i didn't get to get online yesterday due to chaos, but i got this written. Here it is. Today's post will be up later. And, i'm adjusting the date on this so i won't have two posts on the same date. It screws up the archives.
"Hush now, we don't have much time." John was dragging me off the table towards the back basement room. There was a small bathroom off that room and a lock box with extra Daddy's Little Helpers in it. my legs trembled and i thought they would refuse to carry me. i seriously considered bolting. i knew John would probably kill me, but just then i didn't care. i was beside myself at the thought of going with that old man. It was worse than anything i had imagined. It was like the clock had been turned back and i was a small child again. my mind howled, anything, anything but that. John must have sensed my impending rebellion. He wound his hand in my hair, entangling it so that i was hopelessly locked in his grip. He shook me lightly. "Hush now girl. Hush. Whatever it was this isn't that. You will come back, only a few hours. Hush now, don't make me hurt you. You be a good girl." On and on he talked. A litany of reassurance and threats intertwined. He grabbed a bottle from a shelf in the far corner of the back room. Still holding me by the hair with an iron grip he used his other hand to work the combination of the lock box. "You want this? You want me to make it easier for you?" i nodded as vigorously as i could with his hand pulling on my hair. He looked at me a minute more, staring into my eyes as though seeing me for the first time. "Please, i'll be good, please, give it to me, please." i begged in a voice i didn't even recognize. Anything anything to escape this. i wouldn't have cared what he was giving me then. Battery acid would have been preferable to facing it straight. He let me beg for a few minutes and then he must have heard what he was looking for. He scraped together a whole handful of little colored friends for me. He let go of my hair with the air of a man testing to see if his gun is loaded. But, i was now focused on his hand. He opened his palm and i snatched them away greedily. As he handed me the liquor bottle the door opened. It was Mira, a girl i would never really get to know. "John, the new girl's client left. Edward said to tell you to deliver her in about two hours, but he wants to see you first." "She's got a fucking name," he snapped. "Use it. I'll be up as soon as I get her calmed the fuck down. Tell Benny I said to come in here with her." Then he continued to feed me sweet obliviation.
That was my first client. It was a rough way to be broken in.
Mr. Catlette drug me over to pool table and Benny herded the other girls into the basement rec room. When the door shut, i was left alone with the boogymen.
i had a hallow hope that he would use me there, on the pool table, as i had seen Pearl used on my first night. This, of course, was not to be. Instead there was only a through inspection of his choice. John told him that i was brand new, and that he was my first client. He showed him the cigar burn scars and said that although i hadn't been questioned yet as to where they came from, it was very clear that mistreatment was nothing new to me. Mr. Catlette looked delighted at this news and wrapped his hand in my hair pulling my head back, forcing me to look at him. "Its her eyes I like the most. So expressive." John told him that there was something between my legs he would like even better. He assured him that he'd never felt a virgin any tighter. John pushed me back on the pool table and gripped my knee, pulling my thighs wide apart. i tried to concentrate on the ceiling while the three of them stared at my exposed crotch. At John's urging i felt the knobbly old fingers travel up my thigh and pry at my dry sex. There were no callouses, but otherwise it was the same. i turned my head to the side and buried my face in my hair, my mind begging me to jump off the table and run, damn the consequence. But, my finely tuned survival instinct held me fast to the table as he forced his fingers into me, turning my quiet tears into sobs once more and bringing visions of another basement to my mind. They were withdrawn quickly and John's hand was on my shoulder, forcing me to sit up again. i stared at his boots in misery, wishing with all my heart to die right then and there before this could go any farther. Edward stepped forward. "Very talented mouth as well. This one is very pleasing. Shall we conduct our negotiations in my office?" Then Edward ushered Mr. Catlette from the room.
This week we are going to cover Mr. Catlette in more detail. This is a post i wanted to do when i first started the blog. But, i got sidetracked by finishing up my first weekend at Edward's and never got back to it.
The first weekend was spent learning the house, and the people in it. Edward had decided my snatch was a gold mine and Benny had staked me out as his pet. Everyone in the house had a run at me to test the new merchandise. John was enormous and i ended up screaming as i tore beneath his onslaught. He concurred with Edward. On Monday i left the house and went back to school. Forever changed. The second weekend i had my first lineup. Everyone was called into the main room of the basement. April and Pearl were sent away. April had another client that night who had an appointment and Pearl was for some reason exempt from lineups with Mr. Catlette. i didn't want to cry, i watched Lindy throw her hair over her shoulder and Kayla cast a shy smile at Benny and i tried to emulate their casual attitude. i was doing pretty good until John walked past me and whispered, "Now you are a real whore." His calculated jab got the response he was hoping for, i burst into tears. By the time Edward ushered the old man in i had gotten my sobs under control, but fat tears continued to stream down my cheeks. The old man stopped in front of Candy. She was tiny and completely flat chested. He gripped her chin until tears shimmered in her eyes but she never made so much as a squeak. He released her and walked on down the line. He paused twice more before he got to me, standing at the end and trying to hold on to some semblance of composure. When he looked at me i dropped my eyes and bowed my head. John cleared his throat and i understood the command. i looked into Mr. Catlette's eyes and saw a terrifying monster wearing an old man's skin. And, he saw me seeing. A slow smile played over the old wrinkled mouth. i flinched away from him. i knew a smile like that. i knew what this creature was. i tried to step back but suddenly John was behind me. He pushed me forward and the old man leaned forward and licked the tears from my cheek with his horrible slimy wet old tongue. A shudder ran through me and i whimpered involuntarily. He clutched my forearm and yanked me forward so that i stumbled slightly. "This one. I want this one." And, with those words... i was damned.
i am starting to hate Sundays. i have the hardest time coming up with these good things to write about. Here is one that took me several hours to think of.
This doesn't seem very nice. But, remembering it makes me smile.
my friend Kathy had a brother named Randy. Randy teased me unmercifully, and would take what he could get as far as sex, but he had no tolerance for people being mean to me. So one day, Randy was after school for detention and i was there making up a typing test. Jackson had basketball practice. Towards the end of the evening we were standing around waiting for the activity bus. i can't remember what i did to annoy Jackson, it didn't take much. He smacked me and knocked me over one of the planters the school kept overflowing with flowers during the summer and fall and spring. i stayed down a minute in case he was working himself up for a really good beating. A few minutes later when i looked up, Randy had Jackson in a headlock and was punching him in the face. i knew this wouldn't help. i knew it would only make matters much worse. But, this time i felt no urge to stop him. i knew i would pay for it later, but just that moment i was content to watch. It was nice for somebody, anybody to say in any way that what was happening to me was wrong. i needed that. And, occasionally, someone would give it to me.
In May of that year i decided things were hopeless. In effect, i completely gave up on life. As a small child, i had clung to the hope that when i grew up i would be free. But, when Pearl was sold in May, i watched John hold her while another enormous hard looking man branded her right hip. The sounds of her shrieks and the smell of her flesh burning told me the truth. i would never be free. Never. After the brand was applied another man, dressed very richly, snapped his fingers. Two older women came forward and tended the wound on Pearl's hip and soothed her. They dressed her in white and led her away. i never saw or heard of her again. That night i asked Benny what would happen to Pearl. She had once been John's favorite although Lindy had taken that honor from her. She was a pretty girl, with dark hair and big brown eyes that tugged at the heart. He said that because John had special affection for Pearl he had gotten her a different buyer. Edward's girls were usually sold to the same man. This man used them through their prime years if they lived that long. Then they were sold to various street pimps and hustlers and went into the hell that is life for an old whore. Old coming at about 25. Most didn't make it that long. Pearl had a different path to follow. John had found a collector for her. This man worked his girls extremely exclusively, and he only purchased girls with something special about them. He kept them to the age of 25 and at that point either let them retire to be kept as his private stock, or he killed them. Benny led me to believe he mostly kept them, which was why he purchased so few girls. i knew i wouldn't get that lucky. i knew i'd probably be miserable until someone decided to dispose of me. And, so... i decided to kill myself.
When i was thirteen something happened that should have made me happy. But, instead it made my life worse. my braces were removed. Suddenly the one thing that had made me look childlike was gone. i only looked too skinny and abused. In Edward's client base it was hard for me to find work. i had regulars, and they kept asking for me. That was good... but i was almost never chosen out of a line up again, by old stand by customers. So, John began looking for new customers for me. Had i been any other girl, i would have just been sold at that point. Two things kept that from happening to me. One was Mr. Catlette. He was very profitable, and would only use me. After April he wouldn't accept another girl. i was the only one he would take. And, he paid through the nose. Secondly, was my family and the fact that i left the house. It would have been horribly complicated to sell me. my family would have looked for me. So, it was easier to just keep me in house and look for new clients for me. Edward was happily surprised at the number of men who have teenage girl fantasies, and i had a steady stream of new clients. Bringing in business that otherwise would not have existed. But, this was a sincere pain in John's ass and made him in a rather bad mood with me. So i got a lot of unpleasant clients. Nasty fetishes, edgy sadists, and the endless stream of parties. Parties suck when you are the only girl. When rubbers are used, and your vagina doesn't work quite properly anyway, the 4th or 5th guy at a party is absolute agony. We won't even discuss the 15th guy. i had thought it couldn't get any worse. But, as usual, i was wrong.
So... i'm having an extremely hard time in my current life. So as always, i get bombarded with flashbacks. Joy. Here is the most troubling one from yesterday.
i am trying to stand still for the lash. The man is obviously not very good with one, because there is no consistency to when it wraps. This keeps me constantly off guard and scares me. A man who can't handle his implements is dangerous. He can hurt you badly without even meaning to. As it wraps again and i feel the trickle of blood from the sensitive underside of my breast i look around for something to distract me. To my utter shock Jackson is seated on the sofa across the room. He grins nastily at me and i stare at him in amazement. Who the fuck is using me? i turn my head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse. The lash comes dangerously close to my face and i snap my head back. i pled with Jackson with my eyes. i don't want him to stop it... i want it not to be someone horrible. Please not one of my friends. Please not one of my friends boyfriends. Please. He gives me a broad smile that bodes ill for there being any kind of good outcome. Finally i hear the lash being thrown to the floor. The man presses on my shoulder lightly and i understand the command to drop to my knees. At this point i don't want to see who it is. i keep my eyes resolutely on the floor. As i see the long khaki cad legs in my periphial vision i hear his zipper come down. i lick my lips as i was taught so terribly long ago. His cock is enormous. i sincerely hope i can bring that off with my mouth. i close my eyes and take the length into my mouth. Still refusing to look at him. But soon enough the hand tangled in my hair is angling my head back. And, i know he wants me to give him the huge doe eyed feed me cum look. And, at last i open my eyes. i know i have to. And, i choke on the football coach's cock.
So, i've been thinking a lot about what a pissed off, drunk, defeated little girl i was. And, the image of that little girl still pisses me off. i'm not sure if i'm angry with the people who made her that way, or the little girl herself for not putting her foot down sooner. i know this is stupid. i'm lucky to have escaped with my life as it is. But image after image of defeat, dispair, degradation and desperate attempts at survival have overwhelmed me. i'm lost. i'm rudderless. i have no idea where to go. i don't know what to process next. So today i'm going to at least tell you that screaming little girl's name. The angry yet defeated, defiant yet compliant, contradiction that i was during my early teen years. John named me Raven. That was my name at Edward's. i thought i wouldn't give that here. That it was too private. i thought it would be to hold an unbearable spotlight on that little girl's pain and shame and self hatred. i was wrong. She deserves someone to see her finally. Every person in her life who had a responsibility to look after her failed her. Miserably. Dammit, failed me. This little girl is me. And, i'm pissed off about it. Its now my responsibility to look after that little girl. And, i'm failing her too. i am ashamed of her. i try to sugar coat her and cover her naked agony. i'm going to stop that. Her name is Raven. Listen to her scream.
So... i've mentioned that i had one friend throughout the years with Jackson. i thought i'd talk about JC and our friendship today. JC was an enormous boy, about John's size at 14. He had light brown hair that curled so tightly he had an afro. He was a little shy and came from a farm. Big, sweet, cornfed farmboy. He wasn't the smartest boy on the planet, but definitely had enough common sense and could fix anything. We were friends before i ever met Jackson. Before i started hiding in the bathroom during lunch, or became the school joke. JC didn't have a lot of luck with girls (that goofy hairdo probably a big part of why) and had a horrible crush on me. i didn't like him that way, but was always nice to him. i mostly returned his phone calls, occasionally sat with him at lunch, and let him copy my homework. When i started dating Jackson my circle of friends shrank. Then it became miniscule. And, finally, there was only one true friend left. JC. JC wouldn't hear a word against me. He was bigger than Jackson and offered me the only real safety i knew in those days. When i was with JC, Jackson wouldn't hurt me... he was afraid to. Unlike some other so called friends i had then, he wasn't embarrassed to be seen with me. He never lied and said he was fucking me. And, he never tried to do that either. He pounded more than one boy for hurting me, and he stopped dating a girl once for writing nasty things about me on the bathroom wall. JC was just my friend. Probably the best rl friend i've had in my life. i say just, but that's no small thing to be. There were days when the only thing i hung on to was the few minutes JC culled out for me between lunch and 4th period. No matter what girl he was dating, or thing he had going on, he took those few minutes. He was the only person who noted that i was way too thin, and tried to get me to eat. He offered me the money for a bus ticket damn near daily but he never pushed me. He held the pieces of me tenderly. He loved me for me and nothing i could give him. And, that is always a miraculous thing.
So, end result. i got kicked out of school 3 days and off the bus a week after that. my parents, of course, were not amused. They grounded me for two weeks after Daddy smacked me. Actually extremely light for something i would now be arrested for malicious wounding for doing. (In VA if you draw blood its malicious wounding. What a bunch of shit.) i didn't begin to really pay for this until after those punishments were over and my normal life resumed. The fight occurred on a Thursday, so the bill came do three Fridays later.
John was out of town until Saturday and i didn't have any pressing clients, so Jackson was told he could keep me Friday night if he wanted to. And, he did. Gabby was a girl whose brother had been friends with Jackson for years. Her brother was one of the boys i frequently serviced in the boys locker room and he was currently none to happy with me. So he paid Jackson for a night with me. i'm pretty sure that was the first time Jackson actually pimped me out himself, but it wasn't the last. First he made me go around to his house and apologize to his wretched sister. i still remember the exact words he made me use. "i'm sorry i touched you with my whorey hands. You are better than me, in the future i will respect my betters." (i would eventually beat Gabby's ass twice more, the dumb bitch never learned.) Then he beat me up and used my mouth and cunt. He came before he could get to my ass, and then he couldn't get it up again. i believe this was a large part of his problem, erectile dysfunction at such an early age. At, any rate, less than pleasant. i still have a hump in my damn nose from where he broke it.
John's reaction was not quite what i expected.
He laughed at my broken nose and laughed harder when he found out how i got it. When he finally quit laughing like a loon, he asked if i was ready and squaring my shoulders i said that i was. He eyed me with definite approval as i held the door to the back basement room open for him. i followed him across the room, stripped off my clothes and held my arms up for the cuffs. i didn't regret what i had done, and none of this was going to make me do so. He must have noticed this. "Look, I don't blame you for beating the fuck out of that girl. And, when you do it again, you will not be in trouble if you take more care. Do not get kicked out of school. That's your mistake. It pissed off your moms and pops and Edward lost money. That is what you are being punished for, not the fight. The lost money." i digested this while he applied the 200 strokes with a lash. my back and legs were a bloody mess but after he finished fucking and left me to dangle i turned what he had said over in my mind. When i sorted out that i was allowed to defend myself by the real authority figure in my life, a wide smile came to my bruised and swollen face.
i learned a couple of valuable lessons from all this. Standing up for yourself is worth the price sometimes. Beat people when no one was looking. And, limp dick boys are mean.
So... we have seen that i had a temper. i for one cannot forget my last attempt to show you guys my anger... but i'm going to try to do so once more, a little more carefully. Here is what happened on one occasion when i snapped, and tomorrow... we'll dutifully get the consequences.
Gabby rode the bus with me. She was one of those girls whose nostrils flared if i got near her. As though i smelled bad. She always had something venomous to say, and in short made my rather miserable life worse every chance she got. And, for my part i hated her with a passion. So one day, i was sitting in the back crying a little over my just broken middle finger when she decided to run her mouth. "Oh, why are you crying this time? Somebody wouldn't fuck you? You didn't get to drink enough cum during lunch?" And, she followed that with a derisive laugh. Which was echoed. i was embarrassed at being caught crying, i had determined to never to let anyone see me cry (to this day i don't like to be caught crying) and their laughter ignited a blazing fire of rage in my heart. Before i even knew what i was doing i was out of my seat and on her. i caught her so off guard i had slammed her head against the side of the bus and straddled her before she so much as had a chance to raise a hand in her defense. Then i began to punch her with my good hand while choking her with the bad one. By the time the bus driver had threatened one of the boys into breaking it up, her face was a battered mess and i had choked her until her voice was raspy as she croaked, "Enough, enough at me. But, it wasn't enough for me. i screamed every foul name i could think of and kicked at the boy holding me. He dropped me and i turned my fury on him punching him in the nose and causing it to bleed. Suddenly all the fight went out of me. i walked towards the front of the bus and sit in the seat directly behind the driver. It wasn't the first time i had lost my temper on that bus, i knew the drill. i knew that pure hell was going to be the price of this outburst. But, for the moment i didn't care. The fuckers weren't laughing anymore.
And, when i was out of ISS life was a lot like this.
i rode the bus to school, living too far from Jackson to catch a ride with him, and not having any friends who were either brave enough to offer me a ride considering Jackson's reaction to such overture or could drive. i always sat in the very last seat and drank all the way to school. Sometimes my few female aquantances would sit with me, but they mostly rode a different bus and i would find myself alone. i would determindedly stick my nose in a book and ignore the guys around me, sipping my pop bottle of booze. Jackson always got to school before me and he would be standing there waiting when i got off the bus. He had a lot of friends and so i would be clutched by my upper arm and led around while he talked to his gaggle of adoring girls or laughed it up with the moron guys who looked up to him. On days that i was lucky, no one would have anything to report on me, and i would pop some gum and head off to my homeroom with relatively little drama. my homeroom teacher was a trip. She also had her bottle of booze disguised as something else. She liked me (or felt sorry for me) and thus let me sit at a table at the back of the room instead of in a desk with the rest of those little assholes. Before that 10 minute period ended it was inevitable that at least a few derogetory remarks would be made, and at least one person wouldn't be able to resist yanking my book out of my hand, or kicking my chair, or shooting spitballs into my hair, or some such shit. i tried to keep my head down and ignore this, but i often failed, lost my temper and smacked the shit out of someone. Then i spent the rest of the day in ISS. But, for argument's sake, lets not go down that route on this day. A typical day in my life. Let's say i make it through the period, then enter the hall once more. Jackson is waiting at my locker, i pull my books out for the next couple of periods and then give him the obligatory groping. He feels like the big man, i look like the whore of babylon and the day continues. During my 13th year i had English first period which was with the same teacher as homeroom. She had no control whatsoever over her class, and usually threw her hands up after about ten minutes and went back to her desk to drink. i would do all the homework i had missed by not taking my books home the night before and by then i would have acheived a comfortable numbness. That was a blessing because while the class ran wild, i got to hear new jabs. Such as... "Don't be shy, don't be nervous, for your first time go to ______'s blow job service!" and other less imaginative prods like... "hey, have you had another abortion this week?" Which rather smarted in the days right after Mathew. This was the best peirod of the day too. After that i had a bunch of teachers who hated me and sat me towards the front of the class, constantly making me walk toward the blackboard with that damn necklace jingling and try to do complicated geometric proofs or conjagate spanish terms while drunk off my ass. And, in the background was always the laughter of my peers. Always laughing. How i hated them. At lunch Jackson and sometimes others got their blowjob in the boys locker room. Miraculously i almost never got caught at that. Then typing which i couldn't do to save my soul, and finally P.E. P.E. sucked the worst because our high school uniforms were not built for girls with tits or ass (i repeat, my tits and ass were the bane of my existance) and i looked just like what they all thought of me, the school slut. i'm not athletic either. So, that didn't help. Then mercifully the day ended. i got back on the bus, fended off the boys as best i could and counted down the 45 minutes it took me to get home. All in all, it was hell. This is the most blatently whiney thing i've written here. Obviously i had major issues with this period in my life. i really considered deleting it or editing it to be less whiney, but in the end... i've decided to let it stand as it is. Perhaps giving voice to all the anger and frustration and flat out suckiness of that time period, FINALLY, will give me some peace.
i said before, i was an angry kid. This often splashed on the other girls (and occasionally boys) at school. i was almost constantly in trouble. Either for being drunk at school, fighting, my clothes, or sneaking out of school. i mostly got in school suspension, which basically meant i got stuck in a room with the other delinquents all day. i managed to keep good grades because school was fairly easy for me, but every year i damn near failed because of the number of days i missed from school. i have nieces and nephews who either recently left or are still in school. They tell me that these days, there is an attendant in the in school suspension room. In those days... someone came and got us for lunch, and someone came and got us to leave at the end of the day, but that was pretty much it. As long as there was nothing loud going on when the teachers walked by the door, they just kept on walking. In some ways it was a relief to be away from those snotty prissy girls. But, on the other hand, i was in a room with a bunch of boys all day and couldn't leave. For the most part i was the only girl, and there i sat, with my whore's necklace jingling, in my too short skirt and too tight shirt. Every so often there would be a boy in there who was really nice. i did know a couple of boys who were good to me in those days. On those days, ISS wasn't bad. But, there were the rest of the days. Two boys were the worst, cousins, Sammy and Jerry Brooks. One or the other was almost always there, and on the worst days, both were. i cannot count the number of times one or both either cashed in a ringtop in there, or took it anyway, with no ringtop. They were rough and hard to deal with. Because trouble in the ISS room went beyond a pinkslip and into a phone call home and out of school suspension, i could only take what they dished out, and quietly. If i got in trouble at home, and got grounded, there would be hell to pay from John. And, i was quite sure he was much less pleasant than either of them. There were others though... who could be very pleasant. i always resisted, but not too hard, and there were a few who with gentle insistence gave me great pleasure. i was always horribly ashamed, and when it got back to Jackson i sure as hell paid for it, but still... there were good things. And, to give them all their credit, not a one of them ever told on me for the pop bottles full of booze. And, they almost never took it all from me either. And, so, i was much better able to cope. For me school was easier with the guys, who wanted things i understood and allowed me to get trashed on most days before touching me. As long as i was only locked away in ISS, life wasn't so bad.
So, last week's work actually lead me to think about how i lived a double life during those days. How could i care what those little bitches i went to school with thought of me when such a horrible thing had just happened. But, i did. i think being there day to day, having their constant distaste rubbed in my face made me care. i talked about how i walked a tightrope between my two lives, and nothing could be more true. What happened at school had to be carefully balanced because consequences carried over to Edward's. What happened at Edward's made school even harder. So... i thought maybe this week we'd look at that balance, and the various ways i managed to fuck it up.
my buddy h8you is gearing up for football season. This makes me think of how much i loved high school football. Jackson was a football star and i was either in the band or twirled the rifle. To this day i enjoy high school football. i love when the light gets golden and the air gets crisp. i love to hear the band play candances and watch them mark time. i remember the thrill of the rifle thrown just right and watching it make 5 complete turns before catching it neatly and sending it spinning in a different direction. Towards the end my fingers had been broken so many times it was hard to do, but when i managed it, for a moment i felt golden. i couldn't wear the necklace during preformances and for a few minutes, all eyes were on me, but in a good way. It was very gratifying to be looked at for my skill at something. Other than my blowjob. You know h8you... i can't wait for football either. Happy memories there.
So. i promised to try to sort all this out. A lot of this is just speculation, but here is what i think happened.
John had a party that paid well enough that he would send girls even though he didn't much want to. So he chose me, probably because i could always be counted on to snivel and cry. And, he chose Kayla because he didn't like her and figured if someone had to get hurt, it may as well be her. He was nervous enough to warn us and to guard the place. i have no idea what these people were. The warning John gave leads me to believe that this was some sort of ritual or routine for them. At least a nearly annual occurrence. For the record, John also made them let the two boys go. He had to carry one of them, but they were both breathing when their handler picked them up. Altruism wasn't one of John's characteristics, so that is shocking to me. i have no idea why he did it. Perhaps he was just pissed off that his instructions weren't followed and wanted to end their party. Oh, and also, he was armed, and was not alone. There were four men backing him up. That just didn't seem relevant yesterday. i suspect Kayla probably berated John for making us go. She never knew when to shut up, and when John was nervous and upset was never a good time to question him. In fact, it was never a good time to question John. She got some lashes and he left her to hang for a while. A fairly light punishment normally, but for one who has just been impaled by a metal spike, extremely cruel i think. As for me, and Benny and my guilt. Well... he hated that kind of stuff. But, would often do it for me. Otherwise, i would hurt myself much worse than he did.
i am tied down on some sort of table. Spread eagle. Kayla's foot tied next to my hand. i assume she is similarly trussed. Raising my head i peer down at her and her face seems frightened and unsure, but no traces of pain show there. Then who the hell is screaming? i turn my head and see that the table we are tied to is pushed off to the side. We are almost against a wall. In the center of the room i see a circle of people surrounding a similar table. i realize that in addition to the screaming, there is pleading. And, surprisingly, it is the voice of a young boy. Over and over he begs them not to kill Mike. To stop, please, for god's sake, stop. The men laugh at him and mock his words. They are standing back a bit from the table. Whatever is happening to the boy Mike, the women must be doing it. The screaming becomes horse. Then turns to mere whimpers. The pleading gives way to silence. And, then new screaming. i assume that the women have turned from one boy to the next. And, although i am ashamed to admit this, i have no desire for the screaming to end soon. The time is being eaten away while the screaming goes on. i have no desire to trade places with those boys. But, eventually, of course, thats what happens. The tables turn out to have wheels on them. Eventually the women back away from the table. i see one of them wearing a strap on that looks like a medal spike. It is covered in blood and other things. my hand clutches Kayla's foot and i hear her draw a deep breath when she sees. Mike and his friend are wheeled towards us. i can't tell which is which, but one boy is whimpering, and i can see blood dripping from the end of the table nearest his feet. The other boy stares in silence. For a horrible moment i am sure he is dead, then i see him blink. i have no more time to assess their damage, for Kayla and i are being wheeled across the floor. At first it doesn't seem so bad. Women take turns squating over my face and use my tongue to bring them to orgasm. Then there is cock in my mouth and my ass. A little painful for the lack of lube, but certainly nothing compared to what the little boys had suffered. i begin to relax. When i feel my hands being untied, i actually think it is ending. Skip (missing piece) The gun is in my mouth. The harness on my hips. i know what is attached to it. Suddenly i know what they want me to do. i am between Kayla's wide splayed thighs. Her eyes are terrified. i know i have taken a serious beating. my body feels almost unable to hold itself up. And, as i am shoved forward i take a deep breath and shriek around the gun. It's muffled but understandable. "JOHN! JOHN! JOHN!" And, i hear him, yelling as he smashes in the back door in. But, its horrible too late. i have impaled Kayla. And, she screams. The most horrible shriek i've ever heard. Then the hands are off my hips. The gun still in my mouth though. Then John. "Let them go. I told you not to do that shit with my bitches. It fucking ruins them."
And, for once he saved us. i do not know what Kayla did to get punished. But, i do know now what i did to her. i should have screamed sooner. i should have risked John's wrath. But, again, i always was a coward.
This is the last flashback. Again, extremely light as far as flashbacks go. Yet, it doesn't feel light. This gave me the horrible sense of helplessness and hopelessness. i found one more piece of this incident. And, i will give it tomorrow. Then i think Saturday try to talk about what i think happened.
She is laying in the tub. i gently wash her body, careful to cleanse but not hurt her bleeding welts. She does not whimper, but tries to make small talk through her broken mouth. She forces a smile i know is for my sake, and so i find one for her. The bathroom door opens behind me, and i tense. But, it is only Benny. He stands silent in the doorway, looking at me looking at him. i plead with him, using only my eyes. Words are dangerous here. He shakes his head slightly. He steps beside me and leans over Kayla. He slides a nice stamp into her mouth. i know that soon she will be gone. Flying in a world where pain no longer matters. Then he sits on the toilet and watches me finish cleaning her. Then i help her out of the tub and dry her off. i am relieved to see her reach for her nightie. She will be okay. And, finally she weaves uncertainly from the room. i turn my begging eyes on Benny again. The full force of my need shines in my eyes. i see him crumbling. i slide back to my knees and crawl towards him, holding him with my eyes, my need. He gestures towards his pocket. Offering me the obliviation he had given Kayla. i shake my head. That isn't what i want or need. He sighs deeply. He looks at me as the tears fall from my eyes. Finally i whisper. "Please." He sighs again and scrubs his hands over his face as though he is trying to wake himself. Suddenly his booted foot shoots out and catches me in the thigh. As i tumble to the side and hit my head against the tub, relief washes over me. He will give me what i need after all. Penance. Some time later he bends my bruised body over the side of the tub and forces his cock into my ass. The ride is short, and he cums rather quickly. i slide down and lay beside the tub, looking up at him. He backs away from me, as though i am somehow contagious. "You cannot live this life. You have to get away. For both our sakes." And, he turns and flees the bathroom. Bareassed. Just runs away leaving his clothes and shoes. And, guilt rushes over me once more. It isn't enough. Its never enough. Never ever enough.
Here is the second flashback. i'm still looking for missing pieces. This week may run into Saturday before i can put it all together. Or perhaps i'll have an epiphany. Or perhaps one of my really intelligent readers will have ideas. i don't know. And, perhaps, i'll never have it all. *sigh*
Kayla and i are being farried to a party. Parties are sometimes hard, but very profitable. i take comfort from her sitting next to me. Having a second girl makes these things much easier. Kayla and i are similar in build, her being less curvy (of course) but still obviously somewhat developed. She has long straight blonde hair which is a nice counterpart to my long curly dark hair. i am seated in the middle. Between her and John. John's presence instead of Benny's warns me this is likely to be very rough. Kayla's quiet tears are another warning. John suddenly reaches over and slams my head into Kayla's. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" i see stars for a minute and for a second she gives a strangled wince of pain before silencing herself. Keeping my eyes lowered i turn my head slightly and look at John's hands out of the corner of my eye. The place his tension usually shows the most. And, sure enough he is griping the wheel so hard his knuckles are white. Panic erupts in my chest. WHERE THE FUCK ARE WE GOING? John's hand shoots up and winds into my hair. i always hate sitting between John and Kayla. For some reason she brings out the worst in John, through no fault of her own i can ever see. "Do I have your attention now? Good. There are 10. Its for 4 hours. They wanted fresh girls, and so I picked you two sniveling bitches. Now. I don't want to hear from you. Unless things get way out of hand. If they do, yell loud, I'm going to be close by. Two years ago these assholes handed me back one girl who was never worth a damn again and a dead body. I have no intention of that happening again. So I'll be close. But, so help me god, if you fuck up this kind of money and one of you isn't near death... you will wish to god you were." i feel Kayla slid her hand over mine and turn it palm up. We are sitting there desperately holding onto one another. Trying not to let John see. Silent, terrified and clinging to one another. We finally pull up in front of a warehouse of some sort. i am relieved to see another girl milling around in front of the place. She doesn't look like a working girl, but still, another female. At this point i hadn't learned that women were so often worse than men. John fixes Kayla with his icy glare. "Out." i scoot across the seat to follow her, but he grabs my arm. "Don't volunteer for anything. Let Kayla do all the harder stuff. Its more important for you to come home okay. I mean it, mind me now." i nod. i slide out the car and take Kayla's hand. Together we walk across the gravel to the door. And, when it opens, i am shocked. There are only two men. All the rest are women. i am still struggling to get my mind around this when i hear the scream.
And, frustratingly, thats the end of the flashback. i am assuming that this is tied into the flashback before this, and the one that comes after. But, i won't swear to it. Could be that my mind is just supplying me with images of working with Kayla. Could be something else. Still working on it. And, the writing is helping a lot. What i can't figure out... is why this seems so horrible to me. As far as flashbacks go, its so light. Why does it seem like the end of the world?
Well, fuck me till i cry. i have been doing so well since i started this blog. It has helped me so much. But, i suppose it cannot be a miracle cure. Today i have been a total flake. i had three major flashbacks last night and this morning. It left me depressed and feeling helpless and hopeless about the future. So, we are gonna skip Granddaddy for awhile and try to unravel what the hell is going on with me. Here is the first flashback.
i am in the back basement room of Edward's. Kayla dangles. Her long blonde hair is hanging in her face, and it doesn't ripple with breath. i fear she is dead. i try to move towards her but pain knifes along my side. i look down at myself and don't see any blood. Touching gingerly, i feel grotesque swelling and know i am a mass of bruises. i figure nothing is broken so i steel myself against the pain and crawl towards her. Getting up seems beyond me, so i reach up and touch her bare foot. It is cold. Just as i begin to try to accept that she is gone, she moans slightly. i force myself up against the pain. i gather the hair out of her face, my hands shaking and clumsy. She is there. Not gone to the place we all knew existed. But horribly there, still. i lean close to her. This question must not be overheard. For both of our sakes. "What did John do to you? Can i help?" Her whisper is broken. i can barely make it out. "Not John." i am shocked. Benny did this? This is beyond Benny. Whatever has been done to Kayla is horrible. i can tell. "Benny?" i ask. my shock clear in my trembling whisper. She shakes her head slowly. Looking as though she would rather go through it all again than tell me. i think she won't. But, she does. With no hate or contempt. But, with pity, she whispers my damnation. "You."
Well. Here we are again. Another week. And, yet, i have no idea where i am going. Again. i was going to continue on my Granddaddy, but, have no idea what i'm going to do with it. So... i guess we'll have another week of disconnected memories that don't tie into shit. Ah, well.
And, i missed yesterday's post because i was still answering email from Friday's post. i have the best readers anyone could ever wish for. Thank you. Each of you mean something special to me, and help me on this journey.
i had my first orgasm at about six. By that point i could no longer deny, even to myself, that the boogyman was my Granddaddy. i went to sleep on the sofa in the living room that night. my Daddy had promised to call me, and i waited by the phone all night. He never called, and finally exhaustion overcame me and i fell asleep. Sometime late in the night, my Granddaddy came and scooped me off of the sofa and carried me into his room. i woke to find myself in his bed. i always hated that bed, that room. Even worse than my own, which i despised. It smelled funny. Like old cum, and tobacco, and sweat. And, just the scent of his skin, which nauseated me. i awoke to the feeling of his old calloused fingers poking at my tutee. i sighed. There was no use to fight. No use to beg or cry or any of the things i wanted to do. No use to even pretend to be asleep. i flopped onto my back and let him do what he would. i counted the ceiling tiles and imagined a number written on each one. i was just getting to multiplying the tiles when i noticed what he was doing felt different. Not painful. i looked down and he was between my legs. And, his mouth was on my pussy. i tensed, expecting a bite. But it didn't come. His tongue was caressing me. It seemed odd. He licked me in the face from time to time, and it always disgusted me. But, somehow this didn't seem disgusting. It actually felt... kind of nice. i lay tense, terrified. Waiting for the pain. But, it didn't come. It felt better and better. i was terrified. What was happening? i wasn't used to this. And, then, suddenly everything tightened and contracted and i shuddered and waves of pleasure crashed on me. i lay shocked for a moment. Then the storm descended. "Dirty little cunt! Did you get off! WHORE, WHORE, WHORE!!!! HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!" With that he jerked me from the bed. He kicked the front door open and carried me out into the night, still naked, confused and trembling. We rounded the house and he opened the basement door and threw me down the steps. i broke my shin on the way down. We wouldn't find that out until later, but i sure as hell felt it. i expected the door to slam, but no, he was coming down the stairs, sounding like a winded bull. i tried to drag myself away from the foot of the stairs, but couldn't move fast enough. Coming off the final stair he kicked me and i flew across the room to the stake. i lay in a huddled heap, sure this was the end. This time he would kill me. Terror and relief warred in my chest. SKIP... (missing piece i was unable to find) i'm chained to the stake. my throat is on fire with thirst. i know i have been here a long long time. i smell my own filth and my body is nothing but one big hurt. Everything thing hurts. To my surprise i hear him near the potato crib, i turn my head and see him. He looks demented. He is still muttering curses under his breath. He notices me noticing him, and sneers at me. "Not done with you yet, cunt. Not done. You gonna learn. You'll never ever forget." Then he was on me. He pried my legs apart, easily. It was never much of a fight, but this time i had no strength at all with which to resist. He is between my legs. He manipulates my pussy with his fingers somehow. i see the flash of the knife. There is a sudden blinding pain. Horrible pain. Let me die, this unbearable. i scream and shriek. And, then the bottle of Henry Mckina (spelling) i reach for it, thinking its mercy. The he tips it over my exposed and bleeding sex. Skip... (missing piece) He checks between my legs. The bleeding has stopped. He pours some alcohol onto a piece of gauze and presses it to me. i scream and thrash. He leans down and presses on my badly swollen and agonizing shin. More shrieking. "Want that fixed?" i nod, nod, nod. "Then be good at the hospital. You have to have a bath, then I'll take you to the hospital. If you say a word, I'll cut the rest of it off."
It doesn't look mutilated. He only cut off a tiny portion of the clit. But, it doesn't work properly.
Granddaddy liked to see what he was doing. i couldn't abide any light at all when i went to bed. i would look under the door if light was on in the hall, to see if the shadows came under the door. That let me know that he was coming. So i hated light, and night lights and all versions of light period when i went to bed. i always knew it was going to be a bad night if Granddaddy cut on my nightlight when i went to bed. It was one of those ones that plugged into the wall. Just a beige little fixture with a red bulb. It cast the room in an eerie red glow. i hated that thing. It was through the red light i finally realized that the boogyman was my Granddaddy. For a long time i stubbornly refused to accept this. In my head it was the red light man. Red man. i was scared of the red man. Not my Granddaddy. So little and all alone i couldn't cope with it being Granddaddy. i couldn't sit across from him playing checkers and think about the stabbing pains, the lack of air, the being convinced i was going to smother. Not and keep any kind of sanity. It was the red man, and it wasn't blood and cum in my bed. It was red man juice. That was all. my first trip to the basement came when i smashed that little red light to smithereens. i was 3. To this day i can't take red light at night. This is a huge pain in the ass, because most alarm clocks have red numbers. J and i have to look long and hard to find the ones with green numbers. Which is still hard for me, but much better than the red ones. Iris used to have a black light in her room. Which i really liked. But then she got this red paint that glowed under the black light and painted her whole room with it. She was 15. i couldn't cope with it at all. At the time, i didn't know why. i just knew it drove me nuts. So i took to sleeping on the floor outside her room to watch her. The idea of Iris laying asleep and vulnerable in that red glowing room drove me to the brink of insanity. Finally, she could take my insanity no more, and painted over it. Blue glow i could deal with. And, that was when i began to suspect that red light had some sort of importance for me.
When Granddaddy came in my room in the night, i really thought for the longest time it was the boogyman. Sometimes he would hide under the bed, or jump suddenly from my closet. It made me crazy. Not everynight, but damn close, at some point in the night a fanged monster would jump out in the dark. This monster would then hit me, and stick something big down my throat. Something that took away my voice and made it so i couldn't breathe. It would poke so far down my throat, sometimes it made me puke, but it couldn't get out of my mouth. And, it hurt my throat. It was too big and sometimes it made me bled from the mouth. Finally i would be pushed down on the bed and the thing in my mouth moved in and out and i felt hair on my face and i couldn't breath and i felt myself go grey, and everything felt far away, and finally, there would be a nasty taste and tearing pain in my throat and the monster would leave.
Okay, i'm sorry. Today's post is postponed. i had a lousy day revolving around Bkid, money, and various fucked up shit. So i got stoned, and i can't deal with this today. i'm sorry. But, here's my post to let you know i'm still kicking.
So, today, just as everyday, i went to read Lili's life story. And, i was beside myself with disgust, rage, hatred, fear and pity. Not only for the man in Lili's story, but for myself as well. i hate my grandfather with the blackest most horrible passion. If he were not dead, i might go to jail.my grandfather (as i child i called him Granddaddy, thats why i use that in this blog, to give that little girl a voice... if it wasn't for that, i'd call him sick fuck, a nickname GP uses to discuss, and the most accurate name for him) still lives, in a way. In me. In my head. i am terrified of just his memory. So much so, i don't even handle him much here. Here, in my santuary for battling demons. i want this fucker dead. DEAD. So i am going to kill him. And, the only way to do that, is to deal with it, so i can move on. So this week, i'm going to deal with him. It may be scattered, it may be unreadable, it may be hard to read. But, dammit, i'm going to get rid of that old fuck. And, i'm going to stop being such a coward.Lili, once more, thank you.
