, and I knew that there must be other men too, other men who wanted to be treated like shit.
I wanted to find all of those men and work on them and please them as I pleased myself.
I wanted to spend my life laughing at their ordeals.
Doctor, that is what I wanted. I was not confused at that moment, and I did not feel like a failure.
Later on, I untied Paul and he got dressed and he left. We worked together for several months after that, but we were very business-like together and we never fucked again. That did not bother me, though, for I knew that Paul would remember me.
However, I did wonder from time to time what he had said to his girlfriend, how he had explained the blood and the marks on his body.
Then Paul was transferred to another office, was made a manager. That was a sign of success. I watched him go on that last afternoon and I knew that I was still a typist, that I was a real failure. And I felt low again.
I had beaten up some guys since that afternoon with Paul, but none of them had been very special. None of them had made me feel really successful, you know.
And then I met Lee.
What?
Is my time up?
Oh, I will have to tell you about Lee next time. Then you will see how the confusion came back into my life. I don't think that I understand to this day what happened to me when I met that guy.
I will tell you about him next time, Doctor. I promise that I will.
I do want your help.
INTERVIEW TWO
I made a few notes after my first interview with Rita. She seemed to be very confused because she had tried to work as her own analyst. This is one of the worst things that people could do. They only end up making their troubles worse because they are too close to the subject and they do not have the expertise that comes with years of training and experience. They should just pay the money and go in for the therapy. That is the only way that they can truly find out what is wrong with them and what can cure them.
As for anxiety attacks, let me say that Rita's friend was right. They are temper tantrums for the college educated. There is no such thing as anxiety. As I said in reviewing the book by a certain Dr. Harding on this subject, most doctors convince their patients that it is all right to have anxiety because they want those patients to keep coming to them and paying their money. The fact is, most patients with minor bouts of anxiety should just be slapped. They need that more than a doctor.
Dr. Harding was wrong about this bit of psychology. He is one of the charlatans which fill our field and give many psychologists bad names with the general public.
Anxiety? Bah, humbug. That is what I say.
Anyway, Rita came to see me again the next week and she started to tell me the story about her relationship with this man that she called Lee.
When I first met Lee, I thought that he was just the man for me. He was the ultimate loser. I thought that I could never feel like a failure when he was around. He was twenty-six years old and he had never held a job in his life. He did not seem to want a job either. He had lived off his family and had tried to be a writer, but no publisher would touch his books.
He continued to write after he met me. I wanted him to write because, when I read the manuscripts that he showed me, I knew that I was better than he was. Now, Doctor, I was not much of an actress. But I was a better actress than Lee is a writer. His stuff is sheer drivel, repetitive stuff that makes no sense at all.
Once he wrote a book for example about an Arab sheik. In that book, he had some girl remembering an event in her past and he had her die in that flashback. Now that was ridiculous. She was supposed to be remembering something and she died during that something.
And Lee's characters do not speak to each other. They orate. They make speeches, even while they are making love. Like I said, I am no literary critic. I certainly do not know much about writing, but even I could tell that this crap was worthless.
Still, that crap made me love Lee all the more. I just knew that he was a bigger loser than I was, and I asked him if he wanted to move in with me.
Wait. I am getting ahead of myself. I should tell you how I met Lee.
Well, he worked in the same office with me, and he had been there for a long time. I had just never noticed him, not until Paul had left that afternoon to go to that new office as a manager. We had had a going-away party for Paul. But I had just stood in a corner. I certainly would not talk to that scum-bag if I did not have to, and he was perfectly willing to avoid me. After Paul left the to avoid me. Finally Paul decided that he had to leave the office, and the party broke up saw Lee. He was very drunk, and he was leaning on the makeshift bar and he was staring at me.
I decided that I needed a man that night to make up for Paul's leaving me.
I did not even want to hurt a man that night, not really. I just wanted to fuck someone. So I moved across the room and I leaned against the bar next to Lee and I thought that we were like two cowpokes having a conversation in the saloon.
That image came quickly to my mind and I guess that was the reason that I said what I did say to him.
"Draw, Partner," I said with a girlish grin.
"What?" he muttered.
"Draw, Partner."
"What the fuck you talking about?"
Then I felt ashamed. It had been a private joke, but it was too private. Lee was too drunk to share it with me. I just looked at him and I said it softly.
"I am sorry. My name is Rita."
"I know what your fucking name is," he said bitterly.
I winced.
"But you don't know what my name is, do you, bitch?" he asked.
"No," I had to admit, "I don't."
"One of these days everyone will know my name," the man muttered, "even sluts like you who don't give me any notice at all. Even whores like you who will fuck anything in pants except me. I bet that you will suck any cock that is put in front of you."
I guess that I should have been angry when he attacked me like that.
But I was not angry. When he started to grumble to me about that, I knew that he was talking out of his own sense of failure, and that made me smile. You see, when I had had to admit that I did not know what his name was, I felt embarrassed, like a failure again. But when he started to call me names I knew that he was even a bigger loser than I was.
And there was no reason for him to consider himself a loser. He was good looking in a strange way. He had dark hair and he wore dark-rimmed glasses.
But he just stood there and glared at me as I grinned. I knew that I was not pleasing him with my girlish ways.
And I suddenly wanted to please him. I wanted to take him back to my apartment and fuck the shit out of him.
I wanted to cure some of his bitterness with my cunt, I guess.
So I leaned in close to him and I said, "What is your name, Stud?"
"Lee," he said softly. "Lee is the name and fucking is the game."
"Would you like to come back to my place?" I asked sweetly.
He gave me a lopsided, drunken grin and he chuckled. The bitterness seemed to have disappeared as he said, "You know, little girl, I could get awfully excited over the hairy end of your gut."
There was something about the way that he grinned at me, something about the way that he complimented me, that made me think that even the compliments were insults in their own way.
"I take it," he said, "that you would appreciate a few turns with my old gut-wrench."
"Oh," I said, blushing and giggling, "you big galoot."
The man leaned back from the bar and almost fell over. I caught him and helped him out the door.
I drove Lee back to my apartment. In the car, he started to sing softly to himself.
"Every time I come to town, you boys start a kickin' my dog around. Makes no difference that she's a hound. You gotta quit kickin' my dog around."
He had one of the worse voices that I have ever heard in my life. This man, I thought to myself, was a complete loser, the loser of losers, and I wanted him. I knew that I would feel good if I gave him my cunt for a night. I figured that a loser such as Lee would certainly appreciate the hairy end of my gut.
In the car, he put his hand on my knee and said, "I am going to take you to my own special carnival and show you a few of the rides, honey-pie."
I felt my pussy quiver as this vulgar loser spoke to me in this sexy way.
Doctor, I was attracted to him, more attracted than I had ever been to any other man.
To this day, I don't know why I was attracted to him, what in this man gave me such a fucking rush. But that rush was there, Doctor, and I can not deny it.
When we got to my apartment, Lee seemed to be a bit more sober. He stood in the middle of my living room and he started to pull off his clothes. I just looked at him. I could not believe that he would be that anxious, and I remembered all the nasty things that he had said to me and I wondered if he wanted to fuck me because he liked me or because he hated me. I remembered my own experience with Paul and I recalled that the emotion of disgust and hatred can make a person very horny. It had been that way for me with Paul and I wondered if it was that way for Lee right now.
When he was naked, he just stood there. He was moving back and forth and he had his legs spread. That was strange, Doctor. I had not even taken off my coat. I just stood there and looked at him.
I looked especially at his prick. That was the longest thing that I had ever seen.
Lee had at least ten inches hanging there between his legs. And it was hanging like a piece of meat in a butcher's window. And he knew that it was huge too. I could tell by the way that he was standing. He was showcasing that fucking cock.
He swayed back and forth. He was still a little drunk.
And I figured that he was turned on by the experience of showing that prick to me. I figured that I could stand there with my clothes on all night and it would not make any difference to him at all. He was just filled with lust because he was showing off.
For some reason, that did not anger me. Isn't that strange, Doctor? Remember what I said about Paul? When I was with him, that man could do nothing to please me. Yet, Lee could show off like this, could insult me, could treat me as if I did not mean a thing to him, and I would feel nothing at all but a certain, kinky passion for him.
I think that that kinky passion was the strangest emotion that I have ever had, Doctor. That emotion filled me up and I just stood there and shivered. I was still wearing my coat but I was shivering.
Finally, Lee said, "Ain't you gonna show me something, doll-face?"
And that made me shiver even more. Yes, I knew that I was going to show him something. I took off my coat and I kept wondering if he would like me, if he would like the way that I looked. When I took my coat off, I remembered the way that I had stepped on Paul's coat and I slid that thing over to Lee. He put his bare foot on that expensive coat and he ground his foot into it. Then he just grinned at me.
I knew that he wanted me to strip for him, and I tried to do that. But I was so nervous that I could hardly unbutton my blouse. I kept looking at him with wild and feverish eyes, hoping that he would say something to calm me, hoping that he would do something that would take this tension away from my hot body.
And then he did it and he said it.
He put his hand on his cock and he lifted it and started to stroke himself.
"Hey," he said drunkenly. "It doesn't matter, little bitch. I would fuck you tonight if you looked like a wet, dead mule."
That was another insult, another sign that I did not have to please him, another sign that I could probably not please him at all. But it was enough for me. I felt more at ease when he said those things to me and I sighed and started to strip off my clothes more quickly.
Does this make sense, Doctor? I don't know. I have been trying to figure out that night with Lee for the longest time and nothing seems to make sense to me about that night. Of course, the strangest things were yet to come.
I was naked in front of him very quickly. I just stood there and I spread my legs slightly. I tried to look sexy for him, tried to smile at him and let him know that he was all that I wanted in this world, but I also sensed that there was nothing that I could do to really look sexy, to really turn him on. I did not even turn around for him. I did not feel like showing off my body to this man.
And he just stared at me. He did not smile. He did not show his interest in any way.
That is, he did not show his interest until he asked, "Where's the fucking bedroom?"
I pointed toward the door to the bedroom and Lee turned and started to walk to that door. There is another strange thing here, Doctor. I did not walk toward that door with him. I just stood there as if I expected him to go into that bedroom by himself and go to sleep or fuck some other girl. I was giving up my bedroom, but I could not even think that Lee would want to take me in there with him.
At the door, he turned and growled at me.
"Well come on, little slut," he said.
My heart jumped in my bosom. I felt as if I were a young girl who had just been asked to go to a special dance with a special man.
That was strange too, I guess. Very strange, right, Doctor?
I walked nervously toward that bedroom and Lee opened the door and I walked in. I followed him.
I stood there in the bedroom behind him and he looked the place over. He turned around and said, "This is a nice room, little twat."
Again, he was insulting me, Doctor, and, again, I did not mind at all.
"Thank you," I said, and I almost blushed when I said it.
Again, I felt like a little girl in his presence. His words of abuse did not make me unhappy at all.
"Get over on that bed, you naked, scummy bitch," he said.
And I looked at that huge piece of meat between his legs and I went to that bed.
I walked slowly, nervously. It was strange, Doctor. I had fucked a lot of guys. I had even beaten a lot of guys by then. But, at that moment, I felt like a real virgin, like someone who was completely new to sex and everything that sex stood for.
I guess I did not understand what sex did stand for, not in my life.
I moved naked onto the bed and I lay there and looked back at the naked man and studied that huge cock.
I felt like a slave, like someone who had no control over my own life.
And I could not help but remember the way that I had felt when I had been with Paul in this bedroom. It had not been that long before that evening, only a few months. But, with Lee, I felt as if I were in another century. With Paul, I had been a queen, a woman who had control over my man and everything that he stood for. But, with Lee, I controlled nothing. With Lee, I felt nothing except a shivering sort of sexy fear.
I just kept looking at that meat, and I did not hate him. I could not hate him. I kept thinking that it was not my place to feel any kind of emotion toward this man.
Isn't that strange, Doctor? But the strangest things were yet to come.
Lee moved onto the bed with me and knelt beside me. He reached down and touched my hair. That touch was soft and I thought for an instant that finally, finally, he was showing me some affection, something soft in his bitter nature.
But I was wrong. He did not have anything like affection in mind when he touched me like that.
Instead of showing me affection, he curled his fingers into my hair and jerked my head up. I felt a pain in my neck and I thought that he had broken my neck, had paralyzed me in some way.
I quickly lifted my hand and curled my fingers. I was somewhat surprised to see that I could actually move them.
But, still, Doctor, I was not angry with Lee. I could not be angry with him even for hurting me like that.
After I had curled my fingers, I uncurled them and I moved that hand to that giant piece of meat.
And I curled my fingers around his cock and lifted it up. I started to stroke it and feel its power.
There was a power there, Doctor, a power that I had never felt in any other prick before.
And, as the cock stiffened and grew in my fingers, I turned my head slightly and lifted my other hand.
I curled the fingers of that other hand around the meat and I stroked him with both hands.
It seemed that I needed both hands to feel all the power that he had there right in front of me.
Strange, isn't it, Doctor? I think that I fell in love with that power at that moment.
And I knew that I could never love any man who did not have that kind of power over me.
At least, that is what I thought at that moment. Later, my attitude would change strangely.
But I will get to that later. Now I will tell you how I massaged his cock, how I gave him what he wanted, what he demanded from me.
And Lee growled at me as I handled his cock.
"Suck it, you filthy, little whore," he said. "You did not even know my name, but you are going to suck that cock."
And I could feel the bitterness in his voice, the bitterness that seemed to be little knives that came out and stabbed me.
But I knew that Lee had a right to that bitterness. I knew that I had ignored him for a long time.
But I was not ignoring him now, I thought, and I did not think that I would never be able to ignore him again.
I thought that a slave had no right, no ability to ignore a king, and Lee was a king to me at that moment.
A king, Doctor! A fucking king with the biggest cock that I had ever seen!
I moved my mouth close to his cock and I opened my mouth and let the tip of the thing go into me.
I felt stuffed, even with that tip in my mouth, only the tip. I felt that cockhead stretching my lips into shapes that they had never been in before.
I felt a little bit like a freak. Isn't that weird, Doctor?
I mean, he was the one with the huge cock, but I felt like a freak because that cock was in my mouth.
Another weird thing was that I did not mind my freakishness at all. I would be a freak if that was what King Lee wanted me to be.
I took my mouth off the cock and I licked the end of that huge piece of meat. Then I put the cock back in my mouth and I tightened my lips around it, sucked on it, gave him everything that I could.
I thought that I owed my sexual existence to King Lee at that moment. I thought that, if he was not satisfied with me, if he left me alone that night without fucking me, I would surely die.
Isn't that strange, Doctor? Isn't that strange?
And then he pulled on my hair again and he snarled at me.
"Give me a good blow-job, you fucking cunt," he said.
And those words were like music to my ears. They were a sexual symphony that I could not deny. I had to give him the best blow-job that I was capable of giving. I had to give him everything that I could.
I moved back and forth on that huge cock, sucking on it and giving him the best blow-job that I could.
My lips seemed to have more talent than they ever had before. They were hard and yet they were soft on his cock. When I heard the man moan, I felt good, because I knew that I was pleasing King Lee. I moved back and forth quickly, using my mouth and my fingers to give him that passion and that joy and that hardness that pulsed in my mouth. I thought that I was only a slave to him, only a whore, but I had never been more proud of myself before. I did not even think of myself as a loser at that moment, and I certainly did not think of Lee as a loser. No, Doctor, not a loser at all.
He was a real winner to me at that moment, something that filled my mouth and filled my heart with passion.
When he was hard and stiff and strong, he pushed me back onto the bed and I looked up at that huge piece of meat. It seemed to glow and glisten there as it jutted out from his body. I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life, Doctor.
And I spread my legs and worked my finger over my clitoris. My pussy was pulsing with desire, flooding with the cream of girlish sex. I was very turned on.
I wanted to ask him to fuck me. I knew that he would anyway. His cock was so hard and so straight that I knew that he would have to use that thing to batter my cunt.
But I did not ask him to fuck me. I did not even speak to him. I just looked up at him with a dreamy sort of look in my eyes and a peaceful sort of feeling in my head. I looked at that cock and thought that that cock was the center of the universe for me.
I did not want to ever let that cock leave me, Doctor.
I was a slave to that pole of male meat, that wonderful pole of male sex.
I moved my finger on my clit with a speed that I did not think I was capable of. Lee made me that lively, that filled with warmth and juices. The power that he showed me with that cock made me want to play with myself and get myself so wet and excited that he would float right into me with that huge pole of his.
But I kept looking at his cock and I knew that he was not going to float.
I knew that, when he went into me, it was going to stretch me as no other prick had ever stretched me. Now that I think about it, Doctor, I find it strange that I was not in the least frightened by that cock. But I was not frightened, Doctor. I just wanted to be fucked by that meaty pole.
And then Lee moved between my outstretched legs and he put his hands under my ass and he lifted me up off that bed a little bit. That was when I moved my finger away from my clit. I put my hands down on the bed on either side of me and I grabbed the sheet and I clenched that soft sheet tightly in my fists.
Then I worked up the courage to speak to him, King Lee.
"Fuck me," I whimpered. "Fuck me, please."
And King Lee just grinned at me. But, even when he was grinning, I could see that that bitterness was still there. He still hated me in a way, but I did not hate him at all, Doctor.
I had hoped that he would gentle with me, Doctor.
I had hoped that he would take his time and slip into me easily and slowly. After all, he was so big and my pussy is really rather small.
But I guess I should have known that King Lee would give no thought to my comfort at all.
He slammed into me hard. He put his cock right next to the lips of my pussy and he gave a shove and he slammed into me like he wanted to tear my cunt apart.
I whimpered when he did that and I held onto that sheet and I felt the blood pulsing in my head. I felt like my brain was going to explode with heat and with blood.
But the explosions in my brain only thrilled me more. I looked down between King Lee's body and my own and I saw that that cock was embedded in me, impaling me. I could feel that thing in my tight pussy and I gasped.
But I was happy too. It was a strange combination, Doctor, of pain and passion that filled my soul as King Lee started to fuck my hungry cunt.
Yes, hungry.
I was hungry for his cock. I felt as if I had never been fucked-really fucked-before in my life. I felt a little bit like I felt when I laughed for that first time in my life.
But, today, I cannot remember what it was that made me laugh when I was a teen-ager.
Yet, I know that I will always remember that fucking that I got from King Lee that evening.
He worked back and forth in me with bitterness and, as he fucked me, he started to curse me.
"Slut. Whore. You never even noticed me.
But you will never forget me now. You fucking twat."
"Yes. Yes. I will never forget you," I promised, "not as long as I live, King Lee."
And then I realized that that secret phrase-King Lee-had popped out of my lips. I opened my eyes and stared at the young man. I wondered what he would think of that. But he just smiled. I suppose that he knew that he was king anyway, at least king for that night.
And he continued to fuck me, to batter me, to ram into my pussy with that huge and meaty tool.
And I gasped and wrapped my legs around him. I caught his ruthless rhythm and I fucked him back, I moved against his cock with that same kind of rough and sweet rhythm.
I was whimpering like a whipped puppy dog that night. I thought again about Paul, about the way that I controlled him that night that I spent with him. But I knew that Lee controlled me on this night and I wondered if Paul had felt some of the same strange and conflicting emotions in his head that I was feeling right now. In a way, I hoped that he had. I thought that it would make me kin to Paul in some strange way if we could share the same kind of emotions, the same kind of confusions with mates.
And I thought that, if Paul had felt something like this the night that he had been with me, then I could understand why he had endured it, why he had even gotten hard when I had worked on him so ruthlessly.
I rocked under King Lee and sighed and moaned.
"Oh, fuck me. Fuck me, King Lee. Give me that cock. Ram it to me."
And he gave me everything that I needed that night.
I do not think that I have ever been so happy before in my life.
He fucked me for what seemed like hours, for what seemed like an eternity.
Then he groaned and leaned forward and put his fingers on my nipples. He started to twist on those things and give me pain that way. I squealed and tossed under that pain and I felt a new kind of warmth, of sexual heat in my body.
And I knew then just how close pain was to passion in a real and sexy sense.
I endured the pain because King Lee had conquered me.
I was like the defeated leader of an enemy tribe, I thought, and now I was suffering because King Lee had conquered Queen Rita in battle, on the field of war.
He twisted on my tits and he slammed into me again and again and then I gasped and I knew that I was going to come as I had never come before in all of my life. I moaned to him.
"King Lee," I sighed, "I am coming. King Lee, I am going to have an orgasm."
And my own voice seemed very distant to me at that moment, as if someone else were speaking to me, for me in some kind of dream.
And Lee just guffawed and slammed me and pinched me and then he groaned and I knew that he was on the verge of coming too. We fucked each other wildly on that bed.
And we came together, with all kinds of animal sounds, squeals and grunts and roars.
We were like a fucking jungle in that bed, Doctor.
Then, when it was over, Lee pulled out of me. He was drenched with sweat and he toppled forward on the bed and groaned. In a few seconds, he was asleep.
It was then that things changed for me, Doctor.
When I saw him sleeping like that, so peacefully, I suddenly remembered that Lee was really just another loser, perhaps even a worse loser than I was. He was not a king, I thought. He was a slave, just as I was a slave. He was nothing at all.
And that is when the anger came to me, just as it had come when I had been with Paul.
That is the thing that I don't really understand, Doctor. I don't understand how I could go from being a willing slave to being an angry, rough bitch so quickly.
There was something about his sleeping form that did it to me.
He seemed to sleep so peacefully and all I could think of was the idea that he did not have a right to sleep like that. I knew that I slept in fits of nightmares because I knew that I was a loser. And I felt that Lee should know that he was a loser too. He should know that he had no right to sleep with such a childish expression on his face.
In my new and indescribable wrath, I moved off the bed and went to the living room. I opened the drawer where I kept all my instruments of torture.
I had bought some extra things for my men since I had had that first experience with Paul.
I slowly pulled on the leather panties that I had bought for myself. Then I looked at myself in the mirror and I thought that I looked good and sexy and powerful in those panties. They were black and they were tight against my slim body. And they seemed to shine with all of the leather power.
I pulled on the boots too, the boots that were made of black leather, the boots that had the high heels, the spiked heels that some of the men who loved humiliation had actually licked.
And then I pulled the whip out of the drawer and I knew that I was ready.
I would keep my breasts bare. I often did that when I worked with those other men. I have small, high tits, the kind of tits that men thought were cute. I could still feel the pain in those tits too, Doctor, the pain that Lee had given me when he had twisted on my nipples in that terrible and brutal way. I wanted to be able to touch my bare nipples from time to time as I beat the shit out of that man.
You see, he was a loser, Doctor, and, if he were a loser, he had no right, no right to hurt me.
If he were a loser, he was just my equal, not my fucking king.
Does that make sense to you, Doctor. I am not sure that it makes sense to me, even now.
But I know that that is what I felt at that moment.
I picked up the handcuffs too and I moved into the bedroom silently. I looked again at his sleeping form. He was lying on his stomach and I remember now that I felt thankful for that. I thought for one instant that, if he had been lying on his back, if I had seen that mighty pole that he had, it would have been more difficult for me to battle him and defeat him.
I moved onto the bed slowly, making sure that I did not wake him.
And then I did it quickly. I pulled his hands behind his back and I locked those handcuffs over his wrists. It was then that he started to stir.
But Lee-Lee the loser-was not fully awake, not until I lashed him across the buns with that whip.
And then he came awake and he yelled out. "What the fuck are you doing, Rita?" he screamed.
And he looked back at me as I stood up and gingerly balanced myself on that bed.
He looked at my black leather panties and my black boots and he just stared at me with his mouth open. He did not say anything at all.
I could tell that he knew that I was in charge now. I was in charge of him. He was not the king any longer, and he knew it.
I cracked that whip across the man's backside again and he yelped with pain.
And then I started to laugh.
You see, Doctor. We had changed places. I was in control now. And I was determined to hurt him just as much as he had hurt me. That is strange, isn't it, Doctor? Does that make sense at all?
Well, I should go on and tell you what I did to him after that.
I lifted one of my feet up high and I pressed the high, spiked heel of that boot that I was wearing into his ass. The man screamed in agony when he did that, but I just laughed.
"Loser!" I yelled when I finished my laughing. "Fucking loser of the world!"
And the man twisted and turned on that bed under me.
And I knew that I was in control then. I knew that I had gotten the better of him.
When I pulled the heel out of that ass-hole, I could see the blood spurt out, as if my heel were drawing it like a magnet, and I could hear Lee-the loser Lee-moan in pain.
I stood there on the bed and I lashed his back with my whip and I felt as if I controlled the whole, fucking world.
Doctor, I felt wonderful, and, to this day, I don't know which situation pleased me more: the times when he hurt me or the times when I hurt him.
I kicked Lee in the side and that forced him to turn over. That is when I dropped onto his body.
I was sitting on his stomach and he was groaning with pain and I was laughing at him. I had dropped my whip. I did not need that whip for what I was going to do to him now, and I knew it.
I put my fingers on his male nipples and I twisted them, just as he had twisted mine.
He yelped and sighed and groaned and he got out a few words.
"Rita. What are you doing? I am the king. Don't you remember?"
But I just laughed. I knew that he was not the king at that moment. I knew that I had won some kind of victory over this king with my own sexy, royal, and brutal nature.
And then I moved down his body, sitting there and I felt his cock. It was getting harder.
It was then that I knew that he was, at heart, just like Paul. He got turned on getting pain.
And I knew that Lee, the loser, was the man for me.
You see, we both got turned on by pain and it did not matter which one was giving it and which one was receiving it.
I pinched his nipples more and he rocked under me and sighed and cried out.
And it was wonderful, Doctor, just wonderful. His meaty cock was getting bigger and bigger and bigger.
I took my hands off his nipples and I stood up and I moved off his body just long enough to pushed my black-leather panties down my legs and get out of them.
Then I moved back to Lee and I lifted his hard and stiff cock in both of my hands and I sat down on him.
I felt that thing impale me again and I wiggled and squealed and I stretched my arms out wide and I felt as if I were flying.
Yes, flying, Doctor. I felt like I was fucking flying, Doctor.
Since that evening that I spent with him, Lee and I have become a real couple. We don't live together, but he visits me about once or twice a week.
Why don't we live together? We would not want the people in the office to talk. That is why. We want to keep our little secrets, you know.
Anyway, since that night, we have made it together two or three times a week. Lee comes over to see me and we never plan it in advance. We just play it by ear. Sometimes I brutalize him first and sometimes he knocks the shit out of me first. But we always have a chance on each night that we are together-we each have a chance to be the victor in the battle.
And, like I said, Doctor, I do not know which way I like it most.
And I have started to wonder if that is natural and right, the things that I share with Lee. That is why I have come to you. Can you tell me if this is natural?
CONCLUSION
Certainly not.
It is not natural for a man and a woman to change roles that quickly and to give each other pain. This is a most unique relationship. There does not seem to be a real dominating partner and a real submissive partner. It seems that both Lee and Rita are victims of split-personality.
I have asked Rita to bring Lee with her the next time that she visits with me.
I know that both of them need help. Then problems are very deep. They are lucky, in a way, that they found each other, for their emotional problems seem to match up.
But that matching up does not make this couple natural or normal.
And that matching up does not make what these two people do together right.
Right?
It is sick.
There is no other word for it. I just hope that I can help them-both of them-before it is too late.
CASE HISTORY TWO
SUBJECT: Regina W. AGE: Forty
INTERVIEW ONE
Regina is without a doubt one of the most beautiful women that I have ever seen.
She has a mature beauty that men could not help but worship. She has long, dark hair and red lips and a firm, curvy body. She has kept herself in good condition.
When she first came into my office, I had the same thought that I always have when a true beauty comes to visit with me. I thought that a woman this gorgeous could not possibly have any problems at all.
But I know from my experiences with people such as Regina that the truly beautiful often have more problems than women of more ordinary looks.
They have problems being taken seriously as human beings with emotions because they are so beautiful. Most people are not interested in the real person under that beauty at all. And they also worry about their beauty fading. I have worked with many movie actresses and I have read studies of other beautiful women such as Regina. It is often the same problem.
But, when Regina started to talk to me, I discovered that her problem had a few extra kinks in it that made it even more interesting and intriguing to me.
It is my son, Doctor. He is the core of my problem. He is eighteen years old.
I have been divorced from his father for years. I raised my son by myself.
His father never gave a shit about him, you see.
My son is named Damon.
But, before I tell you about my son, I should tell you about my family history.
There is one story, one family legend that has been coming back to haunt me in recent months.
I find myself thinking about it more and more, and I think that I might be living out some kind of repetition of that family tradition.
You see, Doctor, a few years ago I made a study of my family tree. I got caught up in that after I saw that television show about that man who traced his family back to Africa. Do you remember that show? Well, that is when I decided to find out where my family came from. I thought that it might be good information to pass on to Damon. I did not really care about his father's family. I had not thought about his even having a father for the longest time, Doctor.
Funny, but I guess that I just started to think of Damon being only my son, as if he were the product of a virgin birth or something. But I can tell you, Doctor, I was no virgin when he was born. I was a far piece of being a virgin.
Anyway, my family history is all linked up to the history of the Old West. My family had lived in the West for generations, mostly in Arizona and in Texas. And there was one story that I uncovered about an ancestor of mine that I found particularly interesting.
One of my ancestors was named Big Nose Hannah. She was a great-great-great-great aunt or something like that, and she lived in Arizona before the turn of the century. She was something of an outlaw, but she was not a real bad outlaw. She robbed a couple of people and she shot up some buildings. That was about it. The people in that town where she lived just sort of put up with her. They knew that she was not dangerous.
Well, Big Nose Hannah fell in love. She was about forty years old, which was pretty old for a woman in the Old West. She fell for this teen-aged Indian boy, and she took him home to live with her. I read that she had paid his parents five dollars for him. And, from all the accounts that I know about it, the young boy was worthy of love-or lust at least. He was slim and strong and dark and he had black, flashing eyes.
He was fifteen or sixteen when he went to live with Big Nose Hannah, and they seemed to be very happy together until Big Nose Hannah got drunk one night and pulled out a six-shooter and started firing around in the saloon. That was more than the men of the town could stand. You see, they had all jumped behind tables when she had started firing that gun, and that really embarrassed them. You know, they were men of the West, and they did not like to think that a woman had cowed them like that. And she laughed at them. She laughed and kept firing away with two six-guns until she ran out of bullets. That was when the men jumped her. They grabbed her and threw her down on the floor and then they picked her up and started to carry her off to jail. When they were carrying her, she yelled at them. "Make those feet dance, boys!" she yelled. "Hang me high!" It was a strange thing for her to say. Certainly, shooting up a saloon was not a hanging offense. She had not even hit anyone with a stray bullet. She was a lousy shot, from all the reports that I have read. Still, she seemed to be vaguely suicidal. At least, that is the way that it seems to me.
Well, she was sentenced to six weeks in jail. During that six weeks, her lover, that Indian boy, took up with a woman evangelist who had come to town, preaching the gospel. That woman preacher was young and beautiful and that young, Indian lad seems to have fallen in love with her. She was certainly ready to offer him more than Big Nose Hannah could offer him.
That was what started the tragedy, put it in motion. I have been thinking about that tragedy at lot lately and I think that it has something to do with the way that I feel about Damon, my own son.
Well, Big Nose Hannah got out of jail and went around town, asking people where her lover was. She could not find him anywhere. Finally a gambler told her that he was living with that woman preacher over by the tent that the preacher had set up on a hill near the town. When she heard about that, heard that that woman preacher had stolen her young lover, she got on her horse and she rode like crazy to that tent.
Of course, by that time, the woman preacher knew that she was coming. She had been told that Big Nose Hannah was out of jail and looking for her lover.-She knew that it would only be a matter of time until the woman showed up at that tent, mad as a hornet.
She had been poisoning the boy's mind against Big Nose Hannah. She had been telling that Indian boy that Hannah was a creature of the devil, a woman who would lead him right down the path to hell. And she said that she-the woman preacher-would make his life a heaven on earth. Of course, she really did not care about religion when that young cock was slamming into her pussy, I suppose. But she talked about religion to that young boy, and the Indian lad was obviously not very smart. He believed everything that that preacher told him and he swore that he would kill Hannah if she showed up there and tried to take him back. The woman preacher told him that that was what he should do. She said that God would understand if he killed that woman of the devil, and she added that God would not hold the murder against him. In fact, she told the boy, God might even give him an extra jewel in his crown in heaven.
So, when Big Nose Hannah went riding up there, hell-bent on getting that boy back, he came out of the tent with his pistol in his hand and he shot her. He knocked her right off her horse and Big Nose Hannah just lay there in the dirt. She sighed for a minute, some folks say, and then she tried to crawl toward the boy, as if she was going to use her last bit of strength to try to touch him maybe. But he shot her again and then she just lay there very still.
All of this stuff came out at the Indian boy's trial.
Yes, they put that boy on trial for murder there in that town. You see, the men in that town really did like old Hannah and they could not believe that that boy, that she had been so good to, would shoot her down like that.
And they found him guilty and they lynched him.
And the woman preacher left town in the middle of the night to escape the wrath of the town.
It is a sad story, I think. The Indian boy was not even allowed to lie next to Hannah in the graveyard, because he was an Indian and it was a white cemetery. The people back in the Old West were very tough on rules like that, you see.
Isn't that a sad story, Doctor? When I read it, I cried. I felt so sorry for Hannah.
And now I think that I am headed in the same direction that she headed in.
Like I said, that story from my family history keeps coming back to me now that I have started this strange relationship with Damon, my son.
But I should tell you about Pierre first, not Damon.
What I did with Pierre led to what has happened between me and my son, I suppose, Doctor.
Well, how should I start?
The truth is, Doctor, I don't remember my husband very well. It seems like ages since I was married to that big galoot. I do remember that he was big and stupid and he would lie on top of me and churn away in my cunt and grunt like some kind of animal in a barnyard. Of course, he gave me Damon. I guess that I should be thankful to him for that. But I kicked him out soon after I had the baby. You see, I had a good job with a modeling agency. At that time, I was a model. Now I run an agency and I make a lot Of money working with beautiful people.
Pierre was one of those beautiful people. He was a model in my agency, and he looked rough and masculine in that continental way. That is why we called him Pierre. Of course, he could never do speaking parts in television commercials. You see, Doctor, he looked very French, but he was really from Flatbush. He had a terrible, Brooklyn accent. When he spoke, he sounded like some kind of factory whistle going off or something, just whining away for seconds until you wanted to cover your ears and tell him to shut the fuck up.
Well, anyway, that was Pierre. Even with his Flatbush accent, I liked him. I liked being around him because he was so handsome. Now I had had other men since I had gotten my divorce. A woman like me does not go around without male companionship for long. I am sure that I don't have to tell you that.
But, as I got older, I started to think that I wanted to settle down. Damon was getting to be a man, and I knew that he would not need me much longer and I kept thinking that my life would be better if I found some man that I could spend my golden years with. Most of the models that I worked with-those handsome young men who made money for me-were faggots. I will tell you that right now. And the ones who were faggots were in love with themselves. They spent all their lives looking at themselves in mirrors and they would throw a fit if they found one hair out of place.
Pierre was not like those models at all, Doctor.
He looked good, very good, but he also looked sort of careless. He really did not care if his hair was combed or not. That was part of that rough, continental look that he had. I guess that I just decided one day that, of all the men that I knew, Pierre would be the one that I could most stand to be around for the next few years of my life. And I suppose that I just decided to fall in love with him.
I have been thinking lately that perhaps a lot of women do that. They just look at a man and they say to themselves, "I will fall in love with him." I don't think that love between a man and a woman is nearly as mystical as the poets and the writers would have us believe.
But the love between a mother and a son is different-
Oh, I am getting ahead of myself there. I want to tell you about Pierre first.
I first fucked Pierre one weekend when Damon was gone on a hiking trip with some friends. I had my big house all to myself, and I asked Pierre over for dinner. We had never done anything together, although we had known each other for years. But I could tell by the look in Pierre's eyes that he knew that I wanted him. He just smiled and said that he would consider it an honor to have dinner with me. I listened to that accent and I reminded myself that I did not want that man to talk to me during sex. I would do all the talking. He was good-looking and sexy, but that voice, I thought, would ruin all the romance for me if Pierre talked too much. So I told him to get there to my place about eight o'clock that Friday night.
That night, I had the servants fix the food and then leave us alone. I let Pierre think that I prepared the meal for the two of us. You see, I had already determined that I would marry him, that I loved him. It was as simple as that for me.
But things got very complicated before the night was over.
Pierre and I had dinner and I did most of the talking, just to keep him from speaking to me with that terrible accent.
And then, after dessert, I just looked at him and I smiled and I said, "Come to the bedroom with me, Pierre. I want to spend the night with you there."
And he just smiled and got up and followed me into that bedroom.
I was glad that he had not spoken at that moment. I did not want him to speak again.
I just wanted him to fuck me. I wanted him to fall in love with me. I wanted him to marry me. I don't guess that I ever really considered the possibility that he would have to talk to me after we were married. I guess I just forgot about that one bad thing about him.
In the bedroom, we kissed and I held my body close to his and he put his strong arms around me.
He was wearing a very expensive and masculine aftershave. I loved the smell of that.
Then we took off our clothes and we got into bed. I wanted to try Pierre out. I guess that I could have reneged on my love even then, if he had been worthless in bed. But I felt his cock with my hand. It was long and fat, and I knew that a man with a cock like that would just have to be good in bed.
I massaged that cock with my hand and kissed his face and smelled his aftershave.
And, while I did that, he moved his hands over my tits and massaged them. You have probably noticed, Doctor, that I have very big breasts. Well, they are very sensitive too. I love it when a man touches my breasts. That is another thing I remember about my husband, Damon's father. He would never touch my tits. He would just fuck me and look down at those things and marvel at them, but he would never touch them. I don't know. Maybe he was afraid of them for some reason.
But Pierre was not afraid of them. He handled them softly and he worked his fingers around the nipples with a soft and easy motion and I sighed and pressed my body against his and stroked on his prick. I could feel the juices flow in my cunt. I was getting so turned on.
And I knew then that I had selected a good man. Even though he had that atrocious accent, Pierre was man enough for me. I found that out very early that night.
Finally, I knew that I could not stand the touching that he was giving me much longer. I knew that I wanted to fuck him more than anything in the world. I pushed him back on the bed and I started to move down his body. Pierre had a very hairy chest, a muscular chest. I licked the hair on that chest and I felt the muscles tighten under my tongue. I moved further down his body and I licked his stomach too. He sighed and I felt very good. I knew that I was pleasing Pierre. I figured that, if I could please him, then he would be happy to marry me and spend the next few years keeping me company.
And then I was down at his cock. The thing was stiffening under my touch, but I wanted to suck on it a little bit. You have, no doubt, noticed my red, full lips, Doctor. Well, those lips are very sensitive too, and one of the things that I like most to do with my lips is suck on a peter.
I kissed the tip of that cock and I listened as Pierre sighed again.
I knew that my lips were wet and soft and cool there.
Then I opened my mouth and took the head of that cock into my mouth and I closed my lips around that cockhead. I held it tightly and I glanced up at Pierre. I felt very good when I saw him toss around on that bed that way. I knew that he was getting a lot of pleasure out of my mouth. And I was getting pleasure too. I could feel the cock stiffen and strengthen and pulse in my mouth.
Then I started to work up and down on that rod, and Pierre was hard in just a few seconds.
When he was hard and ready to fuck, I moved off his cock and lay on my back and spread my legs.
And Pierre moved over me and got into position. I reached down between our bodies and took his cock in my hand and guided him into me slowly. The tip of that cock went into my pussy lips and I felt suddenly fulfilled, in a way that I had never been fulfilled before.
And then I took my hand away from that cock and I moved my arms back over my head so that my tits were standing up on my body like two, firm, full mountains. Pierre looked at those tits and moved his prick deep inside of me. He moved in very slowly and very easily and I shivered with delight and I lifted my legs and wrapped them around his strong, handsome, male body.
That was just what I wanted from him. He worked in and out of me slowly, letting me feel all the pleasure that a woman could experience. I sighed and moaned and tossed.
And then I felt even more pleasure when Pierre put his hand on my big breast and stroked it softly. He was holding himself up over me with one hand flat on the bed and his cock slipping in and out of me very slowly and sweetly. And he was running that finger over my tit again, feeling my nipple that was getting bumpy and sexy.
And I was in heaven, Doctor, absolute heaven. I spoke to Pierre. I wanted to tell him just how much he was pleasing me. But I did not want him to speak to me. I did not want to know if I was pleasing him. I knew instinctively that I was.
"Oh, fuck me, Pierre," I moaned. "Give it to me easy and slow. I love it with a man like you."
He knew just how to touch me, Doctor. I knew that I had chosen well.
We fucked like that for the longest time. What can I say? We moved together and I closed my eyes and thought that I was floating on a sexy cloud with Pierre. I knew that he was one of the best men I had ever had, and it seemed to me that he had been made for me. We matched each other so well. I just knew that we could be very happy together.
And the orgasmic delight grew and grew in my body and I started to move more quickly. Pierre was very sensitive to me, and, when I started to fuck with more vigor and speed, he picked up the speed too.
It was extraordinary, Doctor, the best that I had ever had in my life.
And soon we were fucking like wild and floating animals. I tightened my legs around his body and I worked the inside of my thighs up and down his muscles and I murmured to him.
"I am coming, Pierre. I am coming. Please. Please. Come with me, my love."
And Pierre just chortled and I knew that he was going to come with me. He was that sensitive to my emotions. He would not be able to do anything else.
And then we did come together. When we did, when I came and when I felt his warm rushing through me and matching my warmth, I sighed and tensed my body and then I relaxed.
And I was happy that I had chosen such a good and sexy man for my life.
Pierre pulled out of me and rolled over beside me. I moved over him and kissed him tenderly.
And then I looked up and I saw Damon standing there in the doorway. He was looking at both of us, and he was shivering.
I just stared at my son. I wondered what he was thinking. I guessed that he knew that I had fucked other men, but he had never seen me do that before. I had been very careful not to bring another man into the house when Damon was there, and I remembered suddenly that I had always told Damon, my handsome son, that he was my special man, my special lover. It was just the kind of thing that a mother tells her son when he is a little boy, but I looked in his dark, piercing eyes at that moment and I knew that he had believed every word of it. And now he looked at Pierre as if that man was some kind of intruder. It seemed like an eternity. We just lay there in silence and looked at Damon and he stared at us in silence. Then finally, he spoke to me.
"Mother," he said. "I got sick. I came home early."
And then he turned and ran down the hallway to the bathroom.
I could hear him in there throwing up, and I wondered if he was throwing up because he was sick or because he had caught me with Pierre.
I told Pierre to get up and get dressed.
I had thought then that I would go to my son and help him in his illness. I had done that before, just like a mother should.
But, when Pierre was gone, I did not have the strength to get up and go to Damon. I just lay there on that bed and I listened to the boy in there throwing up.
And that was the first time that I think that I really understood how Big Nose Hannah felt. That was the night that changed my life.
I will tell you about the rest of that night next time. All right, Doctor?
INTERVIEW TWO
I did not go to Damon. He came to me about an hour after Pierre left me in that bedroom. I was still lying there naked when my son came to the door of that bedroom.
And I was so weak and so confused and so worried about my life and his life that I did not even think to cover up my naked body. I just turned and stared at him and I said, "I am still your mother, Damon."
But my son just stood there and looked at me as if he did not believe me at all.
Let me tell you about the way that Damon looks. He is a very handsome lad. He looks like a male version of me. A lot of people say that.
I like to think that he does look like me. I know that he does riot really look that much like his father.
He has dark hair that is very full. He is tanned and muscular and he had full, red lips. He has a beaming smile too. But I think that it is the way that he looks at people that really melts them. He has those piercing, black eyes. They seem to look right down into your soul. When Damon looks at you, Doctor, you look back and you think that you could not possibly hide anything from this young man.
That was the way that I felt that night when he stood there looking at me.
And I repeated what I had said to him just a few seconds earlier.
"I am still your mother, Damon."
"You make me sick," he snarled at me. "You make me sick to my stomach."
I lay there and looked at him and I saw the real and horrible anger in those eyes.
And I knew that he was not lying to me. I knew that I did make him sick. I closed my eyes for a moment and I thought that I was going to cry. But I did not cry, Doctor. I did not feel strong enough to cry. I could feel the tears in my head, as if my head were about to burst because I needed to cry. But I could not cry in front of my son. I guess I thought that he had some legitimate complaint against me. I guess I thought that he had every right to be sickened by me.
"What can I do, Damon?" I murmured. "What can I do to make it up to you?"
"You can wait right there," the young man said. "You wait right there while I take a shower and wash the puke off me."
And then he turned and he was gone. And, Doctor, I lay there on my bed and waited for him.
I did just what he had told me that I should do. I guess that I wanted to make it all up to him.
I kept thinking about Hannah, the woman from back there in our family. That woman kept popping into my mind. I thought that I understood then what feelings of terror and sorrow could overcome a woman when she was older than her lover, that much older than her young lover.
And then I thought that that was not right, that I should not be identifying with Hannah.
After all, Damon was not my lover. He was my son!
Yet I knew that he was my lover in some strange way, and I hated myself for hurting him.
I gave no thought to Pierre at all. I just lay there and I waited for Damon to come back into the room and do something to me to repay me for the sickness that I had caused in his body. I wanted him to come back and make me pay.
Perhaps that is the kind of love that every woman feels for her offspring. And you have to remember, Doctor, that Damon had been my only real continuity in my life for so many years.
I had really spent a lot of time with him when he was growing up and I had always thought that he was handsome and noble.
I lay there on the bed and I remembered one other time from Damon's past and my past too.
I remembered the time that he had dived for me the first time. That was one of the glory days of my life. That was one day when I was so proud of him that I could have burst.
Let me tell you about that day, Doctor. That was a special day for my son and for me.
We have a swimming pool behind our big house and he had been swimming for the longest time. And I knew that he had been taking diving lessons too, at the special private school that he attended. But I had never seen him really dive until that summer day when I was lying out by the pool. I was in a bikini and I was reading a book. Damon was about thirteen, I guess. He came out of the house in his little bathing suit and I looked at him. He had already started to develop those boyish muscles and he was tanned. He smiled at me as I lay there and looked at him and I smiled back. He had such a beautiful smile. The teeth seemed to shine with whiteness because he was so tanned, I guess. Anyway, he came to me and he knelt beside me and he kissed my cheek. He did not say anything, but I felt warm. He put his arm on my shoulder and he grinned again. Then he stood up and moved toward the pool and climbed up the ladder to the high diving board. I put down my book and sat up and looked at him. I knew that he was going to put on a show for my benefit and my benefit alone. I knew then that he was going to dive for me. I watched carefully as he moved out to the end of that board. Then he turned his back to the end of the board and he stood there and he tensed his muscles. He seemed to shine up there in the sun. I watched him closely as he lifted his, arms up high over his head. That stretched his body out and made him look even more like a real man, not a boy at all. Then he jumped up and down on that board a couple of times and then he sprang into the air and did a perfect back somersault and landed like a knife in that water. I was so proud of him, so happy that I could have died. I applauded him as he swam to my end of the pool. He popped out of the water and grinned at me and I knew that he was proud of himself too. I guess that it was at that moment that I really started to think of Damon, my little boy, as a man. He was a real, maturing figure in my eyes from that moment on.
I thought about that day as I lay there and I waited for him to come back into that bedroom and punish me for the pain that I had caused him and I wondered if we would ever be that close again.
When he came back, he had a towel wrapped around his waist. Except for that towel, he was naked.
His body was still damp from the water in the shower and he seemed to shine again.
But he was not smiling at me this time. He looked at me, his mother, with ruthless anger in his dark and piercing eyes.
And then I saw what he had in his hand. He had a long needle there. I gasped when I noticed that.
I wondered what he was going to do with that needle. I wondered if he was going to put my eyes out.
But I knew that I would lie there and let me do whatever he wanted to do to me. That was the way that I felt at that moment. I was too weak to fight anyone, especially my strong and mature and dark son.
He held that needle in one hand and, with the other hand, he untied the towel and let it drop to the floor. I lay there and I looked at my teen-aged son's nakedness.
It had been a long time since I had seen him naked, since he was a little boy.
But I looked at his cock and I knew that he was not a little boy any longer.
Suddenly, a question entered my mind and I asked it before I even thought about it. When it was out, I knew that I had invaded his privacy, but I was his mother and I just had to know.
"Damon," I asked, "have you fucked girls yet?"
"Of course, Mother."
He said that dryly, as if it had been a very stupid question. And I looked at my son, at that handsome form and face that seemed to be the ultimate in male beauty.
And I knew that it was a stupid question to ask a young man like Damon.
I knew that, if I had been a teen-aged girl, I would not have been able to rest until I felt that cock in my cunt, until I had held that naked, male body close to my own feminine body.
And then I felt a strange thing happening to my own body, something that I did not think was right.
Damon was my son, Doctor, but I looked at him and I wanted to fuck him. I thought that I could see that he wanted to fuck me too. I could feel my pussy throbbing, and I could feel a heat rush through my body. I looked at him and I thought that Pierre had been very good, but Damon would be even better.
But then I glanced at that needle again and I sighed.
I could feel the pain already. I just did not know what part of my body would be hurt by that needle. I closed my eyes and I spoke to him softly, like some kind of martyr.
"Just get it over with Damon," I said. "All I ask is that you do it quickly."
I did not know, of course, what he planned to do, but I knew that it would hurt me.
And I surrendered to that knowledge and felt that my son, my precious and handsome son, had every right to hurt me. I had sickened him with my fucking of Pierre.
When I opened my eyes, I saw my son approaching me. He was holding that needle in one hand. And he stood by the bed and looked down on me and smiled.
But it was not the kind of smile that I was used to getting from Damon. This smile was sinister and cruel. I shivered when he smiled at me like that.
He reached out with one hand, the hand that did not hold the needle, and he touched my tit.
I sighed when he did that. I told you, Doctor. My breast is very sensitive.
And it had never been more sensitive as it was at that moment, when my own, naked, handsome son touched me.
He moved his finger around my nipple slowly and I tried to lie very still. But I gasped.
And he chuckled with a sound that came from deep in his throat. It was a very manly sound.
Then he moved his hand to my other tit. He squeezed it with a light touch of his fingers.
And then he moved his finger around that other nipple very slowly. I shivered and sighed again.
Both of my tits were filled with passion then. Both of my nipples were hard and bumpy.
And I was remembering the times, years ago, when I had breast-fed that handsome, little baby.
Then the next things happened quickly, so quickly that I hardly had time to feel them before they were done.
First the pain came to one of the nipples and then it traveled to the other. I yelped.
And I looked down and I saw that both of those nipples were bleeding. He had pierced them both with that needle.
I just looked down at my tits and saw the two trickles of blood roll down my big breasts.
I stretched my arms back over my head and I felt the pressure that that added to my bleeding breasts.
And then I spoke softly to Damon. I did not want him to carry any guilt in his head for what he had done to his mother.
"It is all right," I said. "I understand. I hurt you and you hurt me. It is an even deal."
And Damon dropped the needle on the floor next to the bed and he started to sob quietly.
I looked up and I saw the tears running out of his dark eyes and down his tanned cheeks.
And I wanted to comfort my little boy. I reached out and pulled him to me and pressed his face against one of my big and bleeding tits.
"It is all right, Damon," I said. "It is all right. You are my lover. You are the only man that I need in my life."
"I will never leave you, Mother," he muttered, still sobbing into my breast.
And then my son looked up at me and I saw the blood on his face. That blood had come from my own breast.
And I pulled his face to him and I kissed that blood. I kissed it tenderly and warmly. I wanted to lick that blood from my son's face.
I did not think that blood had any right being on that beautiful, young man that I loved so much.
At first, I kissed him as a mother would kiss her son, but then things changed very quickly.
And the next thing that I knew, Doctor, Damon was lying on top of my naked body and we were kissing like lovers.
He had his mouth pressed against mine and he was running his fingers through my hair.
And I was running my fingers up and down his spine as I felt that muscled, young body next to mine.
I opened my mouth to his tongue and he speared me with that tongue, pierced my insides with that warm thing.
And I lifted one of my legs and moved it over his bare back and rubbed his buttocks with the inside of my thigh.
It was as quick as that, Doctor, as simple as that. We gave no thought to the fact that we were mother and son.
We gave no thought to the fact that he had hurt me very badly with that needle. All of that pain was in the past now.
We were just holding each other and kissing each other and touching each other and acting like lovers.
And I felt Damon's cock rising and moving against my body. And my own pussy was filled with juices.
When the kiss was over, Damon breathed onto my neck as he spoke the word to me in a soft voice.
"Mother."
And I shivered when he said that word. I was his mother and I thought that that gave him a right to do whatever he wanted to do with me. And I also thought that that gave him a right to fuck me too. I wanted him to take his rights. I wanted him to act like the man of the house. He was a man now, I knew. He was certainly not a little boy any longer. He had not been a little boy since he had dived for me that summer day a couple of years before.
I put my leg over him and tightened my hold on him as if I were afraid that he was going to jump up and run away.
But I could feel his cock rubbing against my pussy lips and I knew that he was not going to run away. He was going to stay right there in his mother's bedroom and take what belonged to him by right.
He moved his chest off my tits and I looked down at his prick. That thing was hard and long.
And then I looked at his chest, at the blood that had flowed from his pierced tits to his muscled, tanned body.
And I wanted to wash him in my blood, Doctor. I wanted to show him just what he meant to his mother by bleeding all over him.
But I could not bleed all over him. The bleeding in my tits was already stopping.
So I knew that I would just have to settle for fucking this handsome and sexy young man.
"Fuck me, Damon," I whispered to him.
"Mother," he whispered back.
But he did not use that word as some kind of excuse. It was just a way of speaking out his love for me.
And then all words between us stopped as he moved a little further away from my body and held his muscular form over my body and I reached down between us and took his prick in my greedy but loving hand. I lay frozen for a moment as I felt that cock pulse in my hand. I felt as if I were holding Damon's heart in my fingers.
And then I aimed that cock at my pussy and I guided it into me. I moved my other leg around his body and I held him close to me as he sank into me.
And, Doctor, I thought that he had every right to be there in my pussy. After all, he had come from that hole.
And now he had returned. I welcomed home my prodigal son with a sigh that came from deep within my body.
His cock was hard and long and it seemed to fill up my cunt as no other cock had ever done.
I rocked under him and sighed and he sighed too. We shared something that most mothers and sons never share, Doctor.
"Mother," he said. "Mother. Mother. Mother."
And that word was like magic to me, real and lusty magic.
It made my cunt quickened and tightened around my son's handsome and wonderful cock.
It was the greatest experience of my life, Doctor, and I know that it was the greatest experience of his life too.
Since that night, we have fucked regular, Damon and I. He is so handsome and so sexy. I feel just like a teen-aged girl when I am in my son's arms. I have not allowed Pierre to come back to my house since then. I do not need Pierre. I realize that now. I know that my son will never leave me. I will never be alone, Doctor.
But I am beginning to worry about our relationship. I know that there are those who would say that it is sick and perverted.
I know that there are those who would say-
Oh, Doctor, I don't care what they say. I love Damon and Damon loves me and I don't see why we can't share this thing that makes us both feel good.
There is just one aspect of it that does bother me. Since I have started to fuck Damon, I have grown to love the pain that he gives me. Yes, he gives me pain every night. That is how we start our little love-making sessions. He comes into my room and he beats me or pierces me. He usually makes me bleed in some way. That is what I particularly like, you see. I like to bleed for my son.
And I like the way that he looks, dark and young and muscular, when he draws closer to my bleeding body and gets that blood on him. I like the way that that blood looks on his body. I think that it makes him look a little bit like a sweet savage.
And I have been thinking recently that that must have been the way that Big Nose Hannah referred to her young lover back in those days of the Old West. He was a sweet savage too.
And I can understand why she would want to crawl to him with her last breath and touch him, just to feel at peace as the life ran out of her. If Damon were to kill me, were to wound me so that I knew that I was dying, I would want to crawl to him and spend my last moments of life with him. I would want to hold him close and bleed on him, Doctor.
That is how much I love my son.
But I wonder if feelings like that can be right.
I need your help in sorting those feelings out.
Can you help me, Doctor? Can you help me?
CONCLUSION
Of course, I can help Regina, but it will take a lot of work and time.
She and her son do have a sick relationship. It is a relationship that has grown out of the fact that they spent so much time together when Damon was growing up. They became more than just mother and son. Their lives became so intertwined that a professional psychologist could probably see this relationship coming years ago, if he had had a chance to study the pair.
When Damon found his mother in bed with another man, he felt the tradition Oedipal jealousy that Sigmund Freud talks about in his studies of childhood sexuality. But Damon was not a child by then. He was a young man, a sexual being, and he got his revenge on his mother by becoming the man in her life, the man that she could not live without. He hurts her and then he makes love to her.
And she has discovered that she needs both of these things in order to cure her guilty feelings.
But the fact is that the guilt can only grow for these two, if they continue to have this incestuous affair. They are blocking themselves off from other, more normal relationships. Regina, for example, has not seen Pierre again, even though she admits that she enjoyed her sexual experience with him very much, and I would suspect that Damon has not slept with any teen-aged girls since he started to have sex with his own mother. What teen-aged girl could make him react in the way that his mother can? What teen-aged girl could inspire in him the emotions that his own mother can? I know that this young man will never be able to completely mature until he breaks off this affair with his mother and goes out and finds a girl close to his own age, a girl that he can love without pain and without confusion.
A mother may be a boy's best friend, but she should not be a lover.
For that reason, I am asking Regina to bring Damon with her when we meet again. I have to find out how this young man feels about his mother and the pain that he gives her and the relationship that they share. I have to make them both see that such a relationship can only lead to complete and chaotic confusion, emotional confusion.
This is certainly one of the strangest stories that I have heard in all of my years of practice. The boy obviously has both a love and hate relationship with his mother. He hurts her and then he makes love to her. And she demands both of these things from her son.
The relationship is sick, sick, sick.
But I think that I can help Regina and Damon to see the error of their ways if I am only given enough time and enough consultation with them. It will cost Regina a lot of money, of course, for this kind of professional guidance, but she can obviously afford it.
And she does need this professional guidance and help.
So I have no reason to feel guilty about my high fees in this case. I will keep both mother and son in therapy for as long as they need it.
This is a most interesting case, most interesting indeed.
CASE HISTORY THREE
SUBJECT: Joyce D. AGE: Twenty-five
INTERVIEW ONE
When Joyce walked into my office, I looked at her and thought that she was the typical cute girl. You know the type. She wore her hair short and she had a bright, cheerful smile. She wore jeans and a shirt and she moved like a little boy. But she had nice breasts and a curvy body. She was like a young woman who was still a cute torn-boy. To me, she looked like a case of arrested adolescence. And the story that she told me bore out that first impression that I had of her.
I live with my room-mate, Susan. She and I have lived together for three years. I met her when I first came to the city to work. She is very nice and she is blonde and sexy. She wears all kinds of sexy clothes. But don't think that I am a lesbian or something like that. I am not. I just admire her beauty and I wish that I could be more like her. I wish that I could walk into a room and have men stare at me the way that they do at Susan.
Wait a minute. That is not right, Doctor. I would never want them staring at me like that. I would get frightened and I would run home and hide under the bed or something. I think that that might be part of my problem. You see, I am not sure how I feel about men. I was a virgin until just a couple of months ago. I will tell you about that in a minute. But the fact is that my attitude toward men has not changed, even though I am no longer a virgin. How can I explain it? I guess you could say that I want something from them but I am also afraid of that something. Does that make sense? I think that it does. I think that there are a lot of girls like me in the world.
You see, for a long time I just studied. I was a real book-worm in college. When guys tried to be nice to me or ask me out, I would run away from them. I would get all nervous, and, as I got older, it only got worse. I guess that, if I had worked up my courage when I was sixteen and had accepted a date with a guy, if I had finally worked up my courage and fucked some guy when I was eighteen or nineteen, it would have been better. I would have been on time then, on schedule with most other girls. But I just kept being afraid and the years went by and I started feeling ashamed of myself because I was so old and so inexperienced. I felt like a spinster, I guess.
And I listened to the girls like Susan talking about things, about fucking and stuff like that, and I knew that I would never be able to catch up with them. You see, Susan is my age, but she is very experienced in bed. She brags that she knows how to please a man. I guess that is part of my fright too. I know that I could never please a man in the way that he would expect a twenty-five-year-old girl to please him.
I just discovered something else, Doctor. I use the term girl to describe myself. I am not a girl, you know. I am a woman. But I never really think of myself as a woman. I think that I am just a little girl. I guess that is because that no one really expects anything from a little girl. I feel safe being young and acting like a child.
I work in a library in the research section. I never have to deal with people there. I just pick up pieces of paper and do the research that those pieces of paper tell me to do. I like that. I don't know what I would do if I had to go out there and talk to people. I hope you understand, Doctor, just how difficult it is for me to talk to you right now.
But I have to talk to someone, Doctor. I have to figure out why I am letting John and Susan do these things to me. Yes, John. I will tell you about John later on. But first I have to tell you about Susan.
She tried to help me for about a year after we moved in together. She tried to talk me into buying dresses and slinky clothes. That is what she calls them: slinky clothes. She says that she likes to look slinky when she goes out on a date. I guess that that is really another word for seductive, but it is sort of a cute word. Anyway, Susan said that I could get some guys if I would just dress up and open myself up and act like I wanted some guy. She even offered to set me up on dates with some of her friends, bankers and young lawyers and people like that. She only goes out with the best, it seems.
But I kept putting her off, telling her that I had other things to do, a book to read or a movie to watch on TV. She could tell by the way that I did not want to talk about it, that I was very afraid of men. Finally, Susan just gave up and she went about her own life in her own way. We were still friends, of course. We giggled together like little girls, but we did not talk about sex any longer.
And then, a few months ago, John moved in with us. I find it difficult to tell you why he moved in, because I don't know for certain. He was a friend of Susan's, and he needed a place to stay for a week or so while he found an apartment. That is what Susan told me, at least, when she asked if it would be all right with me if he slept on our couch. I said it would be all right. I knew John and I thought that he was a nice guy. He is a young lawyer and he looks sort of cute. I thought that he was cute then. I certainly did not think that he was going to hurt me. He did not threaten me at all.
But, when he moved in and started to sleep on our couch, he just stayed. He had only been there about two days when he and Susan got drunk one night in the living room. I was in my bedroom, reading a book, but I could hear them laughing in there. Then I heard some really heavy breathing and I figured that I knew what was happening between them. The next thing I knew the living room was empty. I knew that they were in Susan's bedroom. I guess that night was the night that John moved in with us to stay. Actually, he moved in with Susan, but I did not say anything about his being there. He moved his stuff into her room and he slept with her every night and she stopped going out all the time with other guys. In fact, she did not go out with other guys at all.
I figured that they were a twosome, a couple. I felt a little strange being the third person in that apartment, but I soon got over it. John was very nice to me. He used to treat me a little bit as if I were Susan's spinster sister or something. He would get up in the morning and he would fix breakfast for all three of us. We often ate dinner together too, and we would all talk and laugh about how we spent our days together. It was very nice having him around, I thought. And then things changed.
They changed one weekend when Susan went to visit her parents. She left me and John alone in the apartment all that weekend. I guess she thought that John would never find a girl like me attractive. And I must admit, Doctor, that I had never thought that he would find a girl like me attractive either. I knew that he liked Susan and she was so different, so sexy, so slinky.
Well, anyway, that Saturday morning I got up and walked out into the living room in my pajamas. I wore those pajamas around the apartment all the time, Doctor. They were certainly not sexy. They had long sleeves and long pants. I look sort of like a little boy in those pajamas.
Anyway, John was sitting there on the couch. He had been up all night. I could tell that. He had a sort of haunted look in his eyes. He got that sometimes. You see, John often had trouble sleeping and, when he can't sleep, he gets up and watches old movies on television all night long. Then he showers and goes to work.
But he was just sitting there, smoking a cigarette, with that haunted look in his eyes.
And, when he looked at me, I thought that he had never looked at me with quite that expression on his face before. Then his lips curled up in an evil-looking smile. That smile seemed to freeze me there. I stood there in the middle of the living room and looked at him. I could not move, Doctor. I knew that he wanted me, and I was suddenly afraid of him, just as I had been afraid of all those other young men of my life. But I also knew that I wanted John too. I kept thinking that he had fucked Susan, that he was Susan's man. And I thought that, if he wanted me, that had to prove that I had something that was something similar to what Susan had. You know, Doctor? You understand that? It was not as if I were in competition with Susan.
Oh, maybe, I was. I don't know for sure.
I just know that he looked at me and I felt all queasy inside. I gulped and stared at him.
And then John got up and walked toward me. He put his hands on my pajama tops and he ripped them open. Buttons flew everywhere. I just stood there as he exposed my breasts.
I had never been exposed like that, to anyone. But I felt so weak with John. I kept looking into those haunted eyes as he spoke to me very softly. "I have been wanting this for a long time," he said. "Susan is okay, but you are different. You are more pure. I want to damage that fucking purity."
That was a strange way of saying it, I thought. He wanted to damage my purity.
But the strange thing is that I wanted it damaged too. I had had enough of that fucking purity, that fucking pure, girlish state that I had been in for so long. I stood there and looked up into his eyes and breathed out one word.
"Yes."
You see, Doctor, I was still afraid of him, as afraid as I was attracted to him.
But I sensed that I had no control over it. That made the fear sweet. I guess I was like one of those little animals who is crossing a road at night and suddenly sees the lights of a car baring down on him. He just turns and stands there, frozen by his sweet fear, until it is all over for him, until he is crushed under the wheels of that car.
I looked at John and I wanted to be crushed in that way. I wanted to have my purity damaged once and for all. I could think of nothing sweeter in my life, Doctor.
He pushed my pajama top back off my shoulders and I let them fall off my body. I stood there naked from the waist up and he put his hands on my little breasts. He squeezed them. I remember that that squeezing hurt me, Doctor, but it did something else to me. It filled me with a certain amount of flame. Yes, flame. It was a lusty flame that I felt running through my body.
And then John put his hands in my pajama bottoms and he ripped them open too. They dropped to the floor around my feet. I looked down and I saw the dark hair of my pussy. And I knew that he was seeing the same thing, Doctor. I knew that he was seeing that hair and wanting me. I looked back into his eyes. That haunted look was still there. I have wondered since if he felt some remorse at that moment, if he felt guilty because he was supposedly Susan's man and he was playing around on her that way, doing this to me when she was out of town. But I know that he really did not feel remorse. Later on, I learned far more about his relationship with Susan and I knew that it would be impossible for this man to feel guilty about anything that he did to that slinky, blonde room-mate of mine. But that will come later, Doctor. I will tell you about that much later. Right now I have to tell you about he did to me that morning, that fine, Saturday morning that my life was changed for the better or for the worse. I am not sure which. I really am not sure.
John opened his pants and pulled his cock out. I looked down at it. I had never seen a cock before.
"Touch it," he growled to me. "Touch that thing and stroke it good. It is your master now."
My master? I remembered that I looked down and thought that it just looked like a piece of meat to me. I could not understand how a piece of meat could be my master. But I had not learned everything yet. I really did not know that much about sex at all.
Still, in my innocent way, I reached out and touched that prick. The thing felt soft in my hand. I started to massage it. I know now that I was not very good at doing that on that first time with John. But, still, his prick seemed to respond to that touching that I was giving it. It grew harder as I held it. When I felt that hardness, I gasped and I pulled my hand back.
I just stood there looking down at it.
"What the fuck?" he muttered. "Why did you take your hand away?"
"It changed," I said in a whispering voice. "It changed."
And then John slapped me. He hit me hard across the face and I stumbled. With my pajama bottoms around my feet, I could not stand up as I stumbled. I fell down on the floor. I lay there and looked up at him and he laughed at me.
"Pure piece of shit," he muttered.
And he grabbed my hair and pulled me up to my knees so that my mouth was right next to that cock.
"Suck it," he said. "Suck that thing, you pure piece of shit."
I could not believe that he wanted me to suck that piece of meat. It was changing even as I looked at it. John has holding that cock in his hand and he was stroking himself. The thing was stiffening and growing right in front of my eyes.
"Suck it," he snarled again. "Suck that thing, you bitch."
And I affirmed everything to him again, Doctor.
"Yes," I said.
I knelt there and opened my mouth and leaned forward slightly, and John rammed that cock into my mouth.
"Don't bite it, you pure piece of shit," he said. "If you bite it, I will knock the crap out of you."
And I knew that he would do that. He had already hit me once, remember. He had already knocked me down. So I sucked on his cock and I pressed my lips tightly around that organ and I sort of pulled on it.
I found it fascinating that it was still changing in my mouth, growing harder and stronger and stiffer. I worked my mouth around that thing and I felt the fat tip of it battering the back of my throat.
I did not find it disgusting, Doctor. That surprised me.
I found that I liked the feeling that that cock was giving me in my mouth. And that flaming feeling in my body seemed to spread to new parts of me. Most of the flame seemed to be headed for my cunt, Doctor. I felt as if my pussy was on fire.
John was moaning and sighing as I sucked on his rod, and he put his hands on my hair and jabbed that thing deep down my throat. For a second, I had trouble breathing. I felt light-headed. But I still did not mind, Doctor. I kept thinking of what he had said to me, about getting rid of my purity, and I loved the idea that that pain that he was giving me was ridding me of that purity-that sterile purity-that I had lived with for so fucking long.
Does this make sense, Doctor? Does any of this make any sense to you? I must admit that it does not really make sense to me. But that is what I felt. That is really what I felt, Doctor.
When his cock was long and hard, he pushed me back and I fell on the floor. I looked up at him as he dropped to his knees and pulled my pajama bottoms off my feet. Then he pushed my legs apart. I spread them for him, Doctor. I spread them wide and waited for him to enter me. I was a virgin, Doctor, but I knew what constituted sex. I knew how other people did it. At least, I thought that I did. I would learn later the many things that could go to make up a sexual act, things that I had never even considered before in my virginal life.
I spread my legs wide and I lay back on the floor and I waited for him to touch me, to enter me. I thought that he would do that right away. But I was wrong. He did something else first. With his cock hard and long and sticking out of his pants, he moved over me and put his hands on my tits and he pulled on them. I yelped with the pain. It felt like he was trying to tear my tits off my body, Doctor. It felt like-
Oh, Doctor, it hurt like hell!
But the strange thing is that I still enjoyed it. I did not understand why I should enjoy something like that. But, even as I yelped and jerked there on the floor, my pussy was tingling with desire for this young man.
And I kept thinking about Susan too, wondering if he did things such as this to Susan too.
She had big tits. He would like jerking on those things, I thought, if he would only give them a try.
John raised up and took his hands off my tits. Then he put those same hands under my body, under my ass, and he lifted me up slightly.
He massaged the rounded buns and then he worked his cock into my pussy lips. He squeezed those buns then and I shivered and sighed. I did not know what he would do to me then, but I knew that, whatever it was, I would both love it and hate it.
And then he snarled at me.
"Scum," he said, "pure, fucking scum."
"Yes," I murmured.
And he slammed his cock into me. I cried out with the pain when he broke through my hymen. That pain was sharp and went through my head like a lightning bolt.
But then I calmed a bit and the pain drained away and I just looked at John.
That cock was buried deep in me. I sighed as he massaged my buns.
Then he started to fuck me for sure, to fuck me with a regular, rhythmic motion.
And I knew then how it felt to be a woman. I knew for the first time in my life. I was not afraid of anything at that moment, not afraid of anything at all. I felt very proud of myself and I did not care that he had ripped my pajamas off and called me names. I knew that John had done that for my own good, and-
What?
Oh, my time is up.
Well, I will tell you about the other things next time. Things got very strange when Susan came back to join us after that weekend, Doctor.
I will tell you about those strange things next time.
INTERVIEW TWO
Joyce came back to see me the next week. She was dressed in a similar fashion to the way that she was dressed for our first meeting. She still had that tomboy look about her. But she sat down in the chair across from me and started to talk almost immediately. I could tell that she felt driven to tell me her story, the story that seemed so strange and yet so common at the same time.
Doctor, I guess I should continue to tell you about that first batch of experiences with John and Susan.
After he took my cherry that way, we fucked and I came, Doctor. He came too. But I was very proud of the orgasm that I felt. I know that it is very strange when a girl comes on her first time, and I guess that you know that too.
Anyway, after we came together, we lay there and we smiled at each other. During the fucking, John seemed to have lost his haunted, vacant look. He looked more regular, like a real person, like usual. He looked playful and sexy.
And he took a shower and then we fucked for most of Saturday.
I did not even think of Susan. I guess that I should have, Doctor. I guess that I should have felt guilty because John was really her friend, her lover, not mine. But he did not mention her name and I kept thinking that this was just too much fun. After we had started to fuck, it seemed that I never wanted to stop. I wanted his cock in me all the time.
And not only his cock, Doctor. I liked it when he licked out my pussy too. I liked it when he fingered me. I liked everything that John did to me. I liked it so much that I did not have time to think of Susan, my best friend and room-mate.
But then, Sunday, when we knew that she was coming back, I just looked at John. We were lying in my bed at the time and I had just sucked on his cock and watched him come while I stroked his prick. After that, I looked at him and I guess that he could read my thoughts.
"Don't worry about the blonde," he said. "I can handle her."
I did not know what he meant by that then, Doctor. But I had no doubt that he could handle Susan. After all, he had been able to handle me. I figured that a man who could things like that to me could do damned near anything that he wanted to do.
But we got up and we took a shower. That afternoon, when Susan got back, I was in my bedroom reading. John took her to bed right away and fucked her. I remember lying there in my bedroom and feeling jealous and wondering too how one man could have so much fucking power in him. It seemed that John could fuck forever and a day.
But the jealousy was what I felt most of all. Isn't that strange, Doctor? I was really jealous of Susan and John in there in the bedroom. I did not think that she had a right to him, even though she had been the one who had first found him and fucked him there in that apartment. I no longer thought of John as her man. How could I after what he had done to me in that apartment over the weekend? I felt thinking of how good it had felt to have him lying there near me, to have his prick in me, and I could only wonder if I would ever feel that again.
And then, after about an hour, John came to my door and knocked.
"Joyce," he said, "come and join us."
I sat up on my bed and listened as he moved back into the bedroom that he shared with Susan.
I knew what he was suggesting, but I could not get over the shock. I had never thought that Susan would go for something like that, or that I would go for something like that either.
It seemed very strange that he should be asking me to come in there and join the two of them. And it seemed even more strange that I got up and started to take off my clothes. I was going to join them, and I was surprised at my own emotions. Even though I knew that what he suggested was jaded and slightly terrible, I thought that I could not refuse him.
When I was naked, I went to my door and opened it. I walked out into the living room.
Then I turned and walked down to that other door, the one that led into Susan's bedroom.
I hesitated before I opened that door. I could not figure out what was happening in my own body and soul.
But I knew that I was going in there sooner or later, so I just took a deep breath and opened the door and walked in.
John was lying naked on the bed. He was smiling at me and he was stroking on his cock.
I just stared at him, but I remember wondering at that instant where Susan was.
And then she hit me.
She hit the side of my face with her fist and I stumbled to the side and leaned against a bureau.
Then I looked up and saw her. She was scowling at me. Her fingers were still held in that fist.
And she was wearing something that I had never seen her wearing before. She was wearing a pair of black, leather shorts and a black, leather halter-top. She looked frightening to me in that outfit. And her expression made her look even more frightening. I knew that she could kill me. She seemed to be that angry with me.
"You fucking bitch," she snarled. "You tried to steal John from me."
"No," I muttered.
But, Doctor, I did not know if I was telling the truth or not.
I did not know if I had really tried to steal John away from her or not. When I had fucked him, I had not even thought about her and he had started it, hadn't he?
But then I remembered that I had felt jealous just a few minutes before. So, perhaps, I had wanted to steal him away. I did not know for sure. I did not know anything for sure any longer.
But then I looked at that leather outfit again and the question popped out before I could even give it any thought.
"What are you doing dressed like that, Susan?"
She did not answer me.
Instead, she walked toward me and kicked me in the leg with her bare foot.
I winced with the pain and bent over and Susan pushed my onto the floor.
"Bitch!" she yelled.
"No," I muttered.
"Slut!"
"No."
"Whore!"
"No."
I looked toward John. I thought that he might say something, something that would save me from this woman's anger. Perhaps he could tell her that he had basically raped me that first time. But had it really been rape? I did not know for certain.
And John just lay there and looked at us and handled his cock. He seemed to enjoy this sight. He seemed to like the way that two girls were battling over him.
And then Susan slapped me hard across the face and I yelped and started to sob.
And she moved down over my body and she started to hit my tits and my stomach and my pussy with her hands, to slap me all over. I twisted and turned there on the floor, but I could not escape the blows that she was giving me.
And I could not fight her either. I guess that I could have hit her back, tried to know her down. But, in her black leather, she looked too powerful for me. I kept thinking that. And I knew that I could not handle her. And I also knew that I did not want to hurt her. She was my friend and I kept thinking that she might be right to do this, I might have been trying to steal her boyfriend.
So I lay there and I suffered under her blows.
And then, finally, the blonde stood up straight. She looked down on my trembling, naked body.
And then she started to sob too, to cry as she spoke out the words.
"I thought of you as a sister. I never had a sister, Joyce. I wanted to help you get men. I wanted you to see that you could be sexy in your own, sweet way. But you would not let me help you. Instead, you waited until my back was turned and then you went after the only man who ever meant anything to me. You tried to take my master away from me."
One word from that sobbing, little speech hit me in the head like a hammer.
Master.
It was then that I suspected-that I knew!-that Susan had suffered under John just as I had done and had loved it. I knew then that he controlled everything that she had done to me there in that bedroom. I looked at John and he smiled at me and stroked on his cock.
And I knew that he controlled all, that he would control my life and Susan's life from now on.
And I wondered what that master had in mind for us, his two slaves.
"I am sorry, Susan," I muttered. "I did not mean to take him away. You can have him forever now."
I felt like a good, little sister, Doctor, who was sacrificing something to make her older sister happy.
But Susan continued to sob and John suddenly sat up on the bed and yelled at both of us.
"Bullshit!"
I just looked at him.
"What?" I muttered. "What, Master?"
It was the first time that I had ever used that word in reference to him. I had never thought of him as my master all the way through the hours that we had spent together, but, now that I had heard Susan use that word, no other word seemed to do. He was my master too and I knew it.
"I will not let you give me up," he announced in a hearty voice.
"What?"
"I will use both of you in any way that I want to use you."
"Oh, God," I muttered. "Slaves!" he yelled. "Master," I whispered.
And John fell back on the bed, laughing like a happy master should.
I looked at Susan. By that point, she had stopped her sobbing and she was sniffing her last tears back. She looked at the naked master too, and I could see the surrender in her blue eyes. Yes, she was surrendering to him all over again, and I seemed to know that she had surrendered to him before.
And I knew that she would do anything that ' that man told her to do.
She was his slave and I was his slave. It was as simple as that, Doctor.
The man stopped laughing and sat up on the bed again and nodded his head.
It seemed to be a sign for something. I knew that Susan probably understood that sign, but I did not. I turned and looked at the blonde in black leather just as he nodded. Then she turned and looked at me.
And she kicked me hard in the ribs.
I rolled with that kick and pulled my legs up against my body as the pain went through me.
But then she kicked me in the back and I stretched out straight on the floor as that pain went through me. She kept kicking me as I tossed and turned there on the floor.
And I knew that John had told her that she should do this. I knew that John had told one of his slaves to dress up in leather and hurt the other slave, the other girl in his life.
And I knew that I could not stand up to either one of them. I just tossed with the kicking and the pain.
"Slaves!" he yelled again, as if to remind himself and us.
"Slaves!" he cried after a few seconds of silence. "Slaves! Slaves! Slaves! Slaves!"
And I felt a little bit like an actress, Doctor. I felt as I were putting on a show on my master, as if we were both performing for John. He was our master and he seemed to demand this of us. We could do nothing else.
Then, suddenly, Susan stopped kicking me and looked down on me, heaving like a workhorse.
I looked not at her but at John. I knew that he would give another sign soon and that she would do something else to me when he gave her that sign.
He nodded his head again and she backed away from me. I lay there on the floor and wondered what was coming.
But then Susan just slipped down the floor and sat there against the wall. She stared at me with her blue eyes.
She looked like she had gone into a trance or something, Doctor. She looked like a dead person sitting there on the floor.
And then John moved off the bed and came and stood over me. I tensed my body, thinking that he was going to kick me too, that this was his turn.
But he did not kick me. He just looked down at me and he spoke to me.
"Doesn't Susan look good in leather?" he asked. "I bought her that outfit last week."
I did not say anything. I just stared up at him. And he continued to speak to me.
"I thought that she had the heart of a dominatrix," he said. "But it is domination with a twist. You see, Joyce, Susan does not want to hurt someone else. She only does it when I tell her too. She is a mistress and I am the mistress's master. She is my slave and you are my slave too. When I tell her to do it, she will make you suffer. And, when I tell you to do it, you will take all of that suffering and want even more. I know just the kind of girl that you are, Joyce. I think that I have always known."
I did not say anything, Doctor. I knew that he was my master and I could not deny his words.
And I thought that he might be right. Again, as the pain had left my body, the passion had started.
My pussy was trembling and throbbing as it had never throbbed before. I started to move my eyes back and forth, looking first at John and then at Susan. She just sat there and stared at me with her dead, blue eyes. She did look sexy in her black outfit, sexy and sweet in a sinister way. And I knew that Susan and I shared something now, something that very few girls were able to share. We shared a master and that made us both feel that there was something in our lives that made them worth living. I had never felt so close to her before, I think. I looked up at John's prick too, and I saw that it was hard and full and straight and I stretched my legs apart, just as I had done all weekend. I knew then what he wanted to do to me, and I wanted him to do it too. I wanted my master to fuck me!
As I saw it, the other slave, Susan, had prepared me. I had no reason to feel guilty or jealous. All that I could really feel in my body was the left-over pain from her kicking and the passion that coursed through my system now. I moved my hands down my body and I grabbed my clit with two of my fingers and I started to play with myself. I fingered my clit as the excitement rose in my body.
And I looked up at my master and I uttered that word that I had used so often during the last few hours.
"Yes," I said. "Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes."
And the man went to his knees between my out-stretched legs.
"Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes."
I kept saying that over and over and over again.
It was like a soft chant that came from deep in my throat.
It felt as if that was the only word that I knew.
And I knew that that one word would make my master happy.
I just stared at John. Again, I forgot all about Susan, even though she was there in the room with us.
I gave no thought to how the sight of John fucking me would affect her. I did not even think that it mattered.
After all, she would know that I had no control over this situation. She would understand because she had no control either. Our master dominated us both, it seemed. Our master controlled our lives. John moved close to my body and lifted me, massaged and rubbed my ass-cheeks with his hands, just as he had done that first time that he had fucked me, raped me.
And I moaned and lay there on the floor and gave into him, because he was my master.
But I also knew that I was going to enjoy it, Doctor. You see, John was a masterful fuck.
He was great and powerful and strong. He was everything that I had ever wanted in a man. He was such a master and he moved with such a forceful rhythm when he was in me. I cannot begin to explain the way that his fucking of my body made me feel. Of course, I have never fucked any other man. For all I know, all men are great. But I doubt that any other man will be able to turn me on the way that John does. He seems to catch something that is deep in my heart, deep in my spirit. It is something that I do not even know about myself. Sometimes I think that John just looked at me and understood me, understood me better than I was ever able to understand myself. Sometimes I think that he knew what I needed. He understood that I was frightened of men, that I would have to be taken by force, by power. He knew that and he took me in just that way. That seemed to be what he had to offer me, what he gave me. And I love him for it.
That afternoon, he moved into me quickly, with one masterful thrust. His cock was embedded in me at that moment and I whimpered and I started to move my body against his cock as he started to pull in and out of me.
Then, as we fucked, I looked off to the side and I saw Susan sitting there. She was still in leather. She was still staring straight ahead. I kept my eyes on her as I fucked John.
It was not that I felt sorry for her or guilty for what I was doing.
It was as if I was looking at her and yet not seeing her either. For, as I looked at her, I felt John's cock in me and I churned against that cock and I felt very good. I looked at Susan and fucked John back until Susan seemed to sink right into the wall. Yes, Doctor, she seemed to sink into nothingness in my mind.
That was when I felt the orgasm growing in my body. That was when that I knew that I was going to come. And I could still feel the pain in my body too, the pain that she had given me, and I thought that that was part of the feeling that I was enjoying at that moment.
I knew that, without the pain, the pleasure would not be so grand. You see, Doctor, I understood that concept about love immediately, without really understanding it at all.
Since that afternoon, Susan and John and I have shared the pain and the pleasure. John never hurts me any longer. He just fucks me and calls me names. Susan is the one who dresses in leather and kicks me. But I know that she is only doing it because John is telling her to do it, because he is ordering her to do these things to me with his nods. So I cannot hate her for the pain that she gives me.
There is also the fact that I have grown to love the pain, to think of those slaps and those angry kicks as a prelude to the fucking that John will give me. That is the way that I think about those things now, you know.
John fucks me and Susan watches. Then he fucks Susan and I watch.
We are like a couple, I guess, but there are three of us instead of two. We are very close.
But I have started to think that, perhaps this is not right. We share something but I have started to wonder if it is perverted, and I need help. I want to break away from Susan and John. I want to go out on my own, Doctor. I want to go out and find a man and see if I can enjoy the kind of sexy life that all those other girls talked about when I was younger.
But I am afraid to leave them. What if I find that I need something special, something that only they can give me? And what will happen to them if I leave them? I keep thinking about Susan especially, wondering if she is strong enough to stand all of John's mastery by herself. She seems very weak now. I suppose that she had that weakness always and that I have just started to see it. But I know that John controls her even more than he controls me, and he controls me a lot. Sometimes I think that he controls the very air that I breathe.
And, Doctor, remember that I was a virgin until just a few weeks ago. Remember that John started me on my road to sexual happiness.
But is it happiness?
I feel trapped now, Doctor, and I don't want to be trapped by those two, no matter how much they mean to me.
I am just a little girl and I need to go out and have some adventures. I need to go out and experience some other things, Doctor, some other men. I just know that I have to do that.
CONCLUSION
Of course, Joyce has to do that.
She had to experience other men. I will work with her and try to help her find the courage to break away from John and Susan. It will be a slow process because so much of her life is tied up with these people.
As to whether John has hurt her by the things that he has done to her, I am of two minds.
One side of me tells me that John knew what Joyce needed, knew that he would have to use force to break through the shell that she had formed around herself. He did it correctly with her as far as that was concerned.
But I know too that it is not healthy for any man to have a slave, to make a woman so totally dependent on him. And John has two slaves, two women who do his bidding. Both of those women need to find other men, find other experiences that can fulfill them in a sexual way.
But I doubt that Susan, Joyce's friend, will ever leave this man.
I think that Joyce is right when she says that Susan is obviously more involved with this man than she is.
And I do not think that Susan will ever be able to break the captivity that surrounds her.
I have asked Joyce to bring Susan in with her when next she visits me, but I do not think that Susan will come. She seems to be too far gone to accept my help.
Joyce knows enough to seek help for her problems.
Susan now is wallowing in her problems and she has little self-knowledge left, from what Joyce tells me. That is a shame. I always hate to see a beautiful woman lose all of her self-respect and self-knowledge.
But that is obviously what has happened with this blonde in black leather.
CASE HISTORY FOUR
SUBJECT: Terri G. AGE: Nineteen
INTERVIEW ONE
When Terri came to see me, I looked her over as I do all my patients. She was an attractive, dark-haired, teen-ager, and she dressed in a sexy way. She wore her blouse cut low in the front so that one could see her rather ample breasts. She sat down opposite me and lit a cigarette. And then she launched into her story.
Doctor, I am a lesbian. I will admit it. A lot of teen-aged girls do not like to think of themselves as lesbians, you know. They say that they are just making love to women until the right man comes along. But I have had a couple of men, just to try them out, and I can tell you that I don't care if I never see another cock in my life. In fact, I will go out of my way never to see another cock. Men just don't interest me as sexual beings.
But women! Oh, they interest me, Doctor. Especially Jenny, my red-haired lover. She interests me more than anyone else. She is so sexy. She has big tits and a big, firm body. She has freckles too. She looks like a strong, farm-girl type. Do you know the type that I mean? Can you picture her, Doctor?
Well, I think that she is beautiful, sexy, wonderful.
She is also something else though, and that something else is beginning to trouble me.
Let me tell you this right out. I am not here talking to you because I am ashamed of being of lesbian. I don't want to change that. But I think that there are aspects of my relationship with Jenny that are not healthy. I feel bad after we play some of the games that we share. But I still love her and I don't know how to tell her, really, to tell her that I don't want to play those games any longer.
I guess what I am looking for is the courage to tell Jenny no.
Maybe I should start by telling you about my father, Doctor.
My father is the reason that I am what I am today, I think.
My father was about forty-five years old when I was born, and my mother died soon after my birth.
So I was an only child with a father who was turning into an old man as I was growing up.
My father had been in the service for thirty years or so. I spent my childhood on army bases until he retired. He hired nurses to take care of me, but he demanded control over my life himself. He did not want anyone making me into something that he did not want me to be.
Well, my father was more than sixty years old when I was a teen-ager. I was frightened of him. He seemed to be so strong and so loud, you see, Doctor, and he spent his time yelling at me, telling me to be a good girl, telling me to stay away from boys. He kept saying that he did not want his daughter turning into a tramp.
I guess that that is the reason why I turned to girls. My father kept telling me not to mess with boys. But he never said anything about girls. When one of my friends at school, a sexy girl named Nina, came over to visit me one day and touched me softly and smiled at me. I just melted into her arms. I gave myself to her, even though I did not know if it was normal or not. I just thought that I did not have to be afraid of my father since I was not melting into the arms of a boy. I went to bed with Nina that afternoon and she licked out my cunt and she sucked on my tits and I felt good, whole, really human for the first time in my life.
Nina became my lover after that. We went to bed together often, usually at my house, because my father did not come home until late in the afternoon.
But one day he came home early. He stormed in the house like he always did and he started calling to me and I was lying in bed with Nina, naked. I was tense and afraid but I knew that I could not escape my father's wrath. I knew that he was going to come into my room and find me like that.
When he did come into my room, I just looked at him and I sighed to him.
"I am not a tramp, Daddy," I said. "I am not with a boy."
His face got very red and he grabbed his heart and he fell back onto the floor.
He died instantly. His heart just stopped.
Nina and I got up and looked at him and then I felt like my whole body was breaking apart.
I knew that my father was dead, and I knew that I had killed him in a way. I knew that I had shamed him to death. I did not even stay in that house for the next hour. Nina got dressed and went home, shivering and frightened and I packed my suitcase and left the house, left the town. I left my father lying there on the floor, dead.
I suppose that someone found him later on, but, for all I really know, he might still be lying there.
That was the event that changed my life, Doctor. That was the event that turned me into what I am today. But I am not sure what I am today. That is the trouble, Doctor.
I did not know what to do when I left home. I came to the big city and I got a job as a waitress. That was when I tried fucking guys. I went home with a couple guys who took an interest in me. And I fucked them. But it was nothing, Doctor. I tensed up and did not feel any pleasure at all.
And then I met Jenny.
Jenny is an artist, Doctor. She is rather famous as an artist too, considering that she is still under thirty. She has paintings hanging in several museums around the country. She paints nude girls, Doctor, and many of her most recent paintings have been of me.
Let me tell you about one of those paintings. I think that it might explain something about our relationship.
In that painting, I am naked and I am down on my hands and knees. I am looking straight out from the picture and I am wearing a dog collar with a leash attached. The name of the painting is "Little Dog-Girl Lost."
I posed for that one, of course. Whenever I look at that painting now, I shiver. I think that other people are looking at it and are seeing something in my soul. I keep thinking too, that someone from my hometown will see a painting like that and will find out where I am. I guess that those people in that little town where I spent my teen-aged years think that I killed my father or something, because I ran away. I guess I did kill him. In fact, I know I did.
I killed my father, Doctor! I killed the only man who was ever close to me! I have to go-
I can't talk about it any longer.
INTERVIEW TWO
Terri had seemed very self-assured when she had first come into my office, but, as you can see, she began to fall apart and lose her confidence as she told me her story. That is what often happens. When patients start to talk about things that really trouble them, they often become nervous and frightened at their own words and they think that they are revealing more than they can stand. But they usually come back to see me after they calm down. Once they have started to tell their stories, they know that they must finish with the stories in order to feel better.
Terri was no different. She came back to my office the next week and sat down with a new determination to tell her story, so that I could help her to learn to say no to Jenny.
She lit a cigarette and started to talk.
I will tell you all about Jenny and me, Doctor. That is what is really troubling me, even though I love her more than anything else in the whole, fucking world.
Jenny used to come into the restaurant where I worked. She was very friendly and she talked to me and she left big tips. I thought that she had class, real big-city class. And I guess that I was attracted to her, Doctor, but I never thought that she would be the type who would be attracted to me.
But then one day she asked me if I would pose for her. She asked me if I would come to her studio and take off my clothes and stand very still while she sketched me. She said that she would pay me ten dollars an hour.
Naturally, the money made everything seem on the up-and-up, Doctor.
But the truth is that I would have posed for her for no money at all. I agreed immediately, and I kept wondering if Jenny wanted me to do more than just pose for her. I was unsure of that. If Jenny was attracted to me, I thought, she had never shown any real sign of it.
But I knew that I wanted her. I wanted her badly, Doctor. She was so gorgeous and she had such class. I knew that she would be better than any of the other girls that I had had. And I knew that she would have to be better than the men that I had fucked. I wanted to be very special to her.
So I was very nervous when I went to see that night. She lived in a big apartment with a studio attached. I was not surprised to find her living in a place that classy. She was real class, Doctor.
She met me at the door of her apartment and I thought that I would keel over when I looked at her. She was dressed in a blue shirt and cut-offs. She looked like a farm girl, a sexy and classy farm girl. When she smiled at me, I could feel my pussy quivering with joy. I knew that this woman would be special to me if I could only get very close to her and make her my lover.
She led me into her studio and she stood there in front of an easel while I took off my clothes. She just watched me, studying my form like an artist studies everything else. And I was proud of myself because I thought that Jenny was seeing some real beauty in me, some beauty that no one had ever seen before. But I was also nervous, Doctor. I cannot tell you how nervous I was as I took off my clothes and laid them neatly on a chair. When I was naked, I licked my lips and stood there and looked at her. I wondered what she wanted me to do, how she wanted me to stand. I moved around a little bit until she told me to stop in the position that I was at that moment. I was standing with my arms out in front of me. She told me to hold that pose and she started to sketch me.
I cannot tell you how good that sketching made me feel, Doctor. I said that Jenny seemed to find some beauty in me, and I thought then that she was making that beauty immortal, that she was making me immortal with her sketch pad and her pencil.
I stood there, very still, for the longest time. My whole body seemed to go to sleep and I just looked at her. I kept my arms held out and soon I thought that I must look as if I were begging her for something, begging her to come to me and love me. In my mind, that was exactly what I was doing.
Doctor, I stood there and I yearned for her as I had never yearned for any other woman in my life.
I thought that, if Jenny would only make love to me, I would be able to make my life whole again.
She sketched me and smiled at me and studied me. And then she put her pencil down and she moved from behind that little stand that she used. She continued to smile at me and I continued to hold that pose, to stand very still. It was as if I could not move at all, and I knew that I was completely at her mercy at that moment. But that did not mind. I trusted Jenny. I trusted her a great deal, Doctor.
She started to unbutton her shirt and I knew that she felt the same way about me as I felt about her.
I held that pose but I sighed and I smiled at her. My mind seemed to be at ease.
And I watched her as she stripped. It seemed only right. After all, she had watched me, studied me, while I had taken off my clothes.
When she was naked, she moved toward me and I stretched my arms out slightly to make room for her. She walked into those arms and she put her hands on my tits. She massaged them. She whispered to me.
"I thought that you were the type, Terri," she said. "I hoped that you were the type."
I did not say anything. She already knew that I was the type, her type, the type that would love her.
And then she put her lips to mine and she kissed me. She put her arms around me and I curled my arms around her too. She is taller than I am, and she seemed to take control of that kiss. I tilted my head back and opened my mouth to her tongue.
I felt very grateful to her. I felt like she was doing everything for me. We lay down on the floor of that studio and she kissed my tits and she worked her mouth and her tongue down my body. She ran her tongue deep into my navel and made me feel all excited again. But this was a strange kind of excitement. I knew that it was going to happen and I wanted it to happen and I felt as if I had come home. I was very peaceful as I felt the lust growing in my body. I felt Jenny moving down my form and licking me and kissing me and I felt very good indeed.
When she drove her tongue into my pussy, I sighed and felt so happy that I thought that I was going to cry.
Later on, I licked out her cunt too. I spent the night there at Jenny's place, making love to that redhead. And then I knew that I had found a home. The next morning she told me that she wanted me to move in with her and quit my job and be her full-time model and I thought that there could be nothing better for me in the whole world.
I did it with glee. I quit and moved in with her and everything worked out very well for a little while.
I felt so close to Jenny that, when she asked me about my background, I told her everything. When she heard the story of my father and his death, she asked me questions about that.
"Do you feel guilty about that, Terri," she asked.
I did not know what to say. I supposed that I did feel guilty, but I had never thought of my emotions in terms of guilt.
Yet, she knew that the guilt was there and she told me softly that she would help me to work out that guilt.
And that was when the games started, Doctor, the games that I have grown to hate.
But she seems to love the games so much that I just can't tell her that they do not do me any good. If I ever did feel guilt about my father's death, those games have not cured me of that guilt.
Let me tell you about one night a couple of weeks ago, Doctor.
That was when the game turned really nasty. That was when I decided that I would have to come to a doctor and get some help.
Jenny likes it when I sit around the apartment naked. She says that she likes the look of my body. And I guess that I do have a nice, sexy body, Doctor. I always feel a little proud when Jenny tells me and shows me just how much she admires that body.
But what she does to my body on some nights does not show admiration or love or lust, Doctor. That night, for example, I was sitting in the living room of the apartment, reading a book. Jenny was in her studio, putting the finishing touches on a painting. At least, she told me that that was what she was doing. I just sat around and waited for her. I was reading a book about a girl who finds love in New York City, love with a man who is dark and handsome. I like those books, you know, the romantic ones. I guess that I am just a romantic at heart, Doctor.
Well, anyway, Jenny opened the door to the studio and walked into the living room. I looked up at her and I knew that she wanted to play the game. She was dressed for the game. She was wearing her black, tight, leather outfit, the one that stretches over her body so tightly. There is a hole in the front of that outfit for her big tits to hang out bare and there is another hole for her red-haired cunt. She was carrying some rope in her hands and she smiled at me and I knew that she wanted to play her game.
"Bitch," she said softly to me, "you killed your father with your lesbian ways."
By then, of course, I was used to the game. I knew what she liked for me to do. And I had gone along with it so often that I dropped the book and moved out of the chair and fell on my knees in front of her without even thinking about it.
I did not really enjoy what she did, but I felt that I owed her so much, and I loved her so much. I was willing to put up with these games because she obviously liked them so much, Doctor.
At least, I was willing to put up with them until that night.
That night, I lifted my arms to her and held my wrists together as I often did. I offered myself up as a sacrifice to her fury. She tied her wrists together expertly and securely and quickly.
Then she turned and walked back into the studio and slammed the door.
That was the first inkling that I had that things were going to be different that night.
She had never left me in the room before after tying me up. She usually just went about the game immediately, calling me names and slapping me a little bit.
But this night was different. This night was more harmful to me than any other night.
I knelt there and wondered what she was doing. I guess that I could have gotten up and walked away, but I did not move. When Jenny worked with me, drew me or tortured me, it was as if I could not move. It was as if her will destroyed my own and froze me.
Then Jenny came back into the room. She was carrying a pair of pliers in her hand. I had never seen her with that before, and I wondered what she was going to do with them.
But I did not ask her anything. I was too frozen with fear and love for her to even open my lips.
She went down on her knees in front of me and pushed my arms down. Then she spoke to me.
"Bitch," she said. "Father-murdering slut of a dyke."
And then, with that red-haired fury that she gets every time that we play the game together, she clamped those pliers onto one of my pink nipples, clamped that flesh hard.
And I screamed with the pain and the terror that I felt.
When I screamed, she slapped me, slapped me hard.
"Shut up, bitch," she snarled at me.
And I did shut up because I was afraid that I would fall and that she would rip my nipple off with those pliers.
But the pain was terrible. It shot through my body like a million little bullets and I shivered and sighed and felt that pain deep in my soul.
She continued to curse me for what I had done to my father, and it dawned on me that what I had done to my father seemed to be more important to her than it was to me.
"Cunt," she said. "Father-killing whore. You are a dyke and you murdered your father and you left him in the floor without even a proper burial. You piece of human shit. You do not deserve to live."
And the tears flooded my eyes, from the pain not from the memory.
Then she took that metal holder off my nipple and I gasped with relief.
But the relief did not last for long, Doctor.
Within a few seconds, she had put those pliers tightly over my other nipple.
This time, I did not scream. I just jerked a little and tensed my body. She slapped me again, just for good measure.
And she continued to curse me for what I had done to my father.
"You worthless lesbian tramp," she said.
"You destroyed the only man who ever loved you and you ran into the arms of dykes."
I guess, Doctor, that she says those things to me because she feels some sort of shame because she is a lesbian too. I don't think that Jenny, for all of her class and beauty, has ever been able to live with the fact that she is a homosexual. I live with my own lesbianism and usually enjoy it, but-
Doctor, I guess I do feel some guilt about my father.
But, Doctor, I don't deserve that kind of punishment!
I did not mean to kill him! I did not mean to just let me calm down a little bit, Doctor. I will tell you in a minute the rest of my story.
I have to tell it. I have to get it out. I have to just let me sit here for a moment. Do you have any water. Yes, thank you. Just let me calm down. I don't know-
I don't know what came over me right then.
Maybe I do feel guilt about my father. I don't know for certain, Doctor. I just don't know.
Now.
Now, I feel better.
Let me tell you the rest of my story.
Okay?
I think that I can tell it now.
I don't know what came over me, Doctor.
I came here determined to tell it and I will.
But something terrible gets into my heart when I talk about my guilt.
I don't think that I have guilt.
Not really.
Not really, Doctor.
But, maybe, I do.
I don't know.
I just. But let me tell you about what she did to me later on.
That will let you know why I care for her so much, Doctor.
After she took the pliers off my nipples and she dropped that metal thing on the floor and she pushed me back on the floor.
She reached down and she touched my nipples.
I sighed.
I moaned.
I shivered.
Her touch was soft, as it usually was, but my nipples hurt me so much.
It was like a strange combination, Doctor, a combination of sweetness and softness and pain.
That combination did not make any sense to me and it did things to my head like nothing had ever done before.
And then Jenny leaned forward and licked those nipples with her warm tongue, first one and then the other.
And that licking seemed to cure the pain, Doctor.
"I love you, Terri," she whispered to me.
And those words seemed to cure the pain even more.
She did love me. I knew that.
And I did not want to leave her.
You see, Doctor, that is the thing that confuses me.
She loves me and yet-
She does those things to me, Doctor, that hurt me.
I just have to have the courage to tell her no, to tell her that I don't want to play those games with her any longer.
But, when she licked my nipples like that, I ran my fingers through her red hair and I forgave her for everything.
Maybe I sensed that I did have some guilt, some terrible guilt about my father.
I don't know.
I just don't know.
But I figured that I could live with the pain. Oh, god, the pain.
The pain was bad, but the sweetness of her love was so good.
Let me tell you, Doctor, what she did to me then, how she showed me that sweetness.
I need to tell you that so that you will understand my confusion about this whole matter, Doctor.
I need to tell you that.
Jenny ran her warm tongue around my damaged nipples and I sighed softly. I ran my fingers through her long, red hair and I slipped those fingers down her strong back. I knew that she loved me, and I felt that she was giving me something special, something classy. Remember, Doctor, I was just a poor orphan when I met her. I had had a few guys and women, but I had never had any class. I have often thought that all classy people did what she did to me. I thought that I might just not understand what the real people did at all.
Jenny moved down my body and licked my stomach and I trembled. I spread my legs open to her and that was when I admitted it.
I loved her and I wanted her to know it, you see.
"I love you, Jenny," I said. "I love you even when you hurt me."
She looked up and said, "I only hurt you for your own good, Terri."
And I knew that she really believed that, Doctor, even though I did not believe it at all.
I knew that she believed that this was getting some of the guilt out of me. I knew that she was doing something to me that made me feel good.
I admit it, Doctor. The pain and the sweetness after the pain did make me feel good in some way.
But I don't think that I can stand that pain any longer.
CONCLUSION
Terri is confused by her guilt. She obviously does feel something about her father's death. She just won't admit it because she cannot stand to look her guilt in the face. Jenny is helping her a little, but Terri was right to come to me with her problem. She was also right when she said that she thought that Jenny enjoyed this treatment that she gave her model and her lover just a little bit too much. Jenny is also hiding from her own guilt, you see. Jenny cannot admit that she enjoys hurting her girlfriend. She cannot admit that there is a sadistic streak in her.
Perhaps I will be able to help Jenny too. I hope that, with a few weeks of therapy, both of these lesbians can have a happy and healthy relationship, a relationship without guilt and pain. But we will just have to see how.
CASE HISTORY FIVE
SUBJECT: Kim A. AGE: Seventeen
INTERVIEW ONE
When Kim first came to see me, I thought that she was the typical, cheerful, little blonde. She was certainly sexy. She had a Lolita look to her, the type of young thing that many older men fantasize about.
But, when Kim started to tell me her story, I knew that one older man had done more than just fantasize. This teen-ager had been led into a real nightmare world by an older man.
I came to the city about a year ago. I was a runaway. It was nothing special. I guess that it was the typical runaway story. I thought that my parents did not understand me. They kept yelling at me and then ignoring me. I fucked around a lot to rebel against them and when they found out about that they yelled even more. So I took off one night and I came here. I did not know what I would find but I knew that it would have to be better than what I left back home.
I came to the city and I got hooked up with a lot of losers right away. There was this guy named Teddy who had once been a sniper in Vietnam. He worked in some strange job. I was never quite sure what he did for a living but I figured that it was something illegal. But he was a good fuck in his crazy sort of way, Doctor. He seemed to go wild when his cock was in me. And I liked that. It was when he went wild all those other times that I knew that I had to get out of there. Then I got myself matched up with Juan, who was a dope addict. That did not last too long. He tried to get me onto the stuff too, and I left him. I don't believe in drugs, Doctor. I have seen what those things can do to other people and I don't want to die with a needle in my arm. In many ways, I am a very moral, young woman, you see. In most ways, I know how to take care of myself. I figure that all I have is my health, right? And then I met this guy named Lee. He was a porn writer and he wanted me to walk on his back in my high-heels. Well, I figured that that kind of shit wasn't any good for me either and I left him.
That was when I met Dan. I met him one night in a bar and he started talking to me. Dan is about thirty years old and he is a business executive. He lives in a big, fancy apartment. He took me back to that apartment that night and he fucked the shit out of me. He was wild, just as Teddy was wild. But he was normal when he wasn't fucking. I liked him a lot. He had a strong, big body and he had a lot of dark hair on his chest. I liked to kiss that hairy chest and touch it when he fucked me. That was the reason that I decided to stay with him.
And I was happy that he let me stay. I just sort of moved in with Dan, and I started to think of us as a couple.
But I knew that, in many ways, I was not the kind of woman that Dan needed. I tried to act more sophisticated, but I am really still a kid. But I wanted to please him. I guess that that was the trouble. I thought that I would do anything to please that man, anything at all.
That was what led me down the road to ruin with Dan. Because I wanted to please him, I wound up doing things that I had never done before, things that were not good for me emotionally.
Those things started happening when his brother, Don, came to town.
Don was a year younger than Dan, and he was even better looking than his brother. When he got to town, he called Dan up and Dan told him to come over and have dinner. Then Dan told me to wear my sexiest outfit when Don was around, and he told me that he wanted me to act as if I could not stand to keep my hands off him when his brother was with us. I understood that Dan wanted to show Don that he got something special in me. So I wore a sexy, sheer halter and sheer pants when Don came to have dinner with us. I kept holding Dan's hand all the way through the meal. I wanted to please my man, but I did think that his brother looked sort of sexy. Dan was dark but his brother was like a blond version of the same man. Don was strong and muscular too. I kept looking at first one brother and then the other and I started to think of how much fun it would be to have both of them at the same time. I thought that it would be like having the light and the dark side of the same man. But I also knew that I probably would never get the chance to have both of them at the same time. Dan obviously did not like his brother very much. And I wondered why. Don seemed like a real nice guy to me.
And then I asked Dan about it later that night, after Don had left. He explained it to me.
"I am the older brother," he said, "but Don has always been the favorite in the family. Every time that I would do something that I could feel proud of, Don would come along a few months later and do it even better. Every time I would meet a girl who was really pretty and sexy, she would meet Don and then she would like him more than she liked me. It has been that way all of my life. Now I have a good job, but Don has a better job. I hate him, even though he is my brother. I hate him because he always wins something better than I win. It seems like everything I get turns to shit in my hand because Don always get something better."
Then I felt a little guilty because I had been looking at his brother and thinking that Don was sexy.
I held Dan close that night and I tried to soothe him. I tried to let him know that he was the important one as far as I was concerned.
I fucked him with a passion that I had never used before. But, even as I fucked him, even as I felt his cock going in and out of me and I reached up and touched his hairy chest, I imagined that Don was the one who was riding me. I could not help myself. Dan and I had fucked so often by then. Don would be someone new. I guess that I was getting bored with the relationship. I guess that I was like a little girl with a doll that she does not want to play with any longer. I had found a new doll and I wanted to hold it next to me. That new doll was Don, the light brother.
After the fucking was over, after Dan had fallen asleep, I lay there on the bed and I felt guilty because of what I had imagined.
But I did not know what I could do about it. It seemed that Dan just did not hold all of my interest any longer I think that that guilt that I felt must have had something to do with the way that I reacted to Dan's suggestion a few days later.
You see, Don had come to town to stay. He had been transferred to that city by his company. And Dan did not really like that. He thought that Don was going to be there in that city, out-doing him at every turn. He wanted to show Don that he was not welcome in that city. At least, he wanted to show Don that he had something, one thing that Don could never have.
That is the reason why Dan came up with the idea. I don't know why he thought of this. I remember when he told me about it, it seemed to come right out of left-field somewhere.
Dan came home one afternoon with a couple of big boxes and he handed those boxes to me and he told me to go into the bedroom and put that stuff on.
I thought that it was a fancy and sheer, new nightie or something like that. I giggled as I held the boxes close to my breasts and ran into the bedroom to put the things on for the man who meant so much to me. But, when I got into the bedroom and opened the boxes, I just stood there for a moment, shocked by what I was seeing. It was a black outfit of leather, the kind of thing that some kind of dominatrix would wear.
I knew all about domination by then. Remember, I lived with that guy who wanted me to walk on his back. But I had not done that. I had refused and I had moved out, even after he had shown me magazines and tried to convince me that it was normal.
I had thought then that it was not normal at all. And, as I looked down on that stuff that Dan had bought for me, I still thought that it was not normal. But I remembered that Dan had given me so much and I remembered that I had fantasized about his brother when he was fucking me so well just a few nights before.
And that combination of memories told me that I had to do what Dan told me to do. I stripped off my clothes.
Then I picked up the garments in those boxes and looked them over.
There was a leather top that went down over my body. It would cover my tits and my stomach and my back, but it would leave my cunt and my ass open to view. I put that on first and then I stood there and looked in the mirror. I felt the tightness and the coolness of that leather. And I touched myself and smelled the aroma of that fresh leather too. That thing seemed to add a new sexy shape to my already sexy form. It did not take me long to fall in love with the feelings that that leather gave me, Doctor.
And then I picked up the black hose and I pulled them up my legs and attached them to the garters that hung from the leather garment that I wore.
And then I put on the high heels. Those shoes were black and sexy too. I looked at myself in the mirror and I thought that I looked like a real dominatrix. Of course, I am just a kid and I look younger than I actually am. That is one thing that men have always liked about me, my girlish, my childish look. But that black leather added something new to that girlishness.
I thought that I looked sexy because that girlishness clashed with the power that that leather seemed to give me.
And I thought that made me even more special as a dominatrix.
But I still wondered what Dan wanted me to do with that outfit. I wondered if he wanted me to walk on his back or whip him. I hoped not. Even though I liked the way that I looked, I did not want to dominate Dan. He was my masculine stud, my protector. I did not want to change that relationship with him.
I walked out into the living room and I let him look at me. I smiled at him and stood there with my hands on my hips.
He was sitting on the couch and he smiled too. He gave me a sign that he wanted me to turn around.
I did turn around and, when I faced him again, I said, "This feels very sexy, Dan."
But I was still hoping that he could not want to be my slave. I cannot really explain why, Doctor. I would have dominated any other man in the world at that moment, just to please my man. But I did not want to turn him into a slave.
So I felt relieved when he smiled at me and told me what he had planned.
"I am going to invite Don over," he said. "The guy is between girls right now."
"Oh," I thought, beginning to understand.
"And you will beat the shit out of my brother while I watch," he said.
Doctor, I still did not think that what he was telling me to do was right. I still thought that there was some kind of sickness involved in this thing that he was suggesting.
But I was so relieved that he had not asked me to do something to him that I would have agreed to anything that he wanted. I did not really dislike Don, but I knew that that blond brother had made his older brother unhappy, and I thought that he might deserve this kind of treatment.
And I wanted to please Dan because I felt guilty too.
But, Doctor, I had not dreamed that it would turn out like it did.
I have to go now. I have to get home to Dan. He doesn't know that I am seeing a doctor.
I will tell you about what happened that night with Dan and his brother next time.
INTERVIEW TWO
When Kim came back to my office, she was terribly depressed. I asked her why her attitude had changed and she told me the story in a muttering voice.
Dan suspects something. He knows that I am going out and visiting someone.
But he does not know that I am seeing a doctor.
Last night, he accused me of seeing, of seeing-
Of seeing his brother, Doctor! He accused me of seeing Don on the side!
You would think after what we had done to that brother that night, he would no longer be jealous of that blonde, young man, but that is not the case. He still thinks that Don is going to steal everything that he has.
It took me a long time to convince Dan that I was not seeing his brother. I did not tell him that I had come to see you. I told him that I just had to go out sometimes and walk around the city. I told him that I just had to get out and think all by myself.
But I don't think that he really believes me. I think that he still suspects that I am seeing his brother.
Dan has this fixation on his brother, and I have trouble understanding it sometimes.
Sometimes I think that he wants his brother to steal girls from him and do things better.
Sometimes I think that he is in love with his brother in some way.
Well, I will tell you about that first night that he invited Don over, that first night that I treated Don so cruelly. Don came over and had dinner with us that night. He was very charming. I have to admit that. He is much easier to talk to than Dan is, and he is very witty. Dan does not usually tell jokes or funny stories about things that happened to him, but Don seems to be filled with funny stories.
He was making me laugh so much that I hurt, and he seemed to get drunker and drunker. That surprised me at first because he was not drinking that much, just a little wine.
And then I glanced at Dan and I saw the older brother smile and I knew that Dan had spiked Don's drink with something.
He had drugged his brother, Doctor, drugged his own brother!
Don started to slur his words and he complained of being sleepy and then he just passed out at the table. He fell right onto the table and he slept. That is when Dan got out of his chair and moved around to his brother and picked him up. He dragged Don to the middle of the room.
I just stared at them. I was worried about the blond brother.
He snarled at me.
"Go put that outfit on," he said.
"But, Dan, is he going to be all right?" I asked.
"Sure. He will come out of it in just a few minutes. By that time, you should be ready and I will make sure that he is ready too. Go put those fucking things on, Kim."
I did not want Dan to get angry at me. I knew that he had this thing all planned out, that he had dreamed of this for a long time. So I got up and went into the bedroom and closed the door. I started to take off the clothes that I had worn for dinner and I looked at myself in the mirror as I did that.
I thought that I seemed older than I had ever seemed before. I thought that I had aged in some terrible way. I looked at myself when I was naked and I ran my hands over my body. There was no real change in the way that I looked, but there was a change in the way that I saw myself. I knew that Dan controlled me. I knew that I was going to do something right then that was going to be sick and perverted, and I wondered if Don, the blond brother, would ever be able to forgive me. I suddenly felt very sorry for the younger brother and I wondered if I could go through with this thing that Dan had planned for him.
And then I remembered that I had to go through with it. I had to do what Dan told me to do because I felt guilty, because I had betrayed him in some way.
And I remembered that the leather outfit that he had brought for me did make me feel sexy.
I wanted to feel sexy. I wanted to feel something besides this dry and aged thing that I felt now in my body.
So I rushed to put on the leather outfit and the hose. I wanted to feel good about myself again.
When I had put on the outfit, I slowly moved toward the door and I opened it. I did not know what I would find when I went out into that living room again. I did not know what Dan really had planned for his brother that night.
And, when I looked into that room, I was shocked.
Dan was lying on the floor, naked. His brother had taken off his clothes.
And the man's wrists were handcuffed in front of him and other metal cuffs were around his ankles, holding his feet together. I looked at his cock. It was long and it hung like a piece of meat over his thigh.
Dan was standing over his brother. The dark brother smiled at me.
And then Don moaned. He started to move slowly there on the floor.
"See," Dan said, "I told you that he would come out of it."
"Yes," I said. "You did tell me that."
But I still felt strange. I looked at Dan and I wondered what he wanted me to do to his brother.
Certainly, I thought, it would not be enough to stand over the young man dressed like that.
And Dan seemed to read my thoughts. He turned and picked up a ring that was on a metal string. He motioned for me to come to him.
I moved slowly across the room. He held the ring and the metal string out to me.
"Put it around his cock," he said. "Put that ring around his cock and tighten it."
Dan showed me how to tighten the ring with a little screw and then he loosened it as far as it would go.
I did not know what to do. I could not refuse that dark brother.
As Don started to come out of his drugged sleep, I knelt beside the naked man.
I lifted his meaty cock with my fingers and I slipped the ring down over the top of the pole and moved it down to the base.
Then Don muttered.
"What the fuck?" he asked. "What is happening?"
Dan just laughed.
"You probably think that she is playing with your cock, don't you, Don?" he said. "What?" the blond brother muttered, still drugged, still sleepy.
"Well, she does not want your fucking cock, baby brother," the man said. "She does not need your cock because she has mine. She will just give your cock a little tightness and that is all."
"What?" the blond brother sighed.
Then Don tried to pull his arms apart. He could not do it. He opened his eyes wide and he looked down at me. All I could do was look back at him. You see, his brother was in command of both of us at that moment.
"What the fuck are you doing?" the blond brother screamed at me.
And Dan kicked his head and knocked him back onto the floor.
"Lie still, baby brother," he said. "Let Madame Kim work on you and keep your fucking mouth shut."
Madame Kim.
That new name that Dan had given me rang in my ears.
No one had ever called me anything like that before in my life.
And then I remembered how I looked in this outfit, girlish yet dominant and strong. I thought that Dan was calling for the strong part of me, the Madame Kim part of me to come out and service his younger, blond brother.
Don just lay there and looked at his brother.
"What are you talking about, Dan?" he muttered. "Why have you done this to me?"
"Because Mom and Dad always said that you could do things better than I could," the man said.
"But-"
"Shut up!"
And then Dan looked at me. The ring was around his brother's cock, but it was not tight around that base. The man who was still dressed snarled at me.
"Tighten that ring. Give him the fucking pain."
"Dan," I muttered, trying to find some way to express my own misgivings about this. "Tighten it!" he yelled.
And then I knew that my misgivings did not mean a thing to that man.
He wanted his brother tortured and there was no way that I could get out of my part in this little game of pain that he had planned. I turned the screw at the side of the ring and tightened it and Don yelped in the pain that that ring gave him.
"Oh, my God," he gasped. "That hurts like hell."
"So?" Dan asked, curling his lip. "So what?"
And then Dan looked down at his brother and started to speak to him again.
"You have a lot, but you do not have a girl like Madame Kim. She will do anything that I want her to do. She will beat the shit out of you and make you suffer because she belongs to me, not you. Me, not you. Me, not you."
And then he laughed with a loud and wheezing sound.
I had never known that Dan could be so cruel. I had never heard him laugh like that.
I looked up at him and I thought that he looked like some kind of fiend. I wanted to stand up and tell him that I would not go through with it. I wanted to run out of that apartment and into the street. But I knew that I could not do that. Dart meant too much to me. I looked down at Don, the younger brother, and I knew that that young man did not mean hardly anything to me. I knew that I would just have to grit my teeth and let it happen, let Dan control me as I whipped the shit out of that young man.
Don was squirming there on the floor and groaning with the pain that the ring gave to his cock.
But, when I looked at that cock again, I saw something that surprised me. The thing was actually getting larger, Doctor. The thing was actually growing and beginning to stand up with an erection.
Could it be possible, I thought, that this pain was turning Don on?
I looked up at Dan again. He had stopped his wheezing life by that point.
He turned and he handed me a whip, a little whip with a long, black, slim lash to it.
"Stand up, Madame Kim," he said. "Stand up and give him the beating of his fucking life."
And I could not refuse Dan. I stood up slowly.
When I was standing up, I looked down at Don. I spread my legs slightly. I saw him staring at that spot between my legs and I knew that that pussy was open to his view.
As he looked at that pussy, his cock seemed to grow even more.
"Lash him!" Dan yelled. "Beat the shit out of him, Madame Kim!"
And I raised that whip and I closed my eyes and I let the whip fall on Don's body. I listened to the crack of that whip against his flesh and then I sighed.
My pussy was beginning to flood with cream. I thought of my cunt as some kind of swamp.
That swamp was filling up with life, even though I was fighting the emotions that turned me on.
I knew that I would be turned on by the leather and the whipping and the moaning that the man was doing. And then I looked down at the naked man's cock. I smiled.
That cock was standing straight up from Don's body.
That made me think that it might be all right. That made me think that it was okay for me to be turning on, for my pussy to be pulsing with desire.
After all, he was getting hard too, and he was the one who was being whipped.
I let go of my emotions and I raised that whip again and I brought it down on Don's body.
He squirmed and he churned under that whip, and he looked like a man who was fucking the air above him.
I lashed him again and again, and I did not close my eyes either. I looked at his body as he lay there, drenched with perspiration and moving on the floor, trapped by my desire and his own, trapped too by his brother's need for revenge.
I whipped him with that slim, dark reed and I watched as he squirmed. My pussy felt as if it were bubbling with juices, the kind of juices that come to a girl when she wanted to fuck.
When I stopped whipping Don, I was exhausted, and I looked up at Dan. I stared at him. I wondered if he could read my mind even now, and I knew that, if he could, he would be very, very angry. You know what was going through my mind, Doctor? I wanted to fuck that man that lay there under me.
It seemed that Dan's plan had backfired on him, you see. I wanted to fuck his brother.
I shivered as I looked at the dark brother, and I knew that he could see that in the way that I looked and the way that I sighed and shivered with ecstasy. I knew that he could see that I wanted to fuck his younger brother.
He turned his back on both of us and he walked toward the bedroom.
"Go ahead, you whore," he said to me. "Do it. Do it. You want to fuck him. Do it."
And I felt that guilt again, Doctor, that guilt that had come to me so many times before.
I looked down at that bound and sexy, young man, the blond brother who had been so charming and so humorous.
And I thought of the other brother, the one who had thought all of this up. I wanted to turn and run into the bedroom and ask Dan to fuck me.
But I also wanted to stay here with that younger, newer brother. I was torn. And then I closed my eyes and I moved over the naked man who lay there.
"I will fuck you," I said. "But I love your brother more."
I sat down slowly on that hard cock and let that thing slide up into me. Don groaned under me.
He was turned on too, Doctor, and he had been beaten. Perhaps I did owe him something.
Perhaps I owed him something because of the pain that I had given him. I don't know. But I knew that I was fucking him because I thought that I owed myself something, because I thought that this young man would be very good for me. And his cock was hard and stiff in my pussy. I worked up and down on it and I felt my tits move against that leather as I took my deep, fucking breaths.
Yes, I fucked the brother, the younger brother, and I enjoyed it. My pussy quaked around his cock.
And that cock seemed to fill me up and give me all that I needed.
We did not fuck for long, though. He came very quickly, and I came too. We were both driven by great desires to come.
And then I moved off his cock and I left him lying there on the floor and I rushed into the bedroom.
Dan was sitting in a chair in that room with his head in his hands. He seemed very sad, and I knew that I was the one who had made him sad, who had driven him to this despair.
I threw myself in down in front of him and I begged for his forgiveness. I wept as the guilt rushed through me.
Later on, Doctor, we released Don and he showered and dressed and left without a word to either of us. Dan took me to bed and fucked me with all of the power that he had. But I still could not get Don out of my head. It was that younger, blond brother that I continued to dream about.
In a way, it was Dan's fault, wasn't it? It was his fault that he forced me to do that to Don.
That whipping that I gave Don forced me to fuck him, drove me to fuck him, drove me to have that great desire for the younger brother. And, Doctor, that desire has never left me to this day.
But I have not seen Don since. He has not even called Dan or me. I doubt that he will visit us again after what we had done to him.
But I still think about him with Dan, the darker, older brother, fucks me. I cannot help myself. I guess that, even though I have not seen Don, I am being unfaithful to Dan in a way.
I guess that he is right when he accuses me of committing that sin with his brother, of wanting his brother more.
But Dan must realize somewhere in his heart that it is really his own fault. He was the one who drove me to his brother with his own need for revenge. He was the one-
But, sometimes, Doctor, I do fantasize about Don, the blond brother. Would you like to hear some of my fantasies about that man?
All right, I will tell you. I will tell you what I have never told Dan, of course.
Sometimes, when I am alone in the apartment, I lie down on the bed naked and I try to imagine what it would be like to go and visit with the blond brother. I do not know exactly where Don lives, but, in my fantasies, he lives in a big, penthouse apartment somewhere in the city. In my fantasies, he sits there in his big apartment and waits for me to come and visit with him. He sits there naked and he looks out his window and he concentrates on me, tries to call me to him with his mind, tries to beckon me through the air that swirls around the city. In my fantasies, I hear that beckoning and I come to him. I take a cab to his apartment house and I walk into the lobby as if I were on air. No one disturbs me. No one asks what I am doing there. They all seem to know that I am there for some great purpose, some great mission. I walk into the elevator and stand there alone for a moment and then I reach out with trembling finger and press the button that tells the elevator to take me up to the top floor, the finest floor in that fine building.
When I get to that floor, Don is waiting for me. He is standing in the hallway and he is naked. I float from the elevator and there seems to be a blue mist in the hallway, a mist that surrounds both Don and me, a mist the envelopes us and protects us from the outside world.
It is that mist, in my fantasy, that strips me, strips me naked as I float toward that young, blond man.
By the time I get to him, I am naked and my body is trembling with desire. I look into Don's eyes and I say nothing. I reach out and put my hands flat on his firm, big, muscled chest and I say nothing. He says nothing. We just look at each other and then we float, float into his plush, luxurious apartment.
We float into that apartment and then the mist clears and we are alone. In my fantasies, the apartment is bright and airy. The sunlight seems to bathe the whole place in light. It is in that light that I will torture him, I think. I look at him and he drops to his knees in that light and he looks up at me. He reaches out but he does not touch me right away. I know and he knows that it is not permissible for him to touch me until I nod my head.
And I wait, Doctor. I wait to give my permission while I study the male hunger in his eyes.
That hunger is there, more so than ever in his older brother's eyes. Don, in my fantasy, knows that I offer him something that I never offered to any other man. There is something special and secret about our relationship, about our sharing. He looks at me and he yearns for me. His eyelids flutter and his eyes grow moist with tears of longing.
And then I nod my head and he touches me. He puts his hands on my legs and he kept them there for the longest time.
He does not press his hands against my flesh. He just holds them softly against my thighs and that soft touch is enough to make my pussy fill with cream, with juices of passion for this young man.
And I do not feel guilty at that moment. When I fantasize about that soft touch of his hands, I just finger my own pussy as I lay there alone in my bed and I do not feel guilty about my relationship with Dan and the way that this fantasy would hurt him.
The guilt does not come until later, after the mist surrounds us again for a moment.
I stand there in that mist and I cannot see anything for a few seconds. But I can still feel the soft touch of those hands.
And then the mist clears and I look down and Don is there in his collar, his dog-collar.
I reach down and take the leash that is attached to that collar in my fingers and then the guilt comes.
Doctor, that is when I always think of Dan. That is when I always feel that I am letting my man down in some way.
In reality, that is when I always pull my fingers from my pussy and sit up on my bed and shake my head to clear that fantasy out of my brain.
Yes, Doctor, this is when I feel guilty.
But I still think that Dan caused it all, that Dan introduced me to that special feeling with his brother.
Should I feel guilty about that? I don't know. I think sometimes that I should because I cannot get Don out of my brain. If he would only fuck me in my fantasy, if it would be normal in that way, then I would be able to masturbate with that fantasy and have a nice, little come.
And then the guilt would not hurt me, would not make me feel imprisoned in my own, young body.
But he does not fuck me in that fantasy. He does not do anything like that at all. He just kneels with that black, dog collar on and I shiver with desire for him as I reach down and touch that leash.
And Dan started it all. You know that. I have told you that.
Oh, Doctor, how can I cleanse myself of this terrible guilt that I feel?
How can I ever forget what I did to that blond brother?
Doctor, how, how, how?
CONCLUSION
Kim is just a young girl. That should be remembered. And the experience that she had with Dan and his brother has been very traumatic for her. She will need a lot of therapy in order to overcome that trauma. But, before she does anything else, she must be truthful with Dan, the brother that she lives with. She has to tell him that she is seeing a psychiatrist and she also has to tell him that she still thinks about Don. I will be happy to visit with her and Dan when she tells him these things. That way, I could offer moral support and protect her if Dan flies off the handle with rage. But, for some reason, I don't think that he will feel that kind of rage. I think that Dan is possibly resigned to having his woman want his brother more than they want him.
That may be part of his sickness, it seems.
GENERAL CONCLUSION
The question that we must ask ourselves is what brings a person to the point of loving pain-either as a pain-giver or a victim of pain. And that question must be answered with this statement: the feeling that a person has about pain is as individual as the feeling that a person has about love. There is no way that we can make many general conclusions about the type of person who gets involved with the sexual aspects of pain. Some do it because they feel guilt that they cannot stand any other way. Others do it because they are bored or jaded with tradition sexual relations and want something to enliven their sex lives. Others do it because they are forced into a relationship that they do not completely understand. A second question comes up too: Is the love of pain always bad? No, it is not. But, in most cases, it can be dangerous. If the love of pain is minor, if the master-and-slave relationship that two lovers share is basically game-playing, then there is really nothing wrong with it. It is when that game goes too far, when there is real pain and real degradation, when the pain leaves both emotional and physical scars, that the relationship with pain becomes harmful. So we are left with some very interesting things that we can say to those who love pain, who are attracted to pain perhaps without even understanding why they are attracted. We can tell them that they must guard against the games, must try to understand what is really going on when they play those games. If they can understand the things that they are feeling in their bodies and in their minds, if they can use the pain and the game-playing in a sexual and constructive way, if they can guard against the deeper aspects of the real harmful' relationship, then they will be all right.
