Chapter 6
There are few women who have ever encountered the beast in a child's clothing. By "beast" I mean a creature who lives only for gratification and is willing to forget every scruple that he has ever learned. There is no doubt that I am tied to my desires but I still follow certain basic patterns of humanity.
I have met the "beast." And I met him in the body of a seventeen year old child. His name was Larry. For two days we stayed together in a rundown motel outside the city and in those forty-eight hours I came to understand the nature of the beast.
Few people realize the heights of lust that children can scale. Few people realize that in the bodies of young men are brutal urges which drive them to furious undertakings.
Let me try and remember Larry precisely for my body still quivers when I think of him.
It was late at night. I was unable to sleep, still thinking of my curious relationship with Victor. Finally, I rose, dressed and took a cab to a quiet bar not many blocks from my apartment. It was a drinking place frequented by professional people and a few homosexuals. The more violent denizens of the city were not allowed there and I was able to drink in peace. Gradually, the whiskey made me drowsy and I leaned my head on the bar and fell asleep in that strange posture.
Suddenly I felt something at my shoulder. I sat up, realizing that I had been asleep, and shook myself like a dog. To one side of me was a young man with a handful of fresh newspapers in his hand. I had seen many young boys like him in bars and nightclubs, making a few dollars each evening selling the late papers.
"Paper, lady?"
His voice was rough and street-wise. He seemed to embody every underground trait of the city; its viciousness, its wisdom, and its throbbing passion.
Still drowsy from sleep I shook my head to indicate I was not interested in purchasing his paper. He shrugged his shoulders as if it meant nothing and moved on to other patrons of the bar. Then I called out to him: "Wait, wait a moment."
He turned around, walked back to me, and placed a folded paper on top of the bar. "Ten cents, lady."
"But the paper is only eight cents on the newsstand," I protested.
Smiling wickedly, he replied: "Yeah, but look at the service you're getting."
"You're very young to be so cynical."
"Seventeen ain't young, lady, not in this city. Get it?"
I let my eyes rove over him. He was of medium height but powerfully built with a bull chest and large muscular arms. He was wearing a short zippered jacket over a T-shirt. His face was lean with a jutting jaw, high cheekbones and a dark complexion.
We were very close to each other as he waited for his dime. Moving very slowly and deliberately I retrieved a dime from my purse and placed it in the palm of his hand.
He took it with a brutal snatching motion. It was done so quickly and with such style that it left me breathless. I was suddenly caught up in the most bizarre desire. Just as he had plucked the coin from my hand, I wanted to dig my hands into his pants and pluck his young cock. There was something about the boy's brutality and cynicism which made me brutal also. Quickly, that desire passed.
Moving away from me, he made the rounds of the bar. I watched his every movement in the huge mirror. Some of the patrons bought a paper and others waved him away with a drunken hand. Then he walked out of the bar to continue his route.
For a moment I hesitated, feeling that I was on the brink of some action which had not yet been defined. Suddenly, another bizarre desire possessed me. Holding the whiskey glass in my hand, I wanted to press it against my naked breast. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, I opened my blouse and let the cold glass touch my nipple. My whole back shook. Then, blushing at this strange perversion, I withdrew the glass and rushed from the bar.
I looked frantically for the boy but could see nothing in the darkness. Then, down the block, I saw his figure leave another bar, the stack of papers still clutched under his arm. I called to him. He turned around, stopped and waited for me.
Walking quickly, I reached his side and grabbed his arm.
"Get your hands off me, lady," he said in a menacing voice.
I dug into my purse and pulled out a twenty dollar bill which I pressed into his hand, saying: "I want to buy all your papers."
Grabbing them from him I threw them into the gutter.
"You want change, lady?"
I shook my head. He was standing there, slouching, waiting for my next move.
"Listen to me. How would you like two more twenty dollar bills?"
His eyes widened. I took him by the hand and without a word we began to walk. Hailing a cab we both got in and I directed the driver to a dingy motel on the outskirts of the city. The driver leered at me but took us there without a word.
The room was small and dirty. A single bed stood in the corner under the picture of a nude. Larry sat on the bed, quiet, almost a different person.
I did not have time to speak. The lust was building in my body, choking off the words. I began to undress, throwing my clothes on the floor. My breath came in labored gulps. He stood and took off his clothes. A moment later we were both nude, facing each other. My eyes drank in his body, the powerful neck, the muscled torso and his glorious cock and globes, hanging so innocently between his well-formed thighs.
I began to circle him, walking slowly, every now and then letting my nakedness brush against his body, touching his flesh with my nipples.
Then I saw it move. I saw the sinews and muscles begin to tighten. I rushed to it with open mouth and a second later felt that blessed cock pass through the gates of my lips. The flesh was brutal in my mouth. The red-hot tip like some dredging instrument which threatened to tear my mouth apart. But it was beautiful and as it danced within me, I sucked on it, savoring every little movement and flavor.
A moment later I felt Larry's powerful hands grasp me by the shoulders and fling me from him. I was sent reeling across the floor, my mind unable to understand.
He followed up and pulled me to his feet. Then he made me stand, but when I tried to face him, he forced me to stand with my buttocks to his front. I quivered as I stood there, aware that something strange and terrible was about to happen.
His lips were on my neck. Then on my back, and then they began travelling slowly downward. Just the touch of his lips on my naked flesh sent me into a frenzy of excitement.
He was at my buttocks. His mouth was fastened on that succulent piece of flesh. His mouth opened and a second later I felt his teeth sink into my flesh, deep into the soft curve of the buttock.
A muffled scream came from my lips. But the boy bit deeper with a greater ferocity than anything I had ever experienced before.
"Please," I cried to him, "stop it, stop it I beg you."
But the brute would not stop until he was ready. Then I felt him stand behind me. His arms moved in front and grasped my breasts, cruelly squeezing them. His fingers dug into my nipples, driving the points into a paroxysm of lust and pain. I felt his erect cock brush against my buttocks and I knew then that he wanted a brutal anal penetration.
I closed my buttocks tightly, trying to prevent the shock that I knew would come. "Open them up, bitch!"
I heard his foul words whispered in my ear but I did not heed them.
A second later his tip rammed against my buttocks but my physical will resisted him. Larry began to squeeze my breasts with greater and greater force, lacerating them with his fingers, causing the blood to drop from those small, luscious mounds of white flesh.
Finally, I could stand it no more, and I relaxed my body.
A second later his cock rammed between my buttocks with such force that his hands kept me from being thrown to the floor. I cried out with pain but my cries only drove him to a greater frenzy. Again and again he rammed that stiff flesh into the secret recesses of my bowels.
As it went deeper and deeper into my tortured flesh, the pain vanished and in its place came an almost hysterical warmth which seemed to fill my body and which seemed each second to grow into a passionate intensity. My mind reeled and my body became like a piece of jelly being splintered by some primitive weapon.
Suddenly I felt his body tense and stop its drive for a moment. His cock seemed suspended between my bowels and eternity.
His teeth fastened on my neck and his hands clutched me almost insanely as the hot liquid of his cock poured between my buttocks. I moaned. Never had I felt such a liquid penetration. The seed seemed to have been conjured up by some magician, so overwhelming was its beauty.
The boy let me go and I fell to the floor, quivering from the intensity of the ejaculation. I turned on my back and looked at his naked frame, his cock hanging limply between his legs, the seed still dripping from it.
Gathering all my strength, I crawled to him and tasted those last few drops of that seed, letting my lips drink deeply of the child's vigor.
Then we slept. The boy did not speak to me at all, but he dozed off quickly after I had placed another twenty dollar bill in his hand.
Hours later we awoke. Larry was ready to leave the hotel but my lust had only been whetted. I offered him more money to stay another day and finally he accepted. That next evening he went out to buy a bottle of whiskey.
When he came back I was already naked, standing on the floor, waiting for him. I held the bottle when he undressed. We both drank deeply. It was good whiskey and a warm glow settled over our bodies. I kissed him with my tongue and then let my lips roam over all of his muscles. The child was breathing heavily.
"Get down on all fours."
"Please, not again," I replied.
A second later his fist crashed into my face, sending me reeling against the wall. When my dizziness left me, I got down on all fours as he had requested, like a bitch in heat, waiting to be mounted.
Larry began to pour the whiskey over my naked body. He rubbed it into my cunt with his hands, reaching under me. The liquid burned and I began to squirm. He rubbed it into every opening of my body, his face twisted into a demonic laugh. I was caught up in this horrible whiskey rape. I knew then, at that moment, that I had chosen a child who was a brute, a child who had lost all semblance of humanity, a child who the city streets had been twisted and warped.
I tried to speak to him, to stop those frantic hands which were suffusing my flesh with the liquid.
"Larry, be gentle. There is another way, a way of beauty, a way of truth, a way to enjoy the delights of my body."
He looked at me with contempt and scorn.
"You fucken pervert. How can you tell me anything? You're a pervert, you're an old bag who digs young kids. I ain't listening to anything you got to say."
The liquid was finished, drunk up by my body, rubbed into every nook and cranny of my flesh.
He straddled me, and holding the whiskey bottle upside down, inserted the neck of the bottle into my vagina, giving it a devilish twist.
The combination of cold glass and heat generated by the corkscrew movement almost made me lose consciousness, so overwhelming was its effect.
He began to move the bottle like a glass cock, deeper and deeper into my flower. Like an enraged dog, I tried to escape the object but his powerful thighs held me in place.
Then I felt a terrible pain. The brute was not happy with his bottle rape. He rammed his now stiff cock, once again between my buttocks. This time it slid in easily, for his organ had been lubricated by the whiskey.
Thus I was impaled by that savage beast; in my cunt a lifeless whiskey bottle, end-up, drove deeper and deeper into the most mysterious part of me, and between my buttocks thrust his brutal, red-tipped cock.
I was caught up in a whirlpool of glass and flesh. The cock and the bottle lacerated my cunt and buttocks, sending the rest of my body into paroxysm of lust and pain, making every inch of me victim to the most incredible tremors. The sweat poured off of my body and once I bent my neck and looked at his wild face, begging him with my eyes to cease. But he would not cease.
Then, that brute placed the neck of the bottle which was impaling me between his two hands and began to twirl it as a boy scout twirls sticks when he makes a fire. The heat was so intense that my flower seemed to shrivel and a moment later I felt those terrible earthquakes in the center of my body, those rumblings and those dislocations which told me I was reaching the point of orgasm. A second later it happened. My body exploded under the passion and as my stomach and flesh twitched with the joys of orgasm, I felt that hot seed, once again, pour through my bowels. My body twitched on the floor like a rag doll and I lost consciousness.
When I awoke, Larry was gone. My purse had been rifled and in a supreme act of contempt for me, I realized that he had urinated on my body before he left.
At that moment, I wanted to die. At that moment I wanted the weight of my sins to crush the breath from my body and leave me an unthinking corpse. It was many hours before my nausea subsided and I was able to leave that filthy motel, the symbol of the death that eventually awaited me.
This episode contains two crucial psychological hints, which, if they can be understood, will give us an important clue to the structure of her perversion.
The first is that moment after the boy plucks the coin from her hand. Immediately afterward, she tells how she had a strange desire to pluck his male organ as he had plucked the coin.
Any psychologist, no matter what school he is affiliated with, will recognize this instantly. Plucking, in this context, means castration. At that moment, she wanted to castrate Larry and make him completely impotent, just as she had probably wished that her father was castrated so that she would not incur the guilt of desiring him sexually.
The second hint is that strange scene in the bar where she presses a glass against her bare breast. Furthermore, it is possible to conjecture that the "bottle-rape" was really desired by her and made known to the boy by subtle body movements. How can this desire for contact with and penetration by glass be understood? The most logical explanation seems to be that as she becomes more and more used to viewing herself as a pervert, she seeks to identify herself with more and more bizarre sexual acts, so that her sense of guilt and self-hatred can increase. The reader may be unable to understand why she should crave guilt as well as hope to be rid of guilt. This, of course, is one of the paradoxes of any mentally disturbed person, especially those who fall in the category of sexual disturbances. And, such a paradox is often what prevents these people from being successfully treated.