From smutwriter@aol.com Tue Feb 25 20:34:45 1997
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From: smutwriter@aol.com (Smutwriter)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Therapy (violence, m/f, disturbing)
Date: 26 Feb 1997 01:34:45 GMT
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The Therapeutic Journals of Patient #482-78-7160


What follows is a true narrative, written by a man who 
was committed in 1987. The police found him in the 
kitchen of his home, singing lullabies to a corpse. 
Once removed from the vicinity of the corpse, he fell 
silent and refused to speak. Only shortly before his 
death did he begin to once again communicate. This is 
his story, in his words. Wherever possible, nothing has 
been changed. However, it is believed that little would 
be served by exposing the names of any that are yet 
living.



Therapy


 I'm an evil man with a black heart and my hands 
are stained with blood. Forgive me if I fall into cliche. 
I'm not a writer. I only put these words to this page 
because I am forced to. I deserve much more of a 
punishment.
 I've been here for a long time now. I used to 
keep track by scratching little marks in my arm with a 
small sliver of wood-three meals I counted as a day-
then, when infection set in I lost my "calendar" (and 
almost lost my arm).
 I don't want to write this! Why should I be 
forced to relive past events? Why should I subject 
anyone else to the pain I've gone through? Why?
 I do not expect an answer.
 I realize that I am being repetitive. Every 
paragraph thus far has started with an "I." Amazing. I 
didn't know I could be so....
 Predictable. hhhmmm.
 Variety? I suppose. I will try.
 Do I have your attention yet? or have I scared 
you away with my meanderings? I hope so. No one 
should have to read this.

 The events started innocently enough. I met her 
in a bookstore. Oh, wait, I have failed to introduce who 
"her" is. Let me call her Vesper. Two reasons compel 
me to do so, 1). I like that name, 2). it is her name (I 
will change nothing. This is a true story). Anyway, I 
met Vesper in a bookstore. She was working behind 
the counter and I had asked her if some unimportant 
book or another was any good. She told me that it was, 
and that she was a member of a reading group that 
was just beginning the book, and she asked me if I 
would like to join.
 God, I'm boring myself. I know that this isn't 
what I am supposed to be writing about. Let me skip 
ahead as none of this is important.
 After many meetings of the reading group, and 
after stopping by the bookstore almost everyday, I 
finally worked up the courage to ask Vesper out. She 
agreed.
 I'm still doing it. I know what needs to be said, I 
just can't bring myself to do it. Why can't I just forget?
 Vesper is dead. There. It has been said and I am 
content now. Vesper is dead and her death is my fault. 
I didn't do the deed myself, but still I am drenched in 
her blood. I am as responsible as if it were my hand on 
the knife that slit both her wrists in long diagonal 
cuts.
 This is therapy? I laugh at you.
 If you've read this far, I guess I am obligated to 
give you what you want. After much romance (the usual 
late night walks, flowers, candies, and bad poetry), I 
convinced Vesper to come to my bed. She confessed 
to me that she was virginal. This fact mattered little to 
me.
 I can still remember entering her for the first 
time. Penetration has always been my favorite part of 
sex. My cock pushed against her and for a moment I 
thought there would be difficulty, but I am not to be 
denied. I slipped into her with a shudder. A small 
whimper was Vesper's only sign of discomfort. I'd 
tried being gentle, starting with small strokes only, 
until I was slick with her wetness and blood-I found 
out this fact after-but it wasn't long before my lusts 
rose up and took over. Our passionate love making 
turned into something a little less than rape. Vesper 
screamed several times and eventually began to beg 
me to stop. I cruelly used her. It was her pleading that 
eventually brought about my orgasm.
 I apologize for the graphic words that flow from 
my pen. I do feel it is necessary to convey the brutality 
and the horror of my final betrayal. Perhaps dialogue 
would better help this narration. Perhaps. I will try.
 "Never again ask me to stop unless you mean it," 
I said to her. "I will take nothing by force." I was a 
little out of breath.
 "I didn't want you to stop. I just couldn't take it."
 "Come with me. You are going to wash off my 
cock. After all, it is your blood."
 She said nothing to this, but only followed me to 
the shower. I had half expected her to refuse or to at 
least show some sign of disgust. Perhaps she thought 
that my requirement was not so strange.
 We entered the shower and with hot water 
splashing off our flesh she took my cock in her hand 
and caressed it lovingly. Vesper was the first woman 
I'd made love to in several months. It wasn't long 
before I was hard again.
 "I'll do anything for you," she said.
 "Never say anything you don't mean."
 "I mean it!" a cute pout appeared on her face. It 
was fake but still beautiful.
 If only I was a better narrator...I'm sure many 
would be able to tell this story much better than I. I 
have yet to describe Vesper! Something I should have 
done right away.
 Vesper: 19. Short cropped blond hair. Small 
bodied, but full figured (when I say this I do not mean 
fat! She was padded and had good sized breasts). 
Neither of her ears are pierced-forgive my tense 
difficulties, I am still trying to accept her death-and 
her eyes were deep green. I would even go so far as 
calling them emeralds, but I will not be accused of 
poetry. What more can I say? Imagine any beautiful 
young woman. It doesn't matter. I found her to be 
desirable and in the end that is enough.
 We were in the shower. I believe that's where I 
left off. Vesper was rubbing my penis, making sure it 
was devoid of any traces of blood.
 "Suck me," I said.
 "I don't think I would do a very good job. I've 
never done that before."
 "Never question me. You said you would do 
anything I asked, now do it. I'll be the one to decide if 
you are good or not."
 She got on her knees and put her hand under 
my cock. It was already standing straight out. Vesper 
tried to look up at me, but the spray of the water was 
hitting her in the face. She closed her eyes and 
engulfed my cock with her mouth. She didn't do 
anything though, just held it, sucking lightly. I let this 
continue for perhaps ten seconds before I came to the 
conclusion that she did not intend to do anything 
more, that she did not know any better.
 "Move your mouth up and down," I said.
 Again she tried looking up at me, again the 
water stopped her.
 Vesper began to suck me like I wanted, so I 
leaned against the shower wall and enjoyed it. Her 
fingers began to explore the base of my cock and she 
cupped my balls in one hand. She squeezed gently.
 "Faster," I said. She obeyed.
 Both her hands slid between my legs, and 
grabbed my ass. I wanted to grab her head and force 
her down onto me. I wanted to hear her gag. I wanted 
to feel my cock slide all the way to the back of her 
throat. I did nothing.
 "You're better than you thought. Soon, I will 
come in your mouth. You will not spit or swallow. I 
want you to hold it in your mouth. I want you to savor 
my come-the first come to ever enter your mouth."
 Vesper began to rub her wet breasts with her 
hands. She kneaded them while she bobbed on my 
cock. They were totally white, probably never having 
been exposed to the sun. She lovingly licked my penis. 
I came onto her tongue.
 She did as commanded and held my come.
 I pulled my cock from her mouth and taking 
both her hands I helped her stand.
 "Do you like the taste?" I asked.
 She shook her head no.
 "Yes you do. Now nod your lovely head yes, 
swallow, and tell me you loved it."
 I heard her swallow, "I loved it."
 "Will you do that for me whenever I ask?"
 "Yes."
 I pushed her against the wall, reached up and 
redirected the shower-head, then reached around her 
and touched her pussy. She winced in pain as I 
inserted a finger. I had expected this. I knew she 
would be sore.
 "Did you have an orgasm before, when we 
fucked?"
 "No."
 With my right hand I slowly touched her vagina. 
My left hand cupped each of her breast one at a time. I 
squeezed a breast, lightly pinched a nipple. Vesper 
groaned. It wasn't long before she began to come. I 
forced her against the wall, and no matter how much 
she struggled, I continued to touch and hold her. 
There was no escape. She made the most beautiful 
noises.
 She turned and hugged me tightly.
 "I love you," she said. I knew that this would 
happen eventually.
 "Good," I said.
 We dried each other off and went back to the 
bedroom.
 How much of this is relevant? Perhaps none. I 
don't care. If I am to be forced to tell this story, I will 
tell it in my own way. I hope to better understand why 
everything happened the way it did. I'm amazed the 
doctors trust me with this pen, even though it is felt-
tipped.
 Our sex life progressed much as could be 
expected. We continued to try new things, such as 
light bondage, anal sex (I had to possess her 
completely), and anything else I felt like. I made her 
perform oral sex on me at least once every other day, 
making her always wait for permission to swallow. 
Once, I made her wait ten minutes.
 Everything was progressing normally, then evil 
entered into my mind and I couldn't shake it. At first, 
there were small fantasies that I was able to suppress 
for awhile, but these dark imaginings always 
resurfaced. Eventually, I decided to act on one.
 That night I prepared everything. I made Vesper 
bathe thoroughly, then I carefully and lovingly shaved 
her pussy, until it was a smooth bare slit. Her lips 
barely peeked out. I told her to go bathe again and to 
put her hair up in a French braid when she was 
through. While she did so, I prepared the bedroom.
 I heard the shower shut off, and knew that she 
was through. I went to the bathroom and watched her 
dry and put up her hair as instructed. She looked at 
me.
 "Don't say anything, until I give you permission."
 The bedroom! So much of this story is to be 
played out there. O cursed place! I tied her to the bed 
with short pieces of nylon rope. One limb to each 
corner. She lay spread-eagle and her pussy was open 
slightly. I touched her there, putting a finger slightly 
inside her. I then wet the lips of her mouth with the 
lubrication on my finger.
 "Lick your lips," I said. She did.
 The doorbell sounded then. I had been 
expecting it.
 "Wait here," I said, laughing at my own joke.
 Vesper looked worried.
 I hate exposition, so once again, let me skip 
ahead.
 Vesper, her boss from the bookstore (J--- B-
-), and I were in the bedroom. She was still tied. I'd 
arranged everything with her boss. For two hundred 
dollars he was allowed to do anything to Vesper he 
wanted, for an hour, with three exceptions: 1. nothing 
was to be permanent, 2. he could not come in her 
mouth (although he was to be allowed to be in her 
mouth), and 3. there was to be no kissing of her 
mouth.
 I looked at Vesper once before I left the room. 
She said nothing, but begged me not to do this all the 
same.

 Occasionally I would hear noises from the 
bedroom. The bed would smash into the wall, or 
Vesper would scream, or the sound of flesh being 
cruelly slapped would resound through the house. 
Guilt filled my erection in place of blood. I wanted to 
interrupt, to interfere, to tell him the deal was off, 
that he had to leave, that it was all a big mistake. I 
wanted to gather Vesper into my arms and beg her 
forgiveness. The hour passed slowly.
 But pass it did and J--- left. I could hear her 
crying from the bedroom. I could not go to her. I 
paced like a madman, even going so far as to throw a 
lamp across the room. Finally, I went to her.
 You will never have to do that again. I'm so sorry. 
I hate myself. Perhaps if these words had passed my 
throat, everything would have been different. These 
words were not uttered. Instead, "Did you like it? Did 
he come in your pussy? or maybe your ass?" Large red 
welts decorated both her breasts and her sides. I did 
my best to ignore them. "Answer me."
 "I only liked it if you say I liked it."
 I could not show weakness. There could be no 
regret or guilt in me. You understand don't you? A 
mistake had been made, but I could not acknowledge 
this.
 "You loved it, you little bitch. Now tell me, 
where did he come?"
 "He didn't," she said, "He only stroked himself 
in-between striking me with his belt. He made me 
kiss his cockhead several times, but never did he push 
it into my mouth. He tried to give me an orgasm by 
licking my cunt, but I was too afraid of him."
 "You lie!" I screamed, "He came in your ass 
didn't he! This is why you don't want to tell me. You're 
too embarrassed." I began to take my clothes off. "Tell 
the truth. Where did he come?"
 "Wherever you say he did."
 "In your ass?"
 "Yes. He came in my ass. Way up inside me, but 
some still leaked down my crack. When he was 
through, he licked my anus clean."
 I put my cock against her cunt, and with a 
violent thrust forced it into her. I thought I felt a 
tearing, but Vesper did not cry out, and as I watched 
myself thrust in and out of her, there was no blood. 
She became wetter and wetter as I fucked her. Sweat 
broke out on her body and I felt close to orgasm.
 I pulled my cock from her. It was dripping with 
her natural lubrication and glistened in the soft light 
of the bedroom. Violently, I forced my dick-yes, I use 
the word dick-into a new hole. I slipped my dick into 
her ass. She called out to God. I'd done this to her 
before, but always with plenty of warning. I was 
surprised at how easily she accepted my thrusts.
 It did not take long before I shuddered in 
orgasm.
 "I should leave you like this all night."
 My penis was still in her ass, but was becoming 
flaccid. I withdrew and went to the bathroom to clean 
up. I returned after a quick shower. My body was still 
mostly wet. I climbed on top of Vesper once again.
 "Would you like to be sold again?" I asked.
 "Only to please you."
 The ropes were easy to untie, and I was able to 
accomplish this task rather quickly. Vesper rubbed 
her wrists and ankles. I left the bed and crossed to 
the closet. I withdrew a camera.
 "Masturbate."
 She did as told. I snapped picture after picture 
of her. I made her open herself to the camera, pulling 
her lips wide. I got a close-up of her sucking my cock. 
I took a picture of myself penetrating her pussy (I was 
rather proud of this one, as I actually took the picture 
of us fucking, by shooting at the mirror). One picture 
had her inserting a black vibrator into her cunt. 
Another with her bent over, looking at the camera 
from between her legs. Her shaved lips protruded 
nicely.
 "If you ever leave me," I said, "I will send these 
pictures to your father, and whoever your new 
boyfriend is."
 She looked horrified at this idea (or so I 
thought), but I was wrong about what was disturbing 
her.
 "I would never leave you. Don't say such things. 
We're forever."
 She took my cock into her mouth as though she 
were trying to reassure me that she would never leave, 
or perhaps she was trying to convince me to never 
leave her. I don't know. I ran my fingers through her 
hair and cried as she sucked. Eventually I came.
 Can you see the end coming? Have I been too 
obvious?
 I decided to test Vesper's love for me. I decided 
to see how far she would allow me to take my role as 
master. I pierced her left nipple with a thick piercing 
bar. J--- became a regular customer, eventually 
building up enough courage to make Vesper 
masturbate him. I took hours after hours of videotape 
and many rolls of film, all depicting Vesper engaged in 
some form of lewd behavior. There was nothing that 
she wouldn't do for me. I took to starving her and 
depriving her of sleep. I made her quit her job at the 
bookstore (by now I was blackmailing J--- with 
compromising pictures). We didn't need the money 
from her job. Vesper lost weight and seemed to move 
in a daze.
 This went on for several months. I fed her 
scraps of food, always making her earn them first. If 
only she had refused me just once. I tired of this. I 
tired of her. Here was the great betrayal. Not the 
giving of her to another man. Not the violation of her 
body in ways that seemed sacrilegious (how can one 
desecrate perfection?). I grew tired.
 One day, I told Vesper that she could eat what 
she desired. I did not give her a command to earn her 
food. She ate like a ravenous piranha, then waited 
patiently for my desire, wishing only to fulfill some 
fanciful whim or another. She did not ask or question 
why I did not seek pleasure upon her. Perhaps she 
thought this was some kind of test, or a new torture, 
but she'd been trained too well to question me.
 I gathered all of the film and cassettes in a box. 
Also, I added all the sex paraphernalia. In went the 
camera, the vibrators, the ropes. Anything that had 
touched her body in a sexual way I added. I took this 
box into the backyard and doused it with gasoline. It 
blazed in a pyre of sin.
 I watched it burn for some time.
 Vesper joined me, unbidden. Tears were 
running down her face. I wanted to comfort her, to 
tell her everything would turn out fine, but I knew 
that this was a lie. I tried to justify my actions to 
myself. I wanted to believe that I was setting her free.
 "You're free," I said. "I want you to leave by the 
time I come back tomorrow."

 The next day I found her lifeless body, cold and 
stiff. She'd killed herself shortly after I'd left. There 
was no dramatic last scene of her dying in my arms. 
Only a corpse coldly lying on the kitchen floor. I 
kissed her forehead and removed the metal jewelry 
from her nipple. How could I have forgotten to add 
this to the blaze?
 Well, that's the whole damn story, you bastards. 
Am I cured?

While patient #482-78-7160 shows little prognosis for 
recovery, it is the opinion of the BOD that he should 
be allowed and encouraged to continue to record his 
thoughts, and although his tales are disturbing in their 
truthfulness, it would be a great disservice to the 
medical community, and the patient himself, if we 
were to censor his tales. It is the hope of this staff that 
his diaries will yet prove therapeutic.


p.s.  could someone email me and let me know if this came out fine?  I
will post more if so.