Chapter 4

(Name: Cynthia T. Age: Thirty-three. Place of Residence: Miami Beach. Occupation: Wealthy Divorcee.)

I was hungry for a man; so hungry that at night I would just lay in my bed and shiver. A soft breeze came in from the terrace and tormented my naked body. The crisp white sheets were like a million fingers, crawling over me ... calling forth a thousand memories.

I remember one night when the need for a cock was no longer bearable.

My hands were twisted into claws. I cupped my own breasts and felt the nipples responding. Squeezing them, the juices seemed to rise; to spread out in the white hillocks of my tits. I squeezed harder until the pain was a beautiful sensation. I tried desperately to suck my own point but a wave of shame came over me. I bit my pillow, trying to stop, but it was no use. My body was at the point of absolute need. It couldn't be stopped. The edge of the sheet was in my hand and I scraped it against the nipples. My body shivered. The sheet slid down my body until it covered my thighs. Taking the corner in one hand, I guided it along my cunt lips until my nest was warm and moist. Then I literally coated my finger with the fabric and slipped it in like some covered cock. I felt the joy of penetration.

The finger was sliding by, passing the limpid walls of my cunt, driving up toward the womb. I felt my trembling crotch close around the intruder.

"What is your name?" I asked my own finger and then pulled my legs up so that I was totally open.

Then the desperate plunge; the throwing away of any and all attempts at sophistication. I drove it deep, splintering the enforced abstinence. I drove it all the way, curling the finger like a talon and sending my cunt screeching to orgasm. Pulling my finger out, I gazed at the soiled fabric, wet with the evidence of my passion. And then I cried myself to sleep.

Something had to be done. I had to find some hobby, some physical activity which would satiate my body and dim the lust which was continually oppressing me. I had to find a substitute for the cock.

That was when I discovered the beach. I began to spend my whole day on the sand, lying still in the sun for about an hour and then plunging into the surf and swimming until I was totally exhausted. Gradually, a rhythm of swin and sun began to emerge and my body lost its desperate need. At the end of the day I was totally exhausted and I would fall into a deep sleep the moment I got home; not waking until the next morning.

My body became golden and healthy. I realized that I could live alone; that I needed neither companionship nor conversation. Other people became merely objects that I had to avoid. It was a strange time; a time of intense physical activity but with no feeling or need for the act of sex.

But then, one dismal afternoon, when the beach was swathed with clouds-I saw something which started me on my spiral to Hell; I saw something which splintered that false utopia of sun and sand and surf.

It was late and I had started home. But instead of the usual route, I elected to cut through a private beach, owned by a hotel, the boundaries clearly visible by two gigantic breakers-jagged stone formations which jutted out of the sand and run hundreds of feet to sea.

Suddenly, I heard a noise from the far side of one of the breakers. It sounded like a wounded animal. Stepping carefully, I walked toward the sound.

I saw two naked bodies pressed against the rock and I stopped short. The girl was on all fours, like a dog, her hair dancing in the wind and her body covered with the fine sea mist. The boy was sliding his cock into her and the girl moaned-the noise I had heard.

He was short and squat and his muscles on the back of the neck and shoulders stood out like ropes. He was a heartless young beast and he drove his cock deep-grinning wildly as the girl moaned and her body sucked the shaft in. He began to pump and I shivered as I saw the wet cock, in and out, plunging deep into the virgin cunt. It was the first time for the girl-I could tell that-I could tell that her body had never felt the shock of maleness.

His stubby fingers were spreading her buttocks and for a moment I thought he was going to withdraw and plunge it in her anus. But it was only a tease and he grinned to himself. Faster and faster the two bodies went until the cock was like a massive log and I heard him groan and they both came together-the girl falling on the rocks, her body wet with semen and salt water.

Then the animal turned to go and he saw me standing there. I could see his cock, still covered with juice, still pulsing slightly from the joys of her cunt.

"You want it too," he quipped.

I turned and ran, shaking all over, the sight of that shaft staying with me, burning into my consciousness. The game was over for me. That night, the old need came back, stronger and more desperate than ever. I kept seeing his young body, the pulsing muscles, the plunging, brutal shaft.

The next day I stayed away from the beach ... and the next day. But eventually I returned; as a victim not as a devotee of athletics. His name was Willie and he was sixteen years old. His job was to bring beach mats and chairs for the guests of the hotel. For hours I watched him; his strong body moving carelessly from one part of the beach to another and each movement ... each tensing of his legs and thighs and arms made me ache with need. Just watching him, my lips formed beads of sweat and deep in my crotch I felt the agony of my womanhood.

Finally, my chance came, when all the guests had left the sand and he was gathering the mats. I stood in front of the breakers and waited.

He looked up and saw me. I stared at him. He dropped a mat and walked toward me, naked except for a bathing brief. I felt that I was being stalked by a tiger; that I was being made the victim of some cruel beast that would know nothing but his own gratification.

I stepped back until I felt the rocks against my buttocks. He was ten feet away and then five feet and then he stood only six inches from my body. It was no time for talk. We both knew-we both felt.

He was the child-brute. The power came from his body in massive waves. I shivered and stripped off the top of my bathing suit and then the bottom. His eyes glowered into my crotch. I moved closer and inserted my thumbs in the top of his bathing suit and then pulled it down.

It was there in front of me; his vibrant shaft. I buried my face in his crotch, sucking desperately at his savage globes, licking the odor from his cock, nuzzling him until the shaft became erect. I rubbed my eyes over the cock tip and then let it play against my lips.

Then I stepped back. The whole world seemed to be reeling. His grin was like some demonic mask. Suddenly, I saw on the beach beside us, two large strands of sea weed-horribly knotted, grotesque strands. .

I reached down and picked the slimy ropes up. Then I lay down on the sand. Looking up, I could see the quivering weapon and my fingers crawled to his scrotum and pinched it until he moaned. He fell down on the sand beside me and his grinning mask plunged into my crotch. I screamed and then moaned as his lips parted my cunt and I felt the powerful thrust of his tongue, sucking me dry. I arched my back and opened wider and he was insatiable. The tongue went spinning in-violent-full-bodied.

His teeth were scraping my clitoris and my fingers clenched the rocks as if they were my salvation. Then he slid his tongue out and I just lay there, moaning, my nest a cauldron of fire and saliva.

What was he? Was he only a child? How had I seduced him? Who was he?

A thousand questions raced through my mind. But the reality of his body smashed them. I saw him open my fingers and take the sea weed ropes.

"Is this what you want" I heard him whisper.

What was he talking about? What did he mean? I don't know why I had picked up the ropes. I don't know why they had suddenly exerted such a strange fascination for me.

Suddenly I saw his muscular arm loom up in front of the sky and a second later I heard the horrid scream of the strands and then pain ... terrible, beautiful pain which covered my body and flowed through every part of me.

The ropes had landed on the soft inside of my thighs. I moaned and rolled over. The ropes screamed again and this time my buttocks were sliced by the thrust and I felt my own blood trickling from my white flesh.

Again and again that whistling agony and I rolled in the sand and the sea until my body was coated with the natural substances. And mixed with them was my own blood. With each blow, my need for his cock grew and I reached up and I begged for it. Between blows, he let me taste the tip, he let me slowly swallow it for just a moment and taste the divine joy-before pulling it out.

He dropped the ropes into the sea. I lay back and spread my legs wide. I begged him ... I pleaded for that moment of penetration.

Suddenly, I saw his massive shaft loom in front of me and a second later I felt it struggling to enter-forcing the willing cunt lips even wider. My ass was being dug into the sand, scraped by the rocks.

It took my breath away. My body opened for that cock in one spasm of joy. I sucked the cock in, my vaginal walls shivering like a wounded bird. The shaft plunged deep-a fiery tong.

He was on me. There was no longer any talk of sophistication. There was no longer any dreams of subtle and gentle manipulations. This was the penetration-inch after inch of cock which was grinding me down-into the sand. I opened my mouth to cry out but no sound came out.

As he drove; as the rhythm of love absorbed us, his fists and nails beat at my flanks. I wanted all the inches he could give me. I wanted all the pain his fingers could produce. We went faster and faster until the whole world seemed to be spinning and then he went so deep and his cock was so round and hard that I threw my body up as I climaxed, sucked the seed from him.

It was over. I felt as if I had been struck by a massive blunt instrument. My whole body seemed in shock. Then I saw him lying by my side and I saw the pearls of semen coating his quiet maleness. I crawled to him and licked the wetness from his shaft, reveling in each drop ... kissing the seed away and letting the particles of liquid roll on my tongue.

Then he stood up and stretched like a young stag. Suddenly, I hated that young beast. I hated my own weakness for having thrown myself in front of him.

"Good, huh," he muttered.

"You filthy nothing ... you arrogant animal," I spewed out.

"And what are you?" he asked.

"A fool."

"You're an old bitch," he said. I picked up my bathing suit and tried to put it on but my hands were shaking too violently. "Do you want me to help you?"

"Get away from me."

"Well, whenever you want Willie, you know where to find him and you know he'll take care of you."

Then he was gone. The arrogance of that young beast. He spoke of himself in the third person, as if he was Napoleon. I finally was able to dress and I hobbled home. My whole body was aching from the experience and I spent that whole night in the bath. From time to time the memory of what had happened would sink me into a deep depression.

The next day Oliver, my youngest brother, came down to visit me. Usually I enjoyed such visits immensely but all that day I was distracted.

"What's the matter?" he finally asked me, as we were sipping cocktails before dinner.

I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him what had happened and about the sudden onslaught of my erotic insanity. But no matter how many times I tried-no matter how many times I began-the words froze in my throat. An hour later he was gone, profoundly disturbed but unable to help me. It was something that I had to resolve for myself.

That night the sound of his name, of Willie, beat against my consciousness. I was engaged in a profound struggle. My psyche was being ripped apart by the contradiction between my erotic needs and my conscience.

It was a night of hell. Every hour I would awake drenched with sweat.

My crotch was wet and hot. Just the touch of my fingers would start the cunt to shiver. When I closed my eyes I could see the grinning face of the beast; his white teeth, his young, muscular body.

I had seduced him but he was the more powerful. I had picked up the ropes of sea weed, but he had seemed to know what I wanted. How could I get his wisdom? How could I achieve a peace of mind that would enable him to choose-and me to reject his cock.

That morning-when the first glimmer of dawn snaked through my blinds-I knew that I had lost. I knew that I was caught in the prison of his thrusting maleness and that I had become a prisoner of my own seduction. There was nothing to do but wait for the afternoon; wait for the time when the shadows would be caressing the beach and I could offer myself to him again. All that day I stayed in the house with the shades and blinds drawn. I walked about naked, waiting, always waiting. I gazed at myself in the mirror from time to time, staring at my full nipples, moving close to examine the juicy red inner lips of my cunt. My whole body had become a mystery to me. I was a stranger to myself.

Then it was time. I slipped on only a robe, without a bathing suit, and made my way slowly toward the hotel beach. Even from a distance I could pick out his muscular body from the late bathers.

The beach was emptying quickly. I walked to the breakers and climbed up-then began to thread my way out into the surf, walking carefully to keep from cutting my feet on the jagged rocks. About half-way out I came to a small pool, a calm, natural cave. The water came up to my ankles and the rocks loomed up over me. But even from that spot I could see the beast. He was staring out toward the rocks; his eyes picking me out of the sun. He had his hands on his waist and his whole body had the arrogant thrust of a young bull. But I was no longer worried by his behavior. I was interested only in his body.

I watched him pile the beach mats up. Then he rested for a while, stretching like a young god. He was tormenting me, he was displaying his body for me to yearn for it. I closed my eyes and tried to think of something else. When I opened them, he was walking toward me.

I undid the belt on the robe and the front was open. My fingers touched my naked belly and I felt the excitement growing there. Reaching down, I scooped up some sea water and rubbed it into my crotch. The brine burned the cunt lips and I shivered from the delicious pain.

He was on the breakers-leaping up on them like a cat ... and beginning the slow walk toward me. His features became clearer and clearer-always wrapped in that demonic smile. How could a boy be so young and know so much. Was he really a child or was he an adult who had lodged in my mind and become a child-the product of an imagination I could no longer control.

"Hellow," he called out, so innocently, as if we were two children visiting an ice cream parlor. He leaped lightly into the pool beside me. I opened my robe wider and he saw my full breasts and his eyes were like two hungry flames.

"I was watching you all the time. From the minute you walked onto the beach. I watched you as I worked."

His words meant nothing to me. I was there and he was there and there was no need for conversation. My body was my testimony. I moved closer to him. Small beads of sweat and saliva had appeared on his lips and his nervous tongue tried to flick them away. For the first time, that simple gesture revealed his youth. For the first time since I had met him, it was I who was totally in command.

"I thought that maybe you wouldn't be here today ... that maybe you were sorry about what had happened."

As he said those words I could see past the barrier of his deep mouth and into the passageway of his throat. I cupped my hands under my breasts and held them up.

He stared and then he was silent. He took a step closer. I could see the muscles of his neck straining. I could see his powerful desires; the desires of a child-brute who had always triumphed.

"Who are you?" he suddenly asked.

But he couldn't wait for an answer to his strange question. He let his tongue exit and touch one nipple. I dropped my hands from my breasts and moaned. He nicked his tongue again and I felt my nipple growing, beginning to tense.

His mouth opened and slowly and beautifully he sucked the nipple past his lips and teeth until it was resting in his velvet cavern. I felt his burning spit coat the nipple. My point was churning with fury like a young cock. Suddenly, I could no longer stand the exquisite joy and I rammed my whole breast into his mouth. The mound of white flesh stuffed in until he was choking and biting and I screamed and moaned with joy.

"More, more," I whispered.

He sucked the whole breast in, chewing at the tender mound, ripping it and loving it until the blood from the lacerated nipple filled his mouth and mixed with his own saliva.

I pulled the breast out and squatted, blinding flashes of pain moving through my body. Without thinking-without knowing what I was doing-I slipped the belt from the robe and handed it to him. Then I stood and let-the robe drop from my body. I heard his sharp intake of breath as he saw my complete nakedness and I trembled as his powerful fingers stroked my naked ass and probed beyond my buttocks.

His teeth sliced the flesh of my ass and I was forced to kneel again and feel the sea water lapping at the doors of my cunt. Then he kissed my ass goodbye and slipped out of his bathing suit. His fingers were knotting the rope I had given him; the gentle belt of the rope which was being turned into the most horrible vehicle of torture.

A cold wind was beginning to blow and the waves became white necked as they broke against the beach. I could hear nothing but the smashing of the water and the echo of the rocks.

He held the knotted belt up to the sky and grinned; as if he was some ancient Trojan warrior holding aloft the severed head of an enemy.

"Not yet, not yet," I whispered.

I had seen it-large and bursting with the blood of his need. I had seen it leap from between his thighs and I felt the most powerful compulsion of my life. He had to let me taste it. He had to give it to me before he used that bizarre knotted weapon which hung over me. I crawled to it; my hands and feet scraping against the bottom, churning through the small waves.

It danced in front of my face. It tormented me. It was the cock I had already had in my dreams, it was the cock I had used to sleep, to break the terrible circle of enforced loneliness.

My mouth quivered and my lips were wet with anticipation. I let my tongue out and like an escaped serpent, it slid along the erect shaft, covering every inch, coating the bumps and the pulsing veins with the saliva of love. He stood absolutely still, accepting my caresses as if he were some sort of emperor, used to the gifts of women.

It was growing-it was bursting its bounds. I formed my mouth into a wet circle and slid it over the tip-and up-always up-until I had swallowed the beast and it was a lashing fury in the softness of my mouth. I hung on and sucked-giving it all my love-giving it everything my tongue and throat could give. Then, unable to stand the joy, I slipped my teeth over the tip and bit softly until his moans were like treasured music.

The pressure of his hands on my shoulders told me that he wanted to be released. I opened my mouth and the massive cock slid out. I kissed it as it left me.

"Thank you," I whispered, and held my hands out to him in the age old symbol of supplication.

He slid the knotted belt through the water so that it would be coated with brine.

"You know what you want," he said.

But did I know what I wanted? Did I know anything? Who had given him the belt? Who was to blame? I watched the wicked shape and I knew that I had to have it-I had to feel the slashing weapon-I had to open my body to it and give back all the blood it wanted.

I lay down in the water and raised my body up so that the crotch was pointed toward him. Supporting myself with shoulders and legs, I began to massage myself until the raw, red, inner lips of my cunt were visible. I squeezed it like it was a ripe piece of fruit-ready to yield up the most delicate pulp. The mere touch of my finger in that scarlet nest sent my whole body screaming. I kept working it more-thrusting it higher up. He waited ... he waited ... and then slowly he uncoiled the belt. I pushed up hard until my inflamed cunt was reaching toward the sky-a crimson flower of anguished erotic flesh. His face muscles became set.

A second later I heard the whistling sound but lost it in the sky. A sudden bolt of pain and the brine soaked robe cut into my waiting cunt-plucking the fruit-sucking out the burning juices. Then the belt was pulled off. I was trembling so hard I could hardly keep my position. I touched my wounded nest and stroked the clitoris and fingered the vaginal walls as if they were my wounded allies. Again that whistling and again the cunt fig was sliced into-the whip of Hell searing my whole crotch.

He laughed at me-a wild full-throated laugh that I could not understand. Then he just dangled the belt over me, letting it play against my cunt but no longer hitting me. I squirmed and moved until I was able to spread the vaginal lips and catch the tip-sucking it in like some surrogate cock. I was shaking with excitement as I absorbed the weapon and pulled it further up-further and further.

I closed my eyes and floated-as if in some erotic cave-the rope went deeper. It was crawling and being sucked to my womb. A second later that beauty was shattered as he jerked the rope from my crotch and I screamed with pain as it whistled out. He rolled it into a ball and flung it as far as he could into the ocean.

He was through with my games-I knew that. He wanted to play only his games now. He wanted to ease the need which hung so heavily between his legs.

"Stinken bitch," he snarled.

"Shut up," I screamed, unable to accept his curses, unable to accept anything that would spoil the moment.

"Whore, cunt, old bag from the sea," he muttered. I twisted my body as if to get away from him but he thrust me back with his foot. I felt the toenail dig into my cunt.

"Now I want something," he said.

I closed my thighs but he forced them open with his foot and began to squat, ready to mount me. I began to weep, begging him not to, begging him to leave me alone for a moment until the rawness of my cunt would be soothed. But there was nothing that could stop that young beast-nothing.

He squatted down further and his hands slid under my ass, pulling me up toward him. His fingers manipulated my buttocks, spreading them so that the rushing water flowed into the core of my anus.

His cock tip was at the gates of my cunt and the outer lips shrivelled with pain as the penetration began. His massive shaft brushed against the raw, bleeding cunt and I screamed. But it was no use. He began to push it in and as each inch vanished into the erotic maw-the pain grew and grew. It was as if he was ramming a white hot poker into my body. I felt that burning hands were ripping me apart. I pleaded, I begged, I moaned-but that iron cock slid deeper.

"No more, more ... yes and no ... let me die," I whispered a thousand nonsense words and phrases, for nothing could approximate my pain.

It was all the way in-drying up the juices along the cunt walls until my inside was like sandpaper. Then he spread my ass real wide with his fingers and brought me up sharply-and began to pump-great savage thrusts of his cock until I found myself losing consciousness. He screamed once and then I felt the seed lubricating me-pouring a warm stream of love along the burning and bruised vaginal maw.

He threw me to one side and scooping up sea water in his hand, washed himself like a young animal. There was a look of contempt on his face.

"Did you like that, bitch?"

I couldn't answer him. I wanted to drown myself in the surf; to move down to the bottom until all my memories were dissolved in one rush of water.

I watched him skip away along the rocks until his figure vanished in the afternoon haze. For the longest time I lay there-until the water and wind began to chill my body. Finally, when it was dark I crawled back to my apartment like a beaten animal. Burying my face in the pillow, I vowed never to indulge myself again; never to lose control-never to allow my psyche to exert its bizarre needs. I had to become strong-to learn to live with my problem. But, at least I knew what it was. I knew that I needed the lash and I needed it more badly than even food.

When I gathered my strength I began to pack my bags but half way through I realized that I could never escape. No matter where I went, it would always be there-lurking, waiting, almost overpowering in its ability to sweep away my normal feelings.

I unpacked and went to sleep. The next morning I felt fine, except for a bruised vagina which I soaked carefully in rose-water. I was in control and had only to wait for the next outburst.

In THALASSA: A THEORY OF GENITALITY (W. W. Norton & Company, New York, 1968) the distinguished Hungarian psychoanalyst and intimate friend of Freud, Sandor Ferenczi, writes:

"In the light of these considerations the modes of gratification of perverts and the symptoms of psychoneurotics receive a new illumination. The fixation of such individuals at a lower stage of sexual development would thus be only an incomplete attainment of the ultimate goal of the erotic reality function, the genital reestablishment of the intrauterine situation." (page 26)

Before we outline the crucial importance the above statement has to the resolution of this case-we must warn the reader that much of what the subject said was simply not true; that in order to truly understand her sexual problem, we must read between the lines. To give one example; her tremendous emphasis on the young boy's dominance must be discounted. Similarly, her attempt to give the impression that the boy was instrumental in suggesting the flagellation, probably has no basis in the facts. The subject seduced the boy and led him to her sexual pleasure-all else is fabrication.

Now-what was the aetiology of her perversion. From the above passage we see that many perversions have their roots in a desire to return to the womb. In this case, the desire was more than hidden; it became manifest. Her need to perform sexual acts on the beach, near and in the water, was an obvious attempt on the part of her subconscious to return to that primeval state.

But why the need for flagellation along with coitus ... and why the seduction of a young boy? Here it becomes a bit more complicated. The flagellation was the symbol of her father's penis, which was the rod which brought her from the womb; which fertilized the egg. To return, her unconscious needs to totally recapitulate the experience, including the moment of conception. The whipping is merely her own way of easing the guilt at wanting her father's penis. As she is penetrated-she is punished-and the pain cancels out the pleasure.

As for the young boy. She seduced a child rather than a man because she needed the illusion of innocence, even though the boy she seduced was obviously no innocent.

The reader can see that illusion after illusion are the building stones for her perversion. She will never reach back to the womb, even at the emotional level. And this failure, this irrevocable failure, is what will drive her into more and more bizarre situations. The need to be whipped will no longer satisfy her and she will try other things. The body will become like a sponge, trying desperately to survive the assault of the psyche.

Ultimately she will become addicted to pain and coitus will no longer have to accompany those acts. The future is not bright for a woman like her and unless she receives competent psychiatric care there is a good chance that she will eventually lose control.

Sadly, even if she receives help, cases like this are rarely cured because they are referred when it is too late; when the syndrome is too firmly ensconced to be rooted out.