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Subject: {ASSM} The Psychiatrist's Dilemma By Mkarl
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Copyright (C) 1999, Mkarl. ALL Rights Reserved
Date of first publication in Mr Double's Palisade :
Sunday PM, June 27, 1999
Without the written permission of Mr Double and during 120 days after the above
mentioned date of first publication this story may be downloaded uniquely for
your private use. After the limit date mentioned, the story may be freely
distributed on condition that this notice remains attached, but not for profit,
and providing the usual precautions have been taken to prevent it being read by
unauthorized persons, especially under age children, or by people who might be
offended by its contents. Mr Double may be contacted by emailing
mrdouble@mrdouble.com or mrdouble@ix.netcom.com.
A Palisade Author story from MrDouble's archive,
Filename: dilemma.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com
The Psychiatrist's Dilemma
By Mkarl
I could loose my license for this one but it is so good I just have to
share. I first got into the field with the dream to get such a case, but over
the years I have always been disappointed. I was beginning to worry that I
would never hear the "ultimate" confession, but then Mrs. K became my patient.
The lady really was messed up. She looked as bad in need for an M.d.. as
a shrink, but she told me she could not risk getting the police involved. When
she came to the office I was booked full but seeing the bruises and guessing
the rest, I scheduled an "emergency" after hour session. It was critical to
Mrs. K that her anonymity remained intact so I will not reveal her real name
but will refer to her as Leta.
Even after her ordeal, Leta was a real looker and I could see how she
could drive any guy to act. At thirty years of age she was still as firm as a
teenager with tits and ass to match. Blackened eyes uglied the face a little
when I got my first look, but could not obliterate the innate angelic quality
that almost had me feeling a "genuine" empathy for the battered little
plaything.
It may have proven to be nothing more then "stupid girl in wrong place at
wrong time", but then I would not be risking my career with this worldwide
Internet publishing. Leta's story was really special and just about stroked me
out as I listened to her confession.
The event was only hours removed and she was hesitant at first. She
wanted to insist what a good girl she had always been. She went to church every
Sunday as though that proved anything at all. She had only had one lover, which
to me was actually a crime more then a blessing (she really did look hot). Leta
prided herself on being the personification of decency and respectability; as
pure as the driven snow, and in nothing did she take more comfort then her
relationship with the "boy."
I can only imagine the kid having not yet met him. I have suggested she
bring him to me for counseling, of course, but all I really want to do is
congratulate the bastard on living the ultimate wet-dream. I will call him
Michael and I guess he is almost thirteen years of age. Leta always thought he
was little typical all-American kid next door. Popular at school, if a little
shy with the girls, honor roll and stardom on the school sports teams; a boy to
make any mother proud but obviously a child with a dark, hidden side.
For everything that happened Leta still was the "mommy" and it was like
getting blood from a stone at first to get the details in the words I wanted to
hear them. She started to blame herself and I had to play the good shrink with
reassurances but that was getting me nowhere fast. I wanted her humiliation,
the pain and anguish. She had resisted the attack and had been beaten for her
trouble which that excited me to no end. For a boy to rape his own mother was
amazing and to share her with friends was the ultimate shame that I needed to
hear from the mother's own lips.
I believe if it had only been Michael whom had raped her then Leta would
never have even came as far as me. She was determined to protect her son no
matter what his sin. But Michael was a boy with perversions of my own heart and
he had wanted a real party for his mommy. What I have pieced together as
follows is a reconstruction of the hours I spent with Leta. I have limited my
embellishments as much as possible to maintain the flavor although I have
attempted to edit for coherence and story flo.
I did my best to get Leta to confess her shame in detail and all the
acts as follows are real but some of the words are my own. I did get her past
the clinical use of terminology in her initial visit with me and into some
filth during our session and I actually believe it was a relief for her to
speak as dirty as she felt. When a bitch is raped she will always naturally
blame herself a little and my personal feelings are that she should be
encouraged to take all of the blame..
One last warning before you read on. Michael picked his friends to
punish his mother and the family has a very obvious racial streak to it. I know
the racial sensitivity of certain words are even more offensive then the act of
rape to some so I thought hard about editing for political correctness but that
old conundrum of censorship came up as to where to start and where to end. If I
am risking patient confidentiality I will also risk the scorn of the racially
intolerant.
Michael's Sleep over
A Love Story
It had all started with my husband going away for the week on business.
Dwayne is a good man and a good husband. He works hard for the family and has
been the only one ever for me. The other man of my life is Michael. I could
never hate my own son. Everything I am was for him. I would have died for my
son. I never dreamed he could do such wickedness. I raised my boy in church but
I blame his friends. My husband always knew what "they" were all about. Now it
will kill him when he finds out. That is why I can not go to the police. I will
just say I fell down the stairs to explain my bruises. I have to keep this
secret.
My son betrayed me. He just wanted a sleep over for the weekend. He said
it was for football. I felt uneasy. I did not want "them" to steal from us. I
said just three boys, because we did not have enough beds. Michael started to
protest but then Tyrone whispered to him and Michael got a smile. I guess they
agreed once the party started the team could just come over.
To know that my son spent two days with me knowing the hell I would live
come the weekend, I can not understand the boy. Was he imagining the sites he
would see? Did my son have a hardon, while we ate lunch, dreaming that soon I
would be on the dinner table myself as the main course?
Maybe a girl can tell when she is in for it. Animals make no pretense
when they breed. A bitch is a bitch and the stud does the job. I felt my skin
crawl. I tried to say with was my imagination. They were just kids, no older
than my son but why did I feel naked when they looked at me. It was already
evening when they got to the house. I wanted them to go watch television or
something but they told me they had other plans. I was really so uneasy I went
to my bedroom and shut the door but the mistake was not locking it.
My son was in front, as the door opened. "Don't fight mom and you won't
get hurt."
The lying little bastard. Jerome actually had a gun. My son was willing
to let them use a fucking gun. I will never know if it was loaded but they were
not shy with the threats. I was to be their cunt and I better be good or else!
Leroy really got into it fast. I was in shock and barely managed a
pathetic little protest before he was on me. God it felt like he was fucking
pulling my hair out of my head. He slapped my face so hard I could have had my
teeth knocked loose. "Don't scream you honkey bitch. Your son told us how you
feel about us "Niggers" so we is here to get you an attitude adjustment."
The Black bastard had to be lying. It could not have been my son. They
must have threatened to kill him. I could not allow then to hurt my son with
their gun but what could I do. I was the fucking adult for Christ's sake. They
were just punk kids. They had to listen to me.
"Get out of my room. Leave me alone. I will tell your parents."
Fuck! How pathetic was I? Leroy was in front of me with his huge bulge
obvious in the front of his pants already slapping the fuck of me while dirty
Jerome held the gun on me and the bastard Tyrone was just a smiling. Even
Michael had a smile. I wanted to die. I knew this was not real. I had to wake
up.
"You think you're too fucking good for it bitch but we are going to dirty
you real nice. When we get done you will call us all master and be a proper
slave. Michael's going to get the laugh he always wanted."
"Don't cry mommy. The boys are going to love you real good. You can even
have the baby dad was never man enough to give you." I could not believe what
my son was saying.
I heard myself scream. There was no need for the boys to keep me quiet;
out on the acreage no neighbor would be spoiling the "fun." Leroy slapped me
anyhow. "Shut up, bitch or I will give you something to scream about."
"Don't slap her so fucking hard." Tyrone commanded. "We need to keep her
pretty for the pictures and video."
There was no fucking way. There was just no fucking way. I guess I had
purposely been avoiding addressing my son in some motherly way of pretending he
was innocent but I begged him "Michael I am your mother. For God's sake baby I
am your mother."
The look he gave me broke my heart. I may as well have been a two bit
whore and he my crack pimp cause I was getting so mercy and his look told me he
was going to laugh.
"Get up bitch. We can't start the good stuff till the team gets here but
we can still have some fun."
Leroy was pulling me by the hair. I fell down but the bastard dragged me
like some scene out of a god damn cave girl movie. I think he pulled hair out
of my head it hurt so much. (I actually had to reassure Leta that I could not
see any bald spots. They must have really pulled her hair hard)
They dragged me on my face, across the carpet, down the hall, and even
basically threw me down the stairs. If those bastards did not want me too
bruised before the videotaping they certainly could have fooled me. I could
have broken my neck and maybe I wish I had.
I had to escape. I was going to be killed. I could not believe it, but my
son was having these Niggers kill me. I was at the door but I hurt so much. I
could barely get up and then I was running. It was like a horror movie come
true. I was screaming but the nearest neighbor was over a mile away. Without
shoes every step was agony across the gravel.
The cocksure little bastards had stopped to put on shoes. They knew it
was hopeless for me. Maybe they wanted me to run. To build my fear. It was all
some sick game for them but it was true hell for me.
"Come back here you little bitch. The party is just beginning," someone
taunted.
"Fuck listen to that cunt scream. She must be freaking to be our's."
"I told you what a racist mom is. Just get her."
My face was wet with tears and my heart was going to explode but the run
had been as pathetic as my stupid begging. I probably accomplished nothing more
than giving the brats a show at my bouncing breasts like that show Bay Watch.
Then as if on que like a scene from some grade b horror movie I actually went
falling hard on my face with a stupid trip. The boys actually laughed that I
fell on my own as Leroy once again took me by the hair this time to put my face
in the dirt.
"You are going to be punished you stupid cunt. Don't you understand. The
whole team is going to rape you and beat you black and blue. You will be our
slave and a slave never runs from her rightful masters. Now you are going to be
whipped."
The Nigger was serious. Michael could never let his own mother be
whipped. How could I continue to try to defend my son's actions? As Toby
dragged me face down on the gravel I heard Michael suggest to use my husband's
Christmas belt to whip me. It had been a gift from myself.
There was a car on the road. Our rode is sparse with brush. It was my
friend Tena. They said if I screamed they would kill her. I actually could hear
the boy's hearts as we huddled in the ditch. I tried a scream but the Black
hand on my mouth muffled it too much and a very insistent threat of death for
my friend forced me into silence. My chance of salvation drove away and then I
was back in my house.
I will never be safe in that house again. Besides the obvious
repercussions of a son with videotape on his mommy just that fact that a home
is supposed to be the great sanctuary. My home will always be the rape dungeon
to me now.
I was kicked for the first time as punishment for the close call. Toby
had not been gentle dragging me on the gravel either. I could feel the
scratches on my face. Having me pretty for the video was a fast fading reality
as things were going so the kick to the ribs should have been no surprise but
what hurt me the most was it came from Michael.
"You stupid little cunt."
My son will always be my son but I could no longer pretend he was
anything but a true bastard and I was just going to have to accept I was fated
to be the mommy slut.
We were in the living room until the rest of the team showed up. I spent
my time forced to dance myself down to my panties. The first couple of
polarides are just your basic T&A. Michael put his photography knowledge to
practice as the infacto director of events. I ended up on the couch while the
kids took turns sitting with me for some kissing. I took a couple hickeys as
they had their fun then finally the bark of our dog told us the gang was
arrived.
I had been a little fearful of the numbers. When Michael and the boys
tossed around the word "team" I half expected better then forty kids to show up
but of course I was not taking into account that a third of the team is white
and Hispanic. Michael just wanted Niggers for his mommy. Even then maybe there
is decency in some of them because three were missing so in total there was
only twenty-three boys not counting my son.
The house was full of so much pent up lust I could almost taste it in the
air and every face I looked too showed the hostility of two hundred years of
social injustice. I wanted to protest that it had not been me but I knew my own
eyes gave away the truth of my feelings and nothing I would say would save me
for paying the price of every white on Black crime ever.
It was not enough to beat me into submission. The humongous gang-rape
violation of my helpless body would not satisfy the Nigger's desires. I had to
be broken totally and finally. My son provided the first tools for the job.
"Are you ready for your new marriage mommy?"
It really was like a game to the children. See what might destroy the
bitch. If I was a good wife then force me into a divorce Nigger style. If it
was not so disgusting and full of malice it may have even been funny for how
pathetic it all was. How could anyone reasonable think I would believe it was
for real and legal. I give the brats marks for trying talking up some stupid
Nigger religion saying I would be divorced and then remarried so that
everything that followed would be legal. Maybe that works in Egypt or whatever
that stupid country was where rapists could get off my marrying the poor bitch
but how could the boys expect me to believe it in a civilized country.
(On a side note the boys little act does bring up an interesting
possibility. It does not have to be limited to Black culture but in a country
with a division of church and state would not an officially sanction religion
allowing for the forced divorcing and remarriage of any desired fuck-toy be
wonderful. I am no legal expert but I know one psychiatrist that would be
converting in a heart beat. If multiple wives (victims) was also indoctorined I
can just imagine the fun for everyone.)
The real pain of the boy's attempt to humiliate be came from the
destruction of my most precious belongings but that was probably by design so I
curse the bastards for that as well.
First to go was my wedding video. I had four copies to ensure against
lost but tree were pulled out in front of me and the original was teasingly put
into the video camera by my own son. "If dad ever tries to watch this video
again mom he will get such a surprise now smile for the camera like a happy
little divorcee."
The shot was of my face. My head forced up by the hair (of course). On my
knees I must have looked the good little victim dressed in nothing but panties
but I would not smile. I would not give the satisfaction.
"Hey, Niggers get that paper soaked already." One of the kids shouted.
I could not really see around with all the naked and partially naked
Black bodies surrounding me and with my head at the mercy of my hair to begin
with but the paper in question was my wedding certificate and the soaking to be
down was some sort of jerk off to give it flavor.
The boys meant to film me in close-up as I got rid of proof number two of my
true wedding the hard way.
As much as I tried to keep my mouth shut a girl does need to breath and
fingers pinching my nose made me give it up. It was slimy with their juice and
I started to gag. Tony had taken point on my hair and with a kid I did not know
they were forcing me to chew as good as I could.
I gagged until I started to heave. Every bite gave me a taste of cum that
sickened me and then I lost it. I felt so weak as I fell to the floor while the
boys released me to get out of the way. I was really crying it was so unfair.
"You're not done eating yet bitch."
The new hold on my hair was the hardest yet and pushed me into my own
mess. "Eat that paper trash. Now you're getting dirty. Eat it!"
Michael kept the fucking camera on record as my face was pushed down to
it and then I chewed it and I swallowed. I had to look to the camera and hold
my mouth open to prove what a good little divorcee I was becoming.
The final symbol that had to go was the ring. It had been my husband's
mother's and her mother in law's before that but it would never be my son's
wife's. "Take it off or we will break your fucking fingers."
I heard myself squealing on the verge of complete despair. He could have
broke my finger as far as he cared but he did not hurt me that much. Someone
had already prepared the toilet. I had to do the rest. "Put it in the shit
bitch. Prove to the camera what you think of your old marriage."
I held out while two of them did their best to beat me into cooperation.
The more I screamed and cried my eyes the louder the giggles got. The money
shot was my clean white hands placing the ring into the Nigger shit and mushing
it until I had to drop it back into the toilet and flush. They ordered me to
smile. But I was crying too hard.
"You are such a filthy little girl you need to get clean."
They were running the bath tub full and I was pushed down deep. I guess
even these Niggers had their standards and I was a mess from the vomit and
shit. "We could just drown you bitch" they proved keeping me deep until I was
almost passed out.
"You are a lucky bitch we got a better fate for you."
When I was clean enough to the Nigger's standards it was time for my new
wedding. The whole show had obviously been planned out in advance as everyone
was in character and the props were prepared. In a way it turned to be a curse
that I was the same size at thirty-three as eighteen because the dress still
fit. Of course this time the alterations made me glad I was not in front of my
loved ones with both breasts on display through the knife cuts.
The vows were really stupid but with the reassurance that it was a legal
Nigger style religion I was slapped into saying my acceptance of this
"marriage." My "I do's" were actually sworn sacrilegiously on the family bible I
had always worshipped. All that was needed was kiss the bride but the final act
had its own filth. "You think Nigger's are animals anyhow bitch so animals mark
what is theirs with a soaking. On your knees now!"
Tyrone had actually been the one to "marry" me and as I was held
submissively at his feet his was the first cock to water me. I instantly shut
my mouth and eyes as he pissed all over my face. The wedding was "official." It
was time for the reception but the line up was not to kiss me.
They must have been saving it all day and I know some of the filthy
bastards got in line more then once. Michael switched videotapes and
occasionally went for the polarides. Every guy had his own style. Most were
just happy to have my face but of course it got pretty quick where I needed to
keep my mouth open. A pinched nose and some pulled hair did the trick so I
swallowed until I was full. The occasional slap startled me enough my eyes were
soon burning. Some put it in my nose and ears just to be evil. I was told not
to suck but several boys took the opportunity to get their cocks in my mouth
for some added excitement. If my dress had not been ruined from the knife it
would be stained for ever in piss. It was practically see through by the time
the boys were drained. The reception was a huge success and the hornymoon was
about to begin.
With my loving little son once again on camera and my last copy my real
reading back in place it was time to inform me of my true fate. My son had been
studying me for months and it was my time. They had me but good and how would I
ever know who the real father would be with twenty-three possibilities.
My "husband" did the duties first. A bride's first fuck should also be
with her husband. An added outrage was moving the hornymoon back to the master
bedroom just so I would never again be allowed to sleep without remembering in
my dreams.
Tyrone was big like everyone always says "they" are. I guess some myths
have their truths cause every boy was big. Tyrone was actually bigger then my
dildo. I could not help a moan as he filled me. It was repulsive but maybe a
girl can only take so much before she has to respond. God help me I did not
really want to breed. Did I?
The group was into it watching me respond little by little. Tyrone had
style I will give him that. The kissing and body work would have worked on even
his own mother. Everyone knew I was going to cum but the trick would be for him
to shoot at the same time. "Have your baby now bitch."
It was horrible. I released and he flooded me hard. I do not care what
people say if a girl cums on a guys cock that has to count for something. To
help the odds my studly "husband" held me up by the ankles so his soldiers
could do the job.
Mustafa a buck that had to be fifteen inches was next but despite the
size he was just a wham bam thank you mam fuck.
A nameless kid got third crack at the grand prize and the rotten bastard
had the balls to complain that I was too loose from Mustafa. If he had a real
problem then, I can only imagine his feelings by the time Sunday rolled around.
The weekend was a blur in so many ways. My first multiple penetration
took place about two hours in. The low kids on the totem pull were getting
impatient when it was Michael that pointed out "She has more then one hole."
I was already in the middle of a fuck so a kid just scouched up beside me
where he could force me to suck. When pussy boy was finished the next kid
decided to do things right. He laid on his back and said "get on me bitch."
It was like I was fucking him but of course the worse was about to sneak
right up on me. The kid was almost as big as Mustafa and no one was stopping
for lubrication. The slop from my pussy helped a little but I screamed.
"Gag the bitch."
I was in a three way. A true oreo sandwich. It was my first of several
multiple penetrations.
On Saturday they had to finally answer the phone. It was Dwayne. What use
was there in me upsetting him. A boy fucked me while I talked.
In the evening they forced me to call his hotel and actually pretend
phone sex while I was screwed some more. They made me tell my husband that I
could feel the most wonderful cock in me. They forced me to "pretend" suck
while I was truly gagged for him to hear.
On Sunday the boys were close to spent. I had long given up on any
attempt to keep track of the number of fuckings but every boy had been with me
several times. I had also given up on fighting but as the rape drew to a close
they could finally mess me up.
When I should have been at church, I was tied to the front yard tree with
tape over my mouth for the slave whipping. They whipped my back for ever,
occasionally strapping across my ass before finishing up with several hits to
my tits, cunt and face. I had cried myself dry and could only show my suffering
with my muffled screams of pain.
The dog was freaking not knowing if he was suppose to protect me or go
along with my son but I was so soaked in cum and sex I guess he only had one
purpose in mind for me.
The boys made me start the courtship on my knees, first stroking the
beast before putting my mouth to work. An act that would have had me vomit just
days earlier was almost a relief compared to my three days of service as a
human toilet.
If the dog had wanted me as his bitch since puppy hood he could not have
been any more enthusiastic with his performance. When his initial mounts proved
clumsy and ineffective I actually got bit like it was my fault he could not get
it in. It was a combination of awkwardness and actual pain as the beast handled
me hard until he proved himself the stud. The boys wanted me hung-up which
surprisingly took awhile.
Everyone seamed so fucking calm and relaxed as they watched the dog have
his cum. I was suffering my bruises but to them I had deserved everything.
Tyrone decided to give me the facts of life.
They were all too young to go to jail and if I went to the police Michael
would get it worst. They had a huge collection of pornography staring me and
could edit themselves out to post it on the Internet without a hassle. I was
fucked and I could not change it. He said I had better be pregnant or I would
get it again. If my husband threatened to leave me they would make me a widow
so the insurance money would provide but he preferred my husband to be stuck
with the Black bastard. I was never to try to be the boss of Michael again and
if any of the guys got horny I was always to be available.
I cried myself to sleep Sunday night and came to you today what can I do?
What could a mother do in such a situation? What should a psychiatrist
do when he hears this story? You can see my dilemma. It may have seamed my
decision was rather easy to betray the patient by posting her story but the
actual rub is how to keep this little scene alive. If Leta is knocked-up then
Dwayne is history I am sure. That can not be my concern as long as Michael does
not back out from having his mom again and again. The boy seams evil after my
own heart so I really hope his mother is able to bring him to me so I can
encourage him onto the next steps and possibly buy a copy of his special video.
Watch for it on the net.
I am Mkarl
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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