Chapter 12
I have discovered that the gentle child, the child who is excessively polite and who will not harm any living creature, is often, underneath that facade, a veritable beast who has hidden a series of desires so shocking that they cannot be disclosed by him.
Such a child was Stephen. Yes, it was I who seduced Stephen, but it was he, that gentle child, who led me to the land of exquisite pain. What is the land? It is a place in the mind and body where everything is inverted. It is a place where pain becomes the ultimate pleasure.
But I must tell the story rather than describe the lessons I have learned from him.
I had noticed Stephen for a number of days before I even spoke to him. He was only one of a number of students my firm hired for the summer. His job was to distribute mail from office to office and floor to floor.
Stephen was charged with the responsibility of delivering mail to my floor and as an executive; I received a load of memos and letters at least three times a day.
One day, he shoved a large batch of mail into the tray on my desk and some of the letters spilled over the top and scattered across the desk.
He was shook up by his indiscretion and he tried to apologize, saying: "Forgive me. It won't happen again."
I smiled at him, without replying, and he fixed the mail and left the office.
The next day, when he came into my office, I spoke to him. At that time, I was not interested in him as a sexual partner, I was merely bored with my work and wanted a break.
"Sit down," I said, "you probably need a rest."
He obviously needed the job very badly because he was afraid to be caught seated while working.
"Don't worry," I assured him, "my position in this firm is much higher than the man who hired you. In fact, if you want, I shall have that man fired."
I was just teasing him, but he did not understand and he said: "No, don't have him fired. He's a good man. After all, with summer help one has to be strict."
His voice had just the tinge of a strange accent and I asked him about it.
"I was born in England and lived there for the first eight years of my life."
We talked for a while. He was the most gentle boy I had ever met. His words, so soft and kind, were like a cool compress on me.
I watched him closely. He was slightly built, with black hair cut short, and he wore a sport shirt, open at the collar.
"Where do you go to school," I asked him, trying to get him to speak even more."
"I'm a freshman at the University," he replied.
"You're rather young, aren't you?"
"Yes," he replied, modestly, "I'm not yet seventeen."
Stephen intended to major in Philosophy and when I asked him if it wouldn't be better to major in some more practical subject, he replied that he was interested in learning about the greatest thoughts of the greatest men who had ever lived.
Then he had to continue his mail route. I said goodbye, reluctantly, to that gentle boy and continued my work.
That evening, at home, I could not remove the vision of his face and body from my mind. I knew that I was caught once again in the meshes of my vice.
So, I laid my trap carefully, not knowing that the gentle child was also laying a trap, one that would push me to the limits of my desires and open up a whole new area of erotic delights.
The next time he came into the office I began to speak to him about Philosophy. Subsequently, every spare moment we had together in the office was dedicated to this subject. One day we lapsed into a conversation about the difficulty of getting certain books that were not published in America. Stephen said to me, almost breathlessly: "I have a terrific collection of used Philosophy books. Almost everything I earn here goes into buying from catalogues and used book stores. Can you come up and see them?"
I jumped at the chance and he wrote down his address on a piece of paper. Handing me the paper, he said: "It would be best if you came late in the afternoon. There is no one else home at that time."
Taking the piece of paper and holding it gingerly in my hand, I assured him that I would be there on the following afternoon. The next morning, I dressed very carefully. Since Stephen was so gentle, I decided on a simple print dress, with a large flowery pattern. In it I felt very innocent.
But as I was putting it on, my fraudulent innocence disappeared. I suddenly began to shake, so powerful was my desire for the child. I rubbed myself between my legs, luxuriating in the warmth of my cunt and anticipating the moment, a few hours hence, when that cunt would be impaled by his juicy young cock.
That day went very slowly. When Stephen came in to deliver the mail, neither of us spoke. We were both saving ourselves for the afternoon.
I left the office at about three o'clock and took a cab to the address he had given me. Stephen lived in a shabby neighborhood; rows upon rows of pathetic two-family houses, their owners unsuccessfully fighting the pollution and decay of the city.
His house was like all the others. I rang the bell and waited. Stephen came to the door, opened it, and blushed when he saw it was me.
"Oh, you're here," he said, excited and obviously confused.
I followed him in. It was gloomy inside and the furniture seemed incredibly old. We walked up a narrow flight of stairs to a room that must have been a converted attic. There was a small bed in the room, and scores of bookcases, packed with volumes, pamphlets and journals.
"This is my room," he said proudly, and gestured to me to show that I should sit on the bed.
"Are these all your books?"
"Yes," he said proudly, and he pulled out one ancient volume which he thrust into my hands.
I leafed through it. It was a very old English edition of a German philosopher.
"This is worth a lot of money," I said to him, turning the volume over and over in my hands, admiring the fine binding and the expensive paper.
We spent the next hour or so going through his collection of philosophy books. Stephen was happy and proud to have someone to show them to.
But time was passing quickly, and I was interested in another form of amusement. The beams from the sloping room casts shadows on the floor, strange and exotic shapes, and my imagination saw them as twisted cocks, as young weapons surrounding me in that claustrophobic area.
We were sitting on the bed, shoulder to shoulder. I was trembling with desire.
"Here is the last book I want to show you," he said.
But he did not produce a book. Anxious to get over with it, I said to him: "Stephen, show me the last book you spoke of, I am still interested."
He turned to me and without another word, his gentle hands became fingers of fury and ripped my bodice open.
He leaned over and sunk his teeth into my naked breasts, like a savage animal rips apart a piece of freshly killed meat.
I screamed. His teeth bit deeper, drawing blood and causing me dreadful pain.
Then, just as quickly as he had reverted to a savage, he released my breast and walked to the other corner of the room. His face, once again, assumed the gentle mask, and he watched me carefully from beneath lowered eyelids.
I suddenly knew that it had been Stephen and not I who had laid the trap. It was he who was trapping me, who was using the books as a pretext to seduce me.
But that terrible moment when his teeth ripped into my naked breast still overwhelmed me. I had been terribly frightened and I sat there, unable to speak, my hands trying to pull together the ripped cloth of my bosom. I looked down and saw the deep red blood, flowing against the white curve of my breasts. I knew, somehow, that I would not leave that attic room without some terrible type of knowledge, which I would never forget.
"I know what you are," Stephen said to me in a low voice.
"You know nothing," I replied savagely. He walked toward me. I backed away from him. 'Take off your clothes," he said. His words were still uttered in that gentle voice but there was cold steel in his eyes.
His voice seemed to hypnotize me and I obeyed him. As I removed each garment, he removed his clothes, until, finally, we stood naked in that small room.
He was very close to me then and he drew back his fist and swung it with all his might, crashing those clenched fingers and knuckles into my stomach. I doubled over and fell to my knees, waves of pain and nausea falling over me.
"Soon you will love it," he whispered into my ear.
Stephen brought his thighs close to me, so close that when I looked up I saw his naked cock, quivering only an inch from my face. I was torn between a desire to kiss his vibrant maleness or to sink my teeth into the meat. But I had no time to make that decision for he began to swing his thighs from side to side, letting his cock hit me in the face. At first it was slow and pleasurable and I savored the closeness of that erect flesh. But then he began to swing more and more violently, until the cock was a weapon to harm me and torment me.
Its tip scarred my face and the full force of its weight beat me into the floor. Stephen moaned as he used his maleness to ravage my mouth and face. His cock grew larger and larger until I felt the hot seed pouring out and burning my bruised flesh.
Then he sunk to the floor, contented for the moment. I could have left at that moment, but suddenly I too felt the need to be cruel, to taste the fruits of violence on another person's flesh.
His naked back was exposed. I picked up one of the shoes I had been wearing, they had long spiked heels, and brought the tip of the heel savagely down into his naked flesh.
Stephen did not make a sound but his whole body seemed to shudder. Again I brought the spiked heel down so that it dug into his body. It was the most thrilling experience of my life. I exploded into tears and laughter and with a demonic grin on my face, proceeded to turn his body into a welt of bloody bruises. Each bruise that I raised on his body sent me quivering anew, until I was like a bitch in heat.
Then I picked up the other shoe and rubbed the heel inside my thighs, feeling the heat of my cunt rise. As I beat him with joy and lust, slowly I let the other heel slip into the secret place, into my quivering flower. I was impaled by the object and my thighs sucked it up, my vagina drank in the brutal point.
I was breathing heavily from the lust and the exertion. My arm was growing weary from beating him but I could not stop since the object in my cunt was so deep that I felt the beginnings of an explosion. A few seconds later I fell on his body, the orgasm sweeping me off my feet.
We lay there together for a long time, recovering from the ordeal. I was smiling, even though exhausted, for I realized the genius of that gentle child and I was grateful to him.
"Did you enjoy it?" He asked, his voice no longer the voice of a child.
"More than anything in my life," I replied truthfully.
"Are you ready for more?" He asked, pressing his lips briefly against my flower in affection.
"I want more, I must have more."
He nodded and stood up. Opening a drawer, he showed me four strange objects. They were artificial claws that could be fastened to human fingers.
Placing one claw on each of my hands, he placed the other two on his own fingers. Playfully he scratched my buttocks and I shivered, suddenly understanding the subtle and glorious uses these objects could be adapted to.
Stephen began to kiss and fondle me, making us both excited once again. I lay back and opened my thighs, waiting for the luscious penetration of his cock which I could see beginning to rise.
He rammed it in. I screamed but a moment later my screams were drowned out by my own cries of lust, for he began to rake my sides and flanks with those claws as he rammed his cock deeper and deeper into my cunt.
Then I began to use the claws, digging them into his neck as I brought my buttocks savagely off the ground to meet the thrust of his thighs.
Joined like that, cunt to cock, claw to body, we fucked ourselves and debased ourselves until both of us entered a stupor immediately after the seed had drenched my flower. For many hours we lay there, our bodies bruised but our psyches remembering the glories of lust and cruelty.
For three weeks those incredible trips into the mutilation of the body and soul continued, until that gentle child overcame me and I could no longer proceed. It was a choice between Stephen and sanity. I chose sanity and I resolved never to see that child genius again.
From a clinical viewpoint, this episode is a normal venture into sado-masochism. But on another level, it goes beyond this description.
We understand the hidden meaning of their acts by that brief but passionate interlude with the two shoes. The reader will remember that she uses one to beat Stephen's naked body and the other to masturbate. This is a unique form of sado-masochistic relationship is usually a form of masturbation. No actual masturbation is required.
Yet, in that episode she masturbates, indeed, it seems to be the most passionate moment. The hidden meaning of that act is simply this: she is acting out one of her most deeply repressed desires-a brutal penetration by her father's penis-and she finds in a sadomasochistic relationship the only way to symbolically achieve that desire.
The reader may find this clinical analysis overly sophisticated, but one must dig deep in order to understand a woman as complex as this one.
Every sexual act she engages in can be, and indeed must be, traced back to the original, primeval desires. Only in this manner will such strange and bizarre acts as penetrating her own body with a spiked shoe, be made comprehensible and will then fit into a logical scheme. Once we discover the logic of her sexuality, there is a good possibility for a cure.