Message-ID: <51405asstr$1118992202@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <news@google.com> X-Original-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Delivered-To: ckought69@hotmail.com X-Original-Path: f14g2000cwb.googlegroups.com!not-for-mail From: chaz_dodgson@yahoo.com X-Original-Message-ID: <1118956586.327864.165120@f14g2000cwb.googlegroups.com> Mime-Version: 1.0 NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 16 Jun 2005 21:16:32 +0000 (UTC) User-Agent: G2/0.2 Complaints-To: groups-abuse@google.com Injection-Info: f14g2000cwb.googlegroups.com; posting-host=207.69.137.136; posting-account=FLL6zA0AAADhpZdliVqgR23Yw8ypIN98 X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 16 Jun 2005 14:16:26 -0700 Subject: {ASSM} COLETTE (Mg;m,o,v;mc,con) [C.Dodgson] X-Original-Subject: =?utf-8?q?=EF=BB=BFCOLETTE=5Fj_(Mg;m,o,v;mc,con)_[C.Dodgson]?= Lines: 369 Date: Fri, 17 Jun 2005 03:10:02 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2005/51405> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: newsman, dennyw I still lived at home even though I was a graduate student in Psychology at the nearby university. My thesis was on the various routes to motivation and persuasion and was coming along nicely. I glanced out of my second floor bedroom window and saw our next door neighbor, my mother's regular Bridge partner, Mrs. Jordan, walking up our driveway with her ten year old daughter, Colette. She was a very pretty little girl, but I knew she was generally rude, picked on her younger siblings mercilessly, and lied with no compunction. She certainly was not my favorite neighborhood child. Mr. Jordan had left a year ago, and they divorced, but no one knew the circumstances. A few minutes later, my mother knocked unnecessarily at my open door and called, "Kevin, are you here, dear?" Of course I was there. She was looking right at me. I think my mother was part of the reason I chose this major. I couldn't understand how such a bright woman lived in an unreal fairyland where etiquette, manners, and good breeding were the only things of importance. Somewhere along the line, all her creativity and independence had been taken from her. Her second knock jarred me from my thoughts. "Yes, mother, please come in. What can I do for you? Oh, hello, Mrs. Jordan, and you too, Colette." Although I wasn't happy with the interruption, I had to respond with the social amenities or my mother would be upset, especially because Mrs. Jordan was just as immersed in those social niceties as my mother was. Appearing proper to all their friends was the highest priority either of them had. "Mrs. Jordan has a favor to ask of you, dear, and I'm sure you would enjoy helping her." I was equally sure I would hate doing Mrs. Jordan a favor because I was certain it would take more time away from my thesis than I wanted to spare. Even though I didn't know what it was, I was busy marshaling socially correct excuses to get out of doing whatever she wanted. Normally, I would have just said I was too busy, but, to preserve peace, I had to go along with my mother's genteel charade. "I'll certainly try. What can I do for you, Mrs. Jordan?" The fact that the evil child was there should have given me a hint that the favor had to do with her. I'm sure I would have demurred fairly strongly had I realized this. "I know you can help, Kevin. You are so brilliant and you speak so well that you can do this very quickly." Now I knew I was being trapped into something particularly onerous. "Colette is doing poorly in English, reading, and especially in oral reports. Her teacher recommended a bit of outside tutoring. We would both be so appreciative if you could spend a few minutes with Colette so she could catch up with her grade. I understand tutors make ten to fifteen dollars an hour, but I would be willing to pay you twenty, because I'm sure you are far superior to those Colette's teacher recommended." Later I was to learn that three of the tutors had tried and then refused to work with the little girl because she was so obnoxious. That was almost certainly the reason for the attractive pay level she offered. Since the Psychology Department budget had been cut this year, jobs there were scarce so I could use the money. Against my better judgment I said, "I'm committed to complete my thesis, Mrs. Jordan, but we could work together for an hour or two and see how Colette responds. I see she has her books so we could begin immediately. How does that sound to you, Colette?" "OK, I guess," she was on unaccustomed good behavior because her mother was there. I swivelled around, moved papers and equipment out of the way, did something more foresighted than usual, pulled over another chair and motioned her toward it. She came over and sat down. Both our mothers babbled socially correct phrases then left. "I don't want to do this; you're a nerd so you can go fuck yourself." "Colette, I would really like to help you, and your mother went to a lot of trouble for you by coming over here. Don't you think you should respect her wishes?" I was speaking very sweetly and formally for a reason. "She's a stupid bitch, and she can go fuck herself, too." "Really, Colette. What would your mother think if she could hear you talking like this?" "She's too dumb to believe it, and I'll just deny it if you tell her. I'll tell her you tried to molest me, and that will screw you so just leave me alone. I'll sit here until she leaves then I'm going to sneak out and see some friends. And you better not say anything, or I'll get you in big trouble. Oh, and you're not going to be doing anything for the money so I want it." "Colette, your mother hired me, not you, so even if you refuse to learn I believe the money should be mine, or I should just tell her that I cannot tutor you and give it all back to her." "You're an ass-hole. Don't you get it? I'm a little girl, and you're an adult. We're alone together. All I have to say is that you stuck your finger in my cunt and really hurt me. I don't have a hymen anyway, and I can scratch myself there so they'll see it when they examine me. You'll be lucky if you ever get out of prison. You keep collecting the money from her and giving it to me, and I won't say anything." "Where did you learn this technique, Colette?" "From a couple of my girlfriends. They've both done it. One of them hated her stepfather because he was always trying to make her study, keep her room extra neat, and stop her from going out on school nights to visit her friends. She made up stories about him wanting to touch her and have her touch him. Her mother wouldn't call the police, but she kicked him out and divorced him. She got his house and most of his money, too. They told me not to tell my parents, but to call the police and child protective services. That way, the guy really gets nailed. I think I should charge you ten dollars right now for that information." "No, Colette. I think you won't do any such thing, and you shall sit here quietly, be a good student, and learn, because of this." I reached over, grabbed the tape recorder, waved it in front of her face for a second, then turned it off. "Now, you stupid little bitch, you will do exactly what I say, because I figured you'd do something like that so I turned on my cassette recorder as your mother left the room. I can do anything I want now, and you just screwed yourself because whatever you say will be seen as a lie based on what you said on this tape. Don't fuck with me little girl, because I'm not your mother." She grabbed for the recorder, but I held it away from her with one hand and shoved her back into her seat with my other. "You bastard. That's dishonest. You cheated because I didn't know you turned that thing on. You can't use that against me because you recorded it without my consent." For a small child she seemed to know more about entrapment laws than I would have expected. "Sorry kid, but this wasn't entrapment. You volunteered everything, and there is no prohibition against me turning my tape recorder on in my own room. Just because you were dumb enough to babble into it doesn't get you off the hook. Now, keep your ass in that seat, open that book, and start reading aloud." She was furious, but she opened the book and started to read. It was clear that she either was dyslexic or had avoided learning. I felt certain it wasn't because she was unintelligent. I wrote myself a note to bring home some standardized tests to find out what her problem was. We made a small amount of progress before she left. When she came over the next day, she had worked out another strategy. As soon as we started working on her English she reached down and began to caress my soft penis in my shorts. As much as I tried to stop her, she kept reaching up the leg for my shaft. I grabbed both her wrists and said, "You are not going to make me come, then smear semen over yourself and run out screaming. If you don't sit quietly, I'm going to call your mother and have her in the room with us." She sat back and glared at me. "How did you figure out what I was trying to do?" "Because I'm at least as bright as you are, I've had more experience, because my mind is just as devious as yours is, and I can be even more evil than you think you can. Now, I have some tests for you to take. Try to screw them up and you'll be surprised at how badly I can mess you up without you even knowing it or being able to prevent it. Oh, and I think I'd really have fun seeing how much I can make you suffer without you being able to do a thing about it or to escape." "What are you going to do?" she asked, a little fear creeping into her defiance. "Are you out of your fucking mind? Half of the pleasure of punishing you will be watching how shocked you are at its weirdness, and the best part is that you won't be able to tell anyone about it and have them believe you. You know I can do it because I'm smarter, more experienced and more of a bastard than you've ever met." I really didn't have the vaguest idea of anything nasty to do to her, and, although I didn't care for her, I wasn't going to hurt her physically or emotionally. From the worried look I could tell that I had begun to break through her tough shell. She started the first test. After I evaluated each of them I found that she had a surprisingly high intelligence, was not dyslexic, but was intensely negative to everyone and everything because of her anger at her parents for breaking up. One of the tests indicated that she had much more sexual experience than one would expect of a ten-year-old. I decided that she needed someone to relate to positively before we could make any other changes. This might be a good way of trying some of my ideas in my thesis. I wrote a very carefully worded sheet for her to read. It was supposed to give her practice reading aloud, but it was also designed to induce hypnosis. She read it, and I told her to read it again. By the sixth reading I was ready to test her level of hypnosis. It was deeper than I ever hoped for. I gave her quite a few positive, loving suggestions over the next few sessions and she began to change, a little. Finally, I decided to find out what was blocking her. It didn't take too long to learn that she and her father had been having sex from her earliest memories until he left when she was nine. Her mother had caught them and kicked him out. Colette was angry because she apparently really enjoyed the things she was doing with her father and loved him deeply. She blamed her mother for stopping those activities and driving him away. Nothing I tried seemed to lessen her anger, but she had become strongly positive toward me. We were making some progress in her tutoring, but the block remained. One day she asked, "Can you be my daddy?" I thought this transference might be reasonable for now but didn't fully appreciate what she meant. As soon as I agreed she wanted to have sex. A number of carefully unpublicized studies indicate that many more men are attracted to little girls than is generally perceived, and I fit into that group. It was bad enough before, but now that this pretty little girl was trying to get me to have sex with her without devious motivations I wasn't sure of what I would do. Her educational progress was agonizingly slow and far below her capabilities. "Well, if you won't do anything else with me, let me sit on your lap while we read." A little affection couldn't hurt, could it, I thought? Talk about rationalization. I knew I was getting uncomfortably close to doing something more, but I thought I could control myself. As she wiggled her bony little rear end into my lap, I realized I had made a mistake. In only a few moments she knew it, too. We started reading, and were doing well with me holding the book with my right hand and her holding it with her left. Unconsciously, I rested my left hand on her upper leg, and then she slipped her right hand between her legs and stroked my already stiff shaft through my shorts. My hormones short-circuited the judgment areas of my brain, and almost without volition, my left hand slid up her leg, into her shorts and found her smooth little vulva. She had no panties on, and was already surprisingly lubricated for a little girl. My third, then both my second and third fingers slipped easily into her little vagina while I stroked her clitoris lightly with my thumb. I put the book on the desk and reached under her tee shirt with my right hand to find her lovely little nipples and flat chest. "Kevin, please, I want to really feel you. Can you slip your shorts off?" She hopped up, pulled her short pants down, and I saw that wonderful pink little slit for the first time. As I yanked off my pants, she pulled her tee shirt over her head. She immediately climbed back on my lap, but this time facing me. Before I had time to question our size difference she pushed forward and completely enveloped me. She was exquisitely tight, warm and slippery. The feeling of being inside this lovely little ten year old child was far more wonderful than any of my previous standard sexual experiences. I reached under her, carried her to my bed, laid her down, pulled off my shirt and climbed on top of her all without disengaging. There was no finesse of love making to this; I fucked the little girl ferociously, and she responded just as wildly. For the first time in my life, after I had a powerful orgasm, I maintained my erection, continued ramming my cock deep into her tiny, pink vagina, and repeated this twice more before I collapsed on top of her. Three orgasms without even losing my erection was beyond my wildest fantasies. She lay there as drained as I was, smiling up at me and making pleasant little sounds for about five minutes before she could talk. "Oh, Kevin, I love you. That was a thousand times better than even daddy was. I never want to stop doing this with you. I love feeling your thing so deep inside me." "I feel the same way, Colette. I'd rather do this with you than eat or sleep or anything else." About then I realized where we were and that I hadn't even thought about either of our mothers. I then remembered that, fortunately, they were at their twice weekly Bridge club. Rather than study English we continued making love until five minutes before our mothers were to arrive home. Shortly after we began this new phase of our relationship I explained to Colette that the role of the parent is to raise the child, giving it non-sexual affection, and that when the person grows up he or she can move into a sexual relationship with an outside person. As such, she should think of me of a loving friend or as a lover rather than as a daddy. As long as our relationship remained as positive and pleasurable as it was she was willing to shift it as I suggested. I was now tutoring Colette three times a week, twice during the Bridge club, and once while our mothers were in the house when she actually learned the subjects in which she was deficient. She quickly caught up and was transferred to the enriched, fast track, or college preparatory classes. I stopped charging Mrs. Jordan because, I told her, I had taken Colette on as a class project for one of my graduate seminars. While this was a fabrication, it allowed me to take Colette, supposedly, to my classes. In reality this allowed us to expand our time together from the Bridge club days to four times a week. While we both loved normal vaginal sex, we often added oral at least once during each session. I loved the feel of her smooth, hairless little vulva in my mouth and sliding my tongue along her slit and deep into her tart little vagina. After a year we managed to make anal work. There was nothing as erotic as sliding my cock deep into her tiny, lubricated eleven-year-old anus, but it didn't do much for her. It's too bad that we didn't discover using a vibrator until she was thirteen. If we had started using it when she was eleven, we probably would have spent all our time with my cock deep inside her intestines while she held the vibrator against her clitoris. I was so emotionally involved that I was not fit to make an objective evaluation of the situation and its effects on Colette; however, I used standardized tests to rate her emotional stability, growth, and adjustment. She ranked quite highly on all of them and showed a huge improvement in her scores. Intergenerational sexual contacts often result in trauma for the younger participant, but I honestly believe our relationship helped Colette recover from her earlier loss and begin developing into a more integrated personality. EPILOGUE Six years later, I have moved to California where I have a position in the Psychology Department of a large university. Colette lives with me and, at sixteen, is a senior in high school. When I accepted this job, we wanted to leave home together, but I couldn't see a way to accomplish it. She still had a devious streak because she came up with a plan. We told both our mothers about our relationship then played the tape. After they simmered down from being properly appalled, angered and shocked, we explained that we really loved each other and wished to live together. If they brought everything out in the open, it would make a sensational case, damage both Colette and me severely, and (most important to them) make them look as if they approved of this socially unacceptable relationship. They would never be able to face their friends again. We suggested that they tell a story about Colette being accepted into a gifted program and moving to California to live with an aunt. That way, they could both continue their proper lives while the two focal points of impropriety would be far away. In addition to my regular duties, I'm presently setting up a research project which I doubt will be approved until I become a more senior member of the department. Prior to the nineteen-seventies, homosexuality was considered a mental illness and often against the law. Since all the homosexuals who came to see therapists had mental problems, the psychologists and psychiatrists assumed that it must be the root of those problems. It took many years for them to see the flaw in this reasoning. All the well-adjusted gays and lesbians, just as the well-adjusted heterosexuals, never bothered visiting a therapist. My hypothesis is that there are many well-adjusted adults who have had positive intergenerational or incestuous sexual relationships when they were children, but only the negative, non-consensual ones are publicized. The question that hasn't even been asked is, "Is the damage reported always a result of the relationship or because of molestation and rape?" In other words, is there a necessary connection between intergenerational contacts and damage? While those who force themselves on children deserve to be incarcerated or at least put in intensive therapy, some adults who are found to be having a relationship with a child are punished much against the desires of the child. These children are then given therapy. They are told the relationship they perceived as loving and constructive was terrible and perverted. While they thought they were equal partners, the therapist convinces them they were powerless, manipulated victims, and the person they loved was a monster. Is it any wonder that many therapists who examine these children after they become adults believe that childhood sexual trauma can never be really overcome? Of course, the question that is never asked is: How often is the trauma from the adult participant, and how often is it from the arrest, publicity and subsequent "therapy"? ==== This fictional story is (c) Copyright 2001 by C. Dodgson. ALL Rights Reserved. It may not be reproduced in any form for profit including use by membership for fee Internet sites without the written permission of the author. It may be distributed or archived provided that there are no charges and this warning notice is attached and the story is not changed or abridged. To comment send e-mail to chaz_dodgson at yahoo dot com. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>| | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+