Sadistic Parents: Victims Of Their Lust
by Unknown 


GENERAL INTRODUCTION 

Bondage and discipline is often employed by partners seeking new thrills, in 
order to explore new dimensions of their sex lives. Between consenting 
adults, this behavior can be considered relatively harmless, if no malicious 
intent is involved. 

But humiliation and degradation are used as tools of punishment as well. In 
fact, it is rampant in our society. This book deals with depraved, brutal 
torment. It deals with parents ... who sexually assault and abuse their own 
children! 

These cases are not pretty, they do not leave the reader with a positive 
feeling. They are graphic, blunt, and to the sordid point: parents 
discipline their children in various ways. 

Marvin G: "Why does Mom do this to me?" He tried to keep his report card a 
secret, but his stepmother discovered his deception. A chilling case. 

Krissy K: "I lived in a cage, doctor!" Convinced of the precocious child's 
mental inferiority, her drunken parents kept her secluded and terrorized! 

George D: "She was just like any other girl." His mother, a junkie, made 
George feel guilty about her situation, then made flagrant overtures to the 
young boy. 

Debbie S: "Mom is nuts, doctor!" Her mother, a religious fanatic, kept 
Debbie on the path of righteousness ... by keeping her prisoner in her 
bedroom! 

CASE HISTORY ONE 

SUBJECT: Marvin G. AGE: Fifteen 

INTERVIEW ONE 

On first sight, Marvin G. looked not un-like other boys his age, excepting 
the large black eyes that adorned his face. Or the bruises that covered his 
arms and collarbone. For Marvin was an abused child, abused and beaten not 
by his peers or by vengeful street gangs, not by thugs or derelicts ... but 
by his own mother. 

Marvin answered all my questions with a polite "yes" and "no," and I 
realized it would take many sessions to establish a comfortable rapport with 
the young man. This "patient-therapist" relationship is most effective when 
firmly established from the beginning, for only then can the patient begin 
to talk comfortably about his or her specific problem. And in Marvin's case, 
the problem was very grave and unusual indeed. 

Here, then, is a tape recorded transcript, unedited of course, covering an 
outline of our many, many sessions: 

I don't know what to tell you, doc. What do you want to hear, anyway? These 
bruises? Well, I got them from playing hockey. 

Would you believe I fell down in the street on my skateboard and collided 
with a speeding bus? 

How about this: I tripped and fell down the stairs? Jumped from a window? 

Okay, okay! I'll have to tell you the truth. I got these bruises from my. . 
. my mother, doctor. Yes, my own mother. And all because I brought home a 
bad report card. 

And, if I bring home another one like the last, Mom is certain to beat me up 
again. 

Yes, doctor. She is kind of strange to begin with, my Mom. Really, she's 
only my stepmother, since both my parents died when I was very small, in an 
elevator crash. I was too young to remember most of it, but Lena, that's my 
stepmother, was a friend of Dad's and raised me just like I was her son, all 
these years. 

I can't say that she was a bad stepmother, doc. I really can't. She always 
let me get by with whatever I pleased, most of the time at least. I was no 
different from other guy's my age. I had lots of friends, I was very happy. 

At. least, until recently. Mom had been acting very cold towards me for 
months, and going out a lot. I didn't mind that too much, you know? But she 
would never tell me where she was going, or with whom. So, I figured it was 
none of my business, and didn't bother her anymore. 

"I'm leaving, Marvin," she would say, "and won't be back until after 
tomorrow." Then, Lena would put on her leather jacket and her Frye boots, 
and head for who knows where. I'd be home all by myself, but that didn't 
bother me in the least. I could always use the spare time, and the privacy, 
to jerk-off or just sleep all day. 

But then, when Lena would spend several days away from the house, the 
temptation to play hooky from school was too much. So, I would just leave 
for the day, go to the movies or to the zoo, even stay home and watch 
television the whole afternoon. 

My first encounter, violent encounter, with Mom was when she first received 
a notice from the school. I had too many absences, I guess, and they thought 
Mom should be notified. 

"Asshole," she screamed. "What the fuck is the matter with you?" 

"What's wrong, Mom?. " I asked, knowing full well what the matter was. But 
Mom wasn't concerned too much whether I went to school or not, at least, I 
didn't think she would blow her cool the way she did that day. 

It's all really painful to explain, doc. It was really painful to 
experience, too. I'll try my best to relate everything as clearly as I can, 
but I have to admit I've blocked out a lot from my memory. I don't even like 
to think about that day I spent tied up in the closet. I shudder every time 
I remember it. 

"You've been playing hooky, ass-hole!" she screamed. "You've been playing 
truant while I've been gone, haven't you?" 

"Aw, come on, Mom. Everyone plays hooky once in awhile. I'm just tired of 
school." 

"Yeah, well I'm tired of getting notices like this in the mail, buster! I'm 
tired of talking to that dimwit principal, and all his sleazy little cunt 
secretaries. I'm tired, Marvin. I'm tired of you, you, you!" 

Doc, I don't know what happened to Mom then, but she ... she hit me! For the 
first time that I could remember, excepting the time she accidentally 
dropped a glass plate on my head, Mom hit me! I was shocked. 

"Little worm!" she yelled. "I can't even leave you alone for one second, 
without you fucking up somehow! What am I going to do with you, Marvin. 
You're such a fucking zero, you know? A little punk zero kid, who doesn't 
know his ass from a hole in the ground." 

"Aw, come on, Mom. Don't say that!" I was sort of shocked by the way she 
sounded, doc. Mom used to bitch about a lot of things, but my behavoir was 
never questioned. As far as I knew, Mom thought I was a perfect angel. 

"I'll say anything I want, ass-hole! And I'll teach you to skip school 
again. What are you trying to do ... be a failure? Embarrass me?" 

"I go to school, at least three times a week," I reminded her. "You seem to 
take off anytime you want to, and I never question where you've been." 

"You're not supposed to, ass-hole! I'm an adult, not a fucking little worm 
kid!" She glared at me, doc, I could feel her eyes burning a hole right 
through me from behind her mirrored aviator glasses. She pulled the rim of 
her SS cap down over her forehead and looked real mean. 

"If you ever pull a stunt like this again, Marvin ... if I evern once again 
have to pick up that phone and talk to that little faggot principal of 
yours, I'm gonna jack your jaw wide open. 

"Things are going to be a lot different around here from now on, Marvin. 
You're not going to get away with all the trashy, filthy things you pull 
anymore, got me?" Mom stomped her heel against the floor and the windows 
shook in the frames. "Okay?" 

"Yeah, Mom. I'll behave ... I promise." 

Well, sure. I was a little taken back by her threats. Usually, Mom could 
care less whether I went to school or not. Or what I did. 

"Here, take this vacuum cleaner and get going, ass-hole! I want this house 
sparkling clean by the time I get back from the supermarket!" This was 
nothing unusual, doc. I mean I helped Lena keep the place clean all the 
time. But the way she threw that machine at me, literally threw it at me, 
scared the fucking shit out of me. 

I heard her leave the house, then I plugged the vacuum in and went about my 
business. I dusted the chairs, the couch, picked up the dirt from the 
carpet, the whole deal. 

But then, wouldn't you know it, the bag burst open. And not only that, but 
there were no more in the storage bin. "Shit," I said, opening the top of 
the machine, "is she ever gonna be mad." 

Well, there wouldn't be too much she could say about it, after all, she 
should have checked to see if there were anymore fucking bags in the closet 
before she even told me to clean up. 

There was dirt and dust leaking out all over the clean carpet, but that 
could be gotten up just as easily with the broom. 

I don't know why, doc. I guess I just was really horny that afternoon, but 
for some reason, I wanted to find out what would happen if I attached the 
vacuum nozzle to my ... my ... cock. 

Please don't laugh, doc. I'm really serious. I mean, when some girl gives 
you a blow-job, she's just really sucking until you shoot. And what would be 
better than a fucking vacuum cleaner? Nothing, I decided. I closed the lid, 
turned the machine one once more and dropped my pants. 

My cock was really stiff by now, stiff and leaking all over my shorts. I 
couldn't wait to stick that vacuum nozzle up to my prick and let it suck the 
jizz right out of my balls. 

"Here goes," I moaned, deciding to rest on the floor. It was a perfect fit, 
doc. My cock just slid right up into that metal nozzle, and I was in 
jerk-off heaven. 

I closed my eyes and felt the air rushing into the machine. The longer I let 
the vacuum run, the stiffer and hotter my prick grew, until I was sure I was 
gonna lose it at any second. 

I must have stayed there a long time, doc, on the floor, almost dreaming. 
Until, at least, Mom came home and found me wallowing in all the dust and 
dirt. 

"What the fuck is going on here?" she screamed. I couldn't believe that she 
would have been back that early. But there she was, with two shopping bags 
in each hand and looking really mean and evil. I reacted immediately, doc. I 
tried to pull the nozzle off my crotch, but by now the suction was too great 
... I was stuck! 

"Isn't this the pits," scowled Mom. "Fucking masturbating with the goddamn 
Electrolux! The absolute pits, Marvin!" 

I looked at her, embarrassed and afraid. But still, I could not get rid of 
my hard on, nor could I remove the metal nozzle from my crotch. It must have 
looked strange, I'll admit, standing there with a vacuum cleaner where my 
prick should have been. 

"You're hysterical, Marvin. A ton of laughs. You're so funny, I'm gonna beat 
the fucking shit outta you!" Mom grabbed one end of the hose and yanked it 
off my crotch. 

"Wouldn't you know it?" she said, "Marvin has a hard-on. Pitiful!" I was so 
embarrassed I wanted to die. Mom had never, never caught me jerking off 
before, and as luck would have it, she would have to catch me now. "Fucking 
pervert creep! I'll teach you how to jerk-off!" 

WHAM! Doc, she lashed out at me with the hose, and bruised my arm. "Ouch, 
Mom! Take it easy, okay?" 

"No, Marvin. I won't take it easy." She started chasing me around the room 
with her deadly weapon and finally cornered me ... with a sharp blow to my 
cranium! 

I saw stars and comets, just like in the movies! I fell to the floor, but 
Mom only laughed out loud. 

"You wanna get it on with the vacuum, huh? I'll show you how, baby. You just 
wait!" I could hear the machine stop roaring as Mom evidently shut it off or 
unplugged it. 

Then, she put her boot heel against my neck, and forced her weight down on 
top of me. I was still quite dazed, doc. I couldn't even fight her back when 
she tied my hands behind me with the vacuum cleaner cord. She tied some mean 
knots, too. By the time she was finished, my hands were blue and numb ... I 
could hardly move them at all! I was my Mom's prisoner! And was I ever 
afraid! 

"Stupid worm. Asshole! Teenage pervert!" she yelled over and over. 

"Mom! Let me go! I didn't mean to mess up the house. The bag broke!" 

"Just like I'm going to break your ass, Marvin! I'm gonna teach you a lesson 
you'll never forget!" That, as far as Mom was concerned, was that. 

I tried to wiggle out of the cords, but they were much too tight and merely 
cut into my flesh whenever I struggled against them. I could see Mom out of 
the corner of my eye, searching through the different vacuum cleaner 
attachments. She found what she was looking for, a little plastic nozzle 
that you use to clean the Venetian blinds. 

"How do you like this, Marvin? I'm gonna cram this up your ass!" 

"No! No!" I hollered. But there was no use, I was her prisoner. With a 
forceful shove, my own mother crammed the plastic nozzle into my rear! She 
sodomized me with a fucking hose! Was I ever embarrassed! 

"I told you," she said, standing over me with her boot still pressing 
against the back of my neck, "that things would be a lot different around 
here, didn't I?" 

I was so racked with pain I could barely make more than a whimper. Still Mom 
continued to torment me. 

"You'll get worse than this if you ever cross me again, ass-hole! And I'm 
not kidding at all! So, you better straighten up your act, buster! That's 
final!! " 

I had to ask Marvin to come back for another session, since our allotted 
time had unfortunately run out. So had my wits. What, I asked, could 
possibly drive a mother to sodomize a stepson with such vengeance, such 
sadistic temperament? 

The answers could only lie in future sessions with Marvin. 

INTERVIEW TWO 

This time, I had to notice that some of the bruises and other discolorations 
on Marvin's body were now healing rather well, in fact, the boy seemed to be 
in much better shape, physically and mentally. Until, of course, the topic 
of conversation turned to Lena, Marvin's stepmother. 

Haven't I told you enough about her, doc? What could I possibly tell you? 
There really isn't any way I could describe the brutal, painful tortures my 
mother puts me through. 

For awhile, our little apartment was just like an SS camp, and I wouldn't 
have been surprised at all if Mom had put up barbed wire around the doors 
and windows. No, she didn't carry things that far, but almost. 

I steered clear of her for weeks and weeks, and soon I began to trust her 
again, though not in the same way I once trusted her. Anyone who could find 
the nerve to tie you up and stick a vacuum cleaner nozzle up your ass had to 
be a little strange, I thought. And there was always something in the back 
of my head that warned me that Mom could fly off her nut at any time. 

"Hi, Mom. What's going on?" I'd ask her, just to be sociable. 

"Shove it," or "Bite my crank!" Yeah, that was always her favorite. It still 
is. 

Well, sooner or later, doc, all those days I had skipped school were bound 
to catch up with me. And they did, doctor. On my next report card! 

Hooked at it, over and over, trying to figure out a decent way to alter it. 
It was from a computer, and I couldn't find a typewriter in the whole school 
that matched the letters of my grades. I don't even want to tell you what I 
scored, doc. It was really bad, I'll just say that. 

I couldn't show it to my Mom, no way. I really couldn't-she was feeling very 
cranky lately. So, I placed the report card in the nearest ash try, and set 
it ablaze! Now she'd never find out about it. 

"Marvin," she said, very calmly, "I'd like to talk to you for a second." She 
was sitting in her bedroom, no, actually she was ironing some things. If I 
had any idea-of what it was she wanted to discuss, I would have jumped out 
the window and into the street before I ever entered that bedroom, her 
little love-pit of terror. 

But I had burned the report card, hadn't I? There was no evidence, no proof 
for her to find. Except the carbon copy that was mailed to my house. I 
didn't count on that happening to me, no sir! 

"Marvin, I'm holding something in my hand. Can you tell me what it is?" she 
asked, still keeping her cool. 

"Gosh, no Mom," I said. It looked like the phone bill or something. 

"Well, I'll give you a little hint," she said. "It's from your school, 
Marvin. And it's enough to make me puke!" 

"It's a picture of my English teacher," I said, squirming in my chair. 

"No!" 

"Well, er ... next week's lunch menu." 

"No!" 

"I can't imagine what it could be," I said, "I've given up!" 

"Marvin," said Mom, in a voice barely above a whisper, "I have given up with 
you. Totally. You didn't show me your report card, did you, Marvin?" 

"I thought you'd get mad," I said. 

"I am mad, Marvin. I'm seeing red!" 

She was staring right through me, doc. I could hear her blood boiling in her 
veins, she was so mad. "I guess I have to either control my temper, like a 
rational human being, or I can beat the shit out of you, Marvin. Which do 
you think I'll do? Would you like to try and guess?" 

I bolted for the door, but Mom beat me to it, stepping in front of me and 
slamming it shut with her back. 

"Going somewhere, ass-hole? Got someplace far away on your mind? Hmmmmmm?" 

"Well, Mom. I have to..." 

"What, Marvin. What do you have to do?" 

"I have to go to the bathroom, Mom." I could always try to climb out that 
window in there, even though it was seven stories to the ground. 

"Good, I'll go with you!" she said. She grabbed me by the shoulders and 
shoved me out the door. 

"Mom, I can't go to the bathroom with you in there," I pleaded. 

"Yes you can, Marvin. You certainly can. What a better place to beat the 
shit out of you than the bathroom." Now she was practically kicking me down 
the hall, and each time I fell she socked me even more! 

"You'll have to be taught an extremely tough lesson, ass-hole!" she yelled, 
still beating me with the toe of her boot. "I guess I'm going to have to 
give you a repeat performance, huh?" 

"No, Mom. Have some common decency, will you? Don't treat me like this," I 
pleaded. 

"Common decency? For you? You, a little turd, asking to be treated like a 
human being? Why, you're just a piece of shit, Marvin. Nothing but a fucking 
piece of manure!" She belted me again, this time with her fist ... and 
blacked my left eye! 

I was on my knees, crying. She had really hurt me bad, and the things she 
said to me were even worse than the way she punched me. 

"We're going to the bathroom, darling, because I want to watch you jerk-off. 
I stand out here a lot in the morning, and listen to your pitiful 
masturbating, but I've always been very curious to watch you do it!" Mom 
dragged me down the hall and kicked me onto the bathroom floor. "Let's get 
goin, ass-hole! I want to watch you beat your meat!" 

"Mom! What are you talking about?" I asked. "This is crazy!" 

"You bet, prickhead. You better believe it! Now get going!" 

"Aw, Mom! I can't jerk-off in front of you. I really can't!" 

"Who says you can't, huh? I'll do it myself, if you don't get going!" 

There was no way that I could masturbate in front of her, doc. There just 
really wasn't. I got up from the floor and stood there, acting as though I 
was going to drop my jeans. But instead, I ran down the hallway, and into my 
bedroom, where I slammed the door. 

"Come out of there, Marvin. Or I'll kick the fucking door down!" Mom's voice 
was low and gruff ... she sounded like a truck driver out there, beating in 
the door. 

"I'm not kidding, Marvin. I'll drill through the lock. I'll take the door 
off the hinges! I'll bust your ass when I get in there!" 

There was silence for a minute or two, and at first I thought she had gone 
away, maybe to cool off or something. 

I stood with my ear to the door, and only heard her breathing. Then, I 
noticed something wet by the door, like the roof was leaking. But it wasn't 
raining outside, doc. It was coming in from under the door. Mom was 
squirting something into my room from outside! 

It was lighter fluid! For her cigarette lighter! "Come out of there, Marvin, 
or I'll set your room on fire, and you'll go up with it!" 

"Mom! Don't do this! You're nuts!" 

"Am I? Are you going to wait and see?" I heard her strike the match against 
the door. I never really thought that she would actually set that stuff on 
fire! I backed away from the door and watched the flames sputter and lick 
the floor. 

I tried to put it out with my feet, but it was too much. I finally opened 
the door, just like Mom wanted me to. She saw standing outside with a bucket 
of water and a coil of heavy rope! 

She doused the fire, sure. And she doused me, too! I was down on the floor 
in a second, and Mom was on top of me-poking at my eyes! 

"Just hold still, ass-hole! While I tie you down. That way, you won't be 
hurting me, or yourself." 

I thought she might have blinded me with one of her fingernails, doc. I 
could feel a little trickle of blood flowing down my cheeks. I couldn't see 
that well, and by now I was hurting so bad that I really couldn't fight her 
off. She had me again, and she wasn't going to let me go until she finished 
what she had in mind. 

"Now, I guess I'll have to jerk you off instead. I though you'd cooperate, 
and give me a free show," she said, tightening the ropes so that my hands 
were bound and completely helpless behind me. "Just let me get your dirty 
jeans off your crotch, and then we'll have something to talk about, won't 
we?" 

She unbuckled my levis and tugged them past my knees. Then she did the same 
with my 

BVD's! "Oh, it's just like a little worm, pinhead. Just relax, and mommy 
will get it going big and stiff!" 

I felt her fingers against my prick, I knew that I could never get a hard-on 
for her, even if she worked on it all day. There was no reason why she 
should have treated me that way, but she couldn't be discouraged. Mom was 
going to jerk me off, whether I wanted to come or not. I guess you could say 
that she was raping me. 

"Terrific!" she said, stroking my penis with gentle up and down movements of 
her hand. "I bet you'd really like some hand cream, wouldn't you?" 

"Mom! Don't do this, you're embarrassing me!" 

"Aw, you should be thankful, Marvin. It's not everyday someone jerks you 
off. Especially your own mother!" 

She pumped her hand cream all over my cock, then began to spread it all 
over. I have to admit, doc, it felt really good. I couldn't stand to look at 
her while she did it, though. I was lying there with my eyes closed, 
pretending she was someone else. 

"Look, Marvin. It's getting stiff! You've got a big prick there, don't you?" 
said Mom, spreading the lotion all over my cock and balls. It was getting 
pretty hard, doc. It was a lot better than doing it yourself! 

"Too bad I'll have to cut it off, Marvin." 

"What!" 

"You heard me! I said, I'm going to cut your cock off. Maybe your balls, 
too. I'm going to have them stuffed and mounted ... and give them back to 
you for your birthday!" 

Mom laughed for a long time after she said that, and I was turning blue in 
the face. At that point, I couldn't tell whether she was serious, or whether 
she was just being real sick! 

"No, I won't cut your balls off," she laughed, "or your cock." 

"Whew!" I sighed. But when Mom returned after a five minute absence, 
carrying my razor and shaving cream, I was terrified. 

"Since you can't use this yet, peach fuzz, I thought I'd break it in for 
you!" Mom knelt at my crotch and began to spray the shaving cream all over 
my pubes. 

"Now you'll have to hold real still for this operation, kiddo," said Mom, 
placing a blade in the holder, "because, one false move could ruin you for 
life!" 

Doc, I know it's hard to believe, but my Mom was going to shave my crotch! 

"Mom, why are you doing this to me?" I gasped. "Why?" 

"Because, Marvin. I want to humiliate you. 

Now, when you go to gym class, everyone will just laugh and laugh and 
laugh!" 

Ten minutes later, and it was all over, my crotch was bald! Mom stepped back 
to admire her work, and broke into hysterics. 

"You look so ridiculous, Marvin. Just wait until you see it! I'm so proud of 
you!" 

Mom wasn't satisfied with just my crotch. After she finished with that, Mom 
shaved my legs, my armpits ... and my eyebrows! 

And that was it, doc. She didn't even bother to finish jerking me off, she 
just picked me up and walked me over to the mirror. And laughed for what 
must have been five or ten minutes while I was reduced to tears. 

After that, Mom didn't bother me again. And there was no need to, since she 
made it perfectly clear to me that she would treat me even worse if I ever 
crossed her again. 

Yeah, I was the laughing stock of school for a few weeks. And how could I 
tell anyone that my mother had done this to me? No one would believe me, I 
was sure. No one but you, doctor. 

You've got to help me while I'm still alive! I really believe that I might 
be cracking up under the strain. I don't know what to do or say to her 
anymore. If she beats me up again, I know I might just get fed up and kill 
her or something. And then what will happen to me? 

CONCLUSION 

It was important for me to keep Marvin in therapy for several weeks, or as 
long as it took to discover certain clues to his mother's behavior. 

I kept asking myself why a woman would take such drastic measures to 
discipline her child? Especially when the child was all of fifteen years 
old. And to sexually brutalize him also was a tip off to this neurosis. 

I concluded that Marvin's mother felt sexual attraction for the boy, and 
seeing how this incestuous drive is the strongest taboo in our society, she 
punished the young boy for exciting her ... something over which he had no 
control. But rather than admit her desires, the mother used her son as a 
scapegoat, hoping that by punishing him she could also relieve the wanton 
lust of her own soul. 

I am happy to say that the mother has entered therapy with another doctor, a 
colleague of mine. But until she is ready to admit her desires for her own 
son, she will not be able to admit her true reasons for punishing Marvin. 

It may seem strange to the reader that Marvin's mother would take such great 
pleasure in humiliating her son. It must be considered that the woman 
possibly misunderstood her own feeling for the child. Instead of coping with 
her anger, she lost control of her reasoning ability. I hope she will 
recover. As I hope Marvin will emerge unscarred from the incident. 

Only time will tell. 

 CASE HISTORY TWO 

SUBJECT: Krissy K. AGE: Sixteen 

INTERVIEW ONE 

Krissy was referred to me by a social worker at the children's institution 
where she had lived for four years of her life. 

Krissy had been a model ward, though somewhat of a slow learner and 
occasionally lapsed into fits of anger and anxiety. It was these attacks 
which brought her to my attention. 

After reading her history, I was immediately interested in her past, and how 
it might be affecting her present behavior. During our first encounter, I 
noticed that Krissy was no ordinary child, In fact, she was extremely 
attractive to the point of distraction. The following is a transcript of our 
conversations: 

Tell me, doctor. Do you ever have nightmares? Do you ever have dreams that 
make you break out in a cold sweat and cry in the middle of the night? Have 
you ever been so afraid that you were scared to go to sleep at night? 

I guess everyone has had dreams like that, doctor. Especially when they were 
smaller or if they were afraid of the dark. But I'm sixteen years old, 
doctor. And I still have nightmares like that every night. I can no longer 
sleep, except during the day, and the pills they gave me don't work either. 
In fact, they're more frightening when I take sleeping pills. I still have 
the same dreams ... but I can't wake up from them. 

To make matters worse, I can't remember what the dreams are about the next 
morning. I just know that they are horrible, terrible things, but by the 
time I have gotten over the scare, I can't remember exactly what went on. I 
feel ... haunted, like I was being followed by some ghost. And I'm scared 
shitless, doctor. Really. I'm not kidding. 

That's why I feel so depressed, doctor. It's not because I'm angry or 
unhappy, it's because I feel ... I feel like I'm going to die! 

I was admitted to the institution when I was twelve years old. I don't 
really remember much about living with my parents, and I haven't even seen 
them since the day I entered the home. I think that my father wasn't 
working, because he was always around the house, and my mother and father 
were always fighting about something, but what it was I can't remember. 

I might as well tell you now, doctor, that when I was taken to the 
institution, they thought I was mentally retarded. I couldn't read above a 
third grade level, well what do you expect. I don't remember going to school 
all that much ... Mom and Dad never sent me. 

I never really had that many friends when I was little, either. Maybe my 
parents really did think that I was dumb, that there was something wrong 
with me. I guess they kept me home a lot, because they were afraid I would 
embarrass them, because I was a freak or something. 

Do I look like a freak? I don't think so, doctor. In fact, I think I look 
pretty good for a sixteen-year-old girl. I have lots of admirers, girls and 
boys. Lots of girls at the institution are really envious of my rather 
voluptuous body ... I have to admit it did develop very well over the years, 
and still has a way to go. 

And there are a lot of boys I know who I can guess would be really eager to 
get inside my pants. At least, that's the impression I get from the way 
they're always acting towards me. 

But, to tell you the truth, doc ... I really don't have that much of an 
interest in sex. Whenever I get aroused, when I get hot, I don't feel very 
well, and something happens to my head that eventually turns me off. I'm 
sure that I've had sex before, because I'm not a virgin by any means, I just 
can't seem to remember with whom. Isn't that strange? Not being able to 
remember who you fucked? 

I'll try to tell you a little bit about my Mom and Dad, what little I can 
guess from the twelve years or so I spent with them. I don't think they were 
very educated people, since I can't remember ever seeing any books or 
hearing any music when I was a child. In fact, all I remember about that 
period of my life is a room, a single room, I guess it must have been mine. 
Whenever I'm feeling depressed, I always get flashes of that room, like, in 
the back of my mind. It never really comes into, complete focus for me. 

All I remember about my mother is that she was young, somewhat pretty ... 
when she wasn't heavy or drunk. That's something I'll never forget, doctor. 
She and Dad used to come into my room, smelling terrible. To this day, 
whenever I'm around someone who's been drinking booze, I get physically ill. 
That's because my Dad used to breathe heavily when he talked to me, and it 
made me really sick. 

I guess our family, I didn't have any sister's or brother's that I knew of, 
didn't socialize very much, because I could never remember an instance when 
either my Mom or Dad weren't at home, watching over me. They used to keep me 
in this little bed, which was kind of like a hospital bed, with heavy bars 
that could be swung up around the mattress. I used to sleep in that same bed 
even when I had outgrown it, when I was eleven or twelve I would sleep with 
my feet poking out the slats at the foot of the bed. When I finally learned 
how to throw the bolt, and walk around on my own, Mom and Dad had a little 
fence built in the corner of the room, one that was very difficult for me to 
climb out of, and they'd lock me in there on the rare occasions that the 
would go out, or when they thought I would get into trouble. 

I know that they were constantly talking about me, but they never really 
paid that much attention to me when I'd cry. Especially in the middle of the 
night, when I was really afraid of the dark. And my little room got very 
dark, since there were few windows, and also it was very cold. 

If Mom wasn't feeling well, she would just ignore me, and I can remember 
many nights that I would be scared to death ... but no one would come in and 
hold my hand or anything. I can still hear my mother telling me to shut up, 
or banging on the door with her fists. I guess I would cry for any number of 
reasons--if they hadn't fed me in several days, or if no one had come in to 
unlock the fence so I could get out and crawl around. And if Dad ever came 
in late at night, he would just stand in the corner and stare at me, that 
frightened me even more. Then he would come over and breathe all over me, 
with that sickening alcoholic breath. I've considered the fact, since I've 
been in therapy, that my parents could have very well been alcoholics, since 
they always smelled like cheap booze. I guess that's why I can't drink, even 
when someone sneaks something into the institution. 

Can I remember any unpleasant experiences with my mother? Sure, but only 
one. By that I mean there was only one clear episode that sticks out above 
and beyond all the rest. 

It was late a night, and the room was really dark. I was having a bad dream, 
and I couldn't get back to sleep. I kept seeing dragons and snakes crawling 
through the holes in the fencing, and I couldn't get out to escape them. I 
guess I was screaming pretty loud, because Mom actually came into my room 
and turned on the light! 

I was so glad when she did that, because I could finally see that there 
weren't really any monsters in the room with me. 

"What's wrong, Krissy," she mumbled, holding onto the fence gate for 
support. 

"I'm afraid, mommy," I'm sure I must have said. I kept staring at the bottle 
Mom held dangling, wondering if it would fall from her hand. I remember 
looking at her face and how terrible she looked, almost as frightening as 
the monsters in my dreams. She had very dark circles under her eyes, like 
she had smeared them with coals. Her panty hose was torn ... I think they 
call it "fishnet," anyway, that's what she was wearing. That, her panties, 
and her bra. Nothing else. 

And her breath was repulsive. When Mom began to scream at me for waking her 
up, I started crying even more than before. I wanted to climb out of that 
chain-link fence so bad, but every time I grabbed hold, Mom would jab my 
hands with the blunt end of her whisky bottle ... and laugh. 

I was only about five or six then, doctor. And I was really impressionable. 
I thought for sure that mommy was going to hurt me or something, since she 
wasn't feeling all that well. 

"Shut up, you little cunt," said my mommy. 

I remember that word, specifically. "Cunt!" That's what she called me, 
doctor. 

"Mommy!" I scared, "there are snakes and spiders in this room." 

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" she laughed, slumping to the floor in a daze. "Snakes and 
Spiders. Get a load of this retard, will you?" Then she finished off the 
rest of her bottle and the booze dribble down her chin. 

"Retard! Retard! Why did I have to have a damn retarded kid?" she screamed. 
"What did I do to deserve you, you mongoliod? I didn't do a damn thing!" 

And then, doctor, she started to cry. I had seen Mom cry lots of times 
before, well ... I had heard her cry from outside the room when she and my 
daddy would throw things around. 

"Just another fucking retard, another fucking piece of shit to feed. I have 
half a mind to starve you to death, Krissy," she threatened, still laughing 
like a hyena. "A piece of shit doesn't deserve to live!" 

I really didn't understand what she meant by that then, when I was five. But 
now I do. Still, I trusted her to the point where I thought if I cried some 
more, mommy would leave and keep the light turned on. 

"SHUT UP! SHUT YOUR GODDAMN FUCKING MOUTH, RETARD!" she yelled. Then, 
teetering a bit, as if she might fall down, mommy unlocked the gate and came 
into my little fenced-in bed. 

"Afraid of the dark, huh?" she yelled "I'll give you something to be afraid 
of, for the rest of your' fucking life. I'll destroy you, Krissy! Look what 
you've done to me and your father!" 

I remember being really afraid, doctor. I think I might have been shaking. 
Mom knocked me over, hitting me on the side of my head with her whiskey 
bottle. 

"Look what you've done to us, ohhhhhhhh," she cried, staring over me while I 
screamed. "Look at the sewer you've made for us, Krissy! Fucking cunt 
retard! I'm going to make you pay for it, darling. For the rest of your 
life!" 

I couldn't figure out exactly what she was talking about. Then, pouncing 
like a tiger, my mommy jumped on top of me and started clawing me with her 
fingernails until each of them broke off. There were long, painful tears 
into my arms and legs blood was dripping everywhere. I screamed for daddy, 
but I guess he wasn't around. 

"Your daddy hates you too, Krissy! But not as much as I hate you, little 
cunt dumb shit!" 

"Mommy! Let me go, please!" Maybe I didn't say that, doctor. I don't think I 
could have found the effort or the energy to speak at all, not after what my 
mother did to me that night inside the fence. 

I remember this very well, now ... it's all coming back perfectly. I could 
feel her sweating body on top of me, while she spread my legs wide. And 
then... 

. . . then she stuck the whiskey bottle into my-my hole! Oh, doctor, I'm 
just now remembering it all. Yes, my own mother! She's the one who messed me 
up down there! With a whiskey bottle! She tore my cherry, my own cherry, 
with a whiskey bottle! 

I remember how I ached down there for days afterward. It was a long-necked 
bottle and Mom shoved it into my crotch like she was going to kill me. 

"Afraid of the dark, huh? Well, you'll get used to it, darling. When I lock 
you in the fucking closet for a week. Then, you'll get used to it!" 

After that episode, I remember daddy coming into my room one day and 
painting the windows black. When he was finished, there wasn't a single 
trace of light anywhere in the room. All I remember was darkness, silence, 
and bad dreams. I don't know exactly how long I was alone, but when I woke 
up again, I was terrified. Of the dark, of my father ... and especially my 
mother. 

Krissy was in tears after her recollection of the encounter with her mother, 
so I ended the session early that day. 

It seemed that perhaps this young, beautiful patient was on the way to a 
breakthrough, and I hoped that more progress could be made in the next few 
weeks. Do doubt Krissy was disturbed by her past, as so was I. Was this 
fantasy, or did these terrible things really happen? 

INTERVIEW TWO 

Krissy canceled our next appointment, her reasons being that she needed more 
time to prepare for another traumatic experience. The revelation of her last 
conversation was quite painful for her, understandably. But, thought making 
connections with the long-forgotten past, there was hope that Krissy could 
understand the problems which beset her presently. 

I'm really sorry that I couldn't make it last week, but there was so much to 
think about after our last session. I was very depressed for several days 
afterward, because I realized what human monsters my parents really were. 

It's strange how you can forget things, when you really don't want to be 
reminded. And in my case, doctor, I had forgotten just about everything. 
Except when I was sleeping, and I think you would be interested in my 
dreams. Because last night, for the first time, I remembered what the dream 
was all about. 

But first, let me tell you something about my father. There's not much to 
say about him he was as filthy and depraved as my mother. They were both 
convinced that there was something wrong with me, because I wasn't doing 
very well in school. The teachers had told them that all I did was cry, that 
I couldn't learn to read, that I couldn't comprehend simple logic! 

How could I have comprehended anything, doctor? I know I must have cried day 
in and day out at school. Finally, Mom and Dad just withdrew me, on the 
basis that I was mentally retarded, something they had been telling me from 
the beginning. 

There is very little I can put together from the time I was six to about age 
ten. I don't know how my parents got away with what they did, but it's all 
in the past now, isn't it? I mean, you would have thought a social worker or 
someone from the board of health would have checked up on me, but for all 
practical purposes, I didn't exist. . . except inside my little chain-link 
prison. 

No books, no friends, nothing but the television set that mom would roll 
into the room when she'd leave for the day. I guess that television saved 
me, doctor, because I used to make up imaginary conversations with the 
people on the screen ... television was my only education. 

I soon learned that the best way to avoid punishment at my house was to 
completely avoid my parents. I wouldn't talk to them, not even when they 
yelled at me or hit me. When they didn't feed me, I just kept my stomach 
pains to myself. When daddy came in to molest me ... and I want to talk 
about that today, I would just take anything he would dish out. Even if it 
hurt, which it usually did. 

Since I was cut off from the rest of the house, I never knew exactly where 
my parents went, who was home at a particular time, if anyone, or what they 
did for a living. Once, when Mom was really irritated with me, she had 
locked me up in the closet ... I didn't hear a noise for several days, 
except my own screaming. 

When I heard someone finally unlock the door, I was frightened, and scared 
that it was Mom, ready to yell at me for messing up the closet ... I had no 
place else to relieve myself. The door opened, I was blinded by the light 
that poured in. Finally, after a few minutes, I could see my father. 

"How long have you been in here, retard?" he asked, pulling me from the 
smelly little hole. "How long has cuntmouth left you in here this time?" 

I hadn't eaten in several days, and I think I was probably very weak. Daddy 
had to pick me up in his arms and carry me over to my bed, where he more or 
less threw me down. 

"It's too bad your so dumb, kid," he said, rubbing his hand across my belly, 
"'cause you could be such a pretty little girl. Too bad you have to shit all 
over yourself like that!" 

Daddy would usually clean me up after my mother's punishment, and in a way, 
I trusted him more than I did my mother. But only because I saw less of him 
than Mom, and he could be, when he wasn't too drunk, very nice to me. 

"Aw, Krissy! Don't look at me that way," he would say, carrying me into the 
bathroom. And I remember how gentle he would be when he sponged me off in 
the tub ... kind of like he was rescuing me from something. From my mother, 
from myself. I don't really know, but it was very comforting, at least until 
Mom came home again and he would leave me alone again. 

He would even rock me back and forth in his arms and make gurgling noises as 
me, like I couldn't understand a word he said. I had been watching 
television all this time, and I knew what he was talking about. But I knew 
if I said anything to give myself away, Mom would only beat me some more, 
like the time I asked her what "assassination," meant. 

I can't believe that my parents actually thought I was retarded. Not when 
I'd asked them intelligent questions. But mommy would always yell at me, 
then hit me, then send me back to the closet or the cage. So, I just stopped 
asking questions altogether. 

"Maybe we should have just destroyed you, Krissy," he said, "maybe we should 
have just killed you a long time ago. Things would have been so much easier 
for you, wouldn't it?" What was I supposed to say? 

"Your mother had wanted to, Krissy, but I said no! I couldn't let her kill 
my little girl, even though she is a retard!" Daddy still hadn't dressed me, 
in fact, lately they had let me run around naked, so I wouldn't mess up my 
clothes. They used to cut up plastic garbage bags and lay them out on the 
floor, so I could just shit and piss whenever I felt like it. It was too 
much trouble for mommy to unlock my cage and take me to the bathroom. I got 
used to it, and so did they. 

Daddy rocked me back and forth on his lap, still gurgling and making goo-goo 
eyes at me. He was half-repulsive, and half-attractive, I think that my 
father may have been a very good-looking man. That's the way I remember him 
in my dreams, doctor. And that's the way I remember him that afternoon, when 
he raped me. 

I could feel something stiff poking against my leg, something that scared 
me. Daddy just smiled and continued to tickle me, but that thing between his 
legs just got stiffer and hotter against my skin. 

"You want to see something, Krissy?" he asked, I just looked up at him, and 
noticed a big bulge in his pants. It was moving around, like a snake! What 
did he have in there, and what was he going to do to me? 

Daddy tickled my crotch, and I remember him sticking one of his fingers up 
into my hole. That's when he got very angry, and started cursing my mother, 
calling her names that I couldn't even remember. If I could, doctor, I 
probably wouldn't be able to repeat them. 

His face, which had been all smiles and laughter, turned really evil and 
nasty, like Frankenstein or somebody. He was poking his finger up inside my 
hole, just like Mom had crammed that whiskey bottle up inside me. Only 
instead of hurting a lot, it felt really nice, and I remember laughing all 
the time he was threatening to kill my mother. 

"I'll give you something, Krissy!" he said, not really looking at me 
anymore, but at his crotch. That big snake inside him, at least, that's what 
I thought it was, was still moving and jerking around, and when Daddy 
unzipped his trousers, I thought he was letting it out to bite me! 

I was screaming really loud by then, but Daddy clamped his big hand over my 
mouth. That's when I bit him, doctor. I remember still the way his hand 
tasted when I sank my teeth into him. 

"Fucking retard cunt!" he screamed-that was my nickname, doctor. "Retard 
cunt!" 

I really can't go on with this, not without breaking down. It's so terrible, 
I wish I had never remembered it at all. 

He pulled his trousers down over his knees and then I could see that snake 
poking out against his shorts. "Look at this, Krissy. See what Daddy has 
that you don't have?" 

His hand was still bleeding and the blood was oozing down his leg as he 
pulled down his briefs. 

And then I saw it for the first time! It was long and stiff, and poking up 
at the ceiling. No, it wasn't a snake after all, but to me it was ten times 
as terrifying! I had never seen anything like it before in my life, and I 
thought it was going to hurt me. 

"Too bad you're not a virgin, Krissy, or you'd appreciate this even more!" 
he laughed. Within an instant, my father was on top of me, his thick snake 
rubbing against my legs! 

"Shut up, cunt! Or I'll kill you, I swear I'll strangle you to death!" I 
kicked and bit, still screaming at the top of my lungs. But Daddy was going 
to do as he pleased, and, as always, I was the victim. 

He spread my legs wide open, just as mommy had the time she tore my cherry 
out with that liquor bottle. I knew that if he hurt me as badly as my mother 
had, I would rather die than to have my crotch bleeding for another day. 

I could feel my Daddy's cock pressing up against my crotch, forcefully! Bot 
his hands were tightly around my neck, ready to break it if I screamed once 
more. I shut my eyes and pretended he wasn't there, or that it was just 
another bad dream. 

"Take it, retard! Take it up your fucking cunt!" he screamed, almost choking 
me to death. With one plunge, I was his ass raise up from the bed, then 
lower again as his thick snake climbed into my tight, tiny hole! 

It was probably, next to the time my mother raped me, the most painful 
experience 

I have ever felt in my life. My father must have been hung like a horse, so 
to speak, because I thought he was going to tear me into with his prick! 

He must have fucked me for ten minutes, maybe more ... I really can't say. 
But I was in tears the entire time, not knowing if I would be alive after he 
had finished with me. 

I never got used to the sensation of his tool inside my crotch, not at all. 
It kept pumping in and out of me, too fast to really enjoy. It actually felt 
like he was ripping the insides out of me, and I ended up shitting all over 
the bed while he ignored me, his eyes closed, his alcoholic breath making me 
sicker by the minute. 

"I'm gonna shoot you full of come, Krissy! I'm gonna tear your fucking cunt 
apart before I'm through with you." He kept moaning and threatening me the 
entire time, thought I wasn't too certain about what he meant. "Maybe that 
would be the best way for you to go, Krissy. I can just fuck you to DEATH!" 

And when he said that word, he tensed up, choking the breath out of my 
aching body. I knew that this was the end for me, as he had said. When I 
felt his come shoot into my hole, I thought it was actually me ... bleeding 
from the inside! 

After Dad left me alone, after he had spilled his come inside his own 
daughter, I didn't hear anything else from him at all. Until about two days 
later, when he and my mother had another fight. 

I heard him screaming at her when she came in the door, screaming about how 
he was going to kill her for what she had done to me. I knew, somehow, that 
he was mad about that time my mother had raped me with the whisky bottle. 
But I couldn't figure out how he had known about it, though. It was so long 
ago, and even I had tried to forget it the best way I could. 

Then, that's where I leave off, I can't recall anything else that happens, 
except waking up in the hospital and being fed. 

I never saw my mother or father again, and I was placed in the children's 
institution. Slowly, after adjusting to being around normal children my age, 
some older, I learned how to behave. It was difficult at first. 

I've done very well in four years. And I can't believe that I was really 
rescued from my parents, rather than have been left alone to die. They made 
it very clear from the very beginning that I did not have a learning 
disability, and I was tutored regularly, in addition to attending elementary 
school classes. 

I've completely advanced now, and I have a new life. But the most unpleasant 
parts of my childhood keep coming back, doctor. I can't forget them, and 
they make me feel really sad. I can't let this keep me from returning to the 
real world. I can't let this hold me back any longer. 

CONCLUSION 

Even after years of intense caring and treatment, I was surprised that 
Krissy could have possibly progressed to her present stage at all. Now after 
years, important formative years practically in isolation, and years of the 
most deranged, inhuman abuse. 

If her father, as I later discovered, had not killed his wife, something 
which is still being kept from Krissy, surely the young girl would have 
died. Discovered in her "cage" by the police, the twelve-year-old was taken 
to a hospital, where she was treated for acute malnutrition and worms. 

How Krissy's mother could have ever determined that her daughter was 
"retarded" is beyond my comprehension. From her story, I know the child must 
have been highly perceptive, perhaps precocious, which might have led to 
behavior slightly deviant from the norm. 

The only problem which remains for her is to adjust sexually. Her brutal 
treatment has left scars which have yet to be removed. Perhaps Krissy will 
never be able to escape the monsters in the dark, but the has at least 
identified them. And that, hopefully, is a good beginning. 

CASE HISTORY THREE 

SUBJECT: George D. AGE: Nineteen 

INTERVIEW ONE 

Arrested on assault and rape charges, for which he was convicted, George D. 
is an interesting case to consider. The young man in question was brutalized 
from early childhood by his mother, a heroin addict and somewhat of a loose 
woman, a whore to be specific. His father was imprisoned when George was 
seven years old, leaving the boy to be brought up by his mother. 

I was involved with George's case from the first psychiatric examination, 
which I conducted. The first two of these are of importance to the reader, 
hence they are presented here in completely unexpurgated form: 

I don't remember nothing, doc. I don't remember a thing. Every time they ask 
me why I did it, and they shove those pictures at me, I just draw a blank. A 
complete blank. I had never seen those women before, I never did nothin' to 
no one. 

Sure, I remember a lot about my childhood, doc. Who could possibly forget 
something like that? My old lady, my mother, she was too much, doc. The 
things she used to do to me ... man, I don't know if I could even tell you 
what she was like. 

She got strung out, and I mean she stayed that way for weeks and weeks at a 
time. Then, she'd always crawl around the block, especially in the summer, 
and make a fool of herself. I guess I have to be honest about it, doc. My 
old lady turned tricks to pay for her fix. 

Me? I was born addicted, man. My mother was so strung out when she was 
pregnant, I almost didn't make it. Sure, they pulled me off real quick when 
I was a kid, once they found out what was wrong with me. 

My father was convicted for robbery, his second time. I never saw him again 
after that, there was nobody left but me and Mom. 

Which was the beginning of the problems. 

Mom just couldn't cope living without my father, I guess. She used to cry 
about it a lot, and then she went back on dope. 

I noticed that she spent a lot of time sitting around the house, just 
nodding-out and acting like a zombie. Her eyes would be waxed-over, really 
glassy. You could walk up to her and put your hand right in front of her 
face, and she wouldn't even know you were there. 

We kept getting evicted from apartments, I'm sure we moved about three times 
a year. Finally, we ended up at a welfare hotel, just me and my mother. 
Things didn't change drastically for either of us Mom still kept up her 
habits, and she took most of her problems out on me. 

Except when she was really whacked-out and used to chase me around the 
house. No, she really liked to see me then. I remember when I was about 
twelve years old, and how Mom used to comer me in the bathroom, or in my 
bedroom, and try to touch me! 

"Oh, baby! You're just like your father, you know that? Huh?" 

I could see the needle marks on her arms when she stretched them out towards 
me. "Mom, why don't you get some help?" I asked her. "Why don't you try and 
find someone who can help you out?" 

"Help? Help? Who needs help when I got you hanging around, baby?" She lunged 
at me and grabbed my head. I could feel her dry, chapped lips against mine. 
She kissed me, doc. But not in the way you would normally expect a mother to 
kiss her son. 

"Hold me, Georgie. Hold me real tight. I'm lonely, baby!" she would moan, 
tugging me down to the floor. Usually, when Mom was in this shape, I could 
just touch her with my finger and she would fall like a leaf. But not today, 
anyway. She was really after me, and she wasn't about to let me get away. 

"Oh, baby! I know you got a big cock, 'cause your father had a big cock, and 
I know that's hereditary," she would say, grabbing at my crotch. 

"How would you like to take it out, baby? Howdja like to get it big and 
thick, and stick it up my cunt?" 

I froze, doc. I knew those words, 'cause I used them everyday. And I thought 
I was getting away with something, you know? 

But to hear your own mother talkin' at you that way, man it freaks me out 
cold! She kept me on the floor, pulling on my pants whenever I tried to get 
away from her. She kept kissing me, smothering me with kisses until I 
couldn't breathe. 

And the most embarrassing part of it was ... I had an erection. My God! I 
felt like I was doing something wrong, but I had no control over it. When 
Mom grabbed my cock and pumped it with her fist, I thought I'd either throw 
up, or come depending on what she did to me. 

"Oh, Georgie! Your cock is so fucking big," she said, breaking into giggles. 
"I want to suck on this one all fucking day long!" Mama was rolling on the 
floor like she was going crazy or something. And still, the entire time, she 
kept playing with my pecker like it was her favorite toy. 

"How about it, George? Wanna fuck mama? Wanna stick your cock up her slit 
and fuck her? Just like your daddy?" She giggled some more, but I didn't 
think anything was very funny about this whole scene. I was embarrassed, but 
Mama was getting me off real hot. 

I had never fucked anything before ... except my fist, doc. And now, here 
was my own mother, pleading with me to put it to her. I couldn't do it, 
there was just no way. Even when she put it in her mouth and sucked on it, I 
tried to hold back my impulses. 

She was licking my stick wet and juicy with her tongue, rolling the tip up 
and over the head a thousand times. I closed my eyes and thought for sure 
that I would come, but each time I came near to it Mama would stop licking 
my pole and start giggling again. 

"How do you get this thing inside your pants, honey?" she would howl, 
slipping her fist up and down my cock. 

"Mama don't do this. It's not right?" 

"Who said it's not right?" she asked, glaring at me like she was really 
angry. "Who said a mother couldn't love her son? I love you, Georgie, and I 
want you to love me, too! Just like your big, stiff father!" 

I wasn't expecting her to let me go, so I tried to pull myself away, hoping 
she'd just pass out or something and forget the whole deal. But she wasn't 
going to let me get away so easily, man. I had to practically tear myself 
away from her, and I ended up tearing her blouse off in the struggle. 

"Aw, Georgie!" she said, hanging her head until her chin touched her 
collarbone. "Georgie! You hurt me!" 

"Mama I really sorry! I didn't mean to, really!" 

"I know," she said, acting like she was going to cry. I had seen her 
depressed before when she was high, and I knew that this time I couldn't 
leave the house, not when I had really hurt her. 

"Mama, why don't you just take it easy for awhile, you know? Is there 
anything I can get you down at the store?" 

"No, baby! Not today, I don't need anything." No food, no sleep-man, I 
wonder how she survived as long as she did. 

She was crouched in the corner of the room, sobbing like she was going to 
die or something. I was really upset, too. 'Cause once she started on one of 
these jags there was no damn way to turn her off. She used to talk about dad 
like he was in the room with us, I guess maybe she even thought he was at 
times. And this particular day, she must have thought that I was him 
instead. 

"George, come here for a minute." Whenever she called me George, I could 
never figure out whether she was talking about me or my father. I walked 
over to where she was slumped down on the floor and tried my best to make 
her feel better. 

"Oh, George. I'm so fucking lonely, baby! I'm so fucking lonely, lonely, 
lonely..." she would trail off like that, and then she'd be quiet for 
awhile. 

"No, you're not," I said, "you've got me here." 

"George, please fuck me, baby! I really want you to fuck me, can't you do 
that for me?" she asked, grabbing my waist and holding tight. 

"Just take it easy," I said, trembling. I knew she hadn't forgotten about 
that yet. . . she was still trying to seduce me. Now I felt as if I might 
give in, I felt so sorry for her. 

"I will, baby! I will," and she slipped her hand once more down inside my 
pants. 

I thought she might get really crazy if I tried to fight her any more. So, I 
don't know why, I just thought that it would be easier for her if I let her 
jerk me off. Then, maybe she would finally leave me alone. 

I was stiff before she even played with me, doc. I was almost coming in my 
jeans! When I felt her fingers slipping against my prick again, I didn't 
know what to do but let her pull my pants down from my crotch, and do 
whatever satisfied her. 

"Oh, baby! Yeah. Yeah, it's really stiff and hard, isn't it?" she giggled 
once more, on her knees between my legs. I watched her grab my cock by the 
roots and point it straight up at the ceiling. "Oooooh," she growled, "it 
looks so good, baby! I'm gonna suck your big fat cock all afternoon, until 
you just shoot your jizz!" 

I was dazed, not only because she was saying those things to me, doc, but 
because she was my mother. She tenderly kissed my cock on all sides, 
starting with the head and slobbering all the way down to my balls. 

When she took half of it in her mouth and sucked it wet and hot, I thought 
for sure that I was going to pass out. I couldn't look at her the entire 
time she sucked me off, either. I had to close my eyes and pretend that it 
was somebody else doing it. 

She grabbed my balls in her fingers and played with them while her tongue 
slipped back and forth against my meat. Soon, I didn't even care about the 
way she talked to me ... I was too hot to care that my own mother was giving 
me a blow-job. And so was she. 

I didn't know how much longer I could last. Every time I groaned, Mama would 
stop sucking my cock and laugh, like she was trying to keep me going 
forever. "Honey, I'm going to drink you dry!" she howled, placing her mouth 
over my cockhead again and eating every inch of my dork. 

I could feel her teeth scraping the base around my crotch, but even better I 
could feel her tight throat muscles against my cockhead. And that's exactly 
when I shot my load, doc. 

Mama drank it all, she didn't even let a drop fall from her lips. I was 
wasted, just totally wasted. "You like that, Georgie? You really like me?" 

"Yes, Mama. I really like you. I really love you, Mama." I didn't know what 
else to say to her, doc. 

I was pretty freaked-out about it for a couple of weeks afterwards, and 
evidently so was Mama. Because she got really up-tight and really nervous, 
especially when she'd get high. Then, for no reason at all, she hit me, or 
beat me ... while she called me lots of names. Names I would just rather not 
repeat, doc. 

It would go on like this, doc. Until at last she would calm down...'cause 
I'd have left the house before she got too crazy. I'd always be returned 
though. Every time I ran away. 

She would continually assault me, finger me, poke at me, then she'd always 
make me feel like I had hurt her, on purpose. I'd feel so bad about the way 
she felt inside, that every time I would let her do what she wanted to 
do-then we'd both feel really bad about it afterward. 

I had to get away from there, doc. So, when I was fourteen, I ran away for 
good. I was never going to go back to that hotel room, or to Mama. 

Unfortunately, our time was up. I had as much information as I could use for 
the present, I had known in advance that George D. was picked up and 
returned to his mother, but what could have occurred between them to produce 
such a violent nature in the young man. Or what kept him from remembering 
what he had done? 

We were scheduled for another session later in the week. Hopefully I could 
discover the motivations that led George to desperate rape. 

INTERVIEW TWO 

George was ready to tell me more about his unusual relationship with his 
mother. I was anxious to hear, and listened attentively, asking few 
questions, to the rest of his story. 

Well, doc. I didn't stay gone from Mama long. I was returned, and I guess I 
could have made a fuss over it, you know, gotten out of going back with her. 

But what could I have said? I couldn't tell anyone that I had done it with 
my own mother ... no one. You're the first person that I've ever confessed 
this-and I don't feel so great about it, even now. 

I was convinced that no one would believe my story, anyway. It sounded like 
something a pervert might think up, and I knew it would only lead to more 
trouble ... for me and for Mama. 

So, I kept quiet about it, and before two weeks I was back with my mother. A 
social worker would come to visit us every so often, and they found out that 
Mama was really strung out. They got her on some program, something that was 
supposed to make her feel better. 

And things worked out for awhile. There was food again, 'cause Mama wasn't 
spending every dime she had on her habit. She seemed a lot better, at least 
she looked a lot healthier to me. I was sure everything would turn out okay 
for the two of us. I really didn't want to leave Mama alone, but the way she 
kept coming on to me really bothered me. 

Well, she cooled it for awhile, anyway. I didn't have to worry about her 
coming over to my bed in the middle of the night and attacking me. I didn't 
have to worry about her cornering me in the shower. I didn't have to worry 
about none of that stuff. 

After awhile, though, Mama started to slip back into her old ways. I mean, 
she got back into her habit, slowly at first, but soon she was doing the 
same things she had done before I ran away. 

I'd come home in the afternoon and find strange men in the room ... 
sometimes they'd be in bed with Mama. We shared that single room, and while 
they got in on, I'd either have to leave the room or go to the bathroom and 
stay there. She never kept anyone for over an hour, though. Still, it 
bothered me that Mama was doing this. 

'Cause I knew she was using the money she made to buy shit. I'd open the 
medicine cabinet and a whole box of insulin needles and stuff would fall in 
the sink. 

It was like living with a ghost, a fucking creepy ghost. And I really began 
to hate her, doc. I hated her for what she was doing to herself. I couldn't 
believe the way she treated me, either. One day she would be coming on to 
me, the next day she would be throwing things ... ashtrays, glasses. It was 
too fucking much, doc. 

One day, when she decided to get some action on with me, I decided to let 
her know that I wasn't playing this game anymore with her. I knew that she 
didn't think I was my father, I knew that she wanted me to think that, 
though. To make it all a bit more excusable. 

I was in the John, brushing my teeth one morning, hoping that I could get 
out of the room before Mama woke up and discovered I was still around. She 
would try to keep me home all day, either to rape me or to beat me, and I 
never knew from day to day which she had in mind. 

Ma'am opened the door, I saw her face reflected in the mirror and almost 
screamed. She looked like a dead woman, her face was pale and her skin was 
sagging, especially below her eyes. She wasn't wearing anything but her 
robe, and I could see her body clearly under the thin fabric. 

"Hello, kid. How'ya doin' these days?" Mama was hanging onto the doorknob to 
keep from falling down. 

"Better than you, Mama," I said, "you gotta get back to bed." 

"Naw, I'm not sleepy," she said, "I just need a little pick-me-up." I knew 
she kept her syringe in the medicine cabinet, but this was one morning that 
she wasn't going to get to it. I had tossed them all out the window the 
night before, when Mama passed out cold and knocked her head against a 
chair. 

"Forget it, Mama," I said, rinsing my mouth. I was wearing only my shorts, 
doc. And I knew that she would try to come on to me before this business was 
all over. 

"What do you mean, baby?" she asked, pinching my ass. I didn't say anything 
to her at all. 

"Come on, Georgie. What do you mean "forget it?" 

"I'm tired of you making me," I said, "I'm really tired of it, Mama." 

"So? You always like it, don't you?" she asked, side-stepping me as I left 
the John. I knew she would blow the stack when she found out her works were 
missing. But I'd already be dressed and out the door before she could throw 
a tantrum. 

She just didn't have enough energy to get mad that morning. But I was wrong. 

"Shit! Fucking shit!" I heard her scream. "George, where did you put my 
stuff, huh?" 

"Later, Mama. I'm going out!" 

I heard something crash it sounded like glass breaking. I ran back inside to 
the bathroom and found Mama staring at her face in a broken mirror, blood 
oozing from her hand. 

"You shouldn't have done that, Georgie-boy. You shouldn't have done that at 
all!" 

"Fuck you, Mama. I did what I did because you're not going to kill yourself 
any longer!" I was getting really angry at her. I was fed up. 

"You hurt me, baby! You really hurt me... 

"Just shut up, and go back to sleep." I knew she wouldn't be sleeping for 
weeks probably. She'd be sent back to the hospital, or maybe I'd even be 
taken from her. But I wasn't going to watch her destroy herself any longer. 
"No body hurt you but yourself, Mama. No one but you!" 

She picked up a piece of the broken glass and tried to slash her wrists, or 
at least pretending that she would. "Go ahead, Mama. You really want to die, 
don't you?" 

"Yes, baby! You don't love me anymore, no one loves me anymore, I'm 
finished, I'm through, I'm..." 

"You're just playing again, Mama. I know you don't believe that," I said, 
trying to keep my cool. I knew that mama would probably try to make me feel 
like I had done something wrong to her. She always did, and then when I was 
just about ready to cry, she'd attack me-either beating me or just playing 
with my cock. 

So, I decided to see what happened when she knew the game was over. I left 
the room, and left her alone. 

I went to the movies, took a walk, saw some of my friends. But I still kept 
thinking about what she was doing in the hotel all day by herself. What if 
she really needed something, and couldn't get out to buy it. What if she 
actually had no money? What if, after I had left her alone, she really did 
feel so bad that she had killed herself? 

I couldn't hang with my conscience much longer. I wanted to check in on her, 
to see how she was doing. But I was afraid to go back to the hotel. If 
anything had fucked-up--if Mama was lying on the floor dead, I would have 
hated myself just as much as I hated her. 

"Mama? Are you okay?" I said, opening the door. I could see her lying on her 
bed, motionless. 

"Mama? Are you alive? Are you awake?" 

"Oh, George! Baby! Come over here, let me talk to you." I slowly walked over 
to the little bed and asked if there was anything I could do for her. 

"Take my clothes off, George! It's hot in here." 

"Mama, you can take off your own clothes. You don't need me to help you." 

"Yes, George, yes I do. I'm hurting too bad, I can't move." 

I noticed her hands, they were trembling hard. Maybe she was dying, I 
thought. "I'm gonna call the hospital, Mama," I said. "Something's wrong 
with you!" 

"No, Georgie! There's nothing wrong with me, baby! Nothing at all. Just come 
here and help me take my clothes off." 

I agreed, though I knew I shouldn't have even touched her in the first 
place. When I got her out of her robe, I saw all the tracks and needle marks 
in her arms and legs ... more than I had ever seen on her before. "You're 
really in the big leauges now, aren't you?" 

"Yeah, George. I got you all to myself! And you're the biggest ever!" she 
giggled, pulling me down to her breasts. 

"Oh, George! My pussy is so wet, so hot! I'm sick, George! I'm love-sick!" 
Again and again, I thought, how much longer could this last. "Come on, baby! 
Don't you wanna give me some good loving? Don't you want to treat your Mama 
right?" 

I don't know what happened, doc. I was crying, I remember that much. "Why do 
you have to do these things, Mama? Why do you have to make such fools out of 
us? I can't be your lover!" 

"Fuck me, Georgie! Come on, you can do it, baby!" Mama was moaning in my ear 
like I was one of her tricks. I felt sick right then, but I couldn't leave 
her side. 

"Stick it to me, honey! Let me feel it nice and thick inside my hole!" Mama 
grabbed my crotch and discovered exactly what I didn't want her to find: An 
erection. 

I was trembling just as much as she was, maybe even more, doc. She snaked 
her hand down my pants and grabbed my cock, just like she had done so many 
times before. I couldn't even fight her away, I felt so bad about throwing 
her stuff out that morning. 

"Come on, Georgie! Fuck your old lady? Wanna fuck your mother?" And she 
broke down in hysterical laughter. 

I felt her tongue slip into my ear it was wet and hot as it slithered 
around. Her fingers were pulling at my fly, she had my pants down and around 
my ankles while she played with me. 

"Suck my tits, baby!" she moaned, "suck them really hard. Make them hot, 
Georgie!" She pressed my head against her tits and I immediately coated them 
with my tongue until the nipples were stiff and wet. 

She wrapped her arms around my body, her hips were rolling slowly against 
the mattress. I could feel her crotch wet and sticky with her juices, and I 
knew that she was really hot. What can I say, doc. I'm just a normal guy, 
who can get an erection like anyone else. I was so used to getting it on 
with Mama, and though I knew it would lead to more problems for both of us, 
I couldn't control my impulses. 

I was going to fuck her, and that was that. She wanted it, I wanted it, 
there was no way out. 

"Spread your legs, Mama," I told her, "spread 'em wide. I wanna see your 
pussy lips!" 

I caressed her wet bush it was dripping with her cunt cream in little drops 
that slithered onto my hand. I rubbed her gravy over my stiff dick and slid 
the cockhead up against her twitching hole. 

"George! George! Oh, baby! Fuck me, fuck me like you used to..." she moaned. 
And that's when I slipped it into her, doc. I let her have every inch of my 
stiff member up her twat. 

I had never seen Mama so happy before, at least when I was watching her. 
Most of the time I kept my eyes closed and pretended that she was some girl 
I had seen at school. . . but her pussy felt so warm and tight around my 
cock and she was so experienced to begin with, that I couldn't keep Mama's 
face out of my mind. 

"Faster, baby! Faster!" she moaned. "Stick it in me, baby!" 

I pumped her hard, pumped her as fast as she begged me. And before I knew 
it, doc, I was ready to shoot my hot jizz into Mama, just like she was my 
girl or something. 

Well, doc. Mama was pregnant not too long after that. She never said 
anything to me about it, though. Not until she was five months with the 
kid-and that's when she decided to see a doctor. 

She was still heavily strung out-I couldn't control her habit anymore than 
she could. I can't blame her a bit for what she did to herself she was 
really lonely, and I guess that it was too much for her. But she could have 
gotten help, doc. She had done it before, and it wasn't too painful for her. 

The doctors at the hospital got her back on methadone, but Mama just sold 
her bottles for money to buy the real thing. And I guess it was when I was 
seventeen that Mama overdosed and killed the child with her. My kid. My own 
kid. 

So here I am, doc. I can't say if I regret what I've done because I can't 
remember anything about raping those women. 

But you know what's really strange about all of this? I've seen pictures of 
the women I've supposedly attacked, and you know what? 

They all look just like Mama. 

CONCLUSION 

Trapped in a love-hate relationship with his mother, George D. could not 
resolve the reasons for her death. Subconsciously, he holds her responsible 
not only for her own death-suicidal, but slowly instead of drastically, but 
also for the death of his own child. 

George reiterated several times that he could not cope with this incestuous 
affair with his mother, but could not resist her overtures towards him. She 
used her own desperate situation to play on his own self-guilt, seducing him 
to seduce her an interesting concept. 

In his unconscious rage, George "got back" at his mother by attacking and 
molesting women who obviously, from his own analysis, reminded him of his 
mother. There were several women involved all identified George D. as the 
man who attacked them. 

And all were similar in appearance and age, all were, like George's mother, 
at one time or another addicted to heroin. George raped all of these women 
as they departed from a downtown methadone clinic, another interesting clue. 

At the present, George D. is serving out his sentence in a state hospital, 
under constant chemical treatment. Whether he can return to society anytime 
in the near future is doubtful at this point. There are too many emotional 
scars from his childhood which will take much time to confront for what they 
are. 

CASE HISTORY FOUR 

SUBJECT: Debbie S. AGE: Seventeen 

INTERVIEW ONE 

This is a case which concerns something quite out of the ordinary lesbian 
bondage, mother and daughter. 

Debbie was an attractive young girl, intelligent and capable of adjusting to 
most situations. Except her family life. The torments she described shocked 
me, to be quite frank, but as she told her story, I could see the motivation 
behind her mother's actions, sordid as they were. 

For the moment, I will let Debbie tell you her own story, in her own words 
as recorded from our session: 

Doctor, I know this might sound a little strange at first, but I've got a 
serious problem. It's a problem that I don't feel very comfortable with, and 
it's causing me lots of other difficulties-especially with boys. 

Now, you would look at me and think that I wouldn't have any problems at all 
with sex ... not with this body. I've always been proud of it, that I will 
admit. And with my fabulous tits, my slinky, well-proportioned legs, my 
tender, heart-shaped ass cheeks and my hot fever bush between my legs, well, 
I know this sounds like an ego-trip, but I know what I have, and I try to 
make the best of it. 

Except when I'm in bed with a guy. Then, for some reason, I feel really 
guilty about. . . well, about fucking. 

I freeze up, I can't enjoy anything he does to me, I can't have an orgasm, 
not even one! Doesn't that sound a little strange to you? Well, what I've 
got to tell you is even stranger. . . stranger than fiction, as they say. 

I've heard that childhood traumas can "fuck you up" for years and years. And 
my childhood, well it was quite unusual. 

My parents were both white collar drunks-you know what I mean? We were 
living in a respectable neighborhood, had lots of money, my father had a 
respectable job we were just plain respectable. 

But if the people in my neighborhood had known what went on behind our 
closed doors and windows, I'm sure they would have called the police or 
burnt down our house in a fit of rage! I'm really surprised that Mom could 
have gotten away with everything she did for so long, but she did. And I'm 
not any happier for it, either. 

I don't know what was wrong with her-I guess she really wanted to make sure 
that I didn't grow up to embarrass her. You see, she's a real religious 
fanatic, doc. And when I mean fanatic, I mean full tilt! I know that she 
must have been ill, especially drinking the way she did. And she was always 
having it out with Dad, you know? He was drinking just as much as she did, 
which was quite an accomplishment considering her petite size. And her 
mental stability which was not good either. 

Dad had a mistress and didn't spend too much time with us, not after I 
turned fourteen. Once, when he was drunk, he tried to make it with me, and I 
was completely repulsed. Luckily for the both of us, we were able to talk 
about it afterwards, and he confessed that he really was attracted to me. I 
guess I can't blame him I am pretty hot. I guess it's perfectly normal for a 
father to feel sexual attraction for his own daughter-especially if the 
daughter looks as good and juicy as I do. 

So, it was just as well to have him away from the house. For all his faults, 
I really loved my father, I still do. But I wanted to avoid any other 
embarrassing encounters with him. And also, when Dad was away, Mom didn't 
drink so heavily and she didn't attempt suicide every other week or so. So, 
things were pretty good around the house, just me and Mom. I was happy, 
except when she had those "heart-to-heart" talks with me. 

Mom was always criticizing the way young people behaved. "like animals," she 
would tell me, "and they're all going straight to hell, too. Don't you 
forget it for a second." I could never make Mom understand that she was 
drinking herself into oblivion, and it was when she was really plastered 
that she'd start in on how kids were decadent and spoiled and well, you know 
the story. 

One time, when she was just out of it, totally out of it, Mom dragged me 
down on the floor with her to pray for my soul. My soul, you got it? There 
was something pathetic about it all, and once or twice I had to stifle my 
giggles. After that, there were more lectures about boys, and how I was 
supposed to stay un-fucked until I was married, all that. 

I understood Mom; though. In her own way, she was just trying to raise me 
the way her parents raised her. She didn't realize that things have changed 
to drastically in the past two decades or so. None of those things work 
anymore, doctor. Not for a teenager growing up today, they don't. 

And me? I'm no different from the rest of the girls I know, or knew back 
then when I was fourteen. I was curious about a lot of things and I wanted 
to have a good time. 

One of the things I was most curious about was sex! At fourteen, there was 
nothing more exciting to me than finding hot action and getting my cherry 
popped! There were, needless to say, lots of guys who were interested in 
getting in my pants, but since Mom kept me home a lot, and didn't let me 
socialize too heavily, there were very few instances that I could ever get 
sex together with anyone I wanted. 

like every other fourteen-year-old I knew at school, I was also curious 
about drugs. And at my high school, everyone but everyone had "drug fever," 
as they called it. Those kids were dropping everything imaginable, from 
sleeping pills to diet pills, all that stuff, doc. 

Now, I wasn't into any of the heavy-duty stuff, you understand, I just 
thought it was much too dangerous for a kid my age to be messing around 
with. I would never try LSD or that kind of thing, not until I was older at 
least, and knew what I was doing. 

But pot! Wow, what a thrill. I was smoking just as much as anyone I knew, 
and I loved it. Everyone--likes to have a good time, doctor. Everyone needs 
to let go. After seeing what liquor did to my family, I decided very early 
not to let that happen to me at all! I knew that there was a lot about pot 
that wasn't known, but I knew damn well it couldn't be as bad as booze. So, 
I would come home in the afternoon, roll a wet towel under the door so Mom 
wouldn't smell it and light up a joint the first thing. 

Of course, when I smoke, I get really horny. Especially at fourteen, when I 
had never been fucked before. I'd usually masturbate for awhile after I came 
home from school, you know, just lying on the bed and fingering my hole 
while I dreamed of lots and lots of sex with guys I knew who were dying, 
literally dying to fuck me. 

Sometimes, I'd tease myself to see how long I could go-or just how many 
times I could come in one afternoon. While Mom was downstairs, watching 
television, I would be upstairs bouncing from one orgasm to the next, 
enjoying myself as I hoped others would enjoy me one day-when I could really 
get into sex with all the boys I knew. 

I never expected Mom to find me masturbating. I could usually keep my door 
shut and never worry about a thing Mom always knocked or called me before 
she walked in. 

But not that day, doctor. I was bringing myself off for the fourth time, in 
the midst of complete and total pleasure, when in walks Mom! And not looking 
very happy either. 

I was lying there, so frozen with embarrassment, I couldn't even take my 
fingers out of my hole. Mom had been drinking, I knew, because she was 
propped up against the doorjamb and her hair was frizzy and sticking on all 
sides like the Bride of Frankenstein. Mom looked like warmed-over death, to 
be exact, doctor. And I knew she wasn't going to be too happy about me. 

"What are you doin, Debbie?" she said, her bloodshot eyes wandering around 
the room. "What's that funny smell in here?" 

"Mom! Why didn't you knock?" I asked, slowly pulling my panties up around my 
crotch. Except for those panties, I was totally naked in front of Mom! 

"You've been smoking marijuana, haven't you?" she asked. "You've been doing 
things to your body, haven't you?" 

"Mom, now calm down," I said, hoping to avoid another collision with Mom 
over drugs and sex. She hadn't known about me smoking pot, ever. I don't 
think she ever suspected a thing until that day she caught me red-handed, or 
wet-handed, I should say. 

Mom was standing, well, leaning, not saying a word. I noticed she was 
staring at my crotch really hard, then her eyes would shift back and forth 
from my panties to the ounce of grass that was lying on my nightstand along 
with a pipe! 

I hadn't bothered to put it away, since Mom would never have barged in on my 
like that. But was I ever wrong. I was just as good as dead. 

"I thought you were different," she said, almost crying," I thought I had 
brought you up to be a good little girl. But look at you, messing your mind 
up like that? Can you hear me, Debbie? Do you understand me?" 

"Sure, Mom. I can understand you perfectly. Are you okay?" I asked. I knew 
that she might just fall down if she tried to move. I thought I had better 
try to take her to her room and let her lie down for awhile. 

"No, you can't, can you? You're all messed up on drugs, just like everyone 
else, you little cunt!" 

"Mom! Don't say things like that! How could you?" I couldn't believe that my 
mother had said that to me, calling me that name. But then, she was really 
out of it. "Let's go back to your room," I said, taking her arm. "I think 
you need to rest!" 

"Get your filthy hands away from me, Debbie!" she yelled, and then she 
slapped me something not out of the ordinary. 

But what she did afterwards blew my mind completely. I tried to move her 
from the doorjamb, but she stayed where she was, refusing to let go of the 
door! "Come on, Mom! I'm not going to leave you here like this!" 

"Oh, my poor darling! What has happened to you?" she cried, trying to make 
me feel bad, I knew her game. 

"Mom, nothing has happened to me!" I pleaded. "Now will you come on, or will 
I have to put you on my bed?" 

And that's when she attacked me, doctor. Just like my father had attacked 
me, only I didn't realize at first what she was up to. She kinda fell into 
my arms and cried for awhile. She looked so pitiful that I couldn't resist 
trying to make her feel better. 

I eased her to the floor, and took her head in my hands, pressing it to my 
breasts. She sobbed uncontrollably, while I tried to comfort her-no use, 
doctor! I could feel her hands snaking up and down my back, very sensual 
stroking that put me off for a minute. 

But when she kissed me, I freaked out all together. I kiss my Mom all the 
time, but not like that. 

She slipped her tongue between my lips and licked my teeth, then my tongue 
as I tried to push her away. Mom grabbed my titties and began to fondle them 
I knew she was really whacked-out. 

"Mom! Stop it! This isn't the way you should behave!" All those lectures 
about misbehaving, and Mom was practically trying to frig me! At the time, I 
didn't know that much about lesbians, but I had had some encounters with 
girlfriends when I was twelve. I never suspected my mother to be hot for me, 
though. That really freaked me out for days on end. 

"Mom! Let me go, dammit!" I screamed. And then, after practically prying her 
away from my tits, I managed to escape. 

When I returned to my room, Mom was still there, passed-out on the floor. I 
called my father, but I couldn't tell him what had happened. I just 
couldn't. When he offered to come by and talk to me, I just told him to 
forget it, that it was nothing too important. 

We had to end our session at this time, because of other appointments, and 
also because Debbie had a class at three o'clock. After arranging an 
appointment for the next week, I studied my notes and tape recordings until 
a picture began to form. One which was somewhat frightening, but hopeful at 
the same time, at least for Debbie's problem. 

INTERVIEW TWO 

Debbie returned on time for her next appointment. I will save further 
commentary for the conclusion, as what Debbie had to say is much more 
important than any analysis. 

Doctor, I really hate to ask you this, but ... do you think I could have one 
of your cigarettes? 

Thanks a lot. I usually don't smoke, but I'm very nervous today. I've been 
thinking about how I would tell you the rest of my story, about Mom. And 
several times, while I was writing things down last week, so I wouldn't 
forget, I broke down and cried. I wasn't going to come back this week, but I 
know that if I really want help with my sexual problem, I'll have to tell 
you everything, isn't that right? 

I went out last night with a really neat guy, but it was the same story all 
over again. I was even feeling really hot for him ... until we took off our 
clothes and got in the bed. Then, I froze up like an iceberg, and Jimmy, 
that's the guy's name, wasn't very pleased with my performance. He fucked 
me, alright, but I didn't enjoy it at all. What am I going to do about this? 
I'm too pretty and too sexy to live with this for the rest of my life! I'll 
go crazy, I know. I might even end up like Mom! 

The more I think about it, doctor, the more I'm convinced: Mom wasn't 
getting enough sex, therefore she was really unhappy. And something else 
I've considered, in fact, I'm pretty damn sure is true: Mom was a latent 
lesbian, and she was really hot for me. 

She would never admit it, though. She couldn't. She's from another era, or 
something. I know lots of lesbians, or girls who are into that right now, 
and they seem to think that there's nothing wrong with what they do. But 
then, they don't beat each other or tie each other down-and they don't 
molest their children, either. That's what Mom did to me, doctor. 

After that first encounter with Mom, she cooled it for awhile, and so did I. 
I didn't smoke any more pot inside the house, that was the only way she 
could tell if I was stoned or not. 

But I couldn't stop masturbating, doctor. Well, that was easy enough I'd 
just lock my door at night and save my pleasure for later, when Mom was dead 
drunk or something. 

I thought that everything would be okay, and it was. For about six months, 
Mom didn't hassle me at all, she never came onto me again either. I had lots 
of opportunities to tell my father about it, but I didn't. I didn't want to 
upset him, doctor. 

One day, when I had just turned fifteen, I told my father that I was 
considering going to art school when I left high school because I was doing 
so well in my drawing classes, and I thought it would be a career I would 
really enjoy. Dad was really pleased, and gave me his blessings. 

But not Mom! No sir! She immediately broke down, called me a whore and a 
slut for even considering such a thing. 

"So, you want to be an artist, huh? Well, I'm not going to let you!" 

"Why?" 

"Because, I won't let you grow up in that type of environment! I won't let 
you become a pervert. And all artists are perverts, Debbie! They're sick, 
sick, sick! No!" 

I didn't press the issue, and I didn't need to. I knew damn well that I'd do 
what I pleased when I went to college, but when Mom suggested that I drop my 
art courses at high school, I told her flat out "NO!! ! " 

Well, needless to say, there was a lot of friction in the house already. Mom 
wasn't letting me go out or anything I was practically trapped inside the 
house until she passed-out or went to sleep. Then, I would usually leave and 
go where I wanted to. Mom would always have something to say about it, 
though. 

Now, about the same time, I was really involved with this guy, David, who 
was in my art class at school. He was really crazy about me, too, 'cause he 
was always making lewd comments during class, and he even offered to take me 
out! 

A date! A legitimate date, at last! Maybe, at last, I would get laid and by 
someone who really turned me on! I had played with him before, you know, 
gotten him hot. And I knew" he had a big cock, too. I could feel it inside 
his pants. 

"Mom," I said, "I'm going out tonight." 

"With whom?" 

"With a guy, Mom. I'm going out on a date, got that?" 

"No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no!! " 

I just ignored her, doctor. There wasn't much she could do if I decided to 
go out. There just wasn't any excuse-it was Friday night, I didn't have any 
school the next day-and I wasn't going to spend another weekend alone with 
Mom, listening to her tired rap about teenage sluts! 

"Say, "no" all you want, Mom. I think it's about time you let me go out with 
a guy!" 

"You know why you really want to go out, don't yous" she said. 

"Yeah! Because I'm lonely!" 

"No, that's not the reason," she snarled, "you want to go out because you 
want to behave like a slut. You want to go out and have sex like an animal 
in the back seat of some car. I'm not going to let you do that to yourself, 
Debbie! No daughter of mine is going to be a whore!" 

I didn't listen to anymore of what she had to say, I just calmly walked 
upstairs and took a shower. While I waited for my hair to dry, I sorted 
through the closet for something really nice to wear. I wanted to impress 
David, just as much as I wanted to fuck him. My heart was pounding with 
excitement whenever I thought about the thrills I would get from him, or the 
wonderful things I could do to him, too! 

I was standing naked, not a stitch of clothing on my voluptuous body. One 
minute I was planning what sweater to wear, and the next-I was down on the 
floor! 

Mom had sneaked up behind me, and tackled me like a quarterback! She clawed 
me with her fingernails even stabbing me in the crotch. 

I kicked and screamed like ... well, like a person who was being raped! 
Because I knew that's what Mom would do to me, after she finished beating 
me! 

She was screaming at the top of her lungs, calling me every name in the 
slang dictionary! Slut, whore, trollop-I was really fed up! "Sick, sick, 
sick!" she screamed. "You're sick, Debbie! I won't let this happen to you. 
You won't be the devil's harlot!" 

Mom Jiad really done some damage to my body, doctor. There were long, red 
scratch marks, some of them were deep and bleeding, all over my belly, my 
thighs and my tits! I just looked at myself, knowing that now I couldn't go 
out with David even if I did escape from Mom. 

"Cunt! That's all you are, Debbie!" she screamed, picking up a heavy lamp on 
my nightstand. "A cunt! An evil, sick cunt!" 

That's the last I remember, doctor. Mom cracked my skull open with that 
lamp, not literally but I didn't get up from the floor after she hit me. I 
thought the world had come to an end for me. I was seriously considering 
suicide either that or killing Mom! 

Before she killed me! Doctor, I was terrified of my mother then, especially 
when she started tearing up my sheets into long strips. I thought she was 
nuts, yeah! And I thought that she would probably destroy me! 

"I won't let this happen to you, Debbie! I've tried to help you, but nothing 
seems to work, does it?" I wasn't unconscious, doctor, I just couldn't move! 
All that abuse, and with it the tearing of my bed sheets behind it. 

"I'm doing this for your own good, Debbie! You'll thank me later, really. 
I'm going to pray for you, day and night, until you see the error of your 
ways, and you are filled with the holy spirit!" 

Her religion! Jesus! The whole trip! Mom was always trying to force it down 
my throat! Now I realized exactly how sick the woman was. 

She grabbed both of my bleeding arms and pulled them behind my back. "You'll 
thank me later, Debbie! You know deep down in your soul that I'm doing the 
right thing!" Doctor, she was tying my hands behind my back! I could feel 
those knots pinching my wrists! 

"Mom! Mom! Please! Don't do this to me! Leave me alone!" I guess I must have 
gone through that for awhile, I was practically delirious with rage and 
fear. 

"Shut up, Debbie!" she yelled. When I refused, still tearing against the 
bonds, she stuffed some of the larger portion of the bed sheet into my 
mouth, and gagged me! 

"I don't know any other way to keep you home, keep you away from sin, 
Debbie! You'll thank me for this, someday! Really, you'll thank me!" 

That's the only other thing she said, doctor. "You'll thank me!" I was so 
frightened, my body was rigid and trembling. Mom just stood over me, looking 
like she usually did when she was plastered red eyes, uncombed 
hair--mumbling the same thing over and over. "You'll thank me!" 

She knelt to the floor and draped her fingers across my forehead, like she 
did when I had a fever. "Poor Debbie! So young, so beautiful! The devil 
wants you, Debbie! But I won't let him have you! NEVER!" 

I was choking on that gag, trying to plead with my eyes. But Mom was blind 
to anything but her own delusions, doctor. When she fondled my tits, I knew 
exactly what she had in mind. Mom was coming onto me again-and there wasn't 
anything I could do about it! 

"Such a lovely body and you're trying your best to destroy it, aren't you?" 
she said, caressing my tits. I wanted to puke, doctor. I wanted to throw up. 
But if I had, I would have probably choked to death on my own vomit, and Mom 
would have let me, too! 

"It's too bad," she said, "that you have to destroy yourself like this!" Can 
you imagine my mother, telling me that I was sick! For a minute, I thought I 
could slip my wrists from the knots, but every time I tried it they seemed 
to grow even tighter! 

And then, Mom did something I couldn't believe, but I guess I should have 
known she would do it! She. . . she sucked my tits, doctor. She put her 
mouth to my breast and licked it with hot kisses, like I was her lover! 

She planted kisses all over my body, doctor. She licked every inch of me, 
right down to the tips of my toes. It was terrible, doctor. I still can't 
put it out of my mind! 

She even fingered my twat-and sucked it, too! I remember how repulsive it 
was, so repulsive. Mom stuck her tongue into my twat, and sucked it like a 
thirsty dog! 

I kicked my legs up in the air, but Mom slapped me some more, then sat on my 
knees with all her weight. It was then that she poked her fingers into my 
cunt, and when I felt her sharp nails up against my hymen I feared the 
worst! 

I hoped and prayed that I would faint rather than experience what Mom had in 
store. But I didn't, doctor. I wasn't spared a moment of pain. 

To make it all very simple, doctor ... Mom busted my hymen with her fingers, 
tearing into my cherry with those sharp fingernails! 

Is there anymore to tell? She raped me, yes. I have to accept that now, and 
I have. There's really not much more of to say. Mom left me in my room for 
days I didn't sleep the entire time. I kept thinking that she might have 
done something terrible to herself you know, after she realized what she had 
done to me. Or maybe she had too much to drink and died! It happens, doctor. 
My father almost died of alcohol poisoning. And if she was incapable of 
moving, I would never be discovered. I would just die, left alone to rot in 
my bedroom. 

Thank God my father still kept a set of keys to the house. He found Mom 
downstairs, in a daze. They say she's catatonic, doctor. Dad said she looked 
like a mannequin, you know, she wouldn't move-not even when he shook her. 

And then he found me! Tied and gagged in the bedroom. It took me many weeks 
to get over my experience, doctor. And still, I'm still haunted by it-I 
can't even get up enough nerve to visit Mom in the hospital. I won't go, 
even when Dad threatens to cut off my support! But I think he really 
understands how I feel. After what Mom did to me, I don't even really 
consider her a person anymore. Just l memory, some pleasant, but mostly a 
bad dream. One that won't go away. 

I know that this is what has fucked me up sexually, I'm not that dumb. I 
know it has, and I want to get over my problem. But whenever I'm in bed with 
a guy, and he puts it to me-I think of Mom and the way she raped me that 
night. Then, I freeze up inside. I try to pretend I'm really enjoying 
myself, but it never works. 

Doctor, you've got to help me with this. I can't spend the rest of my life 
this way. I need loving, caring, just like everyone else. But I need sex, 
too. Is that too much to ask? 

CONCLUSION 

No, it isn't. I have been counseling Debbie for many months, but there is 
very little that therapy can do in this case. She can understand her 
problem, and I can ask the right questions to guide her. 

But what Debbie will need to realize her full sexual potential is the warmth 
and love of an understanding man. Someone who will take time and be patient, 
someone who can help her gently and carefully to achieving sexual 
satisfaction. I have no doubts that this will eventually happen, considering 
Debbie's attractiveness and intelligence. But when? This is something which 
I cannot bring about. 

CASE HISTORY FIVE 

SUBJECT: Sandra B. AGE: Eighteen 

INTERVIEW ONE 

Sandra was, up until the time she reached the age of thirteen, a perfectly 
well-adjusted child. What followed throughout her teen years drastically 
changed her life. 

She was, in all respects, the perfect example of what most adults consider 
the ideal young girl. Sandra's family life, however, was far from ideal, and 
it was this which brought her to therapy. Here is her interesting story, 
unedited as it appears in my original transcript. 

Doctor, I really can't hide from it anymore, I have to admit it before I go 
crazy: I am in love with my father. 

Most girls love their daddies, and I'm no exception. But most girls don't 
love their daddies the way I love mine, that's for sure. For years, I have 
kept it a secret but not any longer. Not since daddy decided to make me his 
slave! 

Yes, that's exactly what I said, and that's exactly what he has done. Daddy 
is convinced that I'm nothing more to him than his sex-slave and that's how 
he treats me, too. 

I think he's going too far with this game of his, that's what I think. It 
was one thing for him to sneak into my room late at night and play with me. 
But it's another thing to keep me prisoner. Let me try to explain this, 
doctor. I may need some help. 

It all started when I was only thirteen, a very good year in my life. For 
one, I was just beginning to blossom into a beautiful young girl. By looking 
at me now, you can't deny that at all, can you? I know that I'm sexy-I know 
that I'm really hot, I don't kid around. But at thirteen, I was a knockout. 

My little tits were beginning to bud and every day I would notice more and 
more pubic hair covering my delicious pussy. I lost all my baby fat, well, 
most of it, and I was shaping up very, very well. I drew glances from all 
sorts of guys, especially teachers at school. 

And, though I could have never believed it, from Daddy! From the time I 
reached thirteen, I had noticed that Daddy was spending a lot more time with 
me than before, taking me to movies, taking me to dinner. We used to have 
long conversations about life and love, but I was so naive at the time I 
thought he was just trying to steer me in the right direction, like a good 
parent should. 

When Mom and Dad were divorced, I was placed in my mother's custody, but I 
could see Daddy on weekends, or anytime I really wanted to. And I still do, 
though not always by choice. No, Mom still doesn't know about our 
relationship, but I think she suspects something, especially when I go up to 
Daddy's summer house in Stockbridge and stay for weeks on end! 

When I was thirteen, though, Mom and Daddy were still happily married, or at 
least they were still living together. They weren't sleeping together, that 
much I know. Daddy spent most of his time on the living room couch or in my 
bed, depending on how horny he was. 

I remember the first time he ever made me! I was still a virgin, doctor. An 
innocent flower. It was a summer night, and there was a thunderstorm going 
on outside. I couldn't sleep very well that evening, I remember. And neither 
could Daddy! 

"Sandra? Are you awake, honey?" I heard him ask. 

"Yes," Daddy?" I answered in a whisper. "Can I come in?" 

"Sure." I got up and threw on my robe. The door wasn't locked, but Daddy 
waited for me to open it just the same. He always respected my privacy ... 
just as much as he respected my body! 

"What's wrong, Daddy? Can't sleep?" 

"No, I can't. Too much noise outside," he said. "I thought you might be up." 

"I can't sleep either," I said. But it wasn't because of the noise. It was 
because I was horny! 

I had spent most of the evening masturbating, sticking my fingers up my twat 
and bringing myself off. I couldn't do very much, though. Most of my orgasms 
came from my imagination. 

"Well, I just thought I'd come up and talk to you for awhile," he said, 
taking a seat next to me on the bed. "It's been awhile since I've even seen 
you." 

"Yeah, Daddy! I've missed you too." Daddy had been away on business, and I 
really did miss him a lot! 

"So, how are things going for you now?" he asked, "How's your life?" 

"Pretty good, Daddy! I'm okay, except that 

I've got too much energy!" Sexual energy, doctor. I was horny day and night. 

"Yeah, I remember how it was when I was thirteen, but then, it must be 
different for a little girl, huh?" 

"Aw, come on, Daddy! I'm not little anymore. I'm growing up!" 

"Yes, yes, yes. So you are, Sandra. So you are." I noticed a funny gleam in 
his eye when he said that, and he winked at me when he rubbed my shoulders. 

"And how are things with you, Daddy?" I asked. "What's happening with you 
these days?" 

"Well, not very much, Debbie. I'm doing well, my job is fine." He stopped 
then, and I knew he was thinking about Mom. He didn't want to talk about 
her, though. 

"It's okay, Daddy! I know you must have problems. You don't have to talk 
about them if you don't want to." 

"I guess," he said, "I shouldn't bother you with my problems. I'm sure 
you've got enough of your own." 

"Well, I just don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, that's all," I 
said, giving him a little kiss on the forehead. 

What followed was unbelievable. "Kiss me again, Sandra. On the mouth!" 

"What?" 

"Come on, Sandra. Just a little peck on the lips, like you used to kiss me 
when you were little!" 

"Okay!" I agreed. I placed my lips to his and gave him a little kiss. 

Until he grabbed me, that is. And smothered me with his long, wet, fat 
tongue! Daddy held me tight, my tits were rubbing up against the front of 
his shirt. His tongue slithered around the inside of my mouth, fluttering 
and darting with my own until I felt dizzy and weak. And horny, doctor! Even 
that very first time, I was horny for my father. I wanted him, just as much 
as he wanted me! 

His hand snaked under my robe and Daddy grabbed my luscious tits. "Oh, baby! 
They're so big for a little girl. They're so hot, too!" 

"Oh, Daddy! Daddy! Do that again," I pleaded. But Daddy did more than just 
squeeze my tits, doctor. He sucked them! 

I fell against the mattress and pulled Daddy's strong body on top of me. His 
mouth was grabbing my tit, sucking the milk out of it! My little nipples 
grew stiff and hot and my little slit down there bubbled over with hot, wet 
cream. Soon, Daddy had me so hot and so wet that I had another orgasm. And 
another, and another, just while Daddy sucked my titties. It was like 
nothing I had ever felt before. This was my first experience with a guy and 
the guy was my own father! 

"Oh, Sandra! Oooooh, you're so hot, aren't you?" 

"Kiss me, Daddy!" I pleaded. "Kiss me, just like you did before!" I loved to 
feel his thick tongue against mine and I'd suck it just like a prick! 

"I'll kiss you, Sandra! But not on the mouth. I wanna kiss your pussy lips!" 
And sure enough, Daddy crawled over my body and stuck his head in between my 
legs! 

I couldn't believe the things he did to me that night, doctor. After all, I 
had never played around with a guy before, in fact, I hadn't played around 
with anyone ever before. Masturbation was the extent of my experience, 
doctor. But I knew masturbation was a pitiful substitute for the real thing 
after Daddy had his way with me! 

I wiggled and writhed against the mattress as Daddy stuck his wet tongue up 
to my pussy and licked it all over. Then he made sputtering noises against 
my little slit I felt like there was a boat motor in between my legs! Then, 
Daddy decided to get a real good taste of my honey, so he rolled his tongue 
up into my cunt and tickled the inside of my pussy until I had another 
orgasm! 

Now, all during this time, I kinda had the thought that something wasn't 
right about all of this. Mom had told me once or twice that members of the 
same family didn't marry. But never did she say anything about fucking! And 
that's what I wanted to do with Daddy! I wanted him to bust my cherry wide 
open, and make me feel like a real woman. The woman that I wanted to be! 

"How could I?" I asked. "How could I ever forget your big cock, and the 
first time I ever sucked it? Or took it up my hole? You're wonderful, Daddy! 
You know that I love you!" 

"How many other guys have you been going out with, now that I've moved?" he 
asked. 

"Well, I don't think you'd want to hear about it," I said, "if it really 
bothers you." 

"Tell me, Sandra," he said gruffly. "I want to know!" 

"Well, there have been a lot, Daddy." 

"How many?" 

"Well, five or six ... three that I've been seeing regularly." 

"And since when did I tell you that you could fuck anyone you damn pleased, 
huh? Since when did you decide that you weren't Daddy's little girl anymore, 
huh?" 

"Aw, come on, Daddy! I can't stay up here with you all the time. I have lots 
of spare time on my hands, and I'm horny! I have to do something!" Daddy 
didn't look too pleased. 

"Do you own me, is that what you're trying to tell me?" 

"You better believe it, Sandra. I'm your Daddy, you understand? And you're 
my daughter. You have to learn to obey your father, Sandra. You need some 
discipline!" 

I didn't know what he meant by that remark, doctor. Daddy had never once hit 
me or hurt me in his life. "You belong to me, Sandra. You have since you 
were thirteen. And I intend to keep it that way." 

"Well, what happens when I decide to get married or something?" 

"I'll still expect you to do what I want, when I want," he said, his voice 
really gruff and harsh. I could feel his cock pounding against my leg as it 
grew thick and stiff inside his pants. "like right now!" 

"That's what I came up here for, Daddy. To get it on with you." 

"Stand over in that corner, Sandra. Go on, move your ass." Daddy was 
pointing to the left corner of the room. "Take off your clothes, and 
masturbate for me." 

I didn't mind doing that. I always loved to finger my hole for Daddy, 
because it got him hotter than anything I could think of. "Sure, Daddy!" 

"Take 'em off slow, baby. Real slow. like you were doing a strip-tease for 
Daddy." 

I did just as he asked, my fingers slowly tugging at my halter. I eased the 
slinky shirt up around my tits, and gave Daddy a good look at my body. Then, 
I pulled it up over my head, and tossed it at his face. 

"There. You like that?" I asked, giggling. 

"Take off your shorts, Sandra. Get your ass out of those hot-pants, right 
now!" 

Doctor, he was practically yelling at me, throwing his commands around in a 
tone of voice I was not used to. "Don't yell, Daddy! You know I love to 
tease you." 

"Yeah, I know you do. Now get out of those hot-pants, and let me see your 
pussy lips." 

I did just what he told me to do, doctor. Within seconds, I had those 
hot-pants from around my crotch. They were soiled and wet with my dripping 
cunt juices, and when I threw them at Daddy, he pressed them right up to his 
nose and inhaled. 

"Now, Sandra. I want you to get down on your knees and crawl over here to 
me," he demanded. 

"What?" 

"You heard me! Get down on your knees and crawl, cunt!" 

Well, that was going a little too far, don't you think? I mean, I would do 
practically anything for Daddy. As long as Daddy treated me nice, as he 
always did. But there was something really menacing about the way he talked 
to me, as if he were really mad. 

"Why don't you just come over here," I suggested, "and get a piece of my 
pussy!" 

"Shut up! Get down on all fours and crawl over here!" He stood up from the 
couch and crossed his powerful arms against his chest. I could almost see 
smoke pouring from his nostrils, and his face was red and scowling. 

"Daddy?" I asked, "What is going on?" 

"You'll find out, cunt! Now get over here!" 

I realized that this was debasing, that Daddy was being cruel to me. "I'm 
not, Daddy. If you want a slave, you'll have to find someone else. No 
thanks." I was almost to the point of tears, but Daddy didn't say a word. 

On my way to the bathroom, he grabbed me, doctor. My father grabbed me from 
behind ... by my tits! 

"Daddy! Leggo! You're hurting me!" 

"Good! Good, that's exactly what I want to. do!" he hissed, his hot breath 
against my neck. 

"I want to hurt you, baby! Because only through pain will you learn your 
lesson. You can't cut out on Daddy without suffering the consequences, now 
can you? Daddy is very, very jealous of his little girl." I could hear him 
breathing heavily, and his fingers were tearing at my firm tit meat, like he 
wanted to rip them off my chest! 

"Daddy! Cool it, will you?" I cried. He let go of me, alright. When he 
pushed me to the floor! 

"No, Sandra. I won't. In fact, I'm going to get a lot hotter before I'm 
finished with you. Now get up and let's get moving!" 

I was shaking as I rose from the floor. "Where are we going, Daddy?" I 
asked, not really believing that his act was for real. It was so un-like 
Daddy to treat me this way. Or anyone, for that matter. He would fight with 
Mom, but he never once called her a cunt! 

"We're going down to the basement, Sandra. I have a little surprise for 
you." He was walking behind me, making sure I couldn't run away without him 
grabbing me. We descended the stairs to the cellar, but Daddy kept the 
lights shut off until we were at the bottom. 

"Daddy, I can't see anything! Are you still there?" 

There was no answer. But now, I could hear him breathing really hard, like 
he was having a heart attack or something. I could feel his body heat, but 
still he wouldn't say anything to me. "Daddy? What are you doing?" 

"Give me your hands, baby!" he demanded. I could tell from his voice that he 
was standing not too far from me, facing me as he spoke. "Stretch out your 
hands and point them towards me." 

I stretched out my arms, just like he told me. Then, before I even knew what 
had happened, I heard something click, something metallic. 

Daddy had handcuffed me! 

"Is this some sort of joke, Daddy?" I asked. "What the fuck are you all 
about, anyway?" 

"This!" he said, shaking my bound hands. "You're just my little sex-slave 
now, Sandra. And I'm going to keep you this way the entire time you stay 
with me." 

"Bullshit!" I said. 'Take these fucking things off of me!" 

"Shut up!" he hollered. "Shut up and listen real good. This basement is your 
home now, Sandra. This is where you're going to spend the rest of your 
summer vacation, every single minute." 

"You can't do this to me, Daddy!" I cried. I was still not convinced that he 
could do something so hideous, so vile as this. "You don't want to hurt me." 

"No, I don't. I'm just going to keep you out of trouble, that's all. I want 
you to learn who is your master. Me, Daddy, that's who!" 

Doctor, I could feel his cock pounding with blood as he stepped closer to 
me. He raised my arms and dropped them around his neck. He stepped close to 
me, then threatened me again as he pressed his body next to mine. 

"And your master can do anything goddamn thing he wants to you, got that? I 
can fuck you anytime I want. I just want you to know what's happening to 
you, Sandra. Just want to make sure you've got it all clear in your little 
head." 

What else is there to say, doctor? My father kept me in the basement, 
handcuffed and unable to escape in the dark, for days. Of course, he fed me 
and took care of me, but I didn't dig it at all. 

Except when he fucked me, and then I really thought I was his slave! I 
didn't mind too much then, like I said . ... Daddy's the best lay I ever 
had! 

And the thing is, my problem, I can't let myself go! I can't leave Daddy, 
even when I know he will abuse me. No, he doesn't beat me, he doesn't 
torture me ... he just keeps me all to himself. And you know what? 

I think I really like it! 

CONCLUSION 

In cases of reported incest, it is very rare indeed to find actual long-term 
relationships. It is stranger still to find actual cases of father-daughter 
incest, since most of the time the man involved is the step-father, rather 
than the original parent. 

I had never encountered a case like this before, and I was somewhat put off. 
Sandra came to me with a problem, a specific one: her father was keeping her 
cut off from other sexual relationships. And yet, in concluding her story, 
she admitted actually enjoying her possession. 

I did ask her what she thought would happen when she fell in love with 
another man. What would happen when her father grew older and was no longer 
physically attractive to her? 

Sandra said only that she would worry about it in the future, and that it 
was of no concern to her now. 

Advising her to think more seriously about her future sex life, I could only 
admit that she needed no therapy. How could I treat a patient who admits she 
has no problems? Sandra came to me on her own, I had to power, either 
legally or morally to convince her of the dangers involved. 

One would hope that Sandra will come around, and leave her father to find 
someone else to abuse. Until then, there is very little anyone can do for 
her. She loves her father ... and obviously Daddy loves her, too. 

CASE HISTORY SIX 

SUBJECT: Barbara S. AGE: Nineteen 

INTERVIEW ONE 

Sometimes parents are quick to forget that children, especially young 
children, need more than the necessities to develop fully into 
well-integrated personalities. They need love, the definition of which I 
will not deal with in this space. 

In Barbara's case, the attractive young miss was given more than just love: 
her stepfather lusted for her from the time she was fourteen. And added to 
this, the man also demanded strange actions from his stepdaughter for his 
satisfaction. Here, in Barbara's own words, is the bizarre story of her 
relationship with "Dad." 

Hello, doctor. How do you like being a shrink, I mean, it must be terribly 
rewarding, isn't it? I don't know whether I should be seeing a psychiatrist 
or not, since I think my problems are meant for a witch-doctor. 

Doctor, for most of my life I've felt that I was absolutely normal. I'm 
really no different from anyone else my age, maybe a little better looking 
though. Yeah, I'm considered quite a "dish" as my boyfriend puts it. I've 
been living with him for four months at college, and we're very tight. Sure, 
I see other guys and we get into group sex once in awhile, but I really do 
love Tod. Other than that, I'm just your regular, average sociology major. 
No heavy drugs, no excessive drinking. 

Well, at least I thought so, anyway. Until about a month ago, when I began 
to have these nightmares. 

They're really difficult to explain, so I have to take my time, okay? You 
see, when I make love to Tod, I really get excited. But after it's all over, 
the only thing I can do is rest. For at least thirty minutes or so, until I 
can recover from my climaxes. And it's when I'm asleep that my mind, or 
shall I say my "soul" leaves my body. 

It's really freaky, I know. I'm not sure what causes it, but I feel very 
strange about it ... like I'm not ever going to come back. I can see the 
room around me, I can even see myself in bed, next to Tod. And in a way, the 
feeling is exhilarating, like you might be flying. But if I stay "out there" 
too long, then things become really unfamiliar cold, and strange. Really 
creepy. 

I try to wake up, but my body freezes solid, like I was paralyzed. And then, 
it hits me that I can't wake up-I can't ever get inside my bady again. I try 
to scream for Tod, but I can't make a sound. Until something comes over me, 
and with all my might I scream out a name. Not Tod's, though. 

I scream for my stepfather. Mark. 

That's why I came to you, doctor. Because of Mark. I really believe that he 
has something to do with these nightmares ... since we had an encounter a 
few months ago. A sexual encounter, while my mother was in the hospital. 

Mom had come down with the Gilliame-Barre syndrome, after she had her 
swine-flu shot, of course. We were both really worried about her, and also I 
had the shot, so I was afraid too. Yes, that's the disease that paralyzes 
you, and though she's completely recovered, she still feels weak at times. I 
of course, hurried home from school to see her-Mark and I practically lived 
in her hospital room. 

Except, of course, for one evening. And what a difference that evening made, 
doctor. I feel strange about it even still. 

Mark moved in with us five years ago, after he married my mother. My real 
father was killed about three years before he drank himself to death, 
doctor. His liver just burned out. That had a really heavy effect on my life 
when I was little, because I really liked my father. 

But time takes care of things like that, and when Mark moved in, I didn't 
blame Mom for getting together with him one bit. He's a really handsome guy, 
doctor. Very mysterious, too, like someone who had a deep, dark secret. 

Well, he had a secret alright. Me. And for four years, I didn't know a thing 
about it. I knew he liked to talk to me a lot, and to tell you the truth, 
doctor, I used to get really turned on by him. I can remember several times 
how wet my pussy would steam up when I noticed his bulging crotch. But I 
would never have told him about my particular fantasy, and if he had any of 
his own I didn't think he would ever tell me about them, either. 

Well, doctor. How wrong I was! He behaved himself remarkably well, 
discreetly coping a feel of my tits or ass whenever the opportunity 
presented itself. At first when I was a naive young thing, I could always 
brush them off as accidents. But by the time I was sixteen, and had lost my 
virginity, I knew damn well what he wanted from me. 

Never! It was immoral. And I loved it, doctor. I was very flattered that an 
older man, especially one as good-looking as Mark, would even take an 
interest in a teenager like me. 

We made it through, alright. I never had sexual relations with my stepfather 
since I always controlled my impulses better than he could. But when my 
mother was hospitalized, I lost my control. And, I think, my sanity. 

I was at home, thumbing through a magazine or something. I was feeling 
really nostalgic about the house, my childhood, you know? I spent many happy 
years there, from the time I was born. Now I was living with a boy at 
college, and I realized how much I had grown up, so suddenly. 

I was thinking about Tod, and also all the other guys I had ever been out 
with. Especially the first time I balled. Was that ever the amateur hour, 
doctor. Neither of us knew exactly what we were doing, since we were both 
virgins. But was it ever a hot evening! I know I'll never forget it! 

While I thought about that first time, I noticed that inside I was just as 
hot as the first time, too. My little lust-bush was just soaking with juice, 
to the point where I could feel it dripping down the insides of my thighs. 
And, since I was away from Tod, no one to take care of me. 

When I get horny, doctor, I just have to come. At least a few times, just to 
wear it out of my system. If I don't, then I'll be just as hot all through 
the day until I finally get balled or masturbate. 

I can't exactly say if other people can control their horniness better than 
I can. I imagine there are some who can keep their cool-but I can't. 

And this particular afternoon, I had to bring myself over the top. It was 
past the point of luxury. It was a necessity! I didn't bother to undress, 
either. I just wiggled my fingers down my jeans, and stroked my pussy until 
it purred like a tiger. 

My fingers were becoming sticky and slippery from all that cream that leaked 
out onto my panties. As I slipped my longest finger into my twat, I closed 
my eyes and thought of Tod with his thick, drooling cock bulging in his 
pants. In my mind's eye, I mentally undressed him, re-dressed him, moved him 
into a thousand of my favorite positions ... all the while I fingered my 
hole until it was hot as a furnace. I was going to tease myself for the 
whole afternoon, and come buckets of my cream. As hot as I was, I knew it 
would be at least a gallon of come to leak from my core. 

Since I was alone in the house, I figured that I could make just as many 
noises as I wanted to. I just love to moan and groan while I'm bringing 
myself off, doctor. Because I can hear Tod moaning along with me, just like 
we were together again. 

I suppose I was making quite a bit of noise, alright, since I didn't seem to 
hear Mark come in at all. I didn't hear him pull up into the driveway, and I 
didn't see his car outside, either. 

But there he was, standing in the other corner of the living room, staring 
at me like a wild-man. I looked up and freaked--I didn't recognize him at 
first! His eyes were bulging out of their sockets, bloodshot and crossed. 
His tongue was almost hanging out of his mouth while he kept watching me. 

And his crotch was a massive bulge of squirming, pulsating meat. A lot of 
it, doctor. Hot and ready for me, anytime I wanted it. 

"Oh, Mark! It's only you," I sighed, thinking at first he was an intruder. 
In a way, of course, he was-invading my privacy as it were. But I had no 
business masturbating on the floor either. 

"Oh, er ... uh Barbara! Well, hello! Didn't expect to find you here, that's 
for sure!" Ha! 

He was probably watching from a window before he came in! I know Mark, 
doctor. He would do something like that. 

"How is Mom?" I asked, regaining my composure. I was on the floor still, but 
with my legs drawn up in front of my tits. "Any change?" 

"Yeah. She'll be home in another week," he said, "she's making a lot of 
progress." 

Well, doctor. The conversation ended at that point. I was so happy to hear 
the good news about Mom, that I got up from the floor and ran to Mark 
throwing out my arms to hold him. 

It must have been an impulse that slipped by me, doctor. Because I knew that 
he had an erection! I knew that he was excited! The last thing I needed to 
do was to hold him close to my hot body. The very last thing! 

I was back on the floor again in an instant-this time with Mark! He was 
acting like a horny gorilla as his big hairy hands tore at my sweater. He 
grabbed my tits and squeezed them until I thought they would burst! He ate 
my boobs until they were wet and sloppy with saliva, and my long dark 
nipples were poking out like fiery fingers. There was nothing more I could 
do, doctor. I was helpless in my horniness, and Mark was going to get me 
off. At last, I thought, the anxiety is over. I was even glad that he was 
going to fuck me. I couldn't wait to feel his thick, meaty pecker penetrate 
my cunt. 

Under that starched white shirt, Mark has the body of an Olympic wrestler, 
doctor. And that's exactly what we were doing, too! Wrestling on the floor 
as Mark ate every inch of my hot, voluptuous body. My stepfather turned me 
into one, giant erogenous zone! If he could do that, then he could do 
anything else he damn pleased as well. 

like ball me! When I felt Mark's tongue slipping against my clit, I just 
felt like screaming with lust. . . which is exactly what I did! Just with 
his sloppy tongue, Mark put me through countless climaxes. By the time he 
was ready to stick his fat prick to me, I was halfway to the moon. 

I could feel it squirming like a snake against my dripping pussy lips, and I 
could even feel his raging pulse beating like jungle drums against my body. 
I took his cockshaft in my hand and tickled my pussy with the bulbous head. 
Those thick, pulsating veins were growing hotter to my touch. Now was the 
time to really get it on! 

"Slow, Mark!" I moaned. "Real slow! I like it real, real slow and easy!" At 
first at least, doctor. Then, I like to tear loose from all constraints, and 
let go like I was jumping from a roller-coaster! 

His slick, thick dick slithered up my juicy cunt like a green snake 
burrowing into a hole. He stretched my pussy wide open to the maximum and 
over. Tod, my boyfriend, has a big cock, doctor. And he knows how to use it 
to its full potential, too. 

But Mark! His prick was not only thicker, it was longer besides. I felt like 
I was shish kebab on a long, lean fleshy skewer that would simmer along with 
my hot flesh as he toasted my pussy walls with the friction of his massive 
dick! 

"Faster!" I cried. "Faster and harder!" It was about time to really get down 
to it! I knew that I would explode like an H-bomb. A big, mushroom cloud of 
pussy juice! 

He pumped me harder, he pumped me faster! I was practically holding onto the 
nap of the carpet to keep from flying out the window with Mark's forceful 
bucks of his hips. His huge, fiery balls were banging up against my crotch 
so fast that I couldn't distinguish them any longer. The were so swollen and 
filled with Mark's hot jizz that they seemed like billiard balls knocking 
against my flesh. 

That's when we both let go together and shook the house as we came! I could 
feel his curdled milk shoot up my cunt, and I know he felt that gallon of my 
spunk as it rushed over the top of his cockhead and onto his crotch. 

Now that I think about it, doctor, Mark may have been the best lay I ever 
had in my life. He was older than anyone else I balled ... and his maturity 
showed through that marvelous, final orgasm I experienced at the end. I just 
had to sleep, to recover from the shock waves, but when I woke up again, 
Mark was gone! 

Our first session for the afternoon had unfortunately come to a conclusion, 
but I scheduled Barbara for another hour the following week. So far, there 
was nothing in her behavior that I considered responsible for her 
nightmares, since many girls, (or more than you would think,) do have sexual 
relations with their stepparents. Barbara had made it clear when she left 
that the most important part of her story was yet to come. 

INTERVIEW TWO 

After having reviewed my notes from the last session, I guided Barbara, who 
was quite reluctant to begin, back to the day after she had first had sex 
with her father: 

Well, yeah. I didn't feel all that good about it the next day. In fact, 
doctor, I felt terribly guilty. You know, getting it on with Mom's husband, 
and my stepfather no less, while she was suffering in the hospital. I first 
realized what I had done after I discovered that Mark was gone. I didn't 
even sleep much that night, and neither did he, evidently, because I saw him 
the next day with bags under his eyes. They were from worrying, all right, 
but not about Mom. 

I knew that Mark was feeling just a guilty about our balling as I did. But I 
didn't know exactly how much he really suffered inside. We felt 
uncomfortable with each other for days afterward. And when I finally left to 
return to school that weekend, I felt somewhat relieved. 

No, I didn't tell Tod about that incident, even though he wouldn't have been 
jealous at all. Tod and I frequently have sex with other people, sometimes 
together or alone. And we enjoy our liberation ... but not as much as we 
enjoy ourselves. And the best time to enjoy is in bed together, screwing all 
through the night! 

At Thanksgiving, I once again left school to visit my parents. I was going 
to spend the holiday with Tod, but seeing as my mother was now out of the 
hospital, I was sure she would want to have me home for the holiday. I 
didn't live too far from our house anyway, just two hours or so by bus, so I 
spent the vacation with Mom and with Mark. 

All the way back, I wondered how he would react to me. I hoped that he 
wouldn't try to get it on with me again, and I was certain that I would 
ignore any passes he made. 

I didn't write to him at all while I was at school, because every time I 
tried I, couldn't send the letter. I couldn't stop thinking about our 
balling session but I didn't want to mention it again. 

I played it cool-thinking about how terrible it was that we could no longer 
relate to each other as mere friends. That's the price you pay, I guess. But 
it was still disturbing. 

You know something else, doctor? I was, at times, really mad at him for 
having fucked me that day. I was mad at myself, too, but for some reason I 
put the blame for our incest on him. I felt like he was a little boy who 
needed to be punished for his sin. I guess you could call incest a sin, 
doctor. I always have. Even though I get into lots of sex, I still think 
incest is something not to be dealt with. 

But of course I didn't mention this to him, no. Not at all. I was polite, I 
smiled a lot. And I was still horny for him. Yes, doctor. After all I said 
to myself, about Mark's deportment, I still got hot and juicy whenever I 
thought about him balling me, or when I'd see him come out from the shower 
with hardly anything. And, as before, I would have to masturbate for quite 
awhile to get over my heat. 

We had a calm vacation, nothing out of the ordinary. Mom had her usual 
feast, and we stuffed ourselves like gluttons. All though dinner I could 
still hear my pussy growling away like a horny cat every time I watched Mark 
get up from the table. I couldn't take my eyes off his fat crotch, bulging 
out like he had a slice of salami inside those trousers. Even flaccid his 
cock was noticeable. But when it was stiff-you couldn't ignore it! 

I didn't hang around Mark that much after Thanksgiving day. I spent a lot of 
time with my old friends from the neighborhood and school. And I spent a lot 
of it in my room, either studying for my exams or masturbating. I tried to 
pretend it was Tod I was dreaming of, but it wasn't. Not at all! 

It was Mark's body I wanted! My stepfather! And I couldn't have it, not if I 
wanted to feel like a good, moral person. like the little girl Mom always 
hoped I'd be, I was going to behave myself during this visit home. And I 
expected Mark to do the same. 

I think I must have been daydreaming when he knocked on my door, because at 
first I didn't answer it. I thought immediately that it might be Mom, 
reminding me of something I forgot to pack. It was Saturday night, and I was 
leaving on the afternoon bus back to State. And back to Tod' 

I was beginning to miss him, doctor. I always did after we were separated 
more than a few days. But there was something else I was thinking about too. 
I was feeling guilty, doctor. Guilty and confused over Mark! I knew he had 
the equipment to turn me on, and I knew that he would probably be more than 
happy to use it ... if we let our game slip for even one moment. 

Our game? Simple, doctor. I pretended that nothing had ever occurred between 
us, and so did Mark. But deep inside, I knew I wanted to ball him ... but 
this time I wanted him my way! I wanted to take out my revenge at the same 
time that I received my pleasure! 

"Barbara? Are you there?" he called. I jumped up from the chair at the first 
sound of his voice. 

'Wait just a second, Mark," I said, wondering if I should let him inside my 
room. He might take that as an invitation to sex ... something I was sure he 
wanted. 

"So, you're leaving tomorrow, huh?" he asked, taking great pains to convince 
me of his good intentions. "We sure will miss you again, Barbara. Just like 
we always miss you when you're at school." 

"I know, Mark. I'll miss both you and Mom, too. I think about you often." I 
returned to packing my things, hoping that he would either get the message 
to leave, or would at least try to attack me, so that I could clobber him. 

"Barbara," he said, "I want to talk to you about something. Something I 
think we should get settled." 

"Yeah? What could it be, Mark?" I wasn't going to say anything about the 
incident. If he was going to bring it up, then it was his business. I had 
nothing to do with it. 

"You know damn well what it is," he said gruffly, "don't play those 
cock-teasing games with me!" 

"Mark! I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," I said. "You must 
be out of it, or something!" 

"Hell if I'm out of it," he muttered. "And let's get one thing clear, okay? 
You don't use language lake that in this house! Not in front of me or your 
mother!" 

Doctor, I just had to laugh. Here he was, blessing me out about saying the 
word "fuck," and after he had called me a cock-teaser. Him, cursing me out! 
After he had fucked me on the living room floor ... while Mom was in the 
hospital! 

"I think you better have your head examined, Mark," I said coldly. "Because 
I think you're off your nut!" 

"Shut up, Barbara! You've taken this too far. You know you want me to put it 
to you, because you don't get anything like what I give you, isn't that 
right?" 

"Mark, cram it!" I didn't want any part of what he was suggesting, at least 
not consciously. But underneath my jeans there was a bush-fire of lust 
spreading from my core the tip of my clit! If only I could keep it under 
control. 

"Who did you tell to cram it?" he snarled. "What do you mean by that?" His 
eyes were like tremendous balls of fire, and sweat was beading up on his 
forehead. 

In addition, you guessed it, his cock was fully stiffened and quivering 
inside his pants. 

"Get out of here, Mark," I told him. "Get out now, before we both regret 
what we do!" 

"The only person who'll be regretting anything," he sneered, "is you, 
Barbara! I'm going to make you regret you ever talked to me that way, or 
that you ever tried to tease me with that sexy body of yours." 

He approached me, and I was trembling as I felt his hairy hand against my 
skin. He gently stroked my face and cheeks and then he slapped me so hard I 
fell against the bed and knocked my suitcase onto the floor! 

"Pig!" he screamed. "You're just a slut, Barbara. Mom thinks a lot of you, 
but then she doesn't know the evil side to your nature, does she?" 

"Mom! Mom!" I screamed. But Mark was on top of my, muting my howls with his 
strong hand. 

"She's not even here, cunt!" he said, rubbing his other hand up and down my 
legs. "She's gone away for the evening, to a party! You didn't know that?" 

I couldn't believe that awful grin on Mark's face. I was horrified and 
trembling as he spoke. "We're going to have our own little party, Barbara. A 
little discipline party. I'm going to teach you a few things ... before you 
go back to college!" 

The feel and smell of Mark's body was overpowering me, doctor. I felt as if 
I had been immobilized by some mysterious paralysis. When he stared at me 
with his brown eyes, I thought I could see embers burning hot ... his pupils 
were the size of dimes! 

"Yeah, you think you're such hot pussy, don't you Barbara. Well," and he 
began to unsnap my jeans as he said this, "you are hot, dear. Real hot and 
juicy! And I'm gonna make you even hotter still, after I beat your ass!"" 

"NO!" I hollered, grasping the bedsheets. Mark was grasping my jeans just as 
tightly, and while I struggled in vain, Mark had my panties down in the same 
amount of time. My heart-shaped ass-cheeks were bare and tingling with 
anticipation. No one had ever given me a spanking before. No one. 

But if I were to be spanked who could possibly have better reason to do it 
than my stepfather? Mark was slipping his belt out from the loops, and I 
could hear him snapping it against the bed. 

Now why I didn't fight him ... I can't say, doctor. I was so terrified that 
I was rendered helpless. But somehow, I know I could have gotten away from 
his beating if I really had wanted. 

I didn't, though. I felt his leather belt against my butt as it snapped 
sharply into my tender flesh. "I'm not through with you yet, cunt! Howl all 
you want, no one can hear you!" 

Doctor. How I screamed! How I suffered when that belt lashed out against my 
aching ass-cheeks. I could just feel the welts rising on my skin as Mark 
continued to shower me with cracking blows. I was shattered to the marrow, 
doctor. Mark was humiliating me ... and I let him do anything he wanted! 

"That's enough for you, Barbara! I don't want to get your ass all bloody ... 
not before I fuck it, that is!" 

"What?! " What was he talking about? All those things crossed my mind in a 
flash, and for a moment-I even forgot about the raging painfulness of my 
buttocks. 

"You heard me," he yelled, "you heard me loud and clear. Don't act like 
you're having an epileptic fit, Barbara. Not yet, at least!" 

He tackled me, doctor, and we both fell off the other side of the bed. I 
conked my head against the suitcase and almost split my skull open. "Mark! 
Mark! You'll kill me!" I cried. Tears were rolling down my cheeks as he 
slapped my legs and rolled me over onto my stomach. 

"You'll manage," he said, unzipping his fly. "You'll do alright, you hope!" 
I knew that he would probably rip me wide open with his cock, and I had 
never been ass-fucked before, much less by something as huge and frightening 
as Mark's prick. 

I felt him hard and trembling against my body as his hot phallus stroked the 
crack of my ass. Mark rubbed the head and shaft against my puckered anus as 
I fell into a coma of lust. 

"Please, Mark! Think about this for a minute," I tried to reason, but in 
vain. I could feel this spongy prickhead against my ass, and I knew it was 
over-all over! 

But instead of fucking me, like he threatened, Mark rolled me onto my back 
and glared. "You didn't have to take all of this shit, Barbara. You could 
have gotten away, easily!" 

My stepfather looked at me as if I were an inferior creature, something to 
avoid. "But you wanted it, didn't you? You can't face up to what's really 
happening with us, can you? You want to pretend that you're still a stupid 
fourteen-year-old. And that all of this will go away!" 

Doctor, I can't tell you how much I despised him. He had abused me, treated 
me brutally. And then afterwards he told me how I loved it! How could he? 

When he walked out of my room, not even saying good-bye to me, I just 
thought the whole house would crumble apart. I couldn't stop crying until 
later that evening. 

No, I didn't say anything to Mom about that. Not without explaining the 
whole truth, and I can't do that. Not now, not ever. And I couldn't tell 
Tod, either. What would he think of me? What would anyone think of me if 
they knew such a sordid incident ever took place? 

But now, every time I make love to my boyfriend, I have one of these 
episodes where I "leave my body," and I can't manage to get back inside. I'm 
terribly frightened, and I need treatment' of some kind, I'm sure. If I have 
another one of these nightmares, I will be totally insane. What will happen 
then? 

It's ... it's like Mark was haunting me, even though I won't even speak to 
him on the phone. Not after he treated me so awfully. But night after night, 
I break out into a cold sweat, with his name on my lips. 

Tod hasn't caught on yet, but I know he's bound to. I'm taking him home to 
meet my family during spring break! What if Mark decides to scare Tod away? 

Mark is a psychopath, doctor. And I'm afraid he will scare me out of my wits 
once more. I have sympathy for those who cannot cope in today's society. But 
I won't play these games with my stepfather. 

CONCLUSION 

Once again we see how repressed sexual desires, actively charged in the 
libidinal storage battery, affect our behavior either directly through 
consciousness or in the murky depths of the unconscious. 

Barbara's desires worked on many different levels. On the outside, she 
wanted to part of an incestuous affair with her stepfather. On a 
subconscious level, she felt him extremely attractive, and at the last, the 
unconscious level she believed him to be her real father, perhaps 
resurrected from the grave to come back for her. 

What of, you may ask, Barbara's curious nightmares. For her, these "dreams" 
were twice as frightening as her reality as the borders became indistinct 
between the two states. There are two possible explanations: 

One, Barbara is, during her dreaming state when the unconscious levels of 
the brain are wide-awake and sorting through piles of information, escaping 
from herself by projecting outside herself. When her stepfather denounced 
her for being a "cock-teaser," Barbara might have seen some aspect of her 
personality in jeopardy. If it were true, she thinks, then I'm damned. If it 
is Mark's deception, so much the worse since she will be frequently harassed 
and forced into incestuous behavior. Barbara is escaping from her situation 
in an intangible Way ... through her fantasies. 

Another explanation, though more metaphysical, is also warrants airing: that 
Barbara could indeed be experiencing out-of-body phenomena, wherein the 
psyche extends itself to the astral plane. Perhaps, in fact, it was her 
situation with her stepfather that triggered this sort of phenomenon. When I 
suggested this possibility to Barbara, she merely scoffed, as it was far too 
unrealistic. 

Regardless, Barbara's nightmares have yet to cease, and she is still under 
my guidance. Her problem is only a minor neurosis, but could become 
disabling to her sex life if allowed to remain unchecked. I am certain that 
if and when Barbara ever comes to grips with her lust for Mark, she will 
stop having them all together. 

CASE HISTORY SEVEN 

SUBJECT: Carly S. AGE: Seventeen 

INTERVIEW ONE 

When I first met the beauteous Carly, she was something of a child 
celebrity. At seventeen, she had appeared in a rather controversial movie, 
doing things that would not be appreciated by many parents. 

The movie, though obscure at first, became a cult sensation, rocketing the 
young girl to notoriety and underground stardom. It was her decision to 
leave the glamour behind that brought Carly to therapy. The following are 
unexpurgated transcripts of our conversations: 

Doctor, I know that it seems strange, what me being a celebrity and 
everything, to want to cut out so early. I mean, I could have a brilliant 
career ahead of me, I could have been a model, an actress-I can't exactly 
say what else. Hell, if I really wanted' to, I could push it further than 
where I'm at right now. I mean, how many seventeen-year-olds do you know 
who've had their picture in People Magazine? 

My mother always wanted me to be a star, and she really pushed me, even when 
I was a little kid. She sent me to ballet classes, voice lessons, took me 
from audition to audition, even if I didn't feel great that day. Even when I 
no longer wanted to even be on stage, my mother kept hounding me. I always 
allowed myself to be coerced into giving up my Saturdays to Shubert Alley. 
The best I ever did was kid's parts, and only as an understudy for Flora in 
"The Innocents." I was so mad with Mom for even taking me to the audition, I 
played the part very well. 

You see, my mother is a bit of a neurotic, doctor. She's the epitome of the 
classic "stage-mother," but that's not why I'm here. Mom has gone further 
than verbal coercion, doctor. She is torturing me, with physical violence, 
to appear in ... in cheap, sleazy porn films!" 

Yes, I would have never appeared in that movie if Mom hadn't threatened 
me-and given me a spanking besides. I know that I've got a hot body, doctor. 
I know that I could go very far with the way I look. But looks aren't 
everything, doctor. I have a mind, too. I want to use my mind if I'm going 
to appear on the screen. But who needs wits to fuck in front of a camera. 

I am completely revolted at the idea of people, whom I've never met before 
in my life, nor would I want to meet them, staring at a projection of my 
body-twenty times larger than life and seeing everything about me. All the 
mystic qualities of a female exploited for the sake of a buck. I don't like 
it at all. And I'm not going to have anymore to do with it! 

Sure, the critics praised the film for being so realistic! It was very 
realistic, doctor. I was beaten, tortured, and raped in front of a hand-held 
camera. While they were filming, I could see Mom forging my name to the 
release contract. She was signing away my pride, doctor. She was throwing my 
reputation to the wind-all for the sake of her mortal greed. 

Greed, doctor, that's what I said. Greed! She made a bundle off that movie, 
but I don't get a cent, except in a trust fund. I'm sure the "trust fund" is 
a hoax, doctor. Mom is spending my money ... last week she flew to 
Guadeloupe in a chartered Lear Jet! And I'm a success, alright. A freak, 
that's what I am. 

"Carly," Mom said one afternoon, a month before my abortion, "you know, I 
think you should go to this audition," and she handed me this newspaper. 

It wasn't a copy of "Backstage," either. It was a porn magazine. "Look," she 
said, "I've got it circled in red." 

"Voluptuous young miss urgently needed for high-budget X-rated film." I 
didn't know what she was referring to when she gave me that paper. "Mom, 
this is porn. You don't want me to do that, do you?" 

"And why not?" she asked. "You're better looking than those other sluts I've 
seen." 

I didn't know that Mom took in any dirty movies. "I didn't know you 
considered me in the same class with those girls." 

"But look!" she pleaded. "I know the guy who handles them. He says if you 
can do what they want, you'll get a hundred, maybe two hundred dollars." 

"No, Mother. I can't do that! I don't want to be a porn starlet. I don't 
want to do anything that involves nudity and sex without redeeming social 
virtue!" And I didn't, either. Me in a dirty movie? the thought of it made 
me puke! 

"Can't you just maybe send them your resume?" she kept nagging. "You might 
be successful, you know?" 

"I don't want to discuss it anymore!" 

"But it's soft-core, Carly! How innocent. You won't have to do anything 
nasty!" 

"I'll have to undress," I said. "I'll have to show them all my gorgeous 
tits, my wondrous legs, my beauteous ass. And I won't do it!" 

"Yes, you will, Carly! Look at all the years I've worked just to get you 
started. Your best asset is your body, darling! Why don't you put it to good 
use?" 

When my mother said those things to me, I almost died! "What kind of mother 
are you, anyway?" I asked. "Do you think what you want prevails over all? 
like you were God or something?" 

"Yes," she said. "I do. At least when it comes to your career!" 

To make a very long, boring story shorter, doctor, my mother broke into a 
long, pitiful tirade about her health, her finances since my father died, 
her drinking problem, her hopes for me, etc. I've heard it over and over, 
like a tape cartridge, I didn't want to hear it again. I knew that to keep 
my mother silent for a few days, to appease her will, I would have go to the 
audition. 

"I'll go with you," she said, grabbing her purse. "I'll get the car, dear. 
You change into your bikini or something nice, okay?" 

"Mom! You're not going to any dirty movie audition with me! What kind of 
person are you, anyway? What kind of reputation do you want?" 

Mom was unperturbed. "I always go with you, just to read over the contract! 
I don't want you to be ripped-off by some unscrupulous charlatan." 

"But how do you know I'll even get the role?" I asked. I was already 
determine to sabotage this audition. I would stand there like a frozen side 
of beef and not even flinch my eye. They would hate me! I couldn't wait. 

"She's perfect," said the director, as he shook my hand. "She sure is a 
pretty little snatch isn't she?" 

He was hideous, with a bald head and a repugnant cigar hanging out of his 
chapped lips. "We can start right away. Carly, why don't you take off your 
clothes and we'll do a screen test right now?" 

"Forget it," I said. "No way!" I wasn't about to let this guy have even a 
peek at my voluptuous body. Not that sleazy old fart! 

"Come on, Carly. You get up there and take off your clothes, or I'll break 
your neck!" 

"I think," I announced, hoping to render them freaked-out, "that there is 
something you should know about me." 

"What's that, sugar bush?" asked the seedy old fart. 

"I'm ... I'm a lesbian. I cannot be aroused by men. Especially in front of a 
camera." 

I saw Mom throw me a killing, vindictive look, her eyes like daggers. But 
the dirty old fart producer wasn't even fazed. "Perfect. Just what we need, 
a real live lesbian." 

Mom lit up like a Christmas tree, all smiles. "Hey," I asked, feeling 
embarrassed, "what kind of fucking movie is this going to be?" 

"Lesbian bondage and discipline," he laughed. "You're just what we were 
looking for!" 

"Do it, Carly!" shouted Mom. "This is your big, big chance. Don't let it 
slip through your fingers now, baby! You've come so far!" 

"Cram it," I said, not even bothering to take off my clothes. "I'm leaving. 
I don't want to have anything to do with this shit!" 

I was on my way out of the door when Mom grabbed me! "I won't let you do 
this to yourself," she kept saying, shaking my shoulders. "This is too 
important, Carly. It's your life you're throwing away!" 

"You bet!" I agreed. "That's exactly what I'll be doing if I'm in this 
picture!" And I sidestepped her quickly, hurrying to the exit. 

"No you won't," I heard her scream. Immediately, I was grabbed from behind 
by not only my mother, but the fat old fart himself! 

"Let's get her to the studio," said the man, "and I'll let you give her a 
taste of the whip!" This man was talking to my mother about a whip? While 
they dragged me on the floor behind them? 

Now I realized what was going on. This was a freaky movie, not any 
"soft-core," stuff that Mom told me about. This was a picture about female 
slaves! The set was nothing more than a torture chamber dark and dimly lit. 
Two other women, obviously part of the cast, joined my mother and the 
director in securing my body to a large block of wood, binding me with 
leather straps that cut through my tender white flesh. 

"No! No!" I screamed. "This is too much! This is a bunch of shit!" I 
couldn't believe that this was happening to me and my own mother was 
standing next to it all, smiling approvingly as she checked the contract. 

"Mom! Stop it! You're a real bitch, aren't you?" I said. "You know what you 
are?" 

"What is it, Carly?" she mumbled, adjusting her bi-focals. 

"You're a cunt! A C-U-N-T: CUNT!" 

They didn't bother to undress me they simply cut my clothes loose with 
several pairs of scissors. As I watched my favorite blue jeans torn to 
shreads, I was rendered naked, piece by piece, to the admiring eyes of the 
spectators. My mother only laughed and applauded. 

This was nothing more than sheer perversity on the part of my mother. "Why 
are you treating me like this?" I asked. "Why are you humiliating me?" I had 
to force my tears back to even speak to her. 

"It's for your own good, darling. But you shouldn't have called me a cunt, 
Carly. You really hurt me like that." 

Now the eminent danger of my situation was becoming clearer, as I saw the 
instruments of torture and degradation that were to be used in this movie. I 
couldn't describe some of them, doctor. I try to block them out of my 
memory. 

"You really shouldn't talk to your mother that way, Carly." She spoke 
calmly, but with a tone of voice that was highly offended. But not on the 
defensive, however. Mom was asking for one of the whips, and when they 
brought one to her, actually gave her a fucking long leather whip, I knew 
that she had gone mad. 

Sure, nothing would happen to me. I was in the top floor of a loft in Soho, 
tied down to a slab and about to be beaten. I'm sure anyone passing by could 
have heard my screams, what with the machine tooling factory right next 
door! 

My legs were rebound over my head, so that my bare ass-cheeks were a perfect 
bulls-eye for 

Mom's punishment. 

"Here you go, darling! Hope this will beat some sense into you!" She said 
that like she actually was getting off! But I wasn't getting off, not in the 
least. Not knowing my mother's psychotic tendencies, I was extremely 
disturbed when she snapped the cowhide against my ass! 

Then, doctor, the cameras were started, and I could hear them running away 
as they closed in on my ass-cheeks. I tried to break out of my imprisonment, 
but there was no hope for me now. 

I tried not to count the number of times Mom hit me, but she was shouting 
them out loud at the top of her breath. When she finally stopped, I was out 
of air, and couldn't call her anymore names. My butt hurt tremendously, but 
not as much as my pride. I had been spanked in front of people I had never 
seen before, and didn't want to know, either. Now, I would be fucked 
raped-as well. And all for their enjoyment! 

She turned me over to the two women who were torturing me. And they really 
did torture me, doctor. While Mom stood there and fingered her tits! 

They were really ugly, doctor. They looked like they had every venereal 
disease in the world! I know they must have been addicted to something, 
doctor, because their faces were pale and slack, with no color at all, 
except what was painted on. And their eyes were dilated not even a trace of 
iris! 

Instead of comforting me, they said that I had better get used to this sort 
of thing, because I was in for a lot of it this afternoon, possibly into the 
evening if they had enough film. 

I was really quite shocked to discover that these things actually take 
place, as opposed to being merely acting of some sort. Carly's story was as 
provocative as her reputation, and I wanted to know much, much more. I 
scheduled her for another appointment that very next day, to which she 
agreed. 

INTERVIEW TWO 

Carly was back at the same time, although she confessed she was missing an 
interview with David Suskind that was aired during our session. I obliged 
her by asking her what she had said during the program. 

I didn't say a whole lot, doctor. In fact, I lied about everything. 

There was the overwhelming desire burning in the back of my mind to spill 
the beans on Mom and what she was doing to me. I could have just renounced 
her, and her seedy friends, before the whole world but naturally it would 
have been censored. Even today, there are things which cannot be discussed 
openly, doctor. Especially on television. 

Why was I invited to appear on the show? Well, not because of that first 
movie I made. Hah! That was just the beginning. Mom said she saw it running 
in one of those peep show affairs. Can you imagine a woman, doctor, a 
middle-aged woman hanging out at peep shows? 

I can't imagine it either. It seems so ... so sick and perverted. And when 
Mom suggested that I should do more of this sort of thing, I said no. And 
really loud. 

In fact, I threw a tantrum! "No, I won't do this sort of thing! You hurt me, 
Mom! You really hurt me! I really trusted you, at first." 

"Don't make such a big fuss, Carly. Or I'll make sure you get more 
punishment." That word: punishment. To most girls my age, it meant missing a 
night of television, or being grounded inside the house for getting 
pregnant. 

But for me, punishment came in many forms. like a twelve-inch dildo, shoved 
into your dry cunt. Or up your anus! 

Or having to feel the lash of the whip against your skin. Being cursed and 
abused, being called a slave to punishment. That's what it was for me, 
doctor. 

"We're going to another audition today, Carly. Only we're not really going 
anywhere!" Mom took a seat in the kitchen, no doubt having her morning 
coffee so she could bitch all day, strung out like the caffeine addict she 
is. 

"What? I'm not going to any audition." 

"You don't have to," she felled, "they're coming over here!" 

I ignored her remarks, at least until the doorbell rang. Mom must have 
buzzed whoever it was into the building, because I didn't let them in. I 
looked through the peep-hole and saw not only the fat old fart who had 
imprisoned me for the first dirty movie they made, but another man, just as 
hideous, with him. He was carrying a large bag with him, but I couldn't make 
out the contents at first. 

"Hiya, Carly," said the fat, bald man, blowing his cigar smoke in my face. 
"Where's your Mom?" 

"You-hoo!" she called. "I'm in here, darlings! Won't you join me for 
coffee?" I knew she had arranged this, I knew she was going to humiliate me 
once again. 

"How's Blondie doin' today?" asked the producer, that fat ton of lard. He 
always called me Blondie, because he was using that as my stage name. Can 
you imagine? 

"She's fine," I said. "And mad! You can all go to hell for all I care, right 
this minute!" 

"It'll be you who'll be in hell," said my mother. "We're going to teach you 
how to behave for photographers!" 

Sure enough, the other ugly man was pulling out various harnesses and 
leather goods from his bag-while the fat old fart was adjusting his camera. 
"We're going to do some stills today," he said, as I backed into a corner. 
"Some great shots, you bet!" 

Suddenly, I was besieged by both men, and my mother was right behind, 
leading up the rear of the attack. They threw me down on the floor, and 
having subdued me with straps and strange devices made of leather, left me 
lying on the floor, crying in my bondage. 

They moved me into thousands of position, and rebound me in various ways, 
each more painful than the one before it. Of each position, they had taken 
at least a roll of film each time that flash went off I could feel my 
self-respect exploding with it exploding to nothingness. My pride was 
broken, doctor. And so was my will. 

"An artist must suffer, Carly," said Mom, giggling throughout the whole 
shooting. While I died in embarrassment and humiliation, Mom was getting 
physically hot, fingering below her skirt while she watched the two men 
subject me to hideous tortures. 

"We warit to make you addicted to pain, Carly," said the uglier, skinny man 
who accompanied his friend with the camera. "We're going to start you off on 
a low dosage, so you can get the feel of it without passing out, you know?" 

I broke into tears. They were both smiling, the fat bald man was changing 
film. "But as you progress through the different stages, your desire for 
pain will be stronger, until you will be begging to be beaten, to be 
degraded, to be treated like a living piece of shit!" 

"It's method acting," said my mother, laughing. "And the method is pain, 
Carly. You'll love it, soon." 

Doctor, what they did to me, in my own apartment, was incredibly perverse. 
They subjected me to every vile and sickening sexual perversion they could 
think of, photographing me through the entire session. And I had to do 
exactly what they said, or they'd let Mom at me again, with that whip! 

I pulled and tugged against my bonds, but in Vain. The ugly, skinny guy was 
jerking off his hideous cock, while he aimed it closer to my face. "I won't 
have anything to do with you," 

I snarled. "You stick that in my mouth, and I'll bite it off!" 

"You just try, cunt!" he yelled. "Just try it and I'll rip your fucking face 
off!" He made his hand into a fist and threatened me with it, but I just 
laughed. 

"You can shove it, buster!" I yelled back. He was going to shove it, doctor. 
Right into the back of my throat, and choke me to death! 

"Get a taste of this, you hungry bitch!" the man screamed. Here I was, only 
seventeen years old, and giving head to a man I didn't even know. I didn't 
even find out his name, and he was treating me like some animal! 

No, doctor. The didn't really hurt me, not as much as I had considered. But 
the humiliation that swept across my body, like cold, chilling waves, was 
enough to destroy me. 

He grabbed the back of my head and pulled me hard against his crotch. I had 
to fight against him several times, and the fat man with the camera was 
blowing cigar smoke into my face the entire time as he shot picture after 
picture. Soon, before I knew what was happening, the ugly guy with the 
erection in my mouth crammed every last inch of it into my mouth. I had two 
alternatives: one, relax and let him fuck me in the mouth; two, lose my 
life! 

Thank God, or someone, that he didn't last very long. In a split-second, he 
had come. At last I was free from his ugly pecker ... after I swallowed all 
of his nasty scum, at least. 

Still, they subjected me to every perversity I know. They must have taken 
enough pictures to wallpaper the Astrodome when they finished with me. 

And Mom! "See, we didn't hurt you," she said, when at last I was finally set 
free of my bonds. I was trembling and shaking, but Mom didn't seem to care 
at all. 

She's made me do several other things, doctor. Including one big hit, the 
film that sent me to underground stardom. "Interstate Intercourse," was the 
name of it, doctor. I played a young runaway who loved to be whipped and 
humiliated by the police. They used real policemen, too. I had to take a 
billy club up inside my hole! While the camera's whirred! 

But now, after I've been recognized, I have a little power myself. I've 
threatened Mom with exposing her to the authorities. I would do it, too. 
Except that she'd find a way to get back at me, even from the mental 
institution. 

I'm not going to go on with anymore of this degrading filth. I wasn't out of 
this trash. But what about Mom? 

She's not going to let me escape from stardom this easily. She's worked too 
hard to bring me this far. And she'll work even harder, with vicious 
punishment, to keep me there. 

CONCLUSION 

And so it goes. Parents, too often deluding themselves, live on vicariously 
through their children. Some of them want to relive the joys of being young. 
Some want the status of being parent to a child prodigy. 

But others, and Carry's mother fits into this category, want to. feel 
second-hand thrills, sexual thrills, through their incestuous relationships 
with their children. This mother wanted to be the parent of a "star" more 
than Carly wanted to be one. 

It would be a terrible shame indeed if Carly was never able to enjoy a 
normal, healthy relationship with a boy her age. However, she expresses an 
intense dislike in boys or girls, and is staying clear of sex. After what 
her mother had done, forcing her to appear against her will in pornographic 
pictures, It is no wonder she feels this way. 

CASE HISTORY EIGHT 

SUBJECT: Angie D. AGE: Eighteen 

INTERVIEW ONE 

The beauteous Angie D. was in tears when she first came to my office. After 
repeated attempts to consol her, I finally sent her away, scheduling her for 
another appointment. She broke this appointment, however, and I was not 
terribly anxious to begin working with her until she at least calmed down 
enough to tell me her story. 

Luckily, Angie did return my secretary's call, and at last we were able to 
begin our discussions. Angie was very clear from the beginning that she 
hated living, at least in her present condition, and she expressed a strong 
suicidal tone throughout our conversations, which follow verbatim: 

Doctor, what can I say about my situation. The outlook is bleak, indeed. I 
just don't know what to do with myself anymore. Once, I was just an ordinary 
teenager, with normal hopes and desires. 

But now, I am a sex-starved teenage slut, doctor. Yes, that's what I said. A 
concubine-for my stepbrother's entertainment. 

And I can't seem to escape from him. Because, doctor, I no longer want to 
escape. Whatever Bill does to me, I don't mind at all. Oh, doctor. He 
tortures me, he humiliates me, he degrades me like I was some sort of 
inhuman being, something to be treated with disgust. 

I just love it! At least, until it's all over, then I become very depressed. 
The reason I sought treatment was because I have tried to commit suicide 
several times in the past three weeks. But I fail miserably, and if you must 
know the truth, I'm only doing because I'm desperate. I don't really want to 
die. 

Why should I take my life so early? Especially, when the life is inside a 
body as voluptuous and as exciting as mine. Can you honestly look at my 
tits, my face, my impeccable body and not long for it? I knew you would tell 
the truth, doctor. And I respect you for that. I'm really going out on a 
limb when I tell you this, because if Bill ever knew that I was seeking 
therapy, he would kill me himself. 

He has a violent temper, doctor. And to make things worse, he drinks and 
abuses drugs on top of it all. That makes him really evil, especially when 
he forces me into sex with ... with, oh I can't go on anymore! I'm going to 
cry, doctor. It's so painful, it really is. 

How can I ever begin? Should I tell you about my family? Sure, I guess 
that's a good starting point. But you might not believe anything you hear, 
doctor. You'll think I'm a raving lunatic after I'm finished. 

When I was sixteen, my mother remarried. My father had been ill for many 
years, in fact he was in a comatose state after a serious car accident. He 
was in the hospital for years, then finally passed away. 

My mother had been seeing this guy, David, for about a year, even when my 
father was still alive. But Dad wasn't able to function, and when we'd go to 
see him, he wouldn't even recognize us. I remember one day when my mother 
told me that as far as she was concern, Daddy was dead. I didn't want to 
come to terms with that, not right away, but deep down inside I knew it was 
the truth. So when Mom married David, I wasn't in the least surprised. After 
all, he was a good looking guy, and Mom has needs like anyone else. I 
wouldn't like to spend the rest of my life in mourning, not if I were as 
young and as beautiful as she still is. 

David and I got along really well. Until, and I guess this is really the 
beginning of the story, until his son came back from Europe, where he had 
been living for several years. 

I hadn't met Bill before, but I knew that he was very handsome, from 
pictures that David showed me. I didn't at that time know about his 
character, nor did I know what a fucking ass he is. 

David gives him all the money the kid could ask for ... he's only nineteen 
and he lives like someone who was independently wealthy. He has a lot of 
freedom, and he abuses that freedom quite often. Especially when I'm 
concerned. 

I knew he was hot for me, and well. . . can you blame him at all? Most guys 
I know are always hot to get inside my jeans. And I like good sex just as 
much as anyone, I suppose. I like my lovin' hot and heavy, and I like my 
guys hung and ready for action. 

Bill was ready for action, all right. Violent action. Humiliating action, 
and such torture that would make you literally sick, doctor. That's right. 
My stepbrother is a sadist. And 

I'm his willing slave! 

My first encounter with Bill was far from being forced, however. I remember 
the first evening we were home together, after Bill took over the guest 
room. He was still moving his things in, and making lots of noise. Mom and 
David were out probably at the movies or something. I knew they wouldn't be 
back very soon. 

I also knew that Bill was looking for some good balling, just what I had on 
my mind! He's very perceptive, this one, and I knew that he wasn't hanging 
outside my door just to ask me where we kept the clean linen. 

"Hello?" I said, "what is it?" 

"Can I come in for a second?" he asked. I opened the door, and there he was 
dressed in only a towel. "I'm on my way to the shower," he said. "You want 
to get high?" 

I hadn't smoked any good reefer in awhile, so I agreed. I was not much more 
modestly attired, doctor, in fact, I was only wearing my sheerest negligee. 
"Sure! Fine with me!" 

"Does your Mom know that you get high?" he asked, taking a seat on the bed 
next to me. I could feel my pussy juices trickling onto my bush as my little 
crotch steamed with lust. 

"Sure. I've even turned her on a couple of times. She--likes it!" I said, 
watching him roll a joint. I looked at his fingers, wondering all the while 
what they would feel like against my tits, or slithering inside my hot box, 
or just plain walking all over my tender, burning flesh. 

"Well, this is pretty good," he said, offering me a light, "I brought it 
back from Amsterdam. Really makes you loony!" 

I knew that I would probably get crazy after I smoked that joint with him. 
And I knew something else would happen, too. 

I'd get horny as hell. Yes, doctor, it happens every time. Each joint I 
smoke makes me feel ten times more erotic and sensual-and I just have to 
have sex, good sex, to make the most of my being high. 

"Sounds like your mother is all right, Angie," he said, flashing his white 
teeth. I saw the tip of his tongue and immediately lusted for him. I could 
already feel his wet, slimy tongue against my jugs, rolling all over the 
nipples and tit meat, and against my pussy lips. It wouldn't be too long 
before I was stretched out naked on the bed, with my handsome stepbrother 
pounding his crotch against mine, drilling me with his obviously stiff 
pecker. 

Yes, he did have a hard-on, and I can't blame him. The grass was really 
good, doctor. I think it might have been the strongest I had ever smoked. I 
was so totally wasted, I couldn't think. But I could feel nonetheless, and 
what I felt was pure, unadulterated lust! Desire for Bill. Desire to be 
fucked! 

His prick was poking so hard against the towel that I thought it might just 
slip from around his waist. It was tremendously long, and it throbbed and 
pulsated under the thin towel, while I yearned for his touch. 

How it happened, I'm not really sure. One minute, I was staring at the blank 
wall, and the next I was kissing my stepbrother. I could feel his hot body 
against my own at first I thought he might be sick. His fever was up there, 
doctor, and so was mine! I just had to come, as many times as I could that 
night, when Bill slipped his long, wet tongue between my lips and kissed me 
passionately. 

I didn't want to let go of him, never! Even if a fire broke out in the 
house, I wouldn't stop sucking on that tongue. I closed my eyes and felt it 
wiggling and writhing against my own tongue, and I just imagined that I was 
sucking on his prick. That made me even hotter. When I reached down to his 
crotch and touched it, the towel was already stripped away. I placed my hand 
on his cock and felt it all ten inches or more of stiff meat-destined to 
penetrate my hot slit! 

"You sure are a hot little bitch," he moaned. And that's not all that boy 
said to me, either. He was murmuring a string of obscenities, doctor, some 
mat would make you blush if I repeated them. 

And though I was somewhat disturbed, his obscenities just made me even 
hotter! When he whispered them into my ear, breathing hotly as his fingers 
clutched my tender tit meat, I was transported far away into a land of lust! 
And I never wanted to come back! 

"Here, baby!" he said, pinning my arms behind my head, "now you're all . 
.set to get fucked! Look at your pussy, baby! It's melting like butter, 
isn't it?" 

I didn't exactly understand why he pinned my hands to the mattress, but I 
did understand how urgent my situation was at that time. I needed to feel 
his stiff, hot cock inside my vagina, to tenderly massage and stimulate my 
cunt until I came like a volcano! "Yes, Bill! Ooooh, give it to me, baby! 
Let me have it!" 

"Yeah, you really like to get laid, don't you?" he asked. "I bet you just 
lay around the house, bringing yourself off ten times a day, isn't that 
right?" 

Doctor, no one had ever talked to me that way before. And I wasn't so sure I 
liked it anymore. "Oh, baby!" I said, "let's get it on!" 

"Yeah, I can see you now," he moaned, grinning madly as he bucked his crotch 
against mine. I wanted to grab his prick and guide it into my hole, but Bill 
was holding me with such force that I couldn't move my arms. "I'd love to 
watch you masturbate sometimes, I think that would really turn me on." 

While he continued to tease me, my body was consumed with an ever-mounting 
fever. My head was buzzing and my pussy purred away, longing for the 
friction of his tremendous pecker. "I can't stand it any longer, baby!" I 
said. "Please, let's do it! NOW!" 

He got the message, doctor. I felt his huge, fleshy cockhead against my cunt 
as Bill pushed the long, thick tool into my hole. He didn't take his time, 
though. He more or less shoved it into my, stretching my cunt walls to the 
maximum! For a minute, I was worried! I was, for all purposes, being raped! 

And I was getting off on it, too! 

"I'm gonna burn you hole up, Angie," he moaned, ramming his prick into me. I 
just thought that he liked rough stuff, so I bucked my crotch into his with 
the same deranged speed, coming time after time while Bill muttered 
obscenities. He called me a slave, a cunt, a whore ... but none of that 
disturbed me. 

Until later, after Bill had spilled his seed inside me, and I was totally 
wasted. Yes, it was hot, and it was satisfying. . . but it was cruel! When 
Bill left the room, to take a shower, I lay on the bed, wondering what kind 
of strange person I had for a stepbrother. "Angie!" he screamed. "Come 
here." 

"What do you want?" 

"Scrub my back, baby! I can't reach it!" He was sitting in a tub full of hot 
water, smoking another joint. Naturally, I grabbed the bar of soap and 
lathered him up good. But when I reached for the reefer, Bill slapped me 
across the face. 

"Don't grab, Angie!" he said. "Did I ask you to take it?" 

I was confused. "I thought ... " 

"Never mind what you thought, baby! It's what I say that matters, from now 
on. Don't forget it, or you'll regret it!" Then he closed his eyes and 
zoned-out, like nothing had ever happened. 

When I went to sleep that night, I knew that Bill would have to be dealt 
with on his own tearm. That was before I knew the depths of his perversity, 
doctor. If I had just an inkling of his nastiness, doctor, I would have told 
my mother about what he had done to me immediately. But the last thing I 
wanted was a family feud, especially since Bill had just moved in with us. 
Besides, I thought he was very sexy. 

Even if he did threaten me and abuse me, like an animal. 

We ended our conversation for the day, and Angie promised to come back the 
following Thursday. I was curious of Angie's motivations, as she left my 
office all smiles, and in good spirits. Perhaps there was a bit of masochism 
in her personality which she could not recognize. Or if she did, she wasn't 
about to admit it to me. 

INTERVIEW TWO 

Angie arrived late, and explained that her stepbrother had found out about 
our sessions. 

"He'll kill me, doctor. I know he will. He threatened me this afternoon, 
before I even came over to your office. I don't know why he's so upset with 
me. 

He's a very demanding sort of person, doctor. Anything he feels will excite 
him, or titillate him, I have to demonstrate. Even if it repulses me. 
Because Bill has complete control over my body-and my mind. I'm really 
nothing more than his slave and his sex-slave at that. Unless Bill is horny, 
he won't have a thing to do with me. 

For awhile, I even avoided him. If I knew that Mom and David would be out 
for the evening, and if I also knew that Bill would be home with me, all 
alone, I would stay out of the house. 

Expecting one night, when I had lots of homework to finish. So, I simply 
stayed inside my room. I kept the stereo up loud, so I couldn't hear him 
knocking on the door. 

Bill wasn't into bothering me that evening, but in a strange way, doctor, I 
really wanted to be bothered, despite my actions. Whenever I thought of 
Bill's hot cock, wiggling up and down my hole, I felt dizzy and hot inside. 
And when Bill was in a loving mood, we would have great sex, tremendous 
orgasms all night long! I never really thought of our affair as being 
incestuous I mean, I'm not really related by blood to this guy. 

But I did think he was sick. Sometimes, when Bill was drunk or stoned, or 
both he would take me against my will, and do all sorts of terrible things 
to me. 

So, it was usually a matter of luck. If I went to him, hoping to get laid, 
he would make derisive comments about what a slut I was, begging him to ball 
me. 

But if I refused his demands, he would call me a cock-teaser, or any number 
of nasty names when I didn't want to get it on with him. Bill usually won 
out, either by force or by, on very rare occasions, kindness. 

When Christian, Bill's St. Bernard decided to scratch at my door, I was 
really unnerved. That dog was so big, and such a mess I didn't want to have 
him in my room. He was shedding then, I think, and I had no time to play 
with him. 

Still, Christian kept clawing at the door, making a racket. "Goddamn it!" I 
screamed. "Bill! Take care of this dog, will you?" 

Obviously, he didn't hear me, because Christian was still howling and 
clawing at the door. I couldn't concentrate with that racket. "Bill, will 
you do something about the dog? He's driving me up the wall!" 

Finally, I got up from the bed and opened the door. "Christian, will you get 
out of my hair," I said, looking at the down at the hairy beast. 

"Bothering you?" asked Bill. My stepbrother was at the door with Christian, 
smiling his deranged smile. "Maybe he just wants to see you, Angie. Maybe 
he's hot for you?" 

"Buzz off, ass-hole," I muttered. "Take the dog outside, will you?" 

But instead of leaving, Bill and Christian, entered my room, against my 
wishes. Christian climbed up on my bed and knocked off all of my papers and 
books. I was furious. 

"What the fuck are you trying to do? Sabotage my homework?" I asked. 

"You can't be thinking about homework, Angie. Not tonight!" I knew that Bill 
was up to something. He never came in my room wearing nothing but boxer 
shorts unless he wanted a quickie. 

"Will you get outta here?" I was almost at the end of my wits. "Just take 
the fucking dog and leave!" 

"Now, is that anyway to address Christian, Angie? You've insulted him!" 

"I don't care. Leave me alone!" The next thing I knew, before I could even 
scream, Bill was on top of me on the floor. He tackled me quickly, pinning 
my arms against the carpet. 

"Let go of me!" I screamed. "Leave me the fuck alone!" 

"Shut up, Angie!" he growled. "You know what you want, and you're going to 
get it, too!" 

Sure, I was horny, and I wouldn't have resisted him if he really wanted to 
get it on with me. But I knew that Bill was up to more of his demented 
tricks. Christian was knocking over stacks of books and clothes, knocking 
against my stereo and scratching the record. 

"I'm not going to play this game with you anymore, Bill," I said, squirming 
under his hot, heaving body. But my stepbrother only grinned. 

"This isn't a game, Angie. This is reality. This is the truth, cunt!" I saw 
a little trickle of drool escape his lips. He looked like a madman, doctor. 
An absolute raving psychotic. And I was alone, all alone, forced to do 
exactly what he wanted. 

"Bill!" I pleaded. "I'm not an idiot. I know what you're doing to me, and I 
don't like it!" 

"What will you do? Tell your mother?" 

"Yes. I'll tell them everything about you. What a slob you are, what a 
pervert you are--and how you treat me when they're not around," meaning my 
parents. 

"No you won't," he said. "And do you want to know why?" 

"No!" 

"Well, I'll tell you anyway!" Bill just looked at me, and I could tell by 
his bloodshot eyes that he was high or something. Not grass, though. 
Something really strong. 

"I'm going to make you do something so nasty, something so embarrassing, 
that you won't be able to confess it to anyone, not even the priest!" His 
cock was growing by leaps and bounds inside his boxer shorts as he wallowed 
on top of me. "I'm going to tie you up, Angie. I'm going to tie you up real 
tight, and make you do things you'd never think of!" 

I was so terrified, doctor. I could never distinguish his moods, so I had no 
idea whether he was serious, or if he was just trying to scare me. Either 
way, Bill was causing me a great deal of pain, especially when he threw me 
onto my back and lashed wrists together with Christian's leash. 

"I'll be right back," he said, tying the knots until the leather leash cut 
into my skin. "I forgot something!" 

He left me on the floor, crying. Only the St. Bernard seemed to have any 
pity for me at all, and Christian was licking my face with his big, sloppy 
tongue. It was then that I first realized what Bill had in mind this thing 
that was supposed to be so terrible. It was then that I first tried to 
escape. 

With some effort, I managed to shimmy against the door until I was to my 
feet. I didn't know exactly how far I would get, but at least somewhere away 
from Bill, even if I had to leave the house. 

"Going somewhere?" I heard his voice. "Going out?" 

"Bill, I don't like this one bit. Now you just get over here and untie me 
this instant." I was very mad at him, so mad that I was sure he wouldn't go 
through with his disgusting, perverted plans for me. 

"Angie, you've got to calm down," he said, grabbing my bound wrists and 
dragging me back into my bedroom. I fought against him, even tried to kick 
him in the balls. But Bill simply carried me across his shoulder, and dumped 
me threw me-onto the floor. 

I saw what he had forgotten, doctor. Bill had more rope with him, and with 
this he tied my ankles to my hands. Then he set me down on my back, and in 
that position my knees were pointing up at the ceiling. 

"I want to watch you get off," he explained, resting his hands on my 
kneecaps, "with Christian. I knew you want to do it, you're just too 
uptight, aren't you?" 

"Bill! Please! I don't like this!" 

"I know you want to do it. I know you're dying to too! Just relax, he won't 
bite you!" 

Bill pulled my knees apart, and unsnapped my jeans. "Let's see how wet and 
sticky you cunt is, Angie. I'm sure you're hot-for a St. Bernard!" 

He poked a finger into my slit and gently massaged my vaginal walls. I was 
wet alright, but why I don't know. I guess he really was, exciting me, and 
although I thought I'd pee in my pants, I knew he would never make me have 
sex with an animal. He couldn't be that sick, no matter what was wrong with 
him. 

"Come here, Christian," he said, whistling. "Come here, doggie, and get a 
taste of something good." 

Doctor, that big, lumbering dog walked over and stuck his cold nose up 
against my pussy! I shivered while Bill laughed. "Not a speck of cereal, is 
there, Christian?" he said, pushing the dog's nose even harder against my 
crotch. "Go on, don't be bashful. The lady here wants you to eat her!" 

I tugged and twisted, hoping to escape from my bondage. My limbs were 
cramping, and my wrists were growing numb. When that dog began to lick my 
hole, slobbering all over my crotch, I felt waves of humiliation rush 
through my body. I knew from that moment on that Bill was a maniac a sick, 
sick person. 

"He's got a big tongue," Bill chortled, "doesn't he? Go on, Christian. Ream 
her little slit!" And then, Bill fell backwards on the floor, laughing 
hysterically. 

To add insult to injury, Bill decided to masturbate in front of me while the 
St. Bernard has his way with my cunt. I cringed as I felt the warm, slick 
tongue rolling against my hole, and all that dog saliva dripping down the 
insides of my legs. Some of it even slithered into the crack of my ass as 
Christian licked my pussy. 

By this time, my humiliation was such that I was turning red all over. My 
body was aching, and so was my hole. 

"I know you're hot, Angie!" Bill moaned, beating his meat. "And Christian's 
hot for you, too!" 

"Stop it! Stop it!" T cried, wiggling slowly across the floor. But Christian 
kept following me as I crept into a corner. When I'd shut my knees, blocking 
off my crotch from his licks, Bill would be there to hold them wide apart. 

"Don't you want to get fucked, Angie. Bet you've never been fucked by a dog 
before, have you?" 

"No! I haven't! And you're not going to make me do it!" I knew that I could 
still hold out. This was just too repulsive.' 

"And you know something?" he said, "I've never seen a girl get it on with a 
dog before. Yeah, that might not be such a bad idea." 

"What are you doing to me?" I said lots of things to persuade him, even 
begged him to stop. I told him that I'd do anything he wanted, anything ... 
except the dog. 

"At least," he said, guiding Christian into position, "at least he's a nice 
looking dog. I can gratefully say that Christian was not in the mood to 
mount me. However, Bill was. And what pain I was spared by the St. Bernard, 
Bill gave me with his brutal tool of torture-his massive prick. 

This has been going on, more or less, for two years, doctor. And I can't say 
anything to Mom about it, because for some reason, I know that she won't 
believe a word of it. If only she could see what goes on when she and her 
husband are away. In fact, I wonder exactly what she and David do together. 
If father is like son, then Mom is probably frightened out of her wits. 

I've been so depressed after sessions with Bill that I've considered 
suicide. I can't live with myself anymore. I'm not happy with sex unless 
Bill is controlling me, rendering me completely passive and helpless to his 
demented longings! 

You have to help me, doctor. If I don't kill myself first, Bill might do it 
himself, when he's really off his nut! 

CONCLUSION 

The important issue in this case, and of most importance to Angie, was to 
make her admit her true feelings for her stepbrother. Obviously she was 
attracted to him, and felt very strongly for him, or she would have not let 
this madness, this perversion to continue. 

I have told her repeatedly in our sessions that if she consents to his 
desires, and if Bill does not physically hurt her, then there is nothing I 
can do. The decision to break off their relationship will have to be made 
entirely by her. There are many ways of bringing this about, yet Angie 
refuses, under the guise of depression, to take any action herself. 

Admittedly, she--likes to play rough. I can only hope that if indeed she 
does continue her relationship which she considers sick, now, with Bill, she 
will come to see it in a different light, for what it really is. 

CASE HISTORY NINE 

SUBJECT: Roxanne P. AGE: Fifteen 

INTERVIEW ONE 

Roxanne P., or Roxy as she preferred to be addressed, was an attractive, 
rather voluptuous young girl with a serious problem. Her father, a 
photographer, needed models for a certain client, and Roxanne was chosen to 
appear in his studio. Here is her story, unedited and uncensored. 

Doctor, at first I thought my father was doing me a favor. I had always 
considered modeling, and in fact, my sister did some for a life drawing 
class at a famous art institute in the city. I'm sure you've heard of it. 
Sissy was very good-looking, and I've turned out even better than her, even 
at fifteen. So, when Dad offered me the chance to come to his studio 
downtown, and get some professional experience in front of a camera, I was 
eager to begin. 

After all, the presence of a camera in the room, with all those hot lights 
and flashbulbs makes the situation more difficult than posing for an artist. 
The artist sees you in one way, but the film, it's a permanent image. At 
least, that's what my father told me, and I believe him. 

I knew my father had lots of accounts that I didn't know about, but never 
would I have guessed that he did photos for smut magazines. Or that he was 
going to do the things to me that he did. I would have run out of there, 
naked before I let my father touch me! I knew I should have listened to Mom 
before I took him up on it. 

They're divorced, my parents. I live with my mother, across town. I never 
knew what the trouble was between them, since they sent me away to a private 
school while they were going through the divorce procedures. Sissy never 
talks about it to me, and neither does Mom. But Mom doesn't like for me to 
visit my father alone, and now I know absolutely why. 

I'm usually not inhibited about taking off my clothes or anything, doc. But 
then, I never took them off for my father before, either. I had smoked a 
joint before I left my mother's house, and I still felt up-tight about 
showing Dad my large, firm and ripe tits, or my creamy, furry bush. But once 
we got going with the cameras, and I was used to the whole idea, it was 
okay. 

"I hope you brought lots of make-up," he said, "because I'm switching back 
from black and white to color." He wanted to try different effects, you 
know, so I got up from the couch he was using for a prop, and back to the 
bathroom, where all my stuff was. 

When I passed Dad, I knew he was staring at me. It was probably the first 
time he had ever seen me naked before, since I grew up into a rather hot 
young teenager. But I never expected him to grab me, doc. Yes, grab me. He 
pinched my ass! 

I ignored him, naively thinking he was just playing with me. He had the 
right ot pinch his own daughter, at least. Besides, I was mildly thrilled 
when he touched me. I liked the idea of appearing in Dad's work, since he's 
considered a pro, and highly-regarded. 

But this time, when I came back from the bathroom, Dad was naked too! I 
wasn't ready for that, doctor. He was lying on the couch, where I had just 
been, with nothing on but a tee-shirt. "I just thought you'd be more 
comfortable with me if I took my clothes off, too. You know?" He grinned, 
flashing his white teeth. 

"Okay, Dad. If you insist, I guess it's okay!" I knew he was excited, 
because I could see his hard-on poking up under the shirt. His balls were 
huge and swollen, doctor. And his prick jumped back and forth against his 
stomach! 

"What should I do now, Dad?" I asked. I thought he would get up from the 
couch and set the cameras up again. But he didn't. He kept smiling at me, 
stretching his legs out as he slumped farther into the couch. 

"Come here, Roxy," he said, waving his hand. "Let me see what I'll need to 
do." 

I approached Dad, though a little nervously. "You sure have grown up, Roxy," 
he said, stroking my thighs with the back of his hairy hand. "You sure have 
come a long way in fifteen years. My, my!" 

"Thank you, Daddy," I said, still uncomfortable. "I owe it all to you!" 

Well, I did. I had all the best features of my handsome father, plus I had 
my mother's best too. Genetically, my parents were a powerhouse! I knew I 
was hot, and I knew my father thought so, too. But how would I handle this? 
I didn't want to become sexually involved with Dad! 

"I've got some things planned for you that you'll really enjoy," he said, 
his eyes glued to my bush, which was level with his face. "I've got lots 
planned for you." 

And then, doctor, my father did something I couldn't believe he had the 
nerve to do. He grasped my tender and creamy thighs, and stuck his face into 
my bush! 

I was so startled, I couldn't know how to behave! While my father fluttered 
his tongue against my pussy lips and my clit, I kept thinking how Mom would 
react if she even knew this was happening between us. Of course, I would 
never have to tell her, but maybe she knew already. Maybe that's why she 
divorced my father! 

"Daddy!' I said, feeling his tongue slither into my tight, teenage slit, 
"let's not do anything that we'll regret." I didn't want to take this any 
farther, since I have to admit that Dad's long, sloppy tongue was really 
making me hot. If I got any hotter, I would have to leave the room. 

"Dad, I'm serious. I'm your daughter," I said, pushing his head away from my 
bush. "There are things that father and daughter just don't get into!" like 
incest, doctor. It made me sick to think about it. 

But still Dad ate my wet pussy, until I was slowly slipping into a hot, sexy 
coma. I wanted to fall down on the floor and spread my legs. I wanted to let 
him into my hole, since I could see that Dad was very well hung. I wanted to 
let him do anything he wanted, and from the way he licked my pussy, wet and 
tenderly, I knew he could do it right! 

But I didn't. My good conscience got the best of me, and I made an attempt 
to run away from him. An unsuccessful attempt, also. Pad grabbed my arm and 
pulled me back. 

"No, Dad! I won't do this!" I said. "Let me go!" 

"You knew what you were walking into when you came, Roxy. Don't play these 
games with me, or I'll show you some games of my own!" 

"What are you talking about, Dad? Can't you see that I'm your daughter, and 
that what we're doing is wrong?" 

"Yes," he laughed, "and that's what makes it so good! I want to sin with 
you, baby! Whether you like it or not!" 

My father twisted my arm around my back, and then I realized exactly how 
twisted my father was. "Let go of me," I screamed. "I'll kill you!" 

"You won't be doing much of anything, Roxy. Not after I'm finished with you. 
Then, the only thing you'll want to do, or be able to do is fuck! F-U-C-K! 
Got me?" 

I tried to kick him, aiming right at his huge, swollen balls. But my daddy 
caught my leg in his hand, and grabbed my ankle painfully. 

"Ohhhh, you're a hot little bitch, Roxy! It looks like I'm going to have to 
tie you down!" 

"Leave me alone! Stop it!" But Daddy had me trapped in his powerful grasp. 
He was on top of me now, while I struggled against him. I made sharp jabs at 
his eyes with my fingers, but Daddy only took them between his lips and 
licked them wet. In other words, doctor, my father seduced me as if I were 
just another object for his pleasure, one of his many women. And I loved it! 

No "one had ever turned me on like that before. My father is older, but he's 
not unhandsome or wrinkled. He knew how to treat me, hot and easy, to get me 
aroused to the point of exploding. I was helpless while he ravaged my body. 

Helpless enough to let him tie me up, with heavy rope! With one length, he 
tied my hands above my head, then lowered my youthful body onto the couch. 
Then, with two more long pieces of rope, he bound my legs so that they were 
spread wide open, revealing even my slit! Dad was going to take beaver shots 
of me, and humiliate me like a piece of dirt! His own daughter! 

"Great, Roxy," he said. "I'm going to have these framed and placed in my 
personal collection." I cried out for mercy, that he would leave me alone, 
and let me loose from my bonds. Those ropes cut into my tender flesh and 
tore at my nerves as well. 

"Daddy! What is this, anyway?" I asked, hoping that all he would do was take 
pictures. "What is this?" 

"Teen-age sex slaves, Roxy. That's what it is. And that's just what you 
are!" He clicked away, taking hundreds of pictures of me, in my bondage and 
humiliation, and I was powerless against him. 

Well, I never told my mother about this incident, and she never knew that I 
went over to his studio in the first place. Mother has never come right out 
to tell me that my father is a dangerous man, but I'm wondering whether or 
not he really is sick in the head. 

I love my father, even though he isn't too normal. He is very handsome, and 
I must admit that he turns me on better than any boy my age ever could. I've 
always been attracted to older men, doctor. like my teachers at school, or 
father's of friends of mine. 

But never my own Dad. Until last week. I don't want to involve myself in a 
bummer relationship, but I don't want my father to lose an interest in me. I 
like what he does, when he treats me right. But when he makes me his slave, 
I feel uneasy. I feel cheap and sleazy . . .but do I ever feel hot! 

Can't you help me, doctor? Dad's offered me another chance at modeling for 
him, but if involves leather and rope, or even chains, I'm afraid I won't be 
able to do it. Unless, of course, he makes me! 

CONCLUSION 

I tried to steer Roxy clear of anymore encounters with her father. This, as 
described by the attractive girl, was the first of such "modeling sessions," 
but there were many more afterwards. Each involved some fetish, or some 
perverse actions. In one instance, enemas were even employed for his 
pictures. 

Roxy is still under my counseling, but only when she wants to see me. She is 
still confused about her father and his intentions. But she will never feel 
any less uncomfortable until she can realize exactly what he is doing to 
her, rather than for her. 

GENERAL CONCLUSION 

All forms of sex involve some sort of violence, no matter how implicit, as 
the act itself perpetuates the dominant/passive roles. In these eight cases, 
the passive roles were not always the one's chosen by the partners ... and 
the fact that these were children, tormented and abused by their parents, 
makes it even more interesting. 

The damage these parents do to their children is regrettable, indeed. 
Marvin's stepmother, for instance, took out her frustrations on the boy, 
making him an all-purpose whipping post for her anger. Marvin saw it another 
way ... to him, his stepmother was a woman to be feared rather than trusted. 
How can he grow up to function normally with this terrifying paranoia; Not 
very well, I'm certain. 

Or Krissy K. She almost didn't make it through the age of twelve, and 
because her mother and father were willing to sacrifice their daughter's 
life for their own twisted pleasure and personal lust for inflicting pain, 
both physical and psychological. 

Debbie S. suffered greatly, but in a different way. Her own mother, 
convinced that her daughter was on the path to hell, kept her bound and 
gagged rather than see her "sin" against God. What the mother couldn't admit 
was her own "sinful', lust for Debbie. Now, Debbie cannot recover from the 
traumatic obsessions which haunt her, and she remains frigid, despite her 
attractive appearance and active social life. 

In each case, these parents or stepparents should have been admitted to 
therapy, long before the symptoms of sickness were noticed in the children. 
But this is not always possible. Every day, parents, for whatever reasons 
they might have, beat, torture and humiliate their own children, and most 
viciously-for their own satisfaction. Sometimes this satisfaction is purely 
sexual, as in the cases presented in this publication. But other times it 
takes other forms. Sometimes it leads to death. 

America is a violent society, admittedly, though there is little space to 
consider the different theories and implications of this obsession with 
violence. Flirting with sadomasochism may be fine for consenting adults who 
are using it to stimulate their sex lives. But to inflict pain, torturous 
pain on small children, and warping them possibly for life, is unexcusable, 
and deplorable. 


THE END
