When Louise Saunders’ eleven and a half year old daughter Amanda tearfully told her that she’d missed her period, it didn’t take long to figure out who the father was. Her husband, who it turned out, had been molesting the girl since she was seven, and having regular intercourse with her since she turned eight. At first, Louise couldn’t believe what she was hearing Amanda said her father had made her promise not to tell anyone, or he’d be arrested and go to jail. Despite the sexual abuse, Amanda loved her daddy and kept the secret until she was pretty sure she was pregnant. She’d had sex education classes, and she knew the symptoms. Besides being a month overdue, she’d starting feeling sick to her stomach in the mornings. Her daddy didn’t like condoms and when he had sex with her, he always either squirted his stuff into her tiny womb, or in her mouth and made her drink it, and sometimes he liked to just let it squirt all over her face and elfin pre teen body, then make her scoop it up and swallow it. Once over her shock, Louise’s anger grew, but the situation was so hammered by the events, assuming they were true, that she had no idea what to do. Louise and her husband, Bill also had two boys, Frank, an energetic 7 year old and Jason who was a year older than Amanda. The boys were the center of Bill’s life—he doted on them, always buying them toys and taking them to sports events that didn’t include Amanda, or Louise for that matter. She finally calmed down. There was no point in getting mad. What was done was done. However, as she knew from years of studying psychology, revenge was indeed a dish best served cold, and that’s how she planned to serve it.

Her husband was a powerful and respected businessman, and if news of what had happened ever got out, his reputation would be destroyed and he’d be headed for prison. But that wasn’t good enough. She wanted something more elegant,
something that hurt him.

Of course, she didn’t want her little girl to have to bear a child, so she decided she would arrange an abortion. She had a friend Anne who was an MD, one of the few female MDs in town, and since Amanda was only in her first trimester, it would be a simple procedure. Her friend agreed. Amanda was terrified of having a baby—she knew what her friends would be like, because she’d seen what had happened to another girl in her class who got pregnant—the rumor was that it was her brother’s doing—but her brother was only 11! The girl’s parents were rabid fundamentalists with Right to Life bumperstickers all over their cars, and her parents had forced her to carry the incestuous baby to term. The other girls made her life miserable as her little tummy began to bulge, always laughing behind her back and taunting her, until she was finally pulled from classes and “home schooled” So Amanda was glad to get the abortion. Now it was Louise’s turn to ask secrecy of Amanda. She told her daughter not to tell her father about the pregnancy or the abortion, and continue just like she had been. This surprised Amanda, but she trusted her mother and agreed. In fact, she told Amanda to continue having sex with her father if there was no way to avoid it, and to do it as if nothing had happened. This surprised Amanda even more. Louise promised Amanda that she would get even, no matter what it took, but that she needed to be patient. She told Amanda that her father was a powerful man, and that without his income, they would be out on the street, with her father’s lawyers fixing things to get him off the hook. She also told Amanda that not only her father would get his just desserts, but so would her brothers. The boys had always been the bane of Amanda’s life, and though they hadn’t been involved in the sexual abuse, their constant taunting and belittling, done with no support for her on the part of her father, had made her life a living Hell. To the males, she was a whiny little twerp, and she was also expected to take on the worst of all the chores while the boys went to their sports events and played video games. Things were about to make a big change in the Saunders household.

The abortion was done entirely off the record, and Louise had her friend keep a tissue sample of the fetus stored cryogenically. This would always serve as proof of what Bill had done, because it would contain fetal genetic material from both Bill and Amanda. Anne, the MD, had been one of Louise's closest friends since childhood. Surviving a wild streak in her youth, she'd entered the medical profession with a personality that was strong, but also cynical and pragmatic, from making her way in what was regarded as a man’s profession.. She'd been through her share of men, and a few women if the truth be told. But Anne was a friend like few ever have. Calling Louise into her office, she told Louise that whatever she needed, she'd be there. Louise also saw a side of Anne she'd never really known existed-- a dark inner facet that at the moment, eclipsed her usually pleasant features with rage.

"Lou, I want you to know that none of this will ever appear on a local medical record. So put that out of your mind. If you or Anna has any anxiety problems, I can help with medicines. In fact, I have access to a lot of drugs If you ever decide you want to… I don't know how to say this delicately… even the score, I'm there for you. There are psychotropic drugs as well as hormones… Hell, I could turn all your men female!"

Louise would never have thought of anything like that, but humiliation… that was a different story. Still she was momentarily stunned by Anne’s pronouncement. “I don’t think that’s the answer, “ Louise said, “ but I know there is an answer to all this. I just need a little time to sort it all out.”

"Well Lou, I never told this to anyone but my shrink, but I was sexually abused by my brothers for years. The first time, I must have been 8 or so, and they got me drunk when my parents were away. Ryan was 13 and the ringleader, and one
night he and his twin brother Allen managed to convince my parents they were old enough to baby-sit. After my parents had gone, they got out a bartender's guide, and started feeding me drinks with Vodka and liquors that tasted like liquid candy. They also gave me pills that must have been some of my mother’s tranquilizers. You know the old saw… "candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker." Despite the alcohol, I remember everything like it was yesterday, at least the beginning parts. It was all a big "secret" and I promised not to tell, of course. It didn't take long to get to the ‘I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours’ stage. Ryan insisted we go upstairs to my room, "because no one can see in up there." I remember going with them to my room, giggling like a maniac from the alcohol and the drugs. I was born curious. I'd wanted to see a boy’s penis up close, even at that age, ever since I’d accidentally seen the boys peeing or coming out of the shower. I should tell you that my brothers were both geeks no girl their own age would be seen dead with. No muscles, thick glasses, high grades, and lots of time computer hacking. In that latter respect, they were real wizards, and it turned out very well for them financially when the dot.com boom hit. Anyway, I do remember reaching my bedroom. It all seemed so exciting and "bad." I remember we did the usual I'll show you mine if you show me yours as my legs went rubbery and I sat on the end of the bed, my skirt up and my panties down. I think they stood in front of my dresser mirror with their pants still on. I don't even remember if I got to see them erected. I do remember they were watching me like hawks, or maybe buzzards is a better term. Then it all started to get blurry, and I must have passed out. I didn't realize it then, but Ryan took pictures of me. Nothing much more happened that night. I woke up in my pajamas, in bed with no memory of how I’d got there. I had a very fuzzy and embarrassed memory going to my room with my brothers and “playing doctor.” I also had a hangover, which my mother fortunately or unfortunately interpreted as the flu.

The next time my parents were going out they told me the boys would be babysitting again. I was frantically trying to think of how to get out of the house, when Ryan asked me if would I like to play more "games." I'd been feeling guilty and didn't want any part of it. Ryan reached in his pocket and took out an envelope. Inside was a small stack of Polaroid pictures. After he had handed it to me, he said "Why don't you go in your room and have a look before you make a big stink about babysitting to mom and dad." At first, I thought they were birthday party pictures or something. Remember I was 8. As close as I'd got to sex was a little curiosity and that one "playing doctor" session the last time they babysat. I’d never even masturbated. I opened the envelope, and at first, my mind just couldn't take in what I was looking at. I wasn't in my room, or if it was, the bedspread had been replaced so you couldn't tell where it was (they told me later that’s exactly what they did.). For a second, I wasn’t even sure it was me, but that was just denial. There was no doubt about it. Like I said, they may have been nerds, but they were smart nerds, smart enough to disguise the location. They'd apparently also learned a lot on the pre-internet that wasn't taught in school, despite the primitive state of the internet in those days. In fact, it was the internet that started the whole photo business. As I found out later, while they were out cruising the pre-internet computer networks, they’d discovered a pedophile’s image folder, belonging to some guy working at a university science lab. There was no regulation back then, it was like the wild-west where anything goes, so they started emailing back and forth. I was the topic. The guy had told them what he was interested in, to establish a level of trust and criminality. They told him they had a stupid 8 year old sister who was small and even at 8 looked young for her age. He told them how to go about getting what he wanted to see, how to set it up, and offered to pay them well for these and future photos. Who knows how many other victims received the same treatment. Back then, people just didn’t talk about sexual predators. Hell, in Denmark you could go into any adult bookstore and buy child pornography right off the shelf. It didn’t even become illegal in the US until 1977. My brothers’ need for new hardware was a bottomless pit, and being too lazy to work for the money, they decided to let me work for them and they jumped at the offer. After all, I was just a “girl” and didn’t count. Later, they told me about something called binary image files. I didn’t know it, but I was already a superstar among a small circle of people who collected “special” photos by the time they even showed me the pictures. I still have that first batch of photos. Of course they'd taken duplicates.

Anne, obviously well prepared for this conversation, took a tattered rubber banded envelope out of her purse and handed it to Louise.

They were all photos of the same little girl.

In the first, a tiny sleeping girl with waist length blond hair fanned out under her was laying on a bed with the covers turned back, wearing a semi-transparent pink babydoll nighty— (“Not one of mine” , said Anne, grimacing, “I have no idea where they got it. I always have hated pink.”)-- with feather puffs around the arms and bottom hem. The photo looked harmless. “They’d also done my lips with a bright red lipstick. On my pale untanned face, the lipstick had such an intensity that you really hardly saw the face under it, unless you already knew it was me,” she commented.

In the second image, the nighty was worked up, above the little girl’s navel, and the panties forming the bottom part of the sleepware were clearly visible. Again, not completely out of line, and maybe even a "cute" picture some parent might have taken of his or her child asleep.

Then it started to become something else. In the third, the little girl's right hand had disappeared under the band of the panties, and was obviously resting on her crotch. Still, you had to look close, because the nighty still covered most of her top, though it appeared to have risen slightly higher.

In the fourth, the panties were below the tiny hips, and the middle index finger of her right hand was pressed into the fold of the hairless mound between her legs. Her left hand had raised the babydoll nighty-top high on her chest, and two pudgy fingers were apparently rubbing her right nipple.

In picture five, her tiny nipples were erected. ("They must have used ice cubes from the drink," quipped Anne to Louise), the top of the nighty was up around the girl’s neck (but not obscuring the face). Her right hand was palm down, and the middle index finger was unquestionably pressed some distance into her vagina. As she’d mentioned earlier, Anne had always been small for her age, and in the photos, the little girl looked as though she was about 5. What was really disturbing was that the girl’s face expressed a look that seemed like arousal. ("As I found out later in med school, you can get turned on even while asleep or even in a coma," said Anne. “Your body knows what’s going on even if your mind doesn’t.”)

The sixth photo showed the same hand positions, but with the girl’s face turned sideways, and someone else had joined the scene. Hidden by the composition of the shot and wearing an off-the-shelf Devil costume with an exposed area cut in
front genital area, the new person had placed his penis in her mouth. It was about 5 inches long and a little under an inch in diameter—very obviously belonging to a boy as opposed to an adult. The penis was rigidly erect, and the skin was taut and perfectly, childishly smooth, lacking the bulging raised blood vessels that come later in life. The male was wearing a full head mask, and his hands were disguised by costume store rubber gloves with small talons at the tips of the fingers. One taloned claw rested on one of the little girls flat breasts. There was no question about the authenticity of the penis, despite the rest of the paraphernalia. Louise was fascinated and repelled at the same time. But whichever feeling was dominant, she couldn't stop looking. "Wow, Anne, I can't believe this!" "Believe it," replied Anne.

In the 7th photo, the girl was in the same approximate position, head aimed sideways as the penis penetrated the brightly lipsticked mouth, forming a sharp contrast to the pale shaft that vanished inside. A second costumed creature of some sort
had joined the first. Apparently there was a third person, or the camera had an auto timer. As if reading Louise's mind, Anne said, "The Polaroid camera they used had an auto timer. Whoever wanted the photos must have sent it to them, because I know we didn’t own one." Now the panties were disheveled and lying beside the little girl on the bed, but the top remained on, still covering nothing but the area over her collar bones. The erected nipples were small, but remained clearly visible on her flat, almost concave chest. This added quite a bit to the disturbing elements of the photo. If she had been totally naked, it would not have been half as intense in what it evoked. The little girl's hands had also been repositioned; the left appearing to grasp the penis in her mouth, and the right seemed to be guiding another very similar penis between her legs. The purple bulbous area at the tip was half way into the girl's vagina. Both boys had obviously been circumcised, and the engorged crown of the immature penis added a sense of true depravity. In the last photo, apparently timing with an auto timer had been difficult, but the devil costume penis was in the process of ejaculating copious amounts of semen into her mouth, across her face and closed eyes, as well as into her beautiful golden hair. The penis had been pulled back about three inches to increase its visibility and enhance the stream of semen spewing in the frozen moment the flash strobed Between her legs, white bubbling fluid was welling around the penis pressed against the tiny opening of the hairless vaginal canal. Anne repackaged the photos, and Anne saw tears building in the corners of Louise's eyes.

"I don't know what to say, Anne. This is terrible. Beyond words. I'm guessing that they threatened to tell your parents.

"No, much worse than that. They threatened to show them to my friends. From that moment, at least until I became an adult and left home, they owned me They didn’t break my cherry then—that came later, and was a very elaborate ritual.
You just couldn’t comprehend some of the things I had to do, from giving infants in a Day Care center blowjobs to having sex with various animals, but at least we stayed away from the torture stuff and we were extra careful about STDs. I'll tell you more about it later if you like, and the strange turnaround that eventually took place and got me out, but at the moment, I'm wiped.”

The two women hugged, and the friendship became even more bonded, in a way that seldom happens in the world.

As they prepared to leave the office, Louise was lost in thought. "Anne, you just gave me some ideas I need to think over. I want to thank you for opening up-- it really helped me to get some perspective on this. Right now I'm just numb. Not angry, and maybe a little relieved. After all, you survived this. Revenge, yes, I want revenge, but not in a way that's physically harmful. I don't think I want to give the boys, or even that bastard Bill sex changes…" She laughed, though a bit nervously. "But not being physically harmful still leaves a lot of range. We live in the worlds within our minds. Now, and for the rest of his life, my husband is going to live inside my mind. I don't exactly know how, or when, but before this is done, I'll own him and his boys just like they owned you."

Anne smiled. "I was hoping you wouldn't be horribly offended by all this and crack on me. Or just sit down and take it like some wimp. We're both strong women, and I suspect is your daughter is also. She was a real trooper in there today. Eventually, I'll tell you how I dealt with my situation. But you need to come up with a solution of your own that meets you and your daughter’s needs. When you're there, we'll share. Who knows, our lives could get very interesting. And don't worry about any bills. I'll tell the office person it was just a minor issue of some sort and "doctor" the records, but I’ll make a real backup, complete with DNA samples. By the way, thanks for getting the skin scraping from your husband. It’s a perfect match with the fetus. The real record will be duplicated and hidden. Your husband is a powerful man, but there’s no way he can know how many copies of the record exist, because I’m going to give multiple copies to everyone I hand out, and they’ll be places even I don’t know. After you finish doing whatever it is you’re going to do, we’ll mail him a spare copy… from Tasmania!"

Louise was too lost in her thoughts to say anything more, so she hugged Anne, and left the office with her Amanda, who had been sitting patiently in the waiting area reading a copy of "Jack and Jill" magazine, not like someone who had just had an abortion, but just like any average kid. Louise couldn’t help herself from thinking about the fate of Anne's two brothers… someday she wanted to hear that story.

When they arrived back home, Louise had Amanda tell her exactly where the abuse took place. It was generally in Amanda’s room, sometimes on her bed, sometimes on the floor, and sometimes in the bathroom. She said sometimes her daddy washed all the sticky semen off with pee, and he made her do that in the bathroom. She said sometimes he made her open her mouth so he could wash that with pee too. While listening, Louise found herself, feeling guilty for not seeing this developing. It felt as though she were living out her life with blinders on. Bill had never been that imaginative in their own sex lives, just the wham bam fall asleep type, but if she really looked closely she could see fragments that masked his deep Id-driven desires from her. Despite her considerable skills in the field of psychology, a large part of his sexual persona had remained invisible—until now. She would have willingly agreed to just about any kind of sexual play that wasn’t violent. She'd always liked the passive role as well as aggressive with partners prior to her marriage. Even child sexual fantasies were just fine, but fantasies, not the actual thing. Rene Guyon, one of the founders of the United Nations believed in children's sexual freedom, and was known for the famous saying, "Sex before 8 or it's too late." Needless to say, his views on this topic weren't well received though the Rene Guyon Society apparently still had members who practiced this unusual “family value.”. However, Louise with all her training and experience had no idea how to isolate the sex act between adults and children and deal with the factor that adults had so much more power than children. It would take an extremely strong adherence to the code of personal empowerment to make Guyon's philosophy work. Her psychological training made it clear that sex was really an exchange of power, when removed from the basic need of procreation. If a child wanted to have sex with another child, or even an adult, and knew how to do it safely, what business was it of anyone else? Margaret Mead didn't seem to have any problems with the Trobriand Islanders free love policy for unmarried kids and teens. She'd read about NAMBLA, and despite the history of the Greek practices, she knew even Socrates had strong reservations about this form of homosexuality. Again, the issue had to be how to define the concept “consenting partners.” Cultural? Theological? Biological?

TO BE CONTINUED