Chapter 5
The Anal Masochist
"I would say that I am quite definitely depraved. Does that shock you? It certainly shocked the last doctor I had-and a few before him. Of course, I knew exactly what he was thinking. like all the others in their fine, handsome offices, their shelves filled with books, this one was trying to be so warm. He probably thought: Here's an exceptionally good-looking woman of twenty-six who hasn't been married very long and who's having a sex problem.
Well, I'll listen politely and wrap this one up in short order.
"Then I told him about my anal eroticism. I told him how I craved being raped in the ass-hole. I told him how I desired to be tied and gagged and have my defenseless ass brutalized. I told him how I loved to be a slave to other people's asses, especially with my mouth. I told him that I wanted to be used as crudely as possible as long as it had something to do with an ass-hole.
"Then it's the doctor who goes to pieces! He stammers and hems and haws and gets flustered. He asks, stupidly, why I came to him. For help, obviously, I have to answer. I'm confused; I want to understand what's going on; what compels me to want a kind of filthy sex I've never seen in anyone else. And the doctor does not really want to help me-can you imagine that? I have already told him too much. It is not a neat little problem of sexual adjustment in marriage. It's too dirty for him to touch.
"Do you believe that I can't find a single doctor in this entire city to help me? You say it seems improbable that I couldn't find one therapist? Well, you're right. You've guessed. I was lying about the doctor-about all the doctors. I lie about it because I can't bring myself to see one. I don't want to have to look at them after I tell them what kind of a sexual freak I am. They will think it's too dirty. Anyone would. I don't know. It's ... it's so confusing. I want to talk about it, but I don't want to listen to what they have to say about me. I know I'm a pervert.
I can call myself that, but I don't want anyone else to. But it's all right to talk into this tape recorder, isn't it? I mean, it can't talk back to me, can it?
"Sex, as a word, doesn't have any meaning to me, not really. It can mean everything and it can mean nothing. But 'shit,' now that's a word that's explicit. I can relate to shit. In fact, I grew up thinking of sex and shit all wrapped up together.
"I was twelve years old when I got my first proposition to fuck.' That's getting slightly ahead of the story, though. It happened at a class picnic one spring. After a ton of hot dogs and soda pop, I had to shit badly-'poop,' we called it then. There weren't any toilet facilities at the lake, so the kids were using the woods. The girls were supposed to go in one direction and the boys in the other.
"Somehow I got confused. Then, armed with a couple of napkins for toilet paper, I went into the trees and heavy brush looking for a spot. I was just ready to pull down my jeans when I heard a sound and suddenly realized that I'd almost blundered onto a boy who was doing what I intended. He was just a few feet from me around a bush and I could see him perfectly. He was squatting with his pants down around his ankles and his bare ass was stuck out all funny-like. He hadn't really started to shit yet, and I was frozen to the spot for fear he'd hear me. I knew what he was doing was dirty and private, and I should have closed my eyes or turned my head-but somehow I couldn't.
"I kept staring at his ass, particularly his ass-hole, and as I watched in fascination, the little hole opened up and a hot turd came squeezing out just like toothpaste out of a tube. I'd never really thought about it before, but it occurred to me that the turd was huge compared to the size of the hole that emitted it. Not that it meant anything to me at the time. Anyway, as I watched him shit, I was forced to retain my own crap. I had a terrible, strange feeling in my ass-as if .seeing him made me want to go all the more, only I couldn't. I could only bite my tongue and try to stay still while he finished.
"I thought he would slip away then but instead he turned around to get some leaves off the same bush I was standing behind. He saw me and jumped back. It was an awkward moment for a couple of young kids. I finally stammered that I was sorry, that I had to do the same thing myself. Then I turned my back, while he wiped with the leaves. Though we were both embarrassed, he told me to go ahead and shit and he'd stand guard for me. I did, not knowing that he was watching me as I had watched him. Before I could pull up my jeans, he was right next to me asking if he could fuck me.
"Well, I was a pretty dumb kid. I had only heard the word whispered, and vaguely knew it was dirty and forbidden. I shook my head no. Then he said he'd tell everyone he saw me shitting if I didn't go along with him. I protested that I'd seen him shitting, too, and I could tell about him. He said admitting that would admit spying on him. And that was how I was confronted with my first fuck.'
"It turned out that the kid was dumber than I was. His idea of fucking had nothing to do with his cock or my cunt. Where he came up with the weird business, I'll never know. But his fuck' consisted of both of us baring our asses, bending over so that our cheeks touched, then rubbing our butts together with gradually increasing friction and speed. Our movements, as I recall, were sensual enough-rolling, grinding, and bumping. Maybe he'd spied on his parents or another couple making it and got the whole thing ass backwards.
"Anyway, for a long time, that's what I thought fucking was all about and I didn't learn any different until an older girl explained it to me. It's a silly kid's story, I know, but that incident had a tremendous lasting effect on me. Even when I was older and knew better, I couldn't help the odd feeling that would come over me that fucking-sex, if you will-somehow had something to do with asses and shitting.
"What happened a few years later did nothing to straighten out my head. My family was dirt poor, and when my pa took sick, I was farmed out to relatives as I was growing up. I ended up taking off from that last place I called home when I was seventeen. I wasn't exactly a runaway, I was just on the loose.
"I knew the sex route by that time, too. I don't think you could call me an easy lay, but if I liked a boy well enough, I'd fuck. It was no big deal. Anyway, down in Shreveport, I was working as a waitress and looking for a way out when a Bible preacher with a tent show came through. Good old fire and brimstone, foot-stomping religion. They pitched their tent near where I worked, and I got to know the troupe, especially the Reverend, which is the way we addressed him. He was a fierce, good-looking guy in his forties and he kind of hypnotized you.
"As soon as they set up their meetings, the Reverend took a imagine to me. He said it was the white dress I wore, said I looked like an angel with my honey-gold hair and all that white. He asked me if I could sing, and I said a little. Then he offered me a job with his revival. All I had to do was dress up in white lace and stand around and sing and look pretty and shout 'Amen, brother!' at the right times. Well, I grabbed at the chance, mainly to travel, 'cause the Reverend was taking the meeting all through the South.
"I didn't pay much attention to the religion part of it, but the rest was fun. There were other young people with the show, including a three-piece band. I got a thing going with the lead guitar player and pretty soon I was getting fucked every time we could sneak out of the Reverend's sight. Of course, we got caught. The Reverend fired the guitar player and sent him off, but for me he had something special in mind. He hauled me into his trailer that night and started screaming at me about sin. I don't mind telling you I was scared of the man. He was hell on wheels when he got wound up on sin. But you know, it was all a crock of shit. The Reverend wanted a little off his angel, too. The only trouble was the way he went about it.
"He yelled that he was going to purge the devil out of me. Then he ripped off my clothes, flung me over his knees, and whipped my bare ass with a belt until I couldn't even cry out anymore. And that was just the warm-up. I was cowering naked on his bunk bed, trying to escape his eyes by holding one hand over my crotch and the other arm over my tits. But he wasn't having any of that. He grabbed my wrists and pulled my hands away, then stood there, his eyes practically burning out of their sockets, pointing at my cunt. My cunt was a sanctified hole, he yelled. It belonged to God for the purposes of love and reproduction. And I had despoiled it by letting that lousy guitar player fuck me.
"Of course, the Reverend was more long-winded than I'm telling it here. It turned out that he'd been entertaining some ideas about my cunt himself and now wasn't willing to settle for sloppy seconds. How that man could talk that way about my cunt, interspersing the whole harangue with Bible quotations, I don't know. Actually, as it turned out, he was just leading up to my ass-hole. There was where the real trouble was, according to him.
"The ass-hole was hell itself. It was the Devil's own dark nest. It was Sodom and Gomorrah all in one tight, dirty little hole. But the Devil could be had, the Devil could be driven out of his black hell. Oh yes, he preached to me, it would hurt and there would be pain and suffering, but it would be good for my soul. I thought he'd flipped out completely because I didn't know what he was talking about. He was talking about a personal kind of purge. He was going to fuck the Devil out of my ass himself!
"I didn't believe him until he dropped his pants and I saw his erection. He gripped that huge, horny thing and raved that it was an instrument of God. Scared as I was, I realized it was more religion than I could take. I tried to get on my knees to pray-to him, to God, to anybody who would listen. For a minute, I thought he'd given in because he kept me on my knees and held my shoulders like he sometimes did with repentant sinners. But then I realized he was just turning me and swinging me into position so he could get at my ass.
"The first thing I felt was a sharp, jabbing finger that tore up my ass-hole. I kicked and begged, but the finger tore up my tight little hole without any mercy. I'm sure I almost fainted, but it didn't stop the Reverend. He gripped my hips and forced my bent legs apart with his knees as he knelt behind me. Then I felt the hot knob of his stiff cock pushed against my ass-hole. There was no lubricant or moisture except for maybe the sweat of my fear. I had a nightmare vision of splitting in half, right up the valley of trembling cheeks. I screamed.
Then the monster cock popped into me, and I felt as though a bomb had exploded in my bowels.
"The fucking that followed was brutal beyond words. He yanked on my hips and slammed forward time after time, stretching me and filling me inch by inch. I was out of my senses. The torment, the pain, shot all the way to my fingers and toes. When he couldn't gain anymore of the tortured tunnel, he started long, fast strokes that took my breath away. And all the time he was preaching at me how he was driving out the Devil. Well, maybe he was. But when he came, it felt and looked and smelt more like shit coming out of my ass than any satanic demon.
"I never forgot that anal rape, which was only the first of many. Somehow, the Reverend got a strange hold over me. Maybe if I had run away from him after that first incident, I wouldn't be the kind of person I am today. But I stayed with him through town after dusty town. I suffered all the way, but I was too mixed up to do anything about it. My head was filled with crazy religion and ideas about pain and penance and suffering and redemption. Being raped in the ass had meaning to ma. After a while, I wanted him to fuck my ass because, no matter how badly it hurt when he was doing it, I actually got to the point where I felt better when he was through, even though my ass-hole was so sore that it hurt to walk or take a crap. It was very unreal and made me feel different than others. The sensation was uniquely mine.
"During that time I learned not to scream when my ass-hole was being brutalized. I knew it wouldn't do any good and the Reverend had a nasty habit of twisting and pinching the flesh of my cunt and pulling on my cunt hairs whenever I got too loud. There wasn't any redeeming satisfaction in that at all; it just plain hurt-horribly so. There was never any glow afterwards. To this day, no matter what I allow to happen to my ass, I don't want anyone messing with my cunt or my tits.
"Oddly enough, the Reverend completely ignored my tits. I had a damn attractive bundle even then, but as far as he was concerned, I could have been flat as a board. Well, all men have their quirks. I guess the Reverend couldn't figure out anything Biblical to make them significant. He was too hooked on the heaven and hell theme of my cunt and my ass-hole. Oh yes, he kept that up to the very end. He never admitted that he simply dug brutalizing my ass. He always wrapped it up with purging and the Devil.
"I shouldn't put him down as a hypocrite, though. Maybe he actually believed what he was doing. I remember, for instance, that he used to particularly go after my ass-hole on the nights when the crowd at the tent meeting would go especially wild from his preaching. When it was over, he couldn't calm down. Back in his trailer, he'd be shaking from head to toe and his mouth just couldn't stop. The way he put it, he was, 'Filled with the glory of the Lord,' and his passion wouldn't go away until he'd chased at least one more devil. Of course, the one he always chased was the one that resided about six inches up my tender ass-hole.
"I'd know exactly what was coming. He didn't have to rip my clothes off anymore. He'd tell me to go naked before God, and I'd strip down. Then he'd order me to my knees to pray. He'd do the verbalizing, of course. And while he was behind me working himself up to a fit, I'd hear him pulling off his clothes. Then he'd get down behind me. He'd be really praying. He'd slap my bare ass every time he said 'Amen' or 'Glory' or 'Hallelujah.' And the slaps came pretty fast because he could really work it up. Next thing I'd know, he'd be off sin in general and down to the devil in my ass. That's when he'd move up close and bend me over. Sometimes I'd be on the bunk, sometimes on the floor. It didn't seem to matter to him. But I knew that when he got that close, I only had a minute to really say my prayers.
"I could feel that big cock of his swelling up and getting hard as his trembling got worse and his preaching got more fiery. As I said, it only took a minute, then he'd grab and start jabbing for all he was worth. Sometimes he'd hit my ass-hole on the first thrust, other times it would take three or four stabs. But when he hit it, he didn't hesitate. He plowed it right in, stretching it horribly, not giving a damn that the flesh was being twisted and tortured. It would be hot and dry and feel like a burning stick rammed into me where there really wasn't an opening.
"I prayed a lot to be able to shit in those first moments of his fucking. Just a little drizzle of shit, I can remember wanting, so it wouldn't tear the hole and make it bleed. When he did that-rip me so I'd bleed-there was no good feeling afterwards because I'd have to use first aid cream that would sting and feel squishy all the next day. But it felt very good when he spurted his jizz up my ass. I loved the hot, wet feel of that and I still do.
"When he came, of course, he was through for the night. The second he shot his last drop, he'd pull out of my ass violently and just leave me lying where I was. Then it was like his mouth had suddenly worn out, for he wouldn't say another word. After a few minutes, he'd throw my clothes at me and push me out of the trailer. Then I'd go back to my own bunk in the equipment truck and, believe it or not, I used to sleep pretty well.
"I was nineteen when I left the Reverend, and I guess I was already something of a sex freak. Of course, it didn't show and I didn't let on to anyone. For the next couple of years, I worked my way around Texas and Oklahoma mostly as a waitress and I did a little fucking around. I had an idea about finding the right guy and getting married, but the right kind of guys didn't usually show up around the places I worked. Anyway, I was sick of the Southwest. I guess that's what you'd call my virginal period. Sure, I fucked a few of those guys I dated, but it was like there was no feeling to it-like before the Reverend. So I split and headed north to St. Louis. That's where I met a gal who changed things for me.
"I was working at the counter in a greasy downtown hamburger joint at night. This gal, who was sort of fat and flashy, came in all the time and we got to talking. I found out that she'd been in the same boat as me a couple of years before. After awhile she told me she'd get me in touch with a guy who hired young chicks for his cocktail lounges. There was good money in the bars, she said, and I wouldn't have to hassle with truck drivers and creeps. I looked around at all the grease I was wallowing in and said fine.
"Marty had three imagine bars in town. He liked my looks and finally set me up in a lounge that was a hangout for a swinging, fast crowd. There was quite a cross-section of customers-gamblers, hoods, mickey mouse playboys, young businessmen. The place had jazz trios in and out. A very busy room. I had to work my tits off, but I was bringing in more money than I'd ever dreamed possible. Some nights I'd knock down close to fifty dollars in tips.
"I was just beginning to think I'd landed in the lap of luxury when I found out that one didn't work for Marty unless she paid off. Not a kickback on tips but with sex. He specialized in hiring girls like myself, good-looking girls from the sticks who had never had much before.
He waited until you got a good taste of the money coming in and had bought a few nice clothes you'd never had before, then he'd play his trump card. Actually, more girls walked out on him than stayed around-because, you see, Marty had some strange thoughts about sex.
"When he laid it on the line for me and I agreed to spend the night at his place, I didn't know what I was getting in for. I was ready to go the whole route for him-he wasn't a bad looking guy, in his late thirties, although a little on the heavy side-but I didn't think he'd come up with anything weird. He felt me up pretty good and told me to strip, so I stripped. I even took off his clothes for him. Then he threw me the first curve. He wanted me to dance for him. He put on some wild rock music, and I bounced and frugged all over the living room while he sat on the couch and stroked his cock into an erection.
"Next he wanted me to go down on him, something I hadn't done a lot of, but I was willing enough. Except that he didn't just ask or tease me into it, he ordered me to do it. I was actually flushed and embarrassed as I knelt on the floor before his outstretched legs and ran my tongue over the hard flesh of his cock, because I sensed that he was trying to humiliate me.
"I didn't have to wait long to find out just how right I was. I took his cock into my mouth and sucked it as well as I knew how, even played with his balls and tickled his ass-hole as he told me, but then when he was close to coming off, he stood up, making me kneel in front of him. I was sucking like hell just to get it over with, and I could feel him starting to come. Then suddenly, he pulled back a few inches, his cock slipped out of my mouth-and he shot his jizz all over my face!
"His stringy juices were everywhere, in my hair, running down my nose and cheeks, dribbling off my chin. I could have crawled into a hole. All he did was laugh. It really turned him on. He made me look at myself in the bathroom mirror before he let me clean it up. Then he fucked me dog fashion on the hard floor of the bathroom, at the same time insisting that I tell him how much I liked him and how much I enjoyed everything he did to me. It was tough getting the words out, but in a perverse way he was getting to me.
"The next day at the cocktail lounge, Marty made it a point to tell me to keep my eye on the other waitresses. I hardly knew them. They hadn't said much to me, probably because they didn't like competition and I was pretty popular from the beginning. But I soon picked up that they were all dating customers. I watched their action. They were careful who they dated and how often. Once I knew what to look for, it didn't take any brains to see that they were hooking.
"I approached one of the girls I thought I could talk to and asked What the real scene was. It was very educational. Yes, they were taking guys home and fucking them-but not for money. Not cash, that is. Just little gifts-say, a present that cost about twenty bucks. Or better, they'd go out with a guy maybe five times in a month and accept a present that cost a hundred. It was whoring, and I thought it was stupid not to get cash. But I was told that Marty wouldn't have it and that he had a gentleman's agreement with the cops. No cash, no arrests, no harassment.
"If I wanted to start whoring like the other waitresses, I had to get Marty's permission-which meant another night at his apartment. This time he came on even stronger. Instead of dancing for him when we were naked, he made me do exercises. I had to twist and turn and bend into grotesque positions-positions that displayed my cunt and ass-hole in the lewdest way. Then he demanded that I play with myself on the rug in front of him. I had to squeeze my tits, pinch and slap my nipples. I had to diddle my clit and finger-fuck myself, working from one finger up to four, using one hand, then the other, and finally both hands. Then he had me bend over, my ass facing him, and he demanded that I shove a finger up my ass-hole and work it in and out.
"I'm sure he'd already come to the conclusion that I was submissive. But it was when I finger-fucked my ass that he knew what I was really like. I couldn't help myself. Nobody had rapped at my back door since I'd left the Reverend. Not that there weren't times when I didn't want someone to; it was just that nobody had tried and I couldn't bring myself to ask someone to fuck me there. It had to be forced on me, or at least, as Marty quickly discovered, I had to be forced to admit I wanted it there. When he saw me get so hot from what I was doing, he made me tell him how it felt and how badly I wanted it up the ass. It wasn't a sudden violent thing with him.
"He tantalized me by making me continue to finger my ass-hole. I was going out of my mind, begging him to fuck me there, nearly on the verge of tears. He laughed and said sure, he'd like to fuck me there if I'd only do something for him first. Anything, I told him. He replied that he wanted me to lick his ass-hole.
"I won't try to explain why I did what he asked. He had a power over me, different than the Reverend's, but just as binding and demanding. He took me into his bedroom-it was the first time I'd been in there-and showed me huge mirrors on his walls and closet doors. He put me on my back on the bed and crouched over me facing my feet. He dangled his hairy balls into my mouth and I licked them. Slowly he moved so that I was forced to lick up behind his balls, closer and closer to his hair-fringed, wrinkled ass-hole. It was like a strange eye staring at me. Then the tip of my tongue was touching it.
"I hadn't known what to expect, but I was surprised at the tightly puckered flesh being so hard and firm. My own felt so soft and tender to my finger, so I assumed everyone's was the same. I licked it tentatively at first, then he yelled at me to use more pressure. He was fairly clean there, but not perfect. I wasn't going to pull away from him in any case, for I soon realized that I wasn't displeased by either the taste or the scent.
"At that moment, the image of that shitting little boy at the picnic came back to me. A very hot, sexual surge ran through me. I felt an excitement building that was more stirring than anything that had ever happened to me earlier, except fingering my ass-hole. I pushed my lips tightly into the crevice of his ass and sunk my tongue into his rectum as far as I could force it. I worked it as a whip while he urged me to lick and suck and push it deeper. I felt better, more totally consumed about what I was doing to an ass-hole then I had ever felt when sucking a man's cock.
"The view Marty had in the mirrors hastened matters. He broke off from my ass-licking and got me up on my hands and knees. Crouched as I Was, I could watch his reflection behind me. I could see the hugeness of his cock pointed straight at my ass. It looked angry and dark purple as it sunk between my cheeks and wedged hotly against my ass-hole. I clenched my teeth and waited for the inevitable assault. like the Reverend, he wasn't using any lubrication-but all my earlier fingering had gotten my hole somewhat juicy.
"Marty surprised me. He wasn't a battering ram like the Reverend. He took his time getting it in. He stretched my hot brown ring with steady pressure, expanding it slowly over the hard head of his cock. It wasn't that it didn't hurt. Christ, it hurt plenty! But it was sexier and lewder the way Marty was doing it. I was quivering all over. I didn't want him to be nice to me and take it easy; that was no good. I wanted him rough. Finally, I couldn't take his slow penetration any more. I sucked in my breath and slammed my ass back. The head of his cock reamed into me-and I let out a great fart!
"He wasn't very gentle after that. In the mirror, I watched him attack. I could see him haul that fat cock out of my sorely used hole so that only the head remained inside. Then I watched the fierce, sweated expression on his face as he snapped his hips forward and thrust the brutal cock deep into me to the hilt. He was an ass-fucking madman, I tell you. When he got wound up, he could offer even more torment than the Reverend. At least his deliberateness made it seem that way. So did the agonized rumblings of my bowels. I had to fight with all the strength I possessed to keep from shitting. I was desperately afraid that when he came, his jizz would act like an enema and I'd splatter both him and the bed with wet shit. I felt he'd beat me within an inch of my life if that happened-or even worse, he'd get disgusted and send me away.
"Well, the worst didn't happen. I was officially one of Marty's girls and, for the time being, his favorite. Anytime he wanted me, I was on call. Other nights I was free to hustle the cocktail lounge customers. As whoring goes, it wasn't bad. Since all the guys knew the game, there was rarely any trouble. Plus, not a helluva lot was expected. They were out to get fucked, maybe sucked off. Only a few guys ever wanted to make it in my ass-hole, and they weren't rough and demanding about it the way I like. I'd let them do their thing, but I made sure I got a damn big present for it.
"There were a few guys who got their kicks from eating out my cunt, but that was okay. I'd begun to develop a liking for that. It was something that my earlier experiences hadn't included much. The sensation of a tongue lapping at my cunt and having my clitoris sucked was a kick that got bigger the more often it happened. It wasn't long before I learned how to get guys to go down on me even though they didn't have that in mind.
"Also I learned how to shift around when I was sucking their cocks so that my cunt would be in their faces, ready for a sixty-nine. And I picked up on how easy it was to talk dirty and tell a guy how much I'd like to be eaten. I even tried to get guys to lick my ass and one or two did. And if a guy would do that for me, I'd feel free to go ahead and tongue his ass-hole. It wouldn't have been smart to come on strong about my analism right at the start. Not that it mattered a whole lot, because I was getting that sweet part of my sex life from Marty."
It is quite probable that the anal masochist is more prevalent today than his or her sadistic counterpart. Un-like the subject of our case history, however, most do not incorporate elements of coprophilia into their aberration. Coprophi-lia, of course, relates to sexual gratification associated with feces or urine or the acts of defecation or urination. Hence, contrary to the opinions of some experts, it does not hold that the practitioner of anilingus (oral stimulation of the anus) is in any way a coprophiliast.
Since the anus is a distinctive erogenous zone, it is quite understandable that individuals who do not hold with the anal taboo would wish to stimulate their sex partner in this area. Among married couples who incorporate anilingus in their sexual repertoire, it is quite common to find a strong scrupulousness in the matter of anal hygiene. Certainly, coprophilia is nonexistent to them.
-likewise, among sex-swapping groups, anal eroticism in the form of intercourse or anilingus is rarely tolerated if an individual shows a perverse fascination with, or can only achieve gratification from, feces and urine. To be sure, there are a small number of bizarre groups that tolerate and encourage coprophilia (as we shall see when our subject resumes her case history), but they are not in the mainstream of the group sex phenomenon.
Vera H., on the other hand, associates her earliest sexual experience with excretion. In her case, this is of more paramount importance then her early anatomical associations of the buttocks and the anus. As Vera grew older, those early associations were more sexually significant to her than any others she encountered. It is particularly unfortunate, in her case, that her most dramatic early sexual experience took the form of anal rape.
This crystallized the girl's sexual psyche and created a strong fixation in regard to both analism and coprophilia. It should be pointed out that defecation is, after all, a very natural and necessary body function. Normal and perverted sexual acts are directed, in the main, to body and body functions.
Infants and young children have always had a fascination with feces. Rare is the child who does not play with or eat his own waste matter at one time or another. A diaper full of fecal matter may produce a warm, comforting sensation to a baby. The act of voiding body wastes may give a rather pleasant feeling. A child, in other words, has to be taught that feces and the function that produces it are "dirty." This is a learning process on the part of every human being. The repugnance toward the "dirty stuff' does not come as naturally as does the fascination with it.
Infants and very young children are by no means the only age group to harbor the natural fascination. Preadolescents are notorious in their preoccupation in this regard. This is primarily because it is one of the first, if not the first taboos they encounter. And, as everyone knows, the first effect of parentally instigated and enforced taboos generally is considerable curiosity about the taboo subject or act. The words "shit" and "piss" are spoken and scrawled by children long before they turn their attention to the sexual taboos and start to use words like "fuck" and "screw."
Fortunately, most of us outgrow this curiosity of preadolescence. But it must be remembered that it is at about this crucial time in a youngster's development that he or she is becoming interested in sex. In lieu of straightforward and enlightening sex information, it has been shown that a child may be confused about the true functions of his or her body-a confusion, for instance, about the acts of voiding body waste and sex. As with Vera, the roots of more than a few cases of coprophilia can be traced back to this period.
Vera's psychosexual upheaval, however, was grossly compounded by her anal rape. And in the wake of this trauma, the fire of her confusion was fueled by an infusion of irrational religion from an itinerant preacher. It is apparent that strong feelings of guilt in association with sex (and the anus) were forced upon the girl most strongly. Few would disagree that it was nearly inevitable that her developing masochism would center upon analism.
It should be pointed out that masochistic behavior is not always the full-blown, all-encompassing picture painted by fictional erotica. On the contrary, the totally masochistic personality-the sex slave-is rather rare. The real masochist, as opposed to his or her fictional counterpart, most often focuses on the aberration. There are identifiable types who find their gratification by being spanked. Others require to be whipped or strapped or paddled with instruments. Some find verbal abuse stimulating, others thrill to sexual humiliation. Many prefer to be used as servants or supplicants, others enthusiastically welcome restraints and bondage.
The list goes on, covering endless methods and instruments of abuse. It is true that certain masochists derive their gratification from a combination of two or more torments, sometimes even a combination of the mental and physical abuses. But it can still be said that for each masochist, there is a focus. For Vera, it was analism, rooted in coprophilia.
Before the subject continues her narrative, we shall briefly fill in a period of two years. Vera continued to work for Marty and remained his sexual victim. Their relationship stayed basically the same as she related previously. Her employer, though nominally sadistic, appeared not to be an adventurer in that regard. He did not introduce her to any refinements of humiliation and degradation. He was satisfied with merely a degree of sexual power over his stable of females (for Vera was not his only one).
In due course, Marty grew tired of her and sought her less and less, even though Vera had totally accepted him as her sexual master. Disappointed that she was no longer special to him, or at least one of his favorites, she began to annoy and nag him in the hopes he would chastise her. But his reaction was far different from what she had planned.
Marty had a circle of bizarre acquaintances unknown to Vera. One was a small, intense man in his middle thirties whom we shall call Harold. Harold compensated for his size by his sadistic nature. Though he was not physically repugnant, his stature and personality had nothing to make him attractive to women. He was a frequenter of the sexual underground but, as a single male, his involvement was limited. He needed and desired a submissive female with whom to pursue his pleasures.
So when the word reached Marty, he offered Vera. He briefed Harold explicitly on how to treat her, and ordered Vera to do Harold's bidding. She did not protest. She was, after all, prostituting herself and, furthermore, she wanted to please Marty.
She was disappointed in Harold when she first saw him, but by the end of an evening with him she was consumed with admiration for his brutal tactics. He had tormented her anus exquisitely and made other degrading demands that thrilled her. He saw her nearly every night for a week and then announced that he was going to marry her, that she was to become his sole property. Marty reinforced the scheme.
Harold and Vera were married in a civil ceremony in St. Louis and at once the bridegroom made plans to initiate her into the strange sex-swapping circles he so desired to enter. To Vera, despite her experience as a prostitute and a submissive mistress, the bizarre sex-swapping was a revelation.
It would be wrong to say that Vera entered the syndrome with unrestrained gusto or that she at all times was wildly enthusiastic. She is still confused and guilt-ridden, primarily about her future role as a female. She fluctuates between total acceptance of her present life and neurotic fears that she may be mentally ill. However, her masochistic compulsions are deeply ingrained. When Harold announces that he has arranged a sex party with another couple or more, Vera finds herself incapable of refusing to participate.
In the following narrative, the subject relates the details of one such swap meeting. She and Harold traveled to New Orleans for the session. The host in this instance (Roger) was masochistic and submissive to his wife (Nora). The New Orleans couple had practiced sadomasochism with others for six years. They were dedicated to the pursuit of their perversity and had encompassed many symbolic trappings and fetishes. Also, this was the second such sex-swapping affair in which Vera was confronted with a dominant female. On that first occasion, with four couples present, hardly any attention was paid to her-so her curiosity was highly piqued by this new and relatively strange element.
"I couldn't believe my eyes when the door was answered by a maid. It took me a moment to realize that the maid was a man-that it was Roger, all gussied up with high heels, stockings, a little costume with a frilly apron, makeup, and a woman's wig. He had been completely feminized. I wondered what kind of woman could wield such power. Then I saw Nora.
"Nora was a picture of domination. She was a tall, haughty brunette with amazing pointed breasts that threatened to push through the material of a tight black sheath gown she wore. While she was putting Roger through his paces, fetching cocktails and serving us, I could see that she was wearing a tight, braless corset underneath her gown.
"Nora completely took the play away from Harold, and I could see that he wasn't too happy about it. I sensed that it was going to be a rough night for Roger and me. And I was worried about something else, too. With a female in charge of the sex games, how much could my ass-hole expect?
"Harold ordered me out of my clothes, and Roger was-likewise ordered to remove the maid's costume and to remain in garter belt, hose, and heels. The two of us were paraded around for the others' amusement, and Nora suggested I might be tied up while she 'examined' me. At this point, I was already flushed with excitement and embarrassment. The idea of being tied up appealed to me, too. Often it's particularly thrilling to feel utterly helpless when being raped in the ass.
"Harold had already explained my anal preferences, but at that point I had no idea how Nora was going to accomplish the deed. Roger and I were taken into a master bedroom, and my arms were secured behind my back with leather straps, wrists to elbows. That forced my tits out prominently, and Nora proceeded to squeeze them and twist them harshly. That sort of thing doesn't do a lot for me except hurt, but I held back crying out. Across the room, Harold was out of his clothes. With his cock already hard, he had bent Roger over a chair and was whacking him with a wide strap furnished for the occasion.
"Now Harold truly loves this ass-hole fucking, as I can well testify. It made me jealous to see his fat hard-on because I knew he was working his way swiftly to the point where he'd be plunging it in Roger's ass.
"Meanwhile, Nora pushed me down on the bed and removed her gown. Beneath the corset, she wore no panties. The hair on her cunt was full and bushy. She walked over to where my head was lying on the edge of the bed, spread her thighs, and gave me a good look at the swollen red lips surrounding the wet inner flesh. Then she turned, spread her cheeks, and showed me her ass-hole. She asked me which one I wanted. When I told her the latter, she laughed. She had thought Harold might have exaggerated my preferences. Be that as it may, if I wanted to taste her ass-hole, I had to lick cunt first.
"She leaned against the headboard of the bed with her knees crooked and her cunt wide open. The high heels of her shoes dug into the cover, and I was made to wriggle on my belly up between her legs. It was only the second time I had ever eaten another woman's cunt, and truthfully, I had mixed emotions about it. But lick and tongue I did. I burrowed my mouth into her juicy hole and followed every lewd instruction she gave me. I sucked her clitoris for what seemed an interminable length of time. Naturally, I couldn't see anything else that was going on around me, but I knew from the wet stroking sounds and Roger's moans that he was getting a big stiff cock in his ass on the other side of the room.
"I resented what I was being forced to do. It was my ass that was important, and this bitch was ruining everything for me. She was probably so used to having men groveling in her cunt that she didn't realize how different I was. I think she must have sensed how upset I was getting because finally she pushed my mouth down and lifted her ass higher so that I could lick her smaller, sweeter hole.
"It was delicious. Some of her cunt juices had run between her legs and moistened her ass-hole. I sucked them up like they were rare champagne. Then I got my tongue deep enough into the wrinkled rectum to make her start a series of tiny farts. That really got to her. Her flesh twitched for the first time and she began breathing hard. She was also grunting as if she were trying to shit.
"The position we were in and the place were all wrong. The idea sent a wild chill through me. I'd never gone that far before. I mean, actually eating shit. As close as I'd ever come was cleaning off the mingled shit and jizz from Harold's cock after he'd fucked me in the ass. While I was thinking that, my tongue was working furiously on her ass-hole. The next thing I knew, she farted tremendously and had an orgasm. I think it surprised even her, for she momentarily had a stunned look on her face.
"Shortly after that, I saw how Nora was going to accomplish fucking my ass. I was almost sorry I'd been thinking about it. She strapped on a plastic dildo that was huge! Damn, it was bigger than most cocks I had seen, and certainly bigger than any cock that had ever been in my ass-hole. As she strapped it on, I was shaking my head in protest that I couldn't. She slapped me across the face and told me to shut up and quit my whimpering.
"I was stunned by her sudden viciousness. I was more than willing to'go along with far-out sex in order to find my particular pleasures, but I was prepared for only so much brutality. With my arms secured behind me it was difficult to move, but I struggled to raise myself and open my mouth to protest further. That's the precise moment when she grabbed me by the hair, yanked my head forward and slammed the cold, hard, plastic cock into my mouth!
"She jammed it so far down my throat, I didn't even have a chance to fight. I gagged and almost puked. I choked for breath and as I did, I realized I was actually sucking on the damn imitation cock as if it were real. Suddenly, a weird sensation came over me. In a part of my consciousness, I realized what had happened and what was happening. In another, deeper part of my mind, all I could think about was the fact that the terrible, rock-hard, smooth thing in my mouth was shortly going to be up my ass.
"Now I began to suck the tool, not as a reaction to its rough penetration, but as if it were truly live flesh and blood, a prick that was a total master over me. I hollowed my cheeks, created a suction, and pulled on the inhuman cock, causing the straps that stretched around Nora's ass to snap out from her body. Obviously, she loved it. She grabbed my tits and yanked on them. She slapped the side of my ass that she could reach. She pushed one knee up on the bed and jammed it between my thighs until I was forced over, losing contact with the plastic cock. Then she rolled me over, half on and half off the bed. My helpless ass, with my hands tied above it, was beautifully vulnerable to her next savage move.
"The steely prong of the plastic cock hit my ass like a battering ram. Never, never had I been so agonizingly entered! I thought the ring of my ass-hole had been shredded and ripped inward. I screamed-I screamed like I never had before! Prior to that assault, nothing I'd ever taken up the ass was such a rupturing torture. That's when I shit! I couldn't help it. It was like being impaled with the fattest enema stick in the world. There was no water, but my God, was there ever an insertion!
"The next moments were lost to me, but I must have angered them immensely. I had an orgasm that sent my whole mind and body spinning. When I came out of it, I was sitting on the floor, weak and dazed, and squishing in a puddle of my own wet shit. When my eyes came back in focus, I looked up to see the brown, dripping dildo poised above me. Nora screamed at me to lick it clean! This time, however, she didn't grab my hair and force it into my face. She stepped back, tantalizing me with the foul goodie.
"Hypnotized, I pulled my knees under myself and knelt upright. I moved toward her, toward that juicy, globular stick of plastic. She inched back as I crept forward, but she knew--oh, God, how she knew!
"I sucked my own shit like it was the last supper. I cleaned the huge plastic cock right down to the last tiny crevice of the simulated veins. With brown dribble running from the corners of my mouth, I begged Nora to shit on my face. She did. And so did Harold before the wild, unforgettable night was over.
"The last thing I remember was licking Harold's jizz out of Roger's ass-hole while Nora, wearing her magnificent phony cock, roared up my ass-hole one more time."