This is a story. It never happened and never will. The General Disclaimer is incorporated herein by reference.

BR&T date: Thursday, 28 March 1996

Sara finally arrived home from her first thursday rape 'therapy' session, still naked and bound helpless by the painful leather straps and the rods that kept her arms stretched out straight and forced her to walk with her legs spread wide. She'd had to walk all the way home, thirteen blocks, in full view of everyone passing by on the sidewalks and driving by on the streets. She'd had to tell them all that she just got raped, and tell the boys who asked that yes, indeed, it was fun to rape her.

Finally... finally... it was over. She turned and stagger-walked up the walk to her front door. Walking past the living room window, she saw her father watching something on tv. She couldn't open the door, with her hands held wide by the rod, so she leaned forward and knocked on the front door with her head to get her father's attention. It took several knocks. She was about to try going to the living room window instead, when the door opened. She leaned back and stood there naked, arms and legs spread, trying not to cry too hard.

Her father stood at the door. "Oh, there you are, Sara. You're back," is all he said.

"Can you- do you have the key-" she cried.

"Yes, I found a key when I got home," he interrupted. "Look here, Sara," he pointed to the doorknob on the front door. "I found the key hanging on the doorknob. Along with your yellow bunny-rabbit panties hanging right there for anyone to see. The rest of your clothes were on the front step. At ten years old, you ought to be more responsible than that, Sara. If you don't want me finding your panties hanging on the front doorknob and the rest of your clothes in a wrinkled heap on the front step, then leave them in your bedroom the next time."

"The key-" Sara cried again, desperate to get out of the painful leather straps on her neck, wrists, and ankles, that were locked on by several small padlocks. Desperate to bend her arms and her legs, too. But most of all, desperate to get inside, desperate to get some clothes on, which would by necessity mean taking off the straps and rods first. Which meant unlocking them. "The key!" she pleaded.

"It's right here, and I wrote a note while I was waiting for you. Open up."

Confused, Sara opened her mouth.

Her father hung a string across her lower jaw, with a small padlock key dangling against her chin. Then he stuffed a folded piece of paper into her mouth and pushed her jaw shut. "Take that to the boy who put this stuff on you. He'll know how to take it off you and what to do with it. Don't lose the key. Or the note." He turned and closed the front door. With Sara still outside.

"Ywwooo!" she wailed. "Aaayyyeeee! Aaayyee!" she called, but he didn't return. In despair, Sara turned, seeing with relief that all the boys who'd followed her home to find out where she lived had dispersed. She clumsily swing-walked back down her front walk, to the sidewalk, and headed toward the home of a teen-age boy she never wanted to see again.

She fearfully approached the house, staggering up the wide short steps with considerable difficulty. With no way to use the fancy brass door knocker, again she knocked with her head. To her dismay, the boy answered the door, though his father answering would be worse, arguably.

"Mmm aaayyee en mmee," she mumbled, afraid of dropping the small key and losing it through the cracks in the porch floor by opening her mouth too far.

The boy took the piece of paper and unfolded it. She saw him pocket a green bill, but didn't see how much her father had paid him for his 'trouble' this time. "Don't just stand there. Come in," he told her, stepping out of her way but not bothering to assist her. He read the note aloud. "You know what to do. This is for your time. Sara doesn't have to do any chores or homework on thursdays, so there's no rush. Take as much time as you want." He opened a door in front of her. "I think the best place to take that stuff off you is down in the cellar," he said, flipping on a light for her, "so go on down. Careful on the steps. I'll be down there shortly, I'm just going to make a few phone calls first."

Sara staggered down the steps into the cellar. Using the rod holding her arms wide, she leaned and braced the end of it against the wall and slid both feet over the edge of a step at the same time to drop to the next without falling. Going back up the steps by herself would be impossible until the ankle rod came off. At the end of the stairs, she paused to look around. The light by the stairs barely revealed a couple of video cameras on tripods near the opposite wall, a large cracked mirror in a heavy wooden stand, and a bed frame with no mattress. Otherwise the dirty cellar seemed mostly empty. She could see nothing through a doorway to the rest of the cellar. She braced herself for the final drop.

When her bare feet hit the cold rough cement floor and she saw herself dimly in the large mirror, she suddenly realised her situation: she was bound up helpless and naked in the dark cellar of a strange boy. One who was making phone calls upstairs. One who had already proven to be merciless and cruel when putting on the rods and cuffs, spanking her and humiliating her and sending her walking naked down the street. She suddenly wondered if the boy was going to take off her bindings like her father wanted, or do what he wanted - no, what he and his friends wanted - instead.

Or both?? Sara wondered. After all, her own father had just sent her there and told the boy to take all the time he wanted. Just what did her father want the boy (and his friends!?) to do?

"Dyyadheee!" she wailed, the precious key still dangling precariously from her mouth. Sara's thoughts tormented her as she stood naked in the cellar, helpless, waiting for the boy and his friends to come down and take all the time they wanted. With her father's explicit permission, at the very least.

BR&T date: written Monday morning, 1 April 1996,
about Thursday, 28 March 1996.

Hi Nicole,

I am sorry to hear you had such an awful time at the farm, I am sure getting your pussy slammed by that rod thingie was awful, along with everything else you had done to you. I hope you aren't mad when I say that I hope I never have to go to the farm, it sounds like an awful place to even see, let alone be on stage there.

Let me tell you what happened to me in the basement of That Boy's house. I waited still in my get up from therapy, when the boy finally came down stairs, I hoped he would unlock me and let me go home, but he didn't, he turned on lots of lights and dragged me over to a sawhorse he had down there and pushed me over it and took off his belt and started to spank me with it, really hard. He asked me if I was a slut and if I liked to be raped, and I kept repeating, yelling it loud for him, "I am Sara Jessica and I am a slut and like to get raped," while he whipped me with his belt.

When he finally stopped spanking me I noticed that the boys he must have called were there, and one of them said, "Well if she likes to get raped we should be gentlemen and rape the little slut." The other boys laughed and then I spent the next few hours while they jammed their cocks in my pussy and my mouth. Some times they took a break from raping me, and used a big wooden paddle on my ass, while I yelled again and again, "My name is Sara Jessica, I am a slut and I want to be raped." They even used a belt to whip my pussy saying it looked better all red.

Finally they unlocked me and took off the awful collar and other things with all the sharp tacks. But then I had to go to each boy and say, "My name is Sara Jessica, I am a slut and I enjoy being raped, thank you for raping me and spanking me, I hope you rape and spank me again real soon." It was at this time I was able to count that there were 15 boys in total who raped me, some were from our school but most were older, who I think went to the high school.

I was so relieved to be out of my rape therapy outfit and on my way home, that I didn't care I was still naked, I didn't even care that some boys who followed me home from rape therapy had come back and were out there in the dark and could see me going home naked, I don't know who they were though, they don't go to Bunnytale, is there another school in town? Oh of course I am sure there is a public school in town.

When I got home dad was waiting for me with a paddle in his hand, I don't know where he got this one at, I had never seen it before, but he said he hoped I was a good girl over there and did what I was told to do. He then told me to bend over the arm of the couch and he started to paddle me while I was still naked, scolding me for my dress and panties being balled up and tossed on the porch, along with my shoes and socks. When I said I wasn't the one who did that and that it was the boys, he told me that I had better come up with a way so they won't do that again. The only way I can think of to prevent that in the future is to go over naked to get ready for rape therapy, but then the neighbors would think I enjoyed being naked.

I hope you have a better week than I am having, and if you can think of another way to keep me from getting spanked because my clothes are balled up, please let me know.

Your friend

Sara

BR&T date: written Monday afternoon, 1 April 1996,
about Thursday, 28 March 1996.

Hi Sara

I don't know what was worst at the farm.

Dropping down on the rod was awful especially after the thing raised it up as high as it went, after I don't know maybe ten or fifteen drops leaving all the rest with it as high as it could go, but I don't even know which thing at the farm was worst, maybe that was or maybe not.

Getting spanked by all the men who came up on the stage just to make me scream for the fun of it, that was bad because they were being so mean on purpose. I only dropped about thirty times, but I got spanked so many times I couldn't keep track. I couldn't even remember how many guys spanked me. So that was worse than dropping maybe.

But at least with them they were using a belt, and I kinda knew when they were going to swat my bottom again. They also hit all over my bottom so it all got sore the same. Sometimes the wire thing had two or three wires come out together ZING! ZING! ZING! and all hit me real fast and I never knew it was gonna happen until it did and they always hit SO HARD and they always hit the same place so that was worse than the belt spanking maybe.

But the hot metal things were TERRIBLE I couldn't stand on them at all after they got all hot but I couldn't hang from my wrists neither. I had to keep holding myself up with my elbows bent because my ankles were tied to the side so my legs were spread wide and my feet were right where if I relaxed my arms at all then my feet would come down a little and touch the metal and I'd get fried again. When my arms got tired I couldn't hold myself off them except by trying to keep my knees bent instead but that wore out my legs and didn't work very good and even before then when I could hold myself up I knew Terra was screaming because of me. So maybe that was worst of all.

But that other thing with the wires clipped onto my pussy THAT was awful!! Every time Georgia screamed from being spanked the wires would ZAP me right on my pussy and the louder she screamed from the spanking the worse I'd get zapped and then I'd scream even louder than she did. There was no way to get used to it neither. It was like every time was way worse than the one before it and I knew Georgia was doing it to me and she couldn't help it. Maybe that was worst.

Oh but that wax thing oh please I never never never never want them to pour super hot wax into my pussy ever ever again please!! Getting it all over the rest of me was bad enough and they even asked me if I wanted it poured in fast or poured in slow and I didn't know what they meant and it wouldn't matter anyway. Then I had to lay there for a long long long time and not be able to move at all because the straps on my wrists and ankles held me so tight that was maybe worse than all the rest I don't know. And now there are dolls that look just like me and I mean look like ME ALL OVER and they can play a recording of me crying or screaming or begging and guys can do anything to the doll they want and pretend they're doing it to me. I don't even know how many guys are going to have fun raping me and spanking me when the dolls are ready so maybe that's worst.

Don't worry Sara I'm not mad that you don't want to go there. I don't want to have That Boy get me ready for rape therapy either or take me to his cellar when I get home but I don't think you'll be mad at me for that. I don't want to go back either but Mommy said the invitation to go play at the farm was for every thursday so maybe I have to go back next week and I won't even know what they're going to do to me or who else will be there until next week.

You said That Boy asked if you liked to be raped and you yelled that you did like to be raped. What? Were you trying to get him to stop spanking you by getting him to rape you instead or did he tell you you had to say you liked to be raped, or he'd keep spanking you? The guys who come to rape therapy when I'm there alone never want me to say I like it. They seem to like me to cry and beg them to stop while they rape me, they even have one thing the Little Nicole Miller doll (they even NAMED it Little Nicole like Mommy calls me, the jerks) says is begging them to stop hurting me, and begging them not to rape me, but maybe That Boy is different from all the men.

Did you try telling him to stop? If he wants you to say you LIKE it then maybe saying you don't and begging him to stop would get him to stop. If you didn't try that then maybe you should next time if there's a next time which I hope there isn't. Same for his friends. You said they heard you say you like to be raped so they did. If you said you didn't want to be raped and told them not to maybe they wouldn't. But maybe I shouldn't try to help you figure out how to keep them from raping you since I can't do that myself. Nothing I try works.

Oh no they whipped your pussy with a belt too? That must have hurt a lot, unless they spanked softer than they did for your bottom. You thanked them for raping you and spanking you, too, I hope they don't think you REALLY want them to rape and spank you again real soon.

Yes there are other schools. I got to go to Bunnytail instead of a public school because Mommy took me to a park to play one time and I was climbing on the climbing bars and showing her how I could hang by my knees already and a man came by and talked to her and gave her a phone number to call about having me come to Bunnytail for free, something about a collar ship for athleets or something like that. Mommy was so proud of me when I passed the doctor exam but one thing is they said I had to be a cheerleader and make the crowd cheer during boy sport games so thats why I'm a cheerleader. That was before I started kindergarden so I've always gone to Bunnytail. You're lucky your daddy got you into Bunnytail because I heard the public schools are yucky and kids who go to them are yucky. I'm glad I don't know any.

You said you don't know where your daddy got the paddle he had when you got home. Sara, I hope the paddle wasn't wood. Because if it was WOOD then I would have to be rude to my best friend and say DUH where do you THINK he got it? Where do you think men go to get wood in this town? And where does your daddy WORK?? So I sure hope it wasn't wood.

WAIT! I don't mean I hope it was WIRES or something he spanked you with, cause that would REALLY hurt and I don't know where he would get something like that around here that would hurt that much. Except one place might have things like that, especially for spanking us girls so it hurts us even worse and makes us scream even more. You know where I mean. But HE would never go there, not YOUR daddy, right? So I sure hope it was wood.

I know how you can keep That Boy from leaving your clothes on your front porch but you might not like it any better than your idea of going over to his house naked. What if he came over to your house and got you ready in your bedroom? Then you could neatly fold your clothes and leave them on your dresser or bed or hanging in your closet and then he could get you ready. Your daddy won't complain about anything That Boy does with you or your clothes as long as you're in your bedroom.

Oh no Sara I'm sorry I did a stupid thing. I asked Mommy about the idea before sending this letter to you so I could cross it out if she thought it was stupid, but she liked it and she called your daddy right away and she suggested it so I think next time That Boy will come to your bedroom to get you ready. I heard Mommy say something to your daddy about giving the boy the key to your house was a good idea. I don't know whose idea that was. Mommy said something about you taking the key over to the boy so he knows he can come over on thursdays even though your daddy isn't home on weekdays, then he could be waiting for you in your bedroom when you got home from school and not waste any time.

Ohhhhhhh Sara I just remembered you have to shower before getting ready to go, but that will mean he'll be in your bedroom while you're in the shower. At least I hope so. And I forgot he had friends over to play and probably will every time. Oh Sara my idea WAS stupid but it's too late now and if anything bad happens to you because I asked Mommy about it I'm sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry and please don't stop being my friend over it.

I'm sorry sorry sorry!!

Nicole