Chapter 4
My Mother ... the Lesbian
"I don't know why you people are trying to make some kind of federal case out of all this. So my father and I have been fucking each other for five years. So what? I didn't invent sex, or this incest game; anyways, what's so bad about it? If you dig it and it's your bag, to hell with what anybody else says! Pop wasn't getting anything from Mom, so I figure I was doing him a favor. He's a nice enough guy, and he don't deserve the bad scene my old lady has been giving him all these years. I came home from school early one fine May afternoon and I find good old Pop giving it to Tillie (she's my aunt). He was really throwing the meat to her and she was loving every single bit of it.
"I grab the old Polaroid and start snapping away. I got some great shots. Pop is hung like a mule and he sure knows what to do with his tongue. I got really itchy in the crotch and wanted some of what Tillie was diggin' so much. But I had a feelin' that Pop would be kinda squeamish at the idea of ballin' his own daughter. I figured if I took enough good pictures, I might convince him of the necessity of swinging my way.
"Like, he got all tore out of his skull, Poppa did, when he glommed the full-color shots for the first time. He begged me to give him the pictures, but I told him that I intended to keep them. He asked me what I intended to do with them, and when I told him, he damned near passed out.
" 'Look, Pop, I want you to do for me what you just did for Aunt Tillie.'
"He said, 'What do you mean?'
"And I replied, 'I want you to go down on me.'
"He turned green. He tried to sound stern as he said, 'Now, Doris, dear, what would your mother say if she heard you talking like that?'
"Now this really pissed me off. He hated her as much as I did. He hadn't been getting any from her for years. I knew I was a better lay than she ever was, and I was determined to prove it.
"Pop flopped down on the sofa in the front room. I knew the coast was clear, 'cause my old lady wouldn't be home for several hours. Standing in front of him, I slipped out of my skirt and blouse. I stood before my old man in nothing but a sheer pair of panties. I don't wear a bra anymore if I can help it. I enjoy the stares and the feeling that I am 'turning on' the whole male population. I also saw that I was turning on' Pop. His eyes darted towards the triangle formed by my tummy and legs meeting, that glorious sweat-hole called cunt. I was proud of mine. It had been doing me real good service in the last couple of years. Ask the football team and a certain botany professor.
"I slowly and deliberately slid my panties down over my legs and watched Pop lick his lips with wild anticipation. They say that 'a hard on has no conscience,' and that was certainly true in the case of dear old Pop, for I could see he was getting aroused. His big rod was swelling and bulging against the restraint of his trouser leg. As my furry cunt sashayed in front of him his eyes became saucers and his Adam's apple jitterbugged the length of his neck.
" 'Why are you doing this, Doris?' he gasped.
" 'Because,' I answered, 'I know you've been "fixed" and I hate taking the pill. Besides, what's wrong about keepin' it in the family? I have a lot more to offer than ol' Auntie!' And it was true. Aunt Tillie was Mom's oldest sister, about forty-eight, and a drunk. She'd come over with a bottle of gin at least once a week, when Mom was out, of course, and she and Pop would kill it. Yesterday was the first time I had caught them screwin', but I had suspected as much for a long time.
" 'One other thing, Pop,' I added. 'You won't tell. Mom would murder you if she saw these pictures. And then-you are my daddy, and I love you, Daddy. Daddies love their daughters and they spank them when they are "bad." I'm bad, Pop. Won't you give me a good lickin'! ' He shook his head no, but I saw the rod he was packin' and as far as I am concerned it says yes.
"So I reached down, real quick like, undid his fly, and took it out. He kind of squeaked, like a scared rabbit, and then I knelt down and began to give him a hand job. He closed his eyes up tight, like what he can't see won't hurt him. His rod was as big as a cucumber and he was breathin' so hard that I thought in five more jerks he would pop off his whole load. I stopped. He opened his eyes, and it was damn plain that he was sorely disappointed.
"Even in spite of his obvious disappointment, he said, 'Doris, please stop this. You are making both of us commit a mortal sin; we'll both burn in the hellfires of eternal damnation.'
"I laughed and told him that I was already burning down below, in the cavern of my cunt, and that I needed his six-inch fire extinguisher to put those 'fires of hell' out.
"I jumped up,'turned around, and sat down squarely on his jabbing rod. It slipped into my aching cunt and filled it from wall to wall. I heard him sigh with pleasure. 'Why, Pop, that's no way for a father to act. Ain't you ashamed of yourself?'
"I rode him for a while, sliding up and down his great rod, holding his balls in one hand like the reins of a horse. Then I could tell again that he was about to lose his juice, so I eased up off his rod and stood up. Then he started to give me that 'candy-away-from-a-baby' look again, and a big tear started to run down his cheek. He said, 'No more, Doris. Stop now, and we will get down on our knees and pray together and ask the Lord for forgiveness. What we are doing is an abomination!'
"I told him to get up, and he did, like a meek little child. Then I sat down where he was sitting, only I was sort of lying on my back with my legs spread wide and my steaming, dripping cunt wide open. 'Now, dearest Pop, I want you to get down on your knees. If there's any praying to be done, it better be you praying that I come fast.'
"Pop just stood there, lookin' kinda stupid. He was shaking his head and muttering no in a sickly, squeaky whisper, but I could see in his eyes that he was fighting the devil for all he was worth. 'Dear Pop, if you don't, Mom's going to see a swell bunch of pictures....' Down he came like someone knocked his legs out from under him. Straight for the old groove, he headed. He sort of half-kissed it at first, you know, with the very tip of his tongue. Jeezus, did he look ridiculous! But after a good taste he got courageous and energetic real fast, and within a couple of minutes he was lapping me up like a hungry kitten after warm milk. I must have had three orgasms. He was very good at it. In fact, he was a real expert. I regretted that I hadn't made use of his talents sooner.
"When I got my jollies the fourth time his lips drew on it and turned me on even more. His tongue whipped my cream into a froth. That was the best eatin' I ever had-made that botany prof a rank beginner. I stopped him just as he was breathin' hard and told him to stand up and remove his belt. This really confused the stupid jerk. 'Okay, dum-dum,' I said. 'You are going to give baby a damned good whipping for being so nasty and so very perverted. Fathers should punish their daughters when they have been so very, very wicked. The Bible says, "Spare the rod and spoil the child." '
"He really surprised the hell out of me. I cannot remember, before this time, when he had ever so much as laid a finger on me. I was sure that he would balk at the whipping bit. But no. He yanked his belt off with such force that he bust two loops from his trousers. And I shall never forget the look in his eyes-pure hate. I rolled over so that my ass and back were facing him, and he lashed out with that belt like a madman. Don't ask me why I enjoy being beaten on the ass, but, I love the pain-in fact, I orgasm during it continually. Pop wasn't aware of how much I loved it. He just slashed away at my buttocks with the belt, confident that he was properly punishing his wayward daughter for her sins. And the way he was doing it, I am sure that he was expiating a few of his own at the same time. All the time he was whipping me his jaw was grinding, and, considering what a 'pussycat' he really is, he looked terribly fierce. He injected comments like, "This will do you good, Doris. You need discipline. I see now that your mother and I have been too lenient with you. You need an iron hand, and by the Lord Jehovah, you are going to get it from now on, you wicked, wicked strumpet.' To this he added a multitude of biblical and mid-Victorian epithets.
"He really thought he was hurting me, and, physically, he was; but it was such mental pleasure! His belt stung, but as the repetition increased the throbs of pleasure were sweeter than a hot-fudge sundae. I began to groan like I was suffering something awful, but, in truth-I was orgasming, again and again. My cunt throbbed like there was a heart beating in it, and my legs felt numb and weak, I wanted to scream, 'Harder, hit me harder!! ' but I knew if I did, he would stop. I bit my tongue and he kept hitting me harder until he collapsed on the floor out of sheer exhaustion. My ass was bloody, but unbowed. I lay there on the couch, savoring every delicious spasm of pain. I felt wonderful.
"The next day I was too sore to go to school. I lay in bed most of the day-on my belly of course!-sort of daydreaming the time away with erotic thoughts of what had occurred the day before. I wondered why I hadn't thought of seducing my old man before. It was really something, seeing that weak-knead son-of-a-bitch quaking and quivering on his knees before me, shoving his tongue in and out of my cunt, giving me pleasure, and all because he was scared that I would show the pictures of him and Aunt Tessie to Mom. I had him where I wanted him, and little did I know that I would have him there for the next five years.
"About a week after this first encounter with Pop, I came home from school one warm, sunny, spring afternoon and Pop was in the kitchen. A half gallon of wine was on the table, and seated on a chair in front of it, with his head resting in his arms, was Pop. The bottle was almost three-quarters empty. I had never known Pop to be anything more than an occasional drinker, you know, parties, Christmas, etc. But it was obvious that this time he was pretty drunk.
"He raised his head at the sound of the screen door slamming shut, and his rheumy eyes scanned me with distaste from top to bottom. I smiled and said gaily, 'Hi, Pop!' He frowned. I walked past him quickly, but he reached out and took me by the arm.
" 'Witch,' he said. 'Spawn of the Devil. What have ye done to me that should cause me such torment?' He was speaking to me like someone out of another age.
"I said, 'Pop, you are drunk, let go of me.'
"He replied, 'What have you done to me that would cause me, thy father, to lust, like drunken Lot, for the body of my own flesh?'
"Then I understood. As aware as he was of the 'sin' he had committed, he lusted for me. The poor simple bastard liked it. I reached down, grabbed his flaccid rod, and gave it a vicious squeeze. With his free hand he belted me a hard one, right in the chops. I spun with the blow and fell backwards, hitting my head quite hard against the refrigerator. He jumped to his feet and caught me before I sagged to the floor. Picking me up, he carried me into my room and gently placed me on the bed. I heard him praying out loud. 'Dear God, forgive me, if I have killed her, my little daughter.' He went into the bathroom and I could hear him turn on the tap water. In a second or so, he returned, carrying in his hand a dripping, cold washrag. This he applied to my forehead.
"He was slowly and tenderly applying the cold cloth to my head when I was seized with the desire to make the bastard suffer, so I 'played dead' until I started to giggle at his anguish. Through my half-opened eyes I could see his look of grave concern turn to one of astonishment, and my giggles burst forth with such animation that the whole bed rocked. I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him down to me, planting a juicy kiss on his surprised mouth. At the same time, before he could attempt to pull himself back from me, I shoved my hand down his pants and seized his rod firmly. He responded immediately, and it began to harden. One thing about Pop: if he brushed his rod even against a tree stump he would get a hard on.
"He started to cry out, 'For God's sake, Doris, don't!' but the liquor and his deep-seated lust for me made him my sex slave once again. I knew that in spite of his conscience and all his hypocritical religious scruples he really enjoyed doing my bidding. His rod was quite hard now, and I skinned it back and forth with vigor. He was biting my neck in his passion and trying to pull down my panties at the same time. Quickly he got them down below my knees and his hand went straight for my cunt. I blocked his efforts with my hand. I wouldn't let him get in, just yet. He groaned in absolute frustration. Pop was really gonna sweat this one out if I had my way. But, I didn't expect him to get mean about it. We struggled for a few minutes and I was enjoying his frantic efforts to get a finger or two into my slot. Finally, with a great exertion of strength he grabbed me by both wrists and forced my arms back over my head. But he had a problem. He still had his pants on, and I could feel the rigid iron of his rod pressing against my cunt. I pushed my pelvis up against him, and it drove him wild. I was still holding out against him, and getting a real kick out of it, when he suddenly let go of one of my arms and slapped me hard on the cheek. It stung like blazes, but at the same time a tingle of delight went through my body and I experienced, for the first time, a sensation that could only be described as a 'miniorgasm.' As I recoiled in pain and pleasure, he quickly rose and doffed his pants and undershorts. His rod stuck out like a torpedo. I suddenly had the urge to suck it, and suck it violently. I got up to my knees on the bed and, grabbing Pop by the ass, pulled him to me once again. Then I lowered my lips over the swollen head of his rod. He sighed as I started pulling on it like a newborn calf on a cow's teat. I let my teeth scrape its tender surface, and he let out a little scream. I bit a little harder, and he responded by bashing me on the side of my head with a closed fist. I saw stars for a few seconds and got a flash of excitement. I sucked harder and chewed his rod a little bit more. I felt his legs and stomach stiffen, and he belted me again. My ears were ringing, but I felt all the more excited. I felt the head of his rod swell to gigantic proportions and knew he was just about ready to come. I slowed down on my oral manipulations and felt the throbbing in his rod subside.
"I withdrew my lips and he sighed. 'Doris, Doris, please don't stop! God, forgive me, but I don't want you to stop.'
"I was breathing hard and felt like I was going to great out any second. I took the opportunity to pull my panties off and pull my dress over my head. As the fabric caressed my breasts, I knew my nipples were erect, like tiny hard ons. The whole area of my groin was damp with passion juice. I threw the dress and panties to one side and, lying down on my back, drew Pop to me once again, only this time I directed his head towards my groin. His tongue was rough, hot, and eager as it entered my slot. Pop was sure excited. He blew into my crack and caused my insides to inflate like a balloon. It felt great. I grabbed his hair and pulled him against me tightly, so as to allow no air to escape. He started to lap at my cunt, and the excitement sent thrills to my head, all the way from the tip of my toes.
"The more he dug his tongue into me the more frantic I got, for it was like a great tidal wave was engulfing me and carrying me far out into a sea of psychedelic rainbows. I started to beat Pop on the head with my fists, but that only made him slow down and I wanted him to go much faster. I had a feeling like I was running after a train that was just leaving the station and the harder I ran the faster it moved away from me, and though I tried my best, I knew deep down inside that it was going to leave me behind. I didn't want that to happen now. I was working up to the biggest orgasm of my life, and I didn't want to goof it.
"I grabbed hold of Pop's ears and lifted him out of my groin. 'You're going to beat me, do you understand? Hurt me, dear Poppa, punish your dirty, sick little girl!' I was pleading with him, but he just looked at me, shaking his head no, and trying to force his head back down to my cunt. The sonuvabitch liked it. I was almost in tears, not knowing what to do. Then the idea of baiting him flashed through my mind. 'You dirty cunt-lapper, hit me!' He still didn't move.
'You filthy, cocksucking, mother-fucker.' Still no response. 'You'd fuck God, if he bent over, you faggot bastard!' That did it!
"He straightened up and with a cry of rage seized me by the throat and started to strangle me. I kicked him hard, right in the balls, and as he writhed in pain, I started to scratch his face. He released me with his hands and started to flail at me with his fists. I collapsed on the bed, cowering under the raining blows, and suddenly I felt numb. I didn't feel the smashing of his fists anymore. I felt like I had been forgiven for being me. I reached total orgasm. I felt hot, then icy cold, then warm, then cool. I felt like I was falling into an endless tunnel, then like I was a shooting star! I felt so clean, so pure, so lovely. Then I seemed to sink into a deep, dreamless sleep, although I could hear Pop's voice calling to me. He sounded a thousand miles away. I had the awareness to realize that he had stopped hitting me.
"It took me a little longer to recover from this beating. I think Pop was beginning to enjoy this aspect. He certainly did me up royally. I was sore for a week. We both explained to Mom that I had been beaten up during a student riot at school. She believed us and was ready to sue the city, the tactical police force, and the school administration. We calmed her down and she accepted the reasons for my two black eyes and my swollen jaw. Pop didn't speak to me for some time afterwards. He spent a lot of time praying and begging the Lord for forgiveness, but anytime I got horny, he was there, Johnny-on-the-spot. I think he was being torn a bit apart by the whole relationship. But I could care less. I, a sixteen-year-old girl, had more balls than he had in his forty-odd years. If he wasn't such a whimpering chickenshit I might have respected him a little, but the way he groveled in front of me made me feel only disgust and contempt.
"Several times I found my room searched, and knew that he was looking for the incriminating pictures I had taken of him and Tessie. I decided that I was tired of finding my room a mess, so I did a brazen thing the following night at the supper table. Mom was dishing out the mashed potatoes and gravy when I reached into, my jeans pocket and handed Pop an envelope across the table. 'I think you've been looking for these,' I cooed, innocently, and the look on Pop's face was hysterically funny as he removed the photo prints from the envelope. At the first glance, he shoved them back in the envelope so fast that he cut his fingers on the edge of the paper. He turned white, then scarlet, and sputtered incoherent words. With shaking hands he placed them into his coat pocket. Mom looked up from what she was serving and said, 'What is it, dear? An important letter or something?' Pop mustered up a squeaking reply about it being some church news and stared at his roast beef, mashed potatoes, and gravy. I thought he was going to throw up.
"Pop thought that I had let him off of the hook, but I just tried a new tack. The thing that had bound him to me as a sex slave was my possession of the incriminating photographs. But I was bored. I wanted some strange stuff for a while, and I also knew that I would drive him batty if I cut him off, even though he thought that he was giving in to me against his will.
"I decided that I would tease him by letting him know that I was fucking some of the best studs in the neighborhood. When I would go out on dates I would always manage to return slightly disheveled, and on more than one occasion I turned up with a few bruises, accommodatingly supplied by my date of the evening. I was right in my assumption. I would find him looking at me longingly, with that same stupid, lustful stare. I would stare right back at him and he would drop his eyes. He just couldn't figure out why I had seemingly lost all desire for him. This, of course, affected whatever ego he had. This obvious rejection troubled him, Christian ethics and morality be damned. The sonuvabitch was hotter than hell for me, and that was all there was to it. I let him suffer for quite some time, before I gave in to his silent wish. The time I did, the poor bastard thought that he had raped me. I'm sure his conscience bugged him after that.
"This is how it had happened. I had come in from a date with Charlie R--. Charlie was a switch-hitter. What I mean by that is that he dug boys as well as girls. He was effeminate to the point of being almost revolting, and I knew Pop hated him with a fervor. Charlie was twenty-six and looked sixteen. A hairdresser by profession and a watercolorist by avocation. He was a typical 'intellectual-fairy' type. He was blonde and thin and had a slender waist and rather large lips. I think if he had taken a few male hormone shots, it might have helped him. He looked like he was living on a diet of strictly female hormones. Pop winced every time
Charlie called.
"But for my purposes, Charlie was 'all man,' or at least man enough for me. If the most dedicated homosexual in the world can 'get it up' for me when I place my full red lips around it, he's got enough going for him to please me. Charlie loved to be blown. He used some kind of male perfume that really turned me on.
"The one instance that really shook Pop up happened after Charlie had brought me home, quite late one evening. We had been to a drive-in and the second feature was a real dud. Our boredom caused us to think of other things; before long we were in the back seat of Charlie's Dodge and he was licking the hell out of my cunt. In fact, we were going at it with such passion that the windows of the car steamed up to where we couldn't have seen the movie screen if we had wanted to. Anyway, as I was saying, Charlie brought me home and I invited him in for a coke. Mom was already in bed, but the light shining under the door from Pop's room showed me that he was still up, and probably doin' his Bible reading.
"While I was going to the icebox to get the cokes, Charlie excused himself to go to the toilet. He left the door open and I could see his pants piled around the lower parts of his legs, and his shiny, pink knees. I opened the bottles and decided to take his coke to him. I went into the bathroom and handed him his coke. I stood there a moment, just talking small talk and gazing every so often at his magnificent rod that hung down so far that it almost reached the water level of the toilet bowl. I impishly reached down between his legs and touched it.
Charlie gave a start, then smiled and said, 'Do it again.' I did, and before I knew it, I was on my knees, between his legs, and had the whole sweet shaft of his in my mouth. He got so excited as I pulled on it that his arm flailed out and knocked over a bottle of mouthwash that was on the top of the tank. I heard the loud crash, but I was getting my jollies chewing on his rod, and didn't think to close the bathroom door. Well, the noise brought Pop out of his room, and when he saw us in this rather compromising position, all hell broke loose. He picked Charlie up, right off the toilet seat, dragged him through the house, with his pants all tangled around his ankles, and threw him out of the house and into the driveway. Charlie got up and, trying to pull up his trousers, jumped into his car, backed out of the driveway, and peeled rubber for half a block getting out of there. I noticed as he got into the car that his rod was still fully extended and hard as ever. For a semifag, he was quite a man. He never came back to the house again, and I can't say that I blame him very much.
"Pop was furious. When he returned to the house, he dragged me to my room by the hair. As soon as we were in the room, he started to slap me around something awful. I was in tears. He really lit into me, but I noticed that he was breathing hard, and not from the physical exertion of batting me about. I looked at his pajama pants. Sure enough, his rod was as hard as Charlie's and was pokin' out through the fly. The sonuvabitch must have gotten turned on, watching me blow Charlie.
"I started to laugh, and Pop stopped hitting me. He saw me looking down at his big hard on and his face tinged crimson. With one hand holding my mashed and bleeding lip, and the other reaching out for his rod, Pop had had it! The same old longing flashed across his face. The longing manifested by memories, too recent. I had him once again where I wanted him. This time he was not being held prisoner by blackmailing photos, but by the self-commitment of his own lust.
" 'Spank me, Pop, for I've been a bad little slut.'
"He quietly pulled his belt from the loops, and I lay down on the floor and pulled my panties down below my knees. My whole body tingled with delicious expectation.
"I wasn't disappointed-he let me have it but good! My ass grew redder with each swat of the leather belt. I was excited, sexually, almost instantaneously. The belt left deep welts in the whiteness of my bottom, and I looked like the lower half of a U.S. flag in that area. I came at least a dozen times before his arms gave out with the strain. I was almost delirious from the delightful pain. He fell down on me and, placing one arm across the small of my back and the other across the back of my thighs, he began kissing the bloody welts on my butt. I whimpered with passion, and he started moving up my back with his lips until he was warmly kissing the back of my neck. At the same time he was taking off his pants and shorts. I felt the soft smooth touch of his rod slightly penetrate the crack of my ass. I figured that he wanted me dog-fashion and was about to mention to him that he was aiming too high, when it suddenly dawned on me that my cunt wasn't the target that he had in mind. The sonuvabitch wanted to bugger me in the ass-hole.
"I'd never had it that way before, and though I was a little tense at the beginning, I finally relaxed and let him shove it in. It was a thrilling sensation, and it hurt a lot. Of course, my butt got in the way, so he couldn't shove it in all the way, which I was sure he would've loved to do. It was a different kind of pain, but the sensation was terrific. I had an intense longing to have another rod in my cunt at the same time, but Pop was only human. I guided his hand to my crotch and he stuck his middle finger in deeply until it reached the tip of my womb. When he would pull back with his rod he would push with his finger, and the effect was absolutely groovy. I don't know what book he had read, or how he got the idea, but I sure was not in a mood for complaining. This double fucking was great. I had a massive orgasm and screwed my ass-hole tight, until he yelped. He sure couldn't stand any pain whatsoever. Finally, he came, deep inside my ass. I pushed his hand close to my cunt and yelled, 'Finger-fuck me faster!' Which he did.
"All during this act, he was crying, 'Doris, I love you, I love you! I know this is sinful, but, God knows I love you and will forgive us. We shall go away, where no one will ever know. Your mother will never find us.'
"But Mom did find us, and unfortunately it was right after that stupid sonuvabitch had made his little speech. She had come home unexpectedly, and hearing the noises coming from the bedroom, decided to snoop. At first she was too shocked to do anything but stand there and hold her breath. Then her eyes fell upon the recently discarded belt. She seized it and began to beat the living shit out of Pop. He screamed like a frightened broad and pulled out of me immediately. As he rolled off me, I thought Mom was going to let me have it, too. But she kept on slashing away at Pop with the belt.
"Mom's screaming epithets were for him alone. Then it dawned on me . ... She thought he was raping me. I was delighted with the mis-judgment on her part and immediately began sobbing, like the poor abused, teenaged victim of paternal lust-which I most certainly wasn't. Pop was yelling that 'Doris made me do it . ... Doris is the daughter of the Devil-and he made me do it!' The chickenshit bastard was making all kinds of excuses and Mom didn't believe a single one of them. I played innocent and when my mom called the cops and had Pop jailed for rape and incest, I testified at the trial. Pop's lawyer tried to establish the fact that I had seduced him, but the jury, who seemed disgusted with him in the first place, wouldn't buy it. Pop got twenty years for it. He went a little buggy, and now he is in a state hospital for the criminally insane. Serves the stupid bastard right."
Doris C-possesses just about every one of the sadomasochistic traits known to medical science. The fact that she was able to achieve orgasm through being severely beaten (masochism) does not mitigate in the least her sadistic predilections. The sadist and the masochist are intrinsically one and the same. She was eighteen years of age at the time she dictated the preceding account. Doris was a plain and unduly unattractive girl with harsh features and a rather broad, thick build, and she seemed determined to lend a bad impression of herself. If she had any redeeming qualities whatever, she was very careful to conceal them.
Surprisingly enough, her I.Q. was well above average, which her attitude and hostility towards the interviewer belied. Pugnacious in nature, she was given to using masculine metaphors in general conversation (rod, cunt, fuck, etc.), and admitted to being envious of males (indicative of "penis envy"). In reference to this she stated: "Yeah, I've often wished that I had been born a guy. Men have it made. They can stick their dick into anything and get away with it. No babies. No messy monthly pads. More money and a lot more fun. A guy's a big fuckin' hero if he's balled twenty or thirty girls; they call a chick"that does the same a slut, or worse. That's not very fair, a broad's screwed from the time that she is born."
Doris wanted to be a male, she envied the masculine freedom and independence. Therefore, she chose to dominate, and her weak-willed father provided the perfect outlet. In her ability to browbeat, humiliate, and negate him and his manliness, she, in turn, became partly male in the process.
In denigrating and demeaning her own father, the full symbol of paternal and masculine authority, by mental, physical, and verbal means (such as referring to him as "dum-dum."
"shit-head" and "sonuvabitch") she increased her lust for domination. In coercing him, first by blackmail, and then by utilizing his own weakness, she made him feel physically inferior. The more she emasculated him, the more she "masculated" herself. She certainly displayed no remorse or shame for her actions.
To label her "psychotic" in this sense would be perfectly correct, but one could almost be assured that latent lesbianism was also coming to the forefront; though, probably due to a lack of lesbian experience at the time, she was unaware of the subconscious desire to "become a man" in the full sense.
In order to understand the situation a little more clearly, let us interject now the narrative of Clarence C-, the father of our subject.
"Doris was as fine a daughter as a man could want until she was about fifteen or so. Then she seemed to grow hard, to become very old for her age, to become disrespectful of her elders, and-I suppose one might call it that-over-sophisticated. She began to think it was clever and cute to inject four-letter words into her telephone conversations with her girl friends and some of the boys she knew. I frequently reprimanded her about this unlady-like quality, and her reply, usually when my wife Betsy was well out of earshot, was, 'Fuck you, Pop!' She had, for the most part of her life called me 'Daddy,' but now she called me 'Pop' in the first person, and 'my ol' man' in the third. I couldn't understand why she had changed so, but I said little, in order to keep things peaceful. I guess that was my first mistake. Betsy was going through menopause and was extremely difficult to get along with. She cared nothing about sex, and when we did indulge, it was ever so grim.
"Betsy was terribly afraid of pregnancy. Because of ovarian cysts, she was afraid to use the pill. I disliked rubbers, and pulling out in time always frustrated both of us. I submitted to a vasectomy, for her sake, but her sexual desire faded as the years went on until she reached a state of absolute frigidity. Life was hell for me then. I am a very sexual person. I feel that the enjoyment of copulation is a gift of God, and I treasure any gift and make use of it.
"About this time-it had been almost a year since I had had any kind of sex relations with my wife-her youngest sister, Tess, had lost her husband in Vietnam. We sort of took to each other, and soon took to meeting-very discreetly, of course-and indulging in sex acts, which comforted us both, and, of course, solved our mutual problem. And then, one afternoon we made the tragic mistake of rendezvousing in our home. Doris came home from school early and found us locked in sexual embrace. Neither her aunt nor myself heard or saw her enter. She procured her Polaroid camera and took several shots of us, locked in erotic positions. The little bitch! The unscrupulous little vixen! After Tess had left, Doris approached me with one of the damaging photographs. I grabbed it from her and tore it up, but sneeringly she informed me that she had many more. She threatened to show them to Betsy, her mother, if I did not give in to her whims. The thought of the reaction of my sweet, ill Betsy to these filthy pictures drove me almost to distraction. I was taken aback, for I knew full well that Doris never bluffed. If she said that she was going to do a certain thing, hell nor high water could prevent her from doing so. I was petrified. I thought of killing her, so desperate was I, but was murder any better than incest or adultery? I figured that it wasn't, and underneath it all, I am a God-fearing man!
"So I gave in to her; I surrendered my pride and dignity, my mind and body, as sacrifices on the altar of her sexual madness. She then forced me from that afternoon on to defile myself with acts so vile and depraved that they defy imagination. She made me beat her, and she was, like the 'whore of Babylon,' so depraved and debauched that she was able to receive the ultimate in sexual gratification from the very rain of blows from my belt.
"I would be lying if I said I was not aroused physically by this contact. This vile creature made me often forget that she was of my flesh and blood. She had ways of arousing lust from a corpse, I do believe. But, even as my sterile sperm would gush into her, I would invoke heaven for forgiveness and release from my bondage. I truly deplored the spasmodic stabbings of my ejaculations.
"Her foulest bent, though, for me, was to press my mouth to her genital lips and slide my tongue over and around her clitoral prominence. She would achieve countless orgasms in this fashion, and my mouth and face would be inundated with her nauseous genital juices. This went on for several years, and then, suddenly, my wife died. I went to her sister Tess and told her the whole filthy story. She suggested that I obtain treatment for Doris. I didn't get off that easy. I, too, carry emotional scars.
Though I want to marry Tess, and for once be happy, I do not dare, for this experience has left me completely impotent!"
Clarence C-was needlessly tortured and victimized. That his daughter had a diabolically powerful advantage over him with the photographic proof of his adultery, cannot be denied. But a normally strict, aggressive, and self-contained male would have demanded the rest of the photos when she first threatened him with them. For a sixteen-year-old juvenile to gain and maintain such malevolent control over a mature male, some personality imbalance must be present in the adult's own character. We suspect that his avowed "reprimand" was more intended than carried out; or, if he did discipline or correct her, that it was done so weakly or effeminately that it aroused contempt rather than respect. It is more than possible that had Clarence C-been a strong and authoritative paternal agent, Doris might have passed through the critical metamorphosis stage (from adolescence to young womanhood, a period when a tendency towards neurosis is quite common) without regressing and then fixating into the unchangeable mold of the psychopath.
There is also the obvious possibility that Doris possessed strong, but extremely latent, lesbian tendencies, tendencies that she never actualized outwardly, but did so only inwardly through her sadomasochistic treatment of her amenable but morally and spiritually weak father.
Her psychosis is patently infantile; she dominates as a child dominates-out of a petulant need to be continually supplied with what she wants.
A child often not only expects punishment for wrongdoing but wants to be duly punished; the wrong is thereby assuaged and the child's conscience soothed. Doris, true to the masochists' creed, wanted to be severely punished for her flagrant and wanton actions-and the pain of this wanted punishment was so satisfying and appreciated that she was able to have orgasm and get release as its climactic effect.
With proper treatment, perhaps Clarence C can be cured of his "impotency," if it is, as we suspect, triggered by his traumatic experience with his depraved and wanton offspring. To find out how this tragic thing happened to Clarence C-, let us continue with Doris C-'s intriguing and bizarre narrative.
"Don't get the idea that I was 'queer' for Pop. As a sex symbol, he was punk, but the sonuvabitch sure knew how to lap my pussy. I don't know if I hated him really; it was just that I had no damn respect for such a willy-nilly, cowardly, spineless individual. When I had shown him the photos, he should have beat the hell out of me and made me turn the stuff over to him right then and there. But, he wouldn't. If he had demanded them with any conviction, I would have given all of them to him, but when I watched him cringe, turn white in the face, and almost faint, I had to dig into him. I knew that he hadn't laid Mom for quite some time, and that he had been balling Aunt Tessie within days after Uncle Clyde got his in Indo-China. It pissed me off that he would screw right in
Mom's bed. That was just too much.
"At first the idea of making him go down on me seemed rather repulsive. After all, I was raised to be a good Christian girl-unfortunately, I wasn't though!-and though it may seem unbelievable, I do have a conscience.
"All I knew was that I wanted to humiliate him. When I did, I found out that it was a groovy feeling. I knew what I was doing was wrong, and I longed to be punished for it, and a lot more things that no one, for the most part, knew about. I finally had to beg him to beat me. When he finally lost his temper and lit into me so violently, I really creamed my jeans. I felt, in addition to the thrill that I somehow got through the inflicted pain, that Pop was acting like a father should when his child is naughty.
"I had seen him take so much shit from Mom, just because she was having a rough time with her change of life. The poor bastard even had himself tied off, and still she wouldn't have anything to do with him sexually. She'd just bitch, bitch, bitch, and he would cringe and silently submit to all her irrational whims. I began to wonder if he had had a castration by mistake, instead of a simple vasectomy.
"I wasn't a virgin when I got myself fucked by Pop. I think that I mentioned the botany teacher, and, of course, Charlie, the fag switch-hitter, but there were many others. I really feel that I have had my share. I also found out that, on occasion, I like girls, too. It's funny how I discovered that quirk in my nature.
"It started with Sheila. She was a school chum of mine. About five feet three inches in height, with amber hair cut very short, and a pair of boobs that would drive you nuts. I found myself strangely attracted to her, and we hit it off great from the first introduction. Queer Charlie introduced us one hot afternoon at the beach. Sheila was a familiar figure around school, but she was rather standoffish and, indeed, she had few friends. I never saw her date anyone of the crowd. But I felt drawn to her, like she was my long lost sister or something. I supposed that she was a strange and lonely girl.
"One day, I went over to her house in the late afternoon. We had arranged to do our homework together. I knocked at the door and Sheila called from somewhere within the house to come in. I entered and walked down the hallway to her room. My eyes popped open when I stepped into her room. She was lying on the bed, stark-naked, and was running a black rubber thing in and out of her cunt. I later learned that this was called a 'dildo' and we would use it on each other many, many times in the future. At first I was shocked, but then I burst out laughing! 'Don't knock it till you've tried it!' came the reply between gasps of breath. I guessed she was just about ready to come any second.
"I replied, 'Don't mind if I do.' Sheila pulled the thing out of her cunt and tossed it to me. It was hot with friction, and slippery. I tossed the thing back to her and started stripping off my clothes. Once nude, I crawled in alongside her. Her body was cool with sweat, and as our flesh touched I felt a tingle go through me.
"I rolled on my back and spread my legs, and Sheila slowly thrust the thing into me. I was tense with the sense of being entered by something very strange. If it had a body attached to it on the other end, it would have felt more familiar, but this thing, hard as it was, was lifeless. It is strange to look up through half-closed eyes, feeling a hard rod inside of you, and see absolutely nothing. It's like being fucked by a phantom dick.
"Sheila began moving the thing back and forth within me, and my lubricating juices started flowing. Then she straddled me and sat down on my legs; this increased the agitation somewhat. But it looked even stranger than no one at all-to see a gorgeous hunk of female sitting on top of you, shoving an eight-inch rod into you. I found myself rolling my hips to increase the rhythm of the dildo. Sheila leaned over and started sucking on my eager nipples. I was thrilled. I never realized that a girl could thrill me as much as a man.
"I grew expectant for orgasm and arched my back in anticipation, but, just as I was about to spasm, Sheila quickly withdrew the dildo, scooted down to my groin, and stuck her tongue in between my cunt lips. God, it felt good! I felt like I was being engulfed by a tidal wave. I was totally submerged in exotic passion. That first experience with a lesbian would never be repeated.
"We continued these erotic activities until suppertime. Sheila's mother returned, and I was invited to join them for supper. I accepted, and all through the delicious dinner, right on down to the dessert, my mind was full of thoughts of me fucking Sheila with the dildo, of Sheila fucking me with the dildo, of Sheila sucking on my cunt, of me sucking on hers, of sucking each other's, simultaneously. Rubbing, caressing, kissing, and the sublime experience of mutual orgasm. This, plus the tenderness that only two women can achieve together, made my heart beat faster. I looked across the table to Sheila and smiled. She knew what was going on in my mind and winked back at me.
"My relationship with Sheila lasted for several months. Nothing tragic broke us up. Sheila's father was offered a better position in another city and they moved there. Feeling that relations with another woman would never equal the thing that Sheila and I had going for us, I resumed sexual activities with males I knew, and, of course, with dear ol' Pop.
"After Sheila had been gone for some time I told Pop, after one of our typical sexual flings, about Sheila and myself. I thought that he would vomit. We had reached the stage now where he went through the whole sex-beating routine without a whit of self-reproach. I was getting bored. If I didn't make him sweat, it wasn't much fun. Besides, his attitude was beginning to become one of 'I don't think she really deserves punishment this severe.' Of course, that put a damper on the whole thing. I had to come up with new ways of humiliating this jellyfish, who supposedly was my father.
"One night I was having him lap my pussy. Trying to inject a little novelty into it, I had him lying on his back on my bedroom floor. I was squatting down, well positioned over his head, when I had the fierce urge to urinate. I was just about to stand up and go to the bathroom to accomplish this, when I was seized by a wild idea.
"His dick was hard, there before my eyes, and he was jacking himself off at the same time he was eating me. I saw the head swell and turn crimson as he was preparing to ejaculate. I waited till the precise moment he started to shoot, and then I let loose. I pissed right down on his face. The poor sonuvabitch nearly drowned in it. He choked, retched, and sputtered. His dick went immediately soft, right in the midst of his ejaculation. The sticky sperm spread over his lower abdomen, and then, as his rod whipped back in retraction, it smeared a gob on his hairy leg. I laughed so hard that I fell to the floor. Wiping the urine from his eyes, he glared at me, and his whole body shook with rage. 'Doris, goddamn you-that wasn't the least bit funny!' He rose and padded into the bathroom, and a second later I heard him start to shower.
"Five minutes later he reappeared, somewhat calmed down and dressed in his dressing gown. I waited for him to belt me one, for this was abject humiliation that I had subjected him to. But nothing happened. He stood before my mirror and began combing his hair.
" 'Ain't you going to hit me for that one, Pop?' I taunted him.
"He didn't move. 'No, Doris, I am not.'
"I was stunned. He quietly walked out of my room and down the hall. I was furious-and frustrated.
"For several weeks after that, Pop avoided me like the very plague. Mom wasn't feeling very well and was home most every night. She had been very active until recently with her bridge club, church work, and coffee klatches. She didn't look good at all. She had lost a lot of weight and had big black circles under both eyes. Pop was beside himself with anguish. She refused to see our doctor and took to spending more and more time secluded in her room. One day she asked Pop to send for Aunt Tessie. He did. She arrived four days later and started looking after Mom. This was the first time she had returned to the house since my photographic foray into their little affair, Pop's and hers.
"Pop made it a point to never be alone in the house with me. I couldn't let him get away with it. I knew that, somewhere, he and Tessie were fucking up a storm. They conceivably could be using the storeroom that was part of the garage out back. My suspicions were correct, for late one night I saw a light shining in the garage. I stole from my bed and sneaked out across the backyard. Creeping up to the garage door on all fours, I peeked through a large crack in the wall. It was Pop and Aunt Tessie. Pop was sitting on the floor with his hands out behind him for support. Tessie was there in her frilly pink nightgown. Pop had only his pajama top on. The bottoms were carefully laid out over the fender of the car. I noticed that an old mattress was beneath them. Tessie was on her knees, bending over Pop's lower extremities. Her nightgown hung down away from her and I could see her gorgeous breasts hanging down free. The coral nipples were erect with excitement, and no wonder about the cause for that. She was sucking on Pop's stiff rod with great delight. Pop's head was thrown back and a grin of pleasure was stretched from ear to ear. Almost without realizing it, my hand stole down to my cunt. It was moist already. I started fingering it, and got quite a thrill by masturbating in rhythm with the erotic scene before my eyes.
"Tessie's head began to bob up and down faster and faster. Pop's hands dug into the sides of the old mattress until I thought the veins in his arms and neck would start to pop! Pop shot his load into Aunt Tessie's mouth with such force that she was unable to contain it. It splurted out and dripped down the shaft of his rod and ran into his pubic hair. He straightened up and, seizing her head between his hands, forced her mouth down to the base of his rod. Tessie couldn't breathe and she struggled to free herself before she suffocated. While all this was going on, I was finger-fucking to beat the band. Suddenly a twig snapped behind me and I turned to see Mom standing behind me. How long she had been there, I didn't know, but I am sure it was long enough to see everything I was doing to myself. Just then, Pop, the stupid bastard, let out a long satisfied moan. This sound directed Mom's attention from me to the garage door. I took the opportunity to stand up and lean against it, to try to keep my mother from entering. As luck would have it, the door opened inwards, and I fell through it, landing smack on my back.
"Tessie was licking up Pop's sperm. They both looked startled as they saw the grim vision of my enraged mother standing in the doorway. None of us was able to utter a sound. Pop looked as if he were going to have a heart attack. Tessie's face broke out into an embarrassed grin, complete with dripping sperm. It looked like she had been eating soft ice cream. Mom let out a muffled 'Agggh!' and fled back into the house.'
"I looked at Pop and then at Tessie. For a second, I felt a bit of compassion for them, but only briefly. "The fat's in the fire, now,' I said.
"Tessie looked at me brazenly, wiped her dripping chin with one arm, and flounced off to the house. Pop got shakily to his feet and attempted to put his pajama pants back on, falling on his ass, twice, in the process. It had finally happened ... what he had feared all these years. And I wasn't the one responsible. He came over to me and buried his head in my shoulder. 'Oh, Doris, what in God's name are we going to do now?' He was sobbing like a little boy. I was almost moved to pity, if I had had any for him! But I hadn't. The only reason I tried to keep Mom from going into the garage was to protect her, certainly not the other two! I pushed Pop from me and he sank to the floor, blubbering.
"The house was strangely quiet the next few days. Tessie packed the next morning and took a cab to the airport. Mom stayed in her room all day, reading the Bible. Pop went to work and didn't get home till almost midnight, and when he came in, he was so drunk that he staggered. He went immediately to Mom's room and whispered through the door, 'Betsy, forgive me, I didn't mean it. It will never happen again. Please let me in . ... Oh, God, forgive this innocent sinner. I didn't know what I was doing. ... It was all her fault ... Tessie's. Honest, Betsy ... please ... please ... please!! '
"Nothing but silence from Mom's room.
"Suddenly Pop turned and faced me. 'You,' he said. 'It's your fault that all this happened. You little depraved whore, you debauched bitch, it is all your fault. Do you hear me? All your fault!' He lunged at me and began beating me with both fists. One fist landed smack on my mouth. I felt several teeth break and I think my jaw cracked. I was frightened. I had done nothing except try to keep Mom from finding out. I had no feeling of guilt whatsoever. I think Pop would have killed me had not Mom come from her room and heaved her Bible and caught Pop on the back of the head. It was a rather heavy one, not the motel type you and I are familiar with.
"That had a traumatic effect on Pop. He never hit me again-unless I deserved it. Life was hell around the house for the next few months. For a short time I even became 'anti-sex.' It just wasn't worth the bother. I guess if I were a guy, knocking off a piece whenever I wanted to, and then either tossing the chick out of the car or turning over and going to sleep (it's all the same for the chick, you know), it might have been all right. I thought about Sheila. I couldn't figure out why I was so attracted to her. I knew I was not a les. I enjoyed a stiff rod too much for that, but yet, the memory of Sheila's tongue in my snatch . ... Boy, that was something.
"Mom was getting worse all the time. We finally called the doctor, and after he had examined her he told us that he could find nothing organically wrong with her, it was just that she had no longer any desire to live and was just wasting away. He suggested a sanatorium, but Pop would not even think of such a thing. He was drunk most of the time and had taken a leave of absence from the factory. He just laid around the house all day soaking up cheap wine by the gallon and half gallon and pacing back and forth in front of Mom's room. Mom only came out of her room when he was out of the house.
"But all of Pop's drive was sexual. I could tell as days went by-he would get hornier and hornier. Tessie wasn't here to suck him off, but she wrote to him three or four times a week, and whatever was in those letters sure turned him on. I was getting pretty horny myself by then. Most of my friends were out of town for the summer, so I couldn't ball around with them. It began to look like Pop was my only outlet, and he didn't seem the least bit interested anymore. Even when he firmly protested before, I knew deep down inside that the sonuvabitch was relishing the 'ravishing' of pore li'l ol' me. I had to figure some way to turn him on. After all, you can't get fucked very well by a soft dick.
"Then, one day, luck beckoned to me. I had been cleaning house and had walked into the bathroom to hang up fresh towels when I surprised Pop in the process of acute masturbation. He stood there, holding up a picture and pulling away at his rod with great vigor. I circled around behind him and glanced over his shoulder. It was a picture of Tessie, dear Aunt Tessie, and in the nude. She must have taken the picture herself, as she was lying on a bed with her legs spread apart and her cunt wide open. In her left hand she was holding a cord, which obviously was attached to the shutter of the camera. In her right hand, she was holding a glass of what looked like champagne. She looked very sexy. It must have driven my old man wild.
"I stooped down and moved around in front of him. His eyes were closed tightly now; he was so intent on the picture and what he was doing that he never noticed me at all-not until I kissed the head of his dick passionately. I thought he would come right then and there.
" 'Oh, no, Doris-please!' He did not sound very convincing. He let his hand drop from his stiff dick and I let my lips slide down its length. 'Not here, Doris, not here,' he said hoarsely. 'Let's go out to the storeroom.'
"I agreed. I was so horny, I think I would have enjoyed even a straight fuck, even from him!
"Taking a clean, fresh towel with me, I followed him out to the yard. I observed that his rod was so hard that he had trouble walking normally. The garage door always opened with a loud squeak. Pop was careful, but it still squeaked as we entered and shut it behind us. I had my clothes off in a jiffy and was lying on the mattress by the time he had completely disrobed.
"As he started to climb on top of me, I said, 'Eat me, Pop, suck my cunt the way that you used to.' When he balked, I countered with, 'Eat me, or zap! I call Mom, and I will tell her that you are raping me!'
"He whimpered and in a shaky voice said, 'All right, Doris, you win-again.'
"He bent down to me and inserted his rough, wine-smelly tongue into my moist crack. I started to get excited. He continued lapping me for another ten minutes or so, and then I told him to stop and put his rod into me good, because I was more than ready. He moved into position and shoved it home! It felt wonderful-just like old times. As soon as he entered I achieved a massive orgasm. I grunted and groaned and swivel-hipped him to a feverish pitch and still he wouldn't come. Oh God, how I wanted, after all this time, to feel that sterile sperm of his gush into me. I was writhing with pleasure when he gave one gigantic lunge and shot his whole wad! It felt sooooooo great. I hadn't had anyone come inside me for months. I'm not on the pill, 'cause I never needed it with Pop. Most strangers, I make them use rubbers or pull out, just prior to ejaculation.
"I reached a beautiful orgasm and was just beginning to relax and enjoy the divine aftereffects, when a slight noise caused me to open my eyes. Even before I did that, I knew just exactly what I was going to see. It was Mom-and in a flash she swung high and brought a steel rake, prongs down, crashing into Pop's naked and sweaty back! He screamed and fell off me. Ten holes in his back started squirting blood at the same time. Mom looked at me, like she didn't know me, and muttered something about Tess. Then she put the rake back on the nail that it always hung from and walked slowly back into the house.
"I looked at Pop. He was out like a light, but still breathing, and though the wounds looked terrible and lots of blood was in sight, I knew that he was not too badly injured.
"I ran into the house after Mom. She had locked herself in her room. She would not open the door in spite of my begging her to. I ran outside and back into the storeroom. Pop was coming to. I helped him to his feet and we ran back into the house. But by the time he had smashed the door in, it was too late. Mom was stretched out on the bed. She was still warm. An empty bottle, that exuded a familiar but oddly elusive odor was there, beside her. By the time the ambulance arrived, she was pronounced dead. I was sick with grief. I always felt that Mom loved me about as much as she loved Pop, which wasn't much, but, still, she was my mother, and though we hardly ever saw eye-to-eye on many subjects, she was-well-still my mother.
"Aunt Tess came, of course, to the funeral. She was a great comfort to Pop, that was for sure. I overheard them talking about going away together for a while. I was furious. I would not allow that to happen. No matter how lily-livered he was, he was my father, and I'd be damned in hell forever before I would allow her to take him away from me. That night I sat up late trying to figure out what to do. I decided that I would fix them both. I went into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet and withdrew Pop's straightedge razor from its case. I opened it. Its shiny, sharp blade glistened in the light. I crept down the hall and into Pop's bedroom. Just as I figured ... she was in bed with him. I pulled the sheets down from their bodies. Both were totally nude. Pop was lying on his back. His rod looked like a white snake, lying there in the moonlight. I picked it up by its head. It was lifeless and flaccid. I raised my arm, just like it had a sabre in it, and prepared to swing down and finish off that erring tool of his. I glanced at Aunt Tessie . ... She was staring at me with eyes filled with terror. I started my downward swing and she screamed and threw up an arm, which blocked my attempt to sever that cock from its worthless owner. Tess's scream awoke Pop, and with a well-placed kick to my abdomen, he knocked me across the room. The razor went flying from my grip and landed in a corner of the room. I fell to the floor and hysterically started to sob.
"I faintly overheard the conversation that took place over the next few minutes. I think Pop was telling Tessie about the whole situation that had been going on for the last few years. I also remember hearing Aunt Tessie pick up the phone and ask for the police.
"I've been here in the hospital for quite some time now. The prognosis is that I am 'psychotic' and need constant and extensive treatment. It isn't so bad here. Food is all right, I guess. We get movies, twice weekly and then there is Edna, she is in the bed next to me. She isn't pretty. She isn't young, but, her tongue sure fits in my groove real nice."
Doris C-is completely homicidal as well as being afflicted with the aforementioned psychotic disorders. It is doubtful that she can ever be totally cured. Only in her relationship with Sheila did she show any tenderness and compassion. The love-hatred that she felt towards her father finally drove her over the brink. Doris is hopelessly insane now. Whether the mental disorders were inherent or manifested through the acute disappointment in her father, Clarence, we have as yet to find out. Luckily, the castration she had planned for her father never was accomplished, but, in a way, she has achieved a "victory." Clarence, traumatized into impotence, finally "cracked up" and is an inmate of the same institution that his daughter is confined in. This is a tragic case where criminal and victim are both suffering the tortures of the damned. Of course, the question that rises in our minds at this moment is: Who really is the criminal, and who really is the victim?