Chapter 7

Beverly and Jan, the former hooker, had been cured. That is what the board ol psychologists who interviewed them just a few days after they came to the Blackstone house decided. They were set free, but they had to report to psychologists every few days in order to remain subjects of study.

Jill and Nancy were still in the house. Harry Blackstone knew that they had not been cured and he knew that he would need his wife's help before he could ever really make any headway with them.

But then Harry Blackstone got a new patient, a woman who was perhaps the strangest of the lot.

Her name was Simone. At least, she claimed that that was her name. But she spoke with a broad, ugly New York City accent and Harry Blackstone could not believe that anyone named Simone would sound like that.

Simone drank a lot and hung around bars in New York City, where she constantly got into fights with other women and even some men. She was usually arrested for being drunk and disorderly, but the people at the jail thought that they was something else going on in her head, something that they could not understand. So they sent the woman to Harry Blackstone.

Simone was a middle-aged woman with a firm, big-titted sexy body. But Harry Blackstone glanced at her when she entered his office that night and knew that he saw what might have been part of her problem. That sexy body was topped by a head that was not very attractive at all. The nose was too big and the teeth were too big and the eyes were too small. Simone's face made her look more than a little bit like a horse.

When Harry explained the treatment to her, Simone laughed with a loud, braying sound and said, "Sure, Doc, I love it. Let's get this show on the road."

He did not understand her eagerness. He had told her that she would suffer pain, that she would be bound, and she did not seem to care. She seemed to look forward to it.

Simone almost raced Harry Blackstone down the hall to the laboratory. When they got into that laboratory, she looked around and brayed again as she saw all of the equipment, all the instruments of torture.

Then she started to take off her clothes. She almost ripped them in her eagerness to be naked in front of the psychologist.

When she was naked, she turned around and looked at Harry Blackstone and seemed to be a little put-out with him.

"Hey, Doc," she said, "ain't I gonna see your cock? Ain't you gonna get naked too?"

"No," Harry said. He looked over the woman's body and sighed with relief because he felt nothing in his own system that he should be ashamed of. Other women with that kind of body might be sexy, he thought, but her aggressive manner and her ugly face kept her from enticing him at all. Harry Blackstone knew that this one would be easy for him.

Simone put her hands on Harry's hips and wiggled her furry pussy as she moved her body close to him.

"You are missing one hell of a fuck," she said. "You are missing the pussy of a lifetime, Doc."

He pushed her away, trying to be professional with her and gentle, although he did not like her at all.

When he pushed her, she staggered back and snarled at him.

"Okay, Doc," she said, "but don't come around to me looking for a free fuck. You ain't ever gonna get into this snatch of mine. You ain't never gonna get to fuck me now."

"I am a doctor," he explained, trying to curb her sudden anger.

"Doctor, smoctor," she sneered. "Probably a faggot, a goddamned, one-eyed faggot. That is what you are, Doc. You and your little patch. You probably can't even see me right. You can't see how good I look." '

"I can see very well," he said, "and I am married to a wonderful woman."

When he said that, Harry felt a little tinge of regret in his voice. He was married to a wonderful woman, but he had not even talked :to Eva for weeks. He had not be able to : overcome his shame.

"Well, married or not," Simone said, "you only have one eye, and I would not fuck any man who did not have both eyes. I don't even like to fuck guys who wear glasses, Doc."

All of her anger was really a defense mechanism. Harry understood that. She felt rejected so she had turned on him with her wrath, a wrath that was almost silly to him. He could not even be angry with her. He thought that she was just a sorrowful woman who wanted a man but could not find one who would have her for more than one night.

Simone forgot her anger at the doctor and looked around the room. She saw one batch of chains and metal and ran across the room and picked it up. She held it up so that Harry could see it.

"I want this one, Doc," she said. "Will you put this one on me."

Harry was intrigued. This woman wanted to be chained. He decided to let her have her choice of punishment. Perhaps that way he could get her to talk about herself and why she was the way that she was, he thought.

"All right, Simone," he said. "That looks like a good one for you."

The woman tried to wrap the chains around her own body, but she just got all tangled up in them as a kitten gets tangled in a ball of yarn. Harry moved toward her with a smile and took the chains from her and carefully put them on her body in just the way that they were meant to be worn. The metal collar went around her throat and the chains fell down her body. Harry put the two metal rings around her nipples so that they would lift her tits up like a bra would do. Then he stretched the chain down her stomach and over her snatch. It went between her legs and came up her back. He pulled the chain tight so that the metal went into her pussy, and Simone gasped.

"Hey, Doc," she said, "not so fucking hard. My cunt is not made out of rawhide, you know."

By that time, Harry had the end of the chain hooked to the collar. He knew that she would not be able to free herself. So it was time for him to show her how he really felt about her. Then she might understand her own emotions too and she might be able to explain some of these things that went on in her head to the psychologist.

"You sickening piece of shit," Harry snarled, moving away from her. "You are ugly. You know that? You are ugly and worthless. Just another worthless cunt, in fact the most -worthless, ugly cunt that I have ever seen in my whole fucking life."

Harry was embellishing it a little bit, but he basically felt that the woman was sickening. There was something about her that repelled him, and he thought that it must be more than just her face. There was something in her style-or lack of style-that turned men off. Harry was certain that other men felt the same way about the woman as he did. And he wanted to know why she did that, why she I was so aggressive and strident.

When he cursed her, Simone stood there and I looked at him. Then she did a very strange I thing. She put her hands behind her head and stood there like some kind of model. She I looked at him in her sexiest way. And that strange, ugly sexuality repelled the psychologist even more. He reached toward the table that was nearby and picked up some metal cuffs and grabbed Simone's wrists with one of his strong hands. He cuffed those wrists and attached the metal cuffs to the collar that he had put on the woman. Then he began to curse her again.

"Piece of garbage, that is what you are. You I are nothing but an ugly, old whore. You are I worthless and you don't even realize it."

Simone just looked at them until he said that. Then she interjected her own words.

"You are wrong, Doctor," she said, "I...I realize it."

"What?"

"I realize that I am nothing," she said. And then Harry knew that he had struck the correct chord with this woman. He knew that j she was going to tell him something about herself at that moment.

His voice became soft and comforting and professional as he asked her the next question.

"What makes you think you are so bad?" he asked.

"Men want to fuck me but they don't want to look at me," she said softly, sadly, speaking about the situation as if she had accepted it as a given in her existence, one of the rules that she had to play the game of life by. "They think that my body is nice, but my face is nothing, nothing at all. So I try to let them know that it is all right if they don't want to stay with me or look at me. After all, I still have some needs and it is better to have those needs filled by men who don't care than to not have them filled at all."

Simone took a deep breath and went on with her explanation for the way that she acted.

"But sometimes men make me so mad. I want just one of them to look at me and say that I mean something to them. I thought one time that I had a man like that, but he just wanted money. He wanted to live with me and let me support him and I did it because I was lonely. I usually just fuck them and let them go but I thought that this one was actually different. That is how stupid I was, that is how t much I needed someone. But he left too, when I ran out of money. He just got up one night and drove the new car down the road. He said that he was going to get some cigarettes from an all-night store. But he never came back. It did not really surprise me."

Harry listened to the woman and tried to make some sense out of what she was saying, tried to figure out what question he should ask her next. Then he had that question.

"But why do you act so ugly, Simone?" he said. "Why do you act like you just want to fuck, like you don't need anyone else in the world?"

"Because I am ugly," she said softly.

"You don't have to be," he told her.

"Oh, yea," she said, nodding her head but keeping her eyes down on the floor. "Plastic surgery."

"No," Harry said, suddenly interested in this woman's welfare. "You don't have to be ugly. You remember that old saying that mothers used to tell their children. Ugly is as ugly does? Well, that is true. If you acted like you could handle a relationship. If you thought of yourself as something special, then others would think that you were special too."

It was simple psychology. Harry knew that. But he also knew that it was true. He had found the core of this woman's problem and he wanted to help her. But he did not have to beat her in order to do that. The psychologist sensed that beating was the last thing that this woman needed. She needed compassion and caring and love, not a white or a spike.

And Harry tried to show her a little compassion. It was not easy for him. He had grown used to beating his patients and torturing them. This was a technique that he had tried before.

"Simone," he said, "you just have to act pretty and think of yourself as-"

"Bull fucking shit!" she yelled.

Then she looked at Harry.

"You know something, Doc?" the woman who was naked and chained said, "You. sound just like my fucking mother. She always say stupid things like that too. But my mother was better than you are. Even my mother was better and she was stupid. But, at least, she was stupid and had both of her fucking eyes. You are a stupid, fucking, one-eyed, fucking faggot, and you know it."

It was more than Harry could take. He slammed his fist right into the woman's face.

Simone stumbled back a few steps and then fell on her back. She cried out in pain as her face started to bleed and as the chains and metal bit into her flesh and wrenched her arms behind her.

But then she groaned. She groaned as if she were a woman who was being fucked and who was enjoying that fuck more than anything else that she had ever done.

"Oh, hit me again, Doc," she gasped, pleading with him with lust in her voice. "Hit me again, Doc. That felt good. I know I deserve it. Hit me again. Beat the living shit out of me, Doc. You can do it. I love it. Oh, Doc, hit me again."

She spoke is gasps as if she were being fucked, as if she were breathing with the fucking motion of a cock in her pussy. She even lifted her legs and spread them and Harry saw that wet, pink pussy, wet with desire for the man who had struck her with such force and such fury.

She hunched her hips up into the air, as her face bled and as she continued to moan and gasp in passionate fury.

"Oh, hit me again, Doc. Beat the living shit out of me. I know I deserve it. That is all I deserve. Beat the fuck out of me, Doc. Hit me again."

Harry turned away from her in sorrow. He did not feel the same kind of shame that he usually felt, when he lusted after the girls whom he tortured, but he felt a new kind of shame, because he had hit that woman in the face and had made her reveal that sickening part of her lonely soul.

He knew that he could not help her. He knew that she needed another kind of treatment, but he did not know what kind of treatment to suggest.

Perhaps she was just the kind who could not be helped because she could not crawl back into the womb and come out again and start her life over again as a woman who thought that she was pretty.

When Simone saw that Harry was leaving her, she stopped gasping with a voice that was wild with sex. She watched him move slowly toward the door, and then she yelled in anger and in fury at him.

"You fucking fag! You fucking, one-eyed fag! You don't know what a woman needs! You are nothing! You are shit, Doc! Just a piece of one-eyed shit!"

Harry left her in the laboratory and walked down to his study. There, he called the people from the jail to come by and pick her up. She would never respond to his form of therapy, he said. There was nothing that he could do for her.

And the psychologist knew that that was right.

After the people from the jail had come and gotten the pain-loving woman, Harry fell asleep in his study and had no dreams at all.

He did not want to dream. He just wanted to forget that women like Simone even existed in this world.

Women like that, he figured, he just couldn't help, no matter how hard he tried. They just couldn't be helped.