Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 fm Teen, this starts with a fairly normal tale of sexploration between a
heterosexual couple, without all the kinks and stuff thrown in.  To take a
break from Pirates and shit for a little while, then changes abruptly to
the worst kinds of abuses, for contrast.  I'll warn you when you get
there...
   My boyfriend
   We met at the summer fair, and I don't guess we fell in love right away,
but we noticed eachother, and talked.  Ate fried foods on a stick, Played
games, and basically had a good time together.  It was wonderful, I never
had friends with a boy before, my family kept me away from boys, and I
basically had to run away to have any fun.  So, I went to summer fair
because that's where everyone was.  The carnies rolled in on trucks, set up
for a couple days, I didn't have any money, but I mostly went to be around
people.
   First, he asked if I was there with the Carnies, because he didn't
recognize me.  Then, "Where are you from?"
   I'd just shaken my head, but the first thing I said was "Here." I hadn't
really talked to a boy before, but he was pretty, and he looked at me, and
asked if I was hungry?  Then he walked me down the food trailers, and got
out his wallet.  I tried an Italian sausage first, just plain in a bun,
like a hot-dog, but it was delicious.  He had one too, with mustard and
sour kraut, then he said, "You have a little," he held up a corner of a
napkin, and wiped the side of my chin.  The casing popped when I bit it,
and a little oil ran out.  I thanked him politely, but it felt like I was
blushing, all night.  Every time he looked at me, I had to look away, from
what I saw in his eyes.  He didn't say it, that night, that I was
beautiful, but I felt it, just from the way he kept looking at me.
   Then we did some rides, played some games, laughed, and, he looked at
me, until I had to look away blushing.  He won me a doll, just a cheap
plastic midway prize doll, but I never had one, of my own before.  I held
her, and thanked him, she had the loveliest blue dress, it was the nicest
gift I ever had gotten.  Then, he turned me back.  Just touched my chin,
turning away from the way he looked at me, and he kissed me.  Behind the
shooting gallery, where he won the doll, she hung by the arm beside me, but
his hand went over my shoulder, and rubbed my hair on my neck.
   "I hugged him so tight my chest squished on his, and I could feel,
something.  In his jeans, with my tummy.  I did not know, but that was the
first time I felt one.  Touched one, hard, for me.  Then he took me home.
He just kissed me, "Goodnight," like a gentleman, and dropped me off.  But
I carried my doll up to the house, and our room, and got ready for bed, and
held her, all night.  My adopted parents said it was "Wonderful." The doll
was hard, plastic, with arms, and fingers sticking out, and I didn't care.
They dug into my arms all night, but all I could think about was him,
winning her for me, then kissing me, and holding him so tight.  Her arm
behind his back.  The way he smelled, the carnival noises, the snap of the
BB guns, and the PLINK!  when one hit it's mark.  I dreamed of him all
night.
   Then, in the morning we got up, I stuck her on a shelf, and we got ready
to go to church.  I was old enough to be out of sunday school, sit through
the sermon, with my eldest brother, and ignore it except to sing, or answer
the priest's words to the congregation.  "Amen," with everyone else, then
we took communion, and there was a potluck.  It was afternoon before we got
back home, but he waited.  Standing by his car, mom said "Go on," and he
took me out in my sunday dress.  For burgers, and shakes, fries of course,
they had a juke box, but we didn't do any dancing.  He joked, I laughed,
and looked down when I saw him, staring across the table at me.  My face
felt so hot.
   "Why do you do that?" I don't know, I just can't.  But it has the
advantage, I found that he touched my face.  Gently under my chin, across
the table so he couldn't kiss me, but he looked again, and I smiled,
looking back in his eyes.  "I love your eyes." As long as I could.  That's
all he had to say, then he payed his tab, left a tip, and drove me home. 
By the scenic route, the trees, mountains, up the main road, then off back
roads, over a lake (There's several) so I could see it through the passing
trees below.  It was getting late, but he drove around the east side, to
park.  Overlooking the water, so the sunset shone up over it, and the
orange disk melted into the trees on the next ridge like a pat of butter.
   We kissed, made out, then he took me home.  He was a gentleman, didn't
even go for second base, but I asked my brother about his.  Thing, that I
felt, that first night hugging him at the fair.  He said it "just means
he's excited." From kissing me, and I felt it in his lap, with my hands,
through his jeans.  Just the backs of my fingers, but I knew he was
excited. He just held me, his arm up around my shoulders, his other hand in
my hair, feeling my neck, and the side of my face through it.  I could hear
it, brushing over my hair.  But he didn't touch my chest, between my legs,
or up my skirt.  He was a perfect gentleman, even though I wanted him to
do, all the things my father warned me he would want to do, "Before you're
ready." He was wrong, he had a back seat, and he didn't even mention it. 
He just kissed me, then turned on the lights, and backed out to drive me
home.
   That night, I was breathless in bed.  My heart beat so fast, and deep, I
wanted to feel it, but my breasts got in the way.  I looked up, at the doll
he gave me, watching from the shelf.  But I felt myself up, until I fell
asleep, wishing it were his big hands on me.  But I didn't know how to ask.
I could barely stand him looking at me, much less consider actually telling
him what I wanted.  He was a perfect gentleman, and it was driving me nuts!
I didn't dare, touch myself.  In between my legs, but I really wanted to. I
felt weird, wonderfully strange in there, but I didn't dare.  I wanted him
to, more than anything, but the next time I got in the back seat.
   He asked why, and I said something to the effect that there was more
room, without the steering wheel in the way.  I wore a skirt, the shortest
one I could get, which ment taking one from their sister, who was much
younger, and a little fat.  Nothing wrong with that, it was even a little
lose so I had to take it in, but she said she didn't mind.  I have no idea
why it didn't occur to me to cut it, above the knee, then hem it again, but
in retrospect, that would have been a lot more sewing.  Worth it though, I
felt how exited he was, and even rubbed his fly with the backs of my
fingers, until he moved my hands.  "Stop."
   "What's wrong?"
   "You're gonna make me mess up my pants."
   "So?" I, had no idea what that ment.  "Hh, it's okay," I kissed him
again, and put his hands in my lap.  Then, fine, if you don't want me
touching you, then you can touch me instead.  He just left them there,
side-by-side on the padded bench, mostly just kissing but his hands in my
lap, over my skirt.  I had to shake my legs, because he didn't move them,
but he kissed me.  So, I felt in his lap again, and he moved my hands
again.
   'huhH, what's wrong?"
   I didn't realize we're going to have our first fight.
   "It's just," he covers himself, "Sinful."
   "Why, because it feels good?"
   "No?  Because if I waste my seed;"
   "It's not seed.  Huh!  It's;"
   "I know," he interrupted, "You don't have to say it, but Jesus said."
   "Hh, you got your bible?" I really would rather be making out right now,
but he got it out.  A pocket New Testament, King James, I'm sure you know
the one.  Took me a while to find it, "Here," I had to squint,
   "Listen then to what the parable of the sower means: When anyone hears
the message about the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one
comes and snatches away what was sown in their heart.  This is the seed
sown along the path.
   The seed falling on rocky ground refers to someone who hears the word
and at once receives it with joy, but since they have no root, they last
only a short time.  When trouble or persecution comes because of the word,
they quickly fall away.
   The seed falling among the thorns refers to someone who hears the word,
but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke the
word, making it unfruitful.
   But the seed falling on good soil refers to someone who hears the word
and understands it.  This is the one who produces a crop, yielding a
hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown."
   "~Jesus.  It doesn't say anything about your pants, what's in your
pants, or messing up your pants.  The seed is the Word of God, and you
don't have the Word of God in your pants, do you?" Well, he did, in his
back pocket.  He shook his head, "All right," so I held his face, and
kissed him.  The first time I did that, kissed him instead of letting him
kiss me, but I decided, last night.  He's not going fast enough, and I
would have his hands on me the next chance I got.  So, I felt down to his
lap, picked up his hands, and put them on my chest.  He felt them, but
then, I felt for it, but it was too late.  He wasn't hard, I felt it
through his jeans, but "Uh!" The seats were still leaned over, so I climbed
up front.  "Might as well take me home now."
   He felt them, I didn't even wear a bra to day, for him, but I guessed it
was too much.  He "Messed up his pants," so like always I asked the oldest
boy.  I guess I should stop calling him my brother, he's not, any more than
my boyfriend is, but when I got there, they said I could call their parents
"Mom, and dad," just like them, they would treat me as their own, and I
called everyone brother, and sister, even cousins, and other kids my age,
but no relation.  But, he wasn't my brother, and he was no gentleman.  So,
I asked about that, and he told me he was just "Too excited," and finished
early.  Then, he told me about handjobs, and showed me how to do it.  Not
too fast, nor too hard so he finishes early, but not too slow so he can't
keep it up.
   But he was like that, not my brother, nor my boyfriend, but somewhere in
between.  He cared about me, like a brother I guess, but he wasn't In Love
with me, like I was with my boyfriend.  He had girlfriends too, but I
really needed help, and he really helped.  Also incidentally got handjobs
from me, plural.  I really needed that too, because my boyfriend wasn't
ready, I was, and instead of rushing past him, it helped to have my
"Brother" to take care of those urges.  And I did have urges, I loved it,
jerking him off, especially the bright splash of cum at the end, and I felt
better.  Afterwards, it wasn't an orgasm for me, but it satisfied, whatever
caused me to crave it, the feeling of it in my hands, the warm skin
slipping, and the splashes of cum at the end, until I had to satisfy it.  I
don't know why, I still don't know why, but I loved it, even before I got
to do it the first time, I really wanted to.
   Until finally my boyfriend let me get to second base.  Not just touch
it, through his jeans, brush it with my fingers while we're kissing, but
get it out, see it, hold it, and stroke it until he got off.  "Uh?" He sat
up, on the trunk.  Our favorite spot, because it was beautiful, and nobody
knew to look for us there, we kind of wore our own dirt road, when the
other couples went to their makeup spot.  But we didn't go to the makeup
spot, we found our own, so we could get out of the car, and I could jerk
him off leaned back up against the trunk.  "Huh, huh huh!" His eyes went
wide, but I already had a rag.  I knew I would do this, today, so I just
pulled it out to wipe my hands, and clean him up before I fixed his
underpants.
   Then, he read to me from Leviticus.  "When any man hath running issue
from his flesh...  he is unclean."
   "Puss," I nodded.  I just read, the whole damned thing again, to see
where in there it actually sayeth I can't touch myself.  "If you pick a
scab, or pimples, that's what it's talking about.  Or, like buboes, or
something.  That, what you just did is Life, itself.  It's not unclean,
it's one of the holiest things you have been given."
   He thought about it, "Okay?"
   "And besides," I leaned over, "It shall be unclean until the evening." I
pointed out, said it a bunch of times.  "That's what it means by even, it's
short for evening." I pointed, "The sun's going down, see?  It's no longer
an issue."
   So, I didn't have to practice handjobs on my brother any more, and
besides, he had real girlfriends.  I was just glad to give them to my
lover, the one I wanted to, and finally give him some pleasure.  But of
course that wasn't enough.  For then, but it wasn't enough for long.
   And I read the whole damned thing, and it said little if anything about
women, touching ourselves.  The church did, and Leviticus of course had all
this stuff about issues of blood, and having to go away for a week for
being unclean, but I know what that is.  Had my period for a couple years
now, it's not all that mysterious, and I'm not forbidden to even touch
anyone for a week whenever it happens.  Nor my mother, nor any woman I've
ever known.  Leviticus was the law of Moses, if I knew any practicing Jews,
I'd ask them, but until then, I'll stick with what Jesus really said:
   "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy
soul, and with all thy mind.  This is the first and great commandment, and
the second is like unto it: Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.  On
these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets."
   That's it, look it up.  Love God first, and foremost, then love
eachother, and love yourself.  That's the law, and the foundation of the
law.  Love.
   ~Jesus.
   While you're at it, try not to say it where it will fall on deaf ears,
or use it to throw you out, call you names, and possibly Stone you to
death. Meaning the church, the people who don't even Read it any more, they
hear the Word of God, but do not understand it.  So, the devil comes and
snatches it from their heart.  That's what it says, what He said, Jesus. 
Don't take it from me, look it up.
   So, he went and did something dumb.  He went and asked his pastor.  Now,
he doesn't go to my church, probably why he hadn't seen me before, he
graduated before I was a freshman too, so we didn't even go to school at
the same time.  Then he didn't come to pick me up, I tried calling him, but
his mother said he doesn't want to talk to me any more, so finally I had to
get a ride, clear across town, and wait for him.  In his car, he had to
leave for work some time.
   "Get out of my car."
   "We have to talk."
   "I don't have time for this," he checked his watch.
   "No," I buckled my belt, "You have to get to work, and we can talk on
the way." He didn't have a choice, either pull me bodily out the open
window, or get in, drive to work and listen to me.  I had to skip school
for this.
   "Hh, my pastor told me, what you did."
   "I jerked you off, I told you, I even showed you where Jesus Christ
himself said it was okay."
   "No," he looked over, "I mean, before.  To get kicked out of your old
church."
   "Huh!" I rolled my eyes, "Go on, tell me what he said."
   "He said that you were, caught.  With another girl, that you're
lesbians, and that makes you unclean."
   I laughed, "Okay, 1: We just read Leviticus, All of it, together,
remember?  Where in there did it say a damned thing about lesbians?  And 2:
if I was a lesbian, I would be having sex with girls, not trying to
convince my boyfriend to let me jerk him off.  I wouldn't even be in love
with you, I would've told you to go fuck yourself at the fair."
   Can't argue with that logic.  "Well," he couldn't, "So, you didn't?"
   "I was molested, by an older girl, because the boys were kept separate,
so she couldn't play with them, and neither could I.  Then, she left, I had
all those girls to mess around with, and I didn't.  Because, and this is
the important part: I'M NOT A LESBIAN!  Your pastor lied, because he lies.
He takes the Word of God, and twists it, so you good little sheep follow in
His flock.  You know how I know?  Because he called me a Lesbian, so you
can't have a girlfriend.  Don't listen to him, listen to Jesus, that's the
Word of God."
   Then, he got to work, so I got out, he parked, and I walked to school.
"Sorry," I lied to the principle, "I missed the bus, and I had to get a
ride." I didn't miss the bus at all.  "I'll try not to let it happen
again," so I was marked late instead of absent.  But that's what happens
when you don't read it, you just take someone's word for it.  Take no Man's
word for the Word of God.  Okay, Jesus, but he wasn't just a man, he was
half God born of a woman.  He was God, he came to update the Law, that was
his job, and he had to die to make it official.
   So, anyway, that's when I really started hating the Church.  When I
realized they weren't working for God, they took the Word, and didn't
understand it.  The Enemy came in, took it from their hearts, and filled it
with sin: Hubris, Vanity, Pride, and Lies.  They bear false witness, which
I know is in the original set.  You know what isn't?  Whacking off.  So, if
you're reading this, go back and read the Bible.  Don't let anyone read it
for you, because that's the Truth, and mortals fuck up the truth, every
single time.  I still went, I had friends there, my family went there, and
they had a pretty mean potluck afterwards.  But I stopped listening, mostly
just read the bible, in the hymnal flipped ahead to the right one from the
board.  So, when the organ started up, I just had to save my place, stand
up, and sing.  Then, I could pull the ribbon, and find my place again.
   Then, bless his heart, he started asking questions.  First scriptural
ones, what's not allowed, so we looked for the answers.  Together, in the
scriptures.  In his back seat, often in the midst of a heavy petting
session, I usually started with a splash.  Jerking him off, then he'd think
of a question, so we'd stop for Bible Study.  Then, he started asking about
sex.  In the bible, we knew sex-sex was for when we're married, but it
doesn't say anything about handjobs, much less kissing, fondling, necking,
and he loves my butt.  Not my chest, that didn't magically change, but he
stopped feeling me in the back seat, so he could lean back on the car, and
hold me up to kiss him.
   I just wanted his hands on me, my bottom was just as good as my chest,
which I could squish, and crush on his chest while we kissed.  So, that was
my first question, "Why do you like my butt, and not my chest?" Couldn't
even say Breasts, much less any of the other words I knew, because he lost
the mood.  "I don't know," he folded up our bible, and got out.  Leaned up
against the door as soon as I got out, and bent his knees.  To hold me,
kiss me, squeeze my ass.  I grinned, picked up one hand, and held it up to
my bra.  "Well?"
   "Hh," he thought, so I rubbed him with my tummy to keep him hard.  "I
guess, well first of all, it's in the right place." He gave me a squeeze,
then reached down to give me another.  "Your," he looked away, "Boobs, are.
Well, don't you think they're kinda in the way?"
   I shrugged, "I got used to them." He doesn't even have to wear them all
day.
   "And another thing is, they're like, fat, you know?" I shook my head, "I
dunno neither, but," more squeezes, "These feel so nice, meatier, and I
love how they move in my fingers."
   "Hh!" I nodded, because I couldn't really say anything more than that.
   "Can I touch you?" I opened them, but he looked away.
   "You mean," he closed his eyes, in shame.  "Yeah," I squirmed, "Honestly
it's not fair of me touching you so long, without letting you get in my
pants too." I said that, honestly.  I actually cared more about jerking him
off than him learning to pleasure me.
   "But,"
   "Not mentioned in the bible, anywhere.  I checked, and I love you," I
kissed him, "I owe it to yh'huh!" Then, he didn't pick me up, I had my feet
under me, but his fingers moved in.  Between them, and I felt the tips in
my crotch.  And the crotch of my shorts, some underwear in there I couldn't
feel, but inside them.  "Hm!" I just kissed him.
   "Uh!" He had to stop.  He messed up his pants.
   I got off, months ago.  Must have been over a year before, that I
finally decided I'd been lied to, Jesus doesn't care if I do, and I should
really check on where all these weird uncomfortable feelings are coming
from, just to make sure everything's all right.  I wasn't on my period, I
started through the sheet, my nighty, and my nightclothe.  I still wore the
undercloth, to bed, even though I was no longer wetting it.  Not the
scratchy old linen one, I cut up an old sheet they used mostly for rags, so
at least they didn't itch, but because I felt so naked in my nightclothes,
with panties on, and there were boys in the house.  I caught one of them,
looking up the stairs so when I came down in the morning the light shined
right through it.  And I saw my shadow, on the floor at the bottom of the
stairs, and where his eyes were the whole time.  He just started sitting
there in the morning, it took about a week to see why.
   So, I went right back up, got dressed for school before breakfast. 
Instead of getting orange juice first thing to wash the sleep out of my
mouth, it was right after I got there.  So, anyway, then I started growing
up, got a boyfriend, and touching myself thinking about him to dream about
him.  I started with my chest, for one thing it was new, and that's where I
noticed most of the growth.  I had a few little hairs too, but other than
those, the other major change was gross, and not a turnon.  Well, yet, but
I'm talking about the first time I got brave, and put my arms over the
covers to feel between my legs.  And imagining him, his hands between my
legs, and my arms pulled the covers and nighty tight over my chest too, and
I had already jerked him off all ready.  And my brother, a few times
actually, but just to get the hang of it.
   Now, that's easy.  It sticks out, you can see when he's excited, and you
just have to pull the skin until he cums.  Girls, are somewhat more
difficult to figure out, so I had to resort to the one way I had experience
with that.  Unfortunately, that was remembering my molestor, and that's
probably why it took so long for me to go there.  I wasn't a virgin, and it
reminds me of her fingers, her touching me, and I finally remembered.  She
touched herself to, I didn't look, it was so sinful, but "Huh!" It wasn't,
that was just my teachers talking, and they were wrong about, just about
everything they said about sex.  So,..
   "Nhm!" I just got a fold in.  Like the sheet, but inside the sheet, the
blanket, and under my night-shirt, but I felt it.  And I made too much
noise, because it woke my older sisters up.  There were 2 girls rooms, I
had to still be 13, so I was in with the older girls.  And I never even
thought about them, because I wasn't a lesbian.  But, she went "Muh?" or
whatever, so I stopped, so she wouldn't get up, and ask any questions.  A
conversation I really wasn't in the mood for, so I stopped and went to
sleep.  It felt good, even the cool cotton getting warm between my legs. 
The nightshirt too, the blankets were still tucked in, but I held the
nightshirt between them so they didn't sweat together.  And that felt good
too, I didn't move, or do anything, but I had a folds of my undercloth
inside, my labia, and I suppose probably touching the hood of my clitorus.
That felt wonderful as I drifted off to sleep, I didn't actually get of for
a while after that.
   Then, I did the dirtiest thing.  In school, I probably wouldn't have in
church.  Well no, the bathrooms were different anyway, but the stall was
out of toilet paper, and I didn't check.  I peed, I had to wipe, and I have
to admit I was thinking about sex, and masturbation.  A lot, especially
sitting with my skirt up, my panties down, and fluid trickling out of the
mysterious place I was still exploring for pleasure.  "Hh!" He got his
fingers in, and my shorts are so tight, even with the zipper all the way
down, he really has to rub them in rather hard and roughly.  "HIhn!" I
nodded, flailing to catch his shoulder, and clutch at it.  "Hih ihn!" I
just turned, put my head down, in his chest, felt his chin on my hair,
trying to breathe, but his fingers were moving.  In and out, wiping me with
the cotton, and if I just.
   "H?" Slipped my hips, a little.  Just as he pulled them back out, so I
slipped down, which made his fingers slip up, and the fold of panties he
was drying me with brushed my most sensitive spot.  Just like the first
time, I got off, "Wiping" myself with my panties.  Well, it started that
way, it took several minutes before I finally tickled myself to a panting
shaking breathless seizure of pleasure, but fell.  My knees went out, but
thankfully he had his arm under mine, to catch me across the back when his
fingers slipped out of my shorts, and I fell.  Gasping, and grunting
between spasms, trying to breathe, shuddering and shivering until it was
over.
   "Wow!" He helped me stand up, I could still barley breathe, but I felt
it.  His rezerection, I already jerked him off, but just pulled his
underpants up, his belt, and fly still open.
   "Hh!" I pulled them down, and pushed my but out to bend over.  "Smh,"
rubbed it back and forth on my lips, kissing, and pulling it open to kiss
the bare head.
   "Oh god, wow!" He rubbed my hair around, and I loved that too.  I didn't
suck him, didn't even get him wet, but I beat him off again.  All over my
face, and hair, rubbing it all around on my cheeks, and neck, and lips, and
nose, and "Huh!" Then he started spilling his seed all over my face, and my
hair.
   "Huh!" I held him until he went soft, crawling in my fingers when I
slowly relaxed them, and the last drops milked out in the pucker on the
end. "Smq," I licked my lips, and sighed.  "Hhn!" Then, we had to change
into our swimsuits, because we're pretty unclean from it.  Especially my
hair, I knew the rag I used to clean him up with the first time got all
dry, and sticky, so I sure didn't want that to happen with my hair!  But
then, he started asking for what he wanted.  And what he wanted was to
"Make love to your hair." He loves it, to me it's like breasts, they kind
of get in the way, but I have ringlets, and he loves them.  Physically once
I let him twirl them around it, while he jerked off.  Kind of hard for me
to do, that close to my head, but that left my hands free for everything
else.  Sideways, on the beach, his bouncing tummy like a pillow where I
could feel his strong thighs, and hairy balls, and big warm hard penis all
over my face, and neck.  And hair, "hH huh!" He'd catch his breath, and I
knew.  Even before he puled back the skin in my hair to close my eyes.
   "Ooh," so hot, and full of life.  I didn't open my mouth like a
cum-hungry slut, but I licked my lips, and moved my head to make is more
likely to hit them.  But even in my eyes, running down the side of my nose,
on my cheeks, or forehead.  "Hhhhh!" This was love, this was his love, what
I love about him.  That was how we showed it.
   We started doing it on the shore, with a blanket down so we could go
straight to the lake.  Skinny dipping, and I don't mean swimming naked.  We
didn't just swim, or much at all once I got far enough out you can't see
I'm naked under the water.  He can feel it, and I even started taking cold
baths, to play with myself at home.  But thinking about him, at the lake
the whole time.  It just takes a while to figure out what you like, he's an
ass man, came by it honestly, his daddy too, and could care less about my
chest.  That's all right, I have hands too, but he kept one busy holding me
up, and the other in front of me.  To goose me, and finger rub me, and pat
me when I get good and loose so cold puffs of water fuck in and get me off.
   Do you get hot?  Well, it's distracting.  I have to push the sheets off,
and get out a box fan to really play with myself in bed, and there was 3
other beds, so that wasn't really an option.  I get too hot, so the water
actually helps when I start to get all shivery, and nippley, and
goosebumpy. He could probably let me go and I'd drown, but he didn't.  He
helped me wash my hair, once I took a dive to wash off my face, and let the
water slide heavy under my breasts, belly, and legs, then kick them
together for a rush.
   "Huh!" I had to put my head back, to dip my hair out of my face, and
feel over it to make sure it was all fish food now.  "Huh!" Then he was
there, behind me, holding me, his hand finding a bottock, then feeling
around front.  Holding me up, so I can breathe, feel my chest, the hard
icey pebbles of my nipples, and slap water into me.  "Yeah, huh!" Then more
rubbing, wet, but not slippery, I could feel his fingertips, the rough
callouses softening, then swelling, the most perfect, "UhnNH!" Then just
holding me, his arm around me, under my breast, spanking the water into me
in thick cool bursting gushes.  "uh, uh uh uh huhuhuh!" Shaking, and almost
struggling until he has to just hold me.  Kiss me, and rub his face in my
wet hair, until I can stand up again.
   ;
   Marion {Fg Nepi Ince.  With flashbacks to Marital Rape, and fantasies of
prison sex thrown in.  Here's the start of her psychotic breakdown.
Leitmotif: Tool - Pushit (Aenima.) }
I thought my husband was sick.  I just had no idea until I woke up in
the middle of the night, and caught him.  At first, I thought he was
changing his diaper, and that filled my heart with love.  He usually just
woke me, "He's crying," and went back to sleep.  He held his legs up, as if
to wipe his bottom, but he didn't.  He just held him, and now I realize I
didn't see his other arm, his hand, and what he was doing.  I didn't hear
it either, until he sighed.  I knew that sigh, covered my mouth, horrified
to see his shameful seed splash out on my poor baby, his legs, and his
privates.  "Pervert!" I threw the first thing I could get my hands on, and
chased him out.  Still holding up his belt, and trying to get them closed.
   "You're over'reacting."
   "No," I threw something he ducked, "Get out!"
   But then I heard crying, up stairs.  I ran up, my maternal instinct took
over, realizing he was alone, on the bed, and imagined him rolling off to
hit his head on the hardwood floor.  He hadn't, he was right there, but I
looked away from the, sickening mess.  Cleaned it up as best I could,
without looking, imagining it was poop, or something.  "Yeah," there was an
old one I could smell, "You just pooped, that's all." I told him, hoping he
would forget, could ever forget, the, nightmare I had let happen.  I was
full, so as soon as I got him changed I had to feed him, it was starting to
hurt.  It had been hours, and the shaking they took chasing off, that, sick
fucker.  "Huh!" I tried to calm down, but I was still shaking with fury. 
He was hungry though, and finally that calmed me.  "Hhhh!"
   I can't describe, that feeling.  Not your child's lips, gently steadily
suckling, but the warm milk, drawing through my glands, and more welling up
from deeper within my breast.  "Hhh," He smiled, wide mouth as infants do,
but the painful swelling went right down, and he kept suckling, slowly,
until his eyes drooped.
   'hn,' the gentlest sigh, through his nose, and a couple more dry pulls.
Nodding off, I put him down, in his crib, but all it took was the sight of
the holes in the walls.  The broken things, the messy diaper he left. 
"ooOOH!" I went down to the phone, and started dialing immediately.  I had
the evidence, the diaper he, he...  "Uh!' And the washcloth I cleaned him
off with.  I told them what happened, he was in the hospital, having a
bruise on his side treated.  Where I hit him, a nasty bruise, and a cracked
rib.  Good, he deserved worse, and I hoped he found it, in prison.  A big
black daddy to show him how wrong what he had done was.
   I went home, changed, and fed him for bed, but all that night I dreamed
of the abuses he'd find in prison.  I knew he was sick, when I met him, yet
I loved his filthy talk.  His perverted stories, they got him horny, enough
to have my son, and get me pregnant again.  I didn't know, counting back
from her birth, it could only have been 6 weeks, and if I missed my period,
I didn't realize it.  It had been barely over a year, and I still haven't
gotten on a regular schedule, just kept pads in case it came back.  My milk
never dried up, but I swear, it came out, pink where he had hit me. 
Grabbed me, squeezing so hard I felt it pop.  My nipple, it bled.  It even
bled into my milk again, and it never was the same.
   He didn't, beat me.  Not really, he almost never yelled, but when we're
married, he confessed his, darker fantasies.  Not the twisted ones, that
somehow led to him.  His, what he finally did for me to leave him.  I can't
even say it, out loud.  I'm ashamed I ever got involved with him, and his
sick ideas, but each time, it had to be sicker, to get him ready.  To make
love, and he made love so wonderfully, once he got in the mood.  I had
thought him impotent, he wasn't my first, younger men could get, in the
mood immediately.  Stay ready, but he needed me, to pretend.  Say the most
aweful things, or sometimes imagined me.  A scary little girl, lost in the
world, or a dirty little baby sitter.
   "Hh," I had forgotten that.  Why, it was years ago, we didn't write them
down, or I thought he hadn't, but then I found his stash.  He hid them, he
was so ashamed, and his hand writing was scrawled, so excitedly. 
Especially when it came to the climax, his hand shaking, while, his other
hand, "UH!" I sat up, "Huh, huh!" But, I couldn't get the image, the very
real image of his strong hand, holding up his ankles, shamefully abusing
himself, and the mess he left.  I was raised, conservative.  Why, we never
even talked about, sex.  I hadn't heard of masturbation, nor all those
words he had for, such, things.  I can't imagine why I found that, at all
attractive.  He was a pervert, I knew he was a pervert, and I should have
found his secret fantasies sooner.  But I didn't want to pry, why, I.  I
cried, until my son cried to wake me.  For once, in the middle of the
night, I was already up.  Instead of feeling his rough hand, squeezing my
chest from behind till it ached, he wasn't wet, nor dirty, and I was full
again, so I set back in the rocker.  And, fell back asleep.
   Which was a mistake, all the nightmares came back, in his words. 
Muttered under his breath, deep inside me, grunting, and spanking me with
his belly.  "You, loose fucking twat, tighten up.  Yeah, tighter, you been
fucking the whole town again?  Let's see if your ass is tighter.  You like
it, up your shithole, you lose fucking whore?  I should turn you out after
this, make you earn your keep, take you out to the biker bar for a
gangbang. You'd like that, Uh!  Wouldn't.  You.  Huh!" He shook his filthy
thing in my face, "Lookit this mess.  Clean it up, yeah, suck the shit off
it.  You;"
   "Huh!" I almost dropped him, and he kicked.  Struggled crying, but I
couldn't catch his flailing arms and legs, so he fell off the rocker. 
"Oh!" I picked him up, "There there." Bounced him, and cood to sooth him
until he calmed down.  He didn't fall far, and I don't think he hit his
head, but he started screaming.  But I was half full, so I pulled down the
strap from the other side, and held it up.  At first I thought he wasn't
hungry.  He rooted, but couldn't find it, didn't latch on.  Frustrated, I
felt down, then.  I couldn't feel it.  "Huh?" My teat, it was as if it
wasn't there, and I had to put him down.  Crying, but I ran to the bathroom
where we had a mirror on the medicine cabinet.  It hurt, it still hurt, and
though I could see the broad ring of my nipple, the teat itself was flat.
And swollen, with milk, and starting to bruise.  I had, thought, he didn't
hit me.  But then I remembered, our fight.  "Bitch!"
   "Noh!" Falling to the floor, cupping the tender flesh where he punched
me.  Then he was on me, tearing my hands away, crushing it, and yelling
those sick horrible things in my ears.  I felt it.  Pop, my nipple popped,
and now I could see the bruises from his fingers, crushing it.  And heard,
my poor little boy, crying.  Like he did, last night, to snap me out of it,
when he was gone.  I thought, he was trying to get in the mood again, but
he didn't.  He just left, me there, sobbing on the floor in the hall, until
I heard Christian crying.  "Huh!" He couldn't nurse, my bruised one.  The
nipple was broken, but once he got the other side dry, I loaded him in his
car seat, and took him to the store for a pump.  It was morning, but the
drug store was closed until 10.  By the time I was able, I finally brought
the swelling down, but I had to throw the milk away.  It was tainted, pink
with blood.  But at least the painful pressure was gone, it hurt on my
bruise, but it hurt worse full of milk.  It bled for days before it healed,
and I could feed him from a bottle.  Then, I had to take him everywhere. 
Shopping, to the office to apply for benefits, until finally I could work,
afford a sitter, then adjust my schedule for when he was in Kindergarten.
   But, of course by then, I had had his sister.  And, I had thought I felt
love before.  She was so beautiful, from the moment I saw her, I hadn't
even thought a name, but I gasped it out.  "Christina." I christened her
Christina.  I promised her, right then, I would never let anyone hurt her.
Expose her to, that depravity.  The sickness in the world.  Before I even
took her home, payed the sitter, then I took her up to the nursery.  The
rocker, and fed her.  "Hhh." I pumped as well, and little Ian could handle
the bottle himself.  He watched me, from his bed.  Then, she fell asleep,
so I could go to bed.  Completely drained, dry, and loose in the chest. 
Eventually, the nightmares even stopped.  I got a Pell Grant, to go back to
college.  The transcriptionist job I was working at the time was data
entry, moving all the records to computers, where they could be shared,
across country in minutes.  So, they helped me go back to school, so I
could work from home, and take care of the baby.
   I never touched him.  Ian, even when I opened his diaper, and saw he was
excited, I just cleaned around it, and made him move his fat little hand.
Too much of his father in him, I swear he touched himself at every
opportunity, I had to spank him to stop.  So, I could finish changing him,
put him down to pump, and feed Christina.  My Christina, she was so pure,
and innocent.  Not corrupted by the, sickness of his father.  I admit, I
had 1 affair.  1, I did not know at the time, but he must have gotten me
pregnant.  She didn't even look like him, my ex husband.  She was
beautiful, and innocent, and pure.  She never did anything, sick, like get
excited from nursing.
   ;
   'Tina {F/g Ince Mole.}
   "Momma went away.  That's what I thought, I don't remember the first
time, but as I grew up, I realized.  That wasn't momma, she was gone. 
She'd come back, and she was just like the same momma, but then.  She'd
look at me, and I knew.  Momma was gone.  Like this.  Nothing, no
expression.  Wave your hand in front of her eyes, and she'd look.  She
could move, get up, walk around, but.  It's not like, she was someone else.
There's nobody there, she doesn't say anything.  She just, huh!  Well, she
touched me.  It was kind of scary, and I cried, but then momma came back,
and held me, and told me it was all right.  Then, huh.  She went away, and
touched me.  Again, not right away, I don't mean she turned on, and off,
over and over, but sometimes.  I learned, the best thing is to just play
along, or she gets real mad, and scary.  You know, loud, yelling, throwing
things.  She gets likeat.  Oop, sorry.  That way.
   The first time?  Huh, well I remember, playing naked, with Ian.  He was
my big brother, but he never really played with me.  He had balls, and
trucks and stuff, and I had dolls.  Momma told me, he was.  Well, I guess
possessed is the word.  She never said it, but the stuff she told me. 
About his father, and the sickness he had, I heard about devils in sunday
school, and it took me years to put it together, but I think she really
believed he was possessed, by his father's sin.  Lust.  All boys are full
of lust, and you mustn't do anything to attract it.  It sounded a lot like
her.  Well, not her but the way she gets when mommy goes away.  I knew,
what she did was wrong, but.  Huh, if I didn't, she got violent, and scary.
   But, one day momma was working down in the office, and Ian was playing
by himself in his room, so I thought I'd try a test, so see.  I hate dolls,
always did, not like I wanted to play with trucks, or whatever, but with
somebody.  Who could talk, and, do something.  New, and interesting, huh! I
lived with Ian, all the time, but the way she kept us apart, I guess it
was, new, and interesting.  So, I did the worst thing.  I knew what causes
lust, seeing me naked, she told me.  So, I took my clothes off, and went
down to see what would happen.  He looked way, so I pulled his pants down,
and it looked so funny, I couldn't help laughing.  Too loud, because momma
came in, beat the tar out of Ian, and by the time she got me upstairs, she
was gone.  But, at least I had someone to play with.
   Ironic, maybe I wouldn't have thought of that, if she let us have a TV,
or any friends.  Well, I guess, that's when I started playing naked, with
Ian.  It's really the only way we could play, or we wanted to, together. 
Mommy, and daddy, we didn't know, what daddys did.  We never had one, or
ian don't remember his.  She gets a sitter, and goes out.  On a date, we
can tell cause she gets out her slutty clothes, and her makeup.  perfume to
smell real pretty, but she never brought one home.  A man, she just got
dropped off, drunk, her clothes and hair all fucked up, then she was back
to the same old mom, with a headache in the morning.  I don't know, about
once a month?  Yeah, I guess you're right, she does seem to do it when
she's on the rag.  I like you, I can talk to you, and you're a good
listener.
   Hm?  Oh, well like I said, we didn't really know what a daddy did.  I
mean, before Ian found the stories.  His daddy's stories, he could read
better, and such, but before that.  Well, I just showed him how to touch
me. The way she did, when momma went away.  I didn't play with myself yet,
why I must've been 6, or 7?  Tooth fairy time, you know.  Not, that.  We
every got a visit from the tooth fairy.  We heard about it, from the other
kids at school.  But anyway, he touched me, and i sucked his nipples, but
his dinkle.  He couldn't get it up.  In the stories, his daddy could always
get it up.  It was the biggest thing, and people were scared when they saw
it, but it was a long time before Ian could, do, any of that.  I tried
sucking on it, and everything, but really we mostly just kissed, and he
touched me while I sucked his nipples.  He likes that.  Oh, you know, my
privates?  I swiped one of your pamphlets, uhm.  Let's see, that one, on
sex ed?  Mhm?  Well okay, huh!  Let me see it, I don't have the whole
diagram memorized, but he holds my labia open, and like rubs his middle
finger in the middle.  Not in the top, that hurts.  The, uhm.  Cli'to'rus?
Yeah, it hurts when you touch that, so he stayed away from that, but if I
suck on his fingers too, then he can even get his pinky in, my.  Va'gin'al
opening, without busting my cher, uh.  Hymen."
   Sam {FF...  Also, a lot more.  A lot a lot.  No spoilers.}
   CLK!  I stopped the tape, and she sighed, relaxed.  This isn't hypnosis,
she does this, all by herself.  I was only now beginning to realize how to
trigger it, and why.
   "Love at first sight?" She scoffed, "Phft!  Fairy tails, I thought until
I saw her.  Held her in my arms, and to my breast.  I knew, even before she
was born she was my daughter.  She would be beautiful, and she would love
me.  Always." She took a breath, slow, but shallow, as if asleep.  "Maybe
it's my imagination, but she smiled at me, wide, and toothless, then
winked." Her Id state, she normally covered up with her imaginary friend.
The Pirate, Morion.  The rage to cover up the feelings she's ashamed of,
fear, weakness, lust.  Everything she buried so long, so she could
function. When she's herself, until she goes away.  She finally heard it,
from her daughter, and was beginning to accept that Morion isn't a
protector.  She's a monster.  {Trying to keep the psychiatric assides to a
minimum, but again.  She hasn't the foggiest clue just what the fuck she's
talking about.  Try to keep that in mind.}
   "Mh," her open eyes drooped, fluttered.  "It still feels like a dream,
before that a Nightmare, with Ian's father." She covered for him, a lot.  I
had to get into His fantasies to discover a homophobic sadist, that's his
dungeon downstairs.  "I don't remember the birth at all, Ian's.  He hurt
me, it was so painful, but the second time, the doctors said I had a
seizure.  Their excuse, for giving me drugs against my wishes.  Signed all
the forms, and they still shot me up.  Hhuhuhuhuh!" She held her arms,
rubbed them a little.  This isn't a trance, she can move, she's just
remembering, not thinking about it.  Enough to lie, this is the truth, as
much as she remembers it accurately.  The problem is her Id chewed on it
for decades.  "What did she call it, post-partum psychosis?" I nodded, that
was me, but she wasn't talking to me.  Or anyone, was she, telling Morion?
   "Mhm?"
   "I guess that's what happened," she shrugged, "And that's what made me a
psychopath.  Now, I remember her looking up at me.  From my breast, the
broken one, she could somehow suckle, but Ian could not.  Ever since it was
damaged, when his father beat me for throwing him out." She covered it,
protectively at first, then groped it obscenely, but her expression didn't
change.  No expression, nothing.  What did she call it?  Oh yes: BSOD, the
Blue Screen of Death.  Or, a Guru Meditation, whatever that is.  System
Crash, reboot completely, return to Start: 1...
   "The strange, tingle in my breast?" she shook her head, slowly, mouth
open, then her teeth snapped shut.  "That didn't happen, with Ian.  She, I
could, feel her.  Voice in my head." She blinked, "But that's insane." She
was back.  "Hhhuh!" Now she rubbed her arms, vigorously.  "What did you
do?"
   "Nothing," I put my hands up, "That was all you, I didn't hypnotize you,
you know I can't, you don't trust me enough."
   "You," her face twisted, "You raped me!" She grabbed my wrists.
   I relaxed, let her shake me.  "I'm sorry." She stopped.  "Hhh," willing,
she could, do anything to me, right now.  I deserved it, I knew it, and she
at least owed me that, but she stopped.  "Mari?" I blinked.  "Morion?" I
twisted my arms out of her hands.
   She stood there.  "Huh!" Eyes looking up, at nothing.  Through the wall
over my head.
   "Come on," I took her hands, "Let's set you down." She nodded,
expressionless.  I suspected, told myself that fighting back just makes it
worse, but that's not it.  I gave in, I let her.  Just like her daughter,
and that seems to be the key to her violence.  If you don't fight back, She
doesn't know what to do.  Morion, which leaves the rest of her Id free, to
come out.
   "You remember, Morion?"
   "I don't remember her name.  Just, the Spanish family.  They came, to
stay with us."
   "Spanish Bruderhoffen?"
   "Yes." Still no expression, "For Christmas, they spoke Spanish, I
couldn't understand them, but they brought toys.  Dolls, I never saw dolls
before." Her eyes, sparkled?  With the memory, I blinked, and shook my
head, "Feliz, Navidad.  It was, like a puppet show.  They told us a story,
with the dolls.  A princess in a beautiful dress, a rat, and a Soldier.  I
don't know if he was a prince, or charming, I could not understand what
they said, but he pulled out his sword, and he killed the rat."
   "The Nutcracker," I recognized the story.  She knows it too, has her own
copy next to The Man in the Iron Mask.  She's still learning to separate
fantasies from memories.
   "No, the soldier.  Then, The End.  My mother picked me up, and took me
away.  To change me, and feed me, but I looked back over her shoulder." She
raised her hand, reached out, in the memory.  "He was so beautiful, with
his strange golden head.  Like the crescent of the moon, with a circle in
between."
   "The Morion," she nodded.
   "I did not know what it was called, for years, but he wore a Morion."
She sighed, "Still shining in the candle-light, until she closed the door,
and unbuttoned her dress, to feed me."
   "But, the Bruderhof, raised you in Creche?"
   "Huh?" She blinked, shook her head.  "I can't believe I can remember
that far!"
   "You can't," welcome back, "Repressed memories are unreliable, decades
after the fact, because of the way the Id edits them, into an internally
consistent delusion." Like memories of past lives...  "Huh, the best way to
break that cycle, is to see the inconsistencies that proves them false."
   "But, no.  No, we were raised in Creche, but I knew my mother.  Who my
brothers are, they didn't keep us away from our families.  I know I called
it a Prison, but after Mass, we went to our mothers.  That's how I learned
to sew, and knit, and our family history.  Back to the Hutterites when they
came over, it was very important.  Especially for choosing a husband, she
told me who I could not marry, without inbreeding."
   "So, you had Christmas with your family?" She nodded, "And Spaniards
came to visit, from where?  I know there's no Spanish Brotherhood,"
   "Paraguay?  I don't know, I was too young.  If they told me I don't
remember, and I didn't know Spanish back then.  But they were there, for
Christmas.  I remember it so well."
   "Okay," never mind, "Let's get back to Christina." Wow, she just went
away.  At the mention of the name, just like she said.  'Momma went
away...'
   "She, huh.  I know, every child molester ever probably said she came
onto me, but it wasn't like that.  I flashed back, crying, but he calmed
me. Soothed me, told me it will be all right.  I'm here, and I love you."
   "Who?"
   "Christina."
   I could see the love in her eyes, softening.  Almost an expression, but
just in her eyes, even the brows were still slack.
   "At the Creche."
   "No, in the nursery."
   "Your daughter.  She talked to you?"
   "No, she was nursing.  It wasn't words, that's just how she made me
feel. Safe, she, protected me."
   "Like Morion."
   "Yes?" She blinked, "She, is Morion?"
   "Of course not," I shook my head, "it was probably either a
hallucination, or different memories getting mixed together with fantasies,
and besides, this was before you made up that character, in college?" For
playing D&D.
   "No," she looked.  Marion, she was back.  "I lied, about that." Looked
down, sighed, "I knew, you would never believe me."
   "About what?"
   "Morion.  She's always been here." She tapped her temple.  "She wasn't
my imaginary friend.  When i was a little girl.  Huh!  It was, almost like,
i was her's."
   "That doesn't make sense."
   "But I remember.  Pori, the smell of our family shack, the burning nets,
the creak of the rigging, and." She held her arm.  "My arm, breaking.  My
first love."
   "The Marquis de la Troi?"
   "Nohoho," she chuckled, "That was in the game, his real name was
Zograph. I'm not sure how he spelled it, I was illiterate back then."
   "Morion?"
   "Mhm?  Who did you think you're talking to?"
   "Marion?"
   She shook her head.  "Marion, never existed.  She's a front, a character
I made up to fit in this time."
   "So, you're a time traveler." As soon as you think you've gotten past
the delusion, it reasserts itself.
   "No, well, yes.  Technically we all are, one second per second." She
shrugged, "I'm immortal."
   "Right," she's Indiana Jones, I guess with some Connor McCleod thrown
in.
   "Huh, toldja she wouldn't believe me."
   "Was that Marion?" She nodded.
   "She has a mind of her own, but I was born, on Antekithra, we moved to
Pori when I was very young, and Mari majored in History to account for my
firsthand experience of the Rennaissance.  I'm sorry about all the retcons
from the D&D campaign, but I am not a Character, I am a memory.  Of the
first, the Matriarch, Euphra.  Pori, I guess.  We didn't have a last name."
   "Like Eaphrot?"
   "Or Oprah, it's a very old name.  Older than Greece, which was largely
gone by the time I was born."
   "Then, why haven't I heard, anything about the Pirate Morion?  Hang on,
let me talk to Marion real quick, she's the historian, she supposedly ruled
the seven seas, tortured Torquemada to fucking death, and became the first
Conquestadora, then how come there's nothing about her, in all of history?"
At some point, you have to break the delusion, hopefully without triggering
another seizure of violence.
   "Hh, well.  I had thought, that because of Christianity.  Now, I can't
be so sure."
   "A coverup."
   "Yes, you realize, she was a threat to early Christandom, as they spread
out from Byzanteon."
   "The western roman Empire," I did some homework.
   "No, the City.  Before it was Constantinople, then Istanbul, it was
founded as the Greek city Byzanteon.  Then the Christians came, converted
Rome, and renamed it."
   "Yeah, but that was like, in the 5th century?  AD?"
   "Of course, no Christians Before Christ, but that would be," she looked
up, "Mid 7th century, I believe."
   "Yes, but you're 'born' in the 15th?"
   "Huh.  Yes, but.  I was shown, basically the hystery of Greece,
including Byzantium by.  A, well.  For lack of a better word, a Demon. 
That's how I became Immortal, he, made me.  Well, he changed me," she
rubbed her belly, down to push her fingertip through her shirt.  "My
omphalae, the reason they're so sensitive is because they have nerve
endings.  It hurts like hell when they cut them, but that's how I, Morion
di Pori pass down from mother to daughter.  I have been in my family, why
for over 500 hundred years now." She looks up, counting, "35 generations,
counting Christina."
   "Who is also Morion?"
   "Noh, well, not yet.  The mantle, the helmet at one point until it was
lost.  Over the side, in my," she has to look it up, "Sixth generation, but
only the Memories are passed down at birth.  Ian has them too, but without
the, Demon."
   "Okay, let's talk about this," delusion, "Demon.  Does he have a name?"
   "He didn't when I met him, or he possessed me.  The Immortal Strangler,
I thought of him as Basiatus."
   "Is that Greek?"
   She nodded, "The kisser.  He breathed himself into me, mouth to mouth.
Strangled me first."
   "When?"
   "The rape of Pori.  That happened, not like it was in the game.  I,
played brave, but in real life, I was kidnapped, and gangraped as a sex
slave.  They weren't Tuscan, that was a pun from my boyfriend at the time.
The first game was in Star Wars, and that Morion was from Tatooine.  Huh,
she was raised, by Tusken raiders." She rolled her eyes.  "They were
Greeks, or ethically Greek from Morea.  They spoke Ottoman, but I don't
believe there were any real Turks.  Maybe the first Captain, who was rather
ill, and did retire to pass it down to his second.  A lot was changed in
the game, because it was His game, but when he possessed me again, that's
how I knew what was going on immediately."
   "Your boyfriend, possessed you?" Recurring delusion, Puritan fears.
   "Huh, I really don't expect you to believe, any of this, but yes. 
Apparently, Basiatus is still around, still fucking with peoples lives, and
he created another.  Demon, ess I guess.  A succubus, instead of possessing
me in a breath, he gave me her sexually, the first time.  Well, he raped
me. I let him, and to be honest I wanted it, but it doesn't make it any
less rape." And that conflict probably caused a relapse of her childhood
Morion and Possession fears.  Puritans.
   "So," back track a little, "How did Morion get out of sex slavery?"
   "The first mate, my first love.  He took me as his own, and when he
inherited the ship, he made me his wife.  Minana, most of my aunts, and
sisters were already sold.  In Alexandria, I believe."
   "And the men?"
   "Killed, when they burned the boats in the inlet of Pori.  There never
was, even a beach there.  The sea was a little lower, so you could land at
high tide, but we basically lived in housboats, moored to the rocks of the
cliff-face.  All that was changed in the game, before I took it over."
   So, that explains it.  Multiple personality, which she was finally
starting to integrate with Marion, and Morion.  They could talk to
eachother, instead of Morion taking over, violently, or her mindless Id
blacking her out to molest her children.  She just, kept herself busy.  In
the back of her mind, fantasizing, and making this history to explain where
she came from.  The Puritan beliefs she surpressed just came through in her
fear of demons, the devils, then another female one to explain her lust for
sick perverted men.  And the "Corruptor," her boyfriend.  Too smart to
write his fantasies down, but using Role Play to give her an escape.  From
her loveless abusive husband to seduce her.  Then explore the violent
Disciplinarian fantasies to rape her all over.  A proven victim, very
attractive to that kind of sociopath.
   ; 
  
Boyfriends and Girlfriends