Questions & Answers - Part 2
Story Codes - sadism, nc, bdsm
‘How long did you go
before telling?’ Matthew asked.
‘I didn’t tell,’ Carolyn replied with an angry look at her tormentor.
‘Sir,’ she added sullenly.
Matthew rolled his eyes. ‘You can drop the ‘sir’ if you like, Might
make it easier for you to talk. You do seem to have difficulty with it,
considering what a small word it is. As for not telling, you did in the
end, so what happened?’
‘I began to show and one day I wouldn’t change for gym at
school. Teacher asked if I was okay and I just started crying,
clutching my belly. They thought I was in pain and took me to the
nurse. She undressed me. That was that.’ Carolyn gave a small shrug.
‘How far gone were you?’
‘’Five weeks, maybe six, I don’t really remember,’ Carolyn answered
without really thinking about it.
Matthew knelt down in front of her, hands reaching for the clamps.
‘No! Please! I’m telling the truth!’ Carolyn cried out. She yelled as
he moved the clamps somehow, gritted her teeth, squeezed her eyes shut
and winced as her flesh began to hurt all over again, yet the tension
was gone. She opened her eyes and Matthew was holding the clamps.
‘Bad girls get punished, good girls get rewarded. You should know that
by now, Carolyn,’ Matthew said. Carolyn stayed silent, fighting back a
tumult of emotions. She wanted to scream at him, spit at him, but she
doubted that behavior would come under ‘good girl’. She felt her
battered flesh begin to regain sensation as the blood returned,
bringing with it a whole new set of pains and discomfort, though the
pain of taking the clamps off was little compared to the agony when
they were put on.
‘Continue,’ Matthew said simply. ‘The nurse’s office...’
So she told the story, of how the school called her mother, Patricia,
who was listed as first contact, and then the police. She was 12, a
child, and they came running. By the time her mother arrived, Carolyn
was sat in the headmaster’s office, a policeman standing a quiet vigil
by the door while a rape counselor spoke to her in the soft, comforting
tones of someone well practiced in the arts of sympathy and
understanding.
She went to the police station and was interviewed formally with her
mother present, but she said nothing of any substance, still trying to
work out what to say and how she could ‘do the right thing’, something
that seemed very important. Eventually Carolyn had decided to lie,
concocting a story about a party that had actually happened the weekend
before her father had paid her the night-time visit. She hadn’t been
there, of course, but from what she’d heard at school it had got so out
of hand that the police were called to close it down in the early
hours. After that the details got a bit sketchy but Carolyn figured it
was a good place to start and so invented a story of going to bed early
and then sneaking out to attend. She’d gotten drunk, she would say,
passed out and woken up in the early hours lying on a bed under a
quilt, feeling sore ‘down there’. She’d also say the house was quiet
with everyone having gone home by the time she left because that way
she thought it would explain why no one had seen her go.
She’d crept out as quietly as she could and run home in a panic,
thinking she’d been in so much trouble, but her parents had still been
asleep and so she’d thought maybe she was okay. Then Carolyn had
discovered she was pregnant. That was it, no memory of sex and father
unknown.
Although there were holes in the story big enough to drive through, and
the implications of a 12 year old getting drunk at a party and being
raped were colossal, to her it seemed entirely plausible and that was
the tale she’d been cautiously telling for the second time when Irwin
Harper had arrived at the police station.
A policeman, no doubt thinking he was doing the right thing, had
apparently told her father that she’d been raped. Her father, an
electrical engineer who’d clearly had a liquid lunch, tried to play the
outraged, concerned parent.
‘I want to see my daughter! Now! Let me see her! Where is she? What the
fuck’s going on? Who’s she with? Where is she?’ His demands were
punctuated with other voices trying to calm him down, reassure him, but
Carolyn heard the anger and mistook it as being intended for her. As
far as she was concerned her father wanted to get to her before she
could do the wrong thing, and she panicked. Surrounded by strangers,
frightened enough as she already was, the rage in her father’s voice
tipped her over.
Carolyn stood up, shaking with fear. Her mother, sat next to her, tried
to pull her back down but she shrugged it off.
‘Dad, please, I haven’t said anything. Please don’t be mad at me. I
haven’t told them. I’m sorry. It’s not my fault, dad, I didn’t tell
them, I didn’t, I’m sorry dad, I’m sorry, I’m doing the right thing,
dad, really I am. Please don’t be mad, please!’ and her shouting
trailed off into panicked, teary fear and sorrow.
Soon after that, her head a mess of confusion and fear, she haltingly
told the story of her father’s visit to her bedroom.
‘Good girl,’ Matthew said and stroked her hair again. She didn’t react.
‘Now, I’m going to be putting you on a machine that’s going to be
violating you with this,’ and he held up an eye-wateringly thick dildo
made of flesh colored rubber.
Carolyn gaped at it, shook her head, flapped her mouth. ‘But… why? I’m
being good, sir. I’m answering your questions. I’m not lying. I’m not!
What did I do wrong? Please, what did I do wrong?’ and she was crying
fresh tears by the time she finished.
‘Oh, you haven’t done anything wrong, but you’re not here just to tell
a story, Carolyn. That’s just part of it. And this is another part,’
and he held up the oversized phallus before walking off behind her.
Matthew wheeled something up between her ankles, she heard noises of
things being connected and then a brief, gentle hum as something
electrical was turned off then on again. Matthew pushed his fingers
unceremoniously inside her and the cold, slimy feel of them told
Carolyn they were liberally coated with a lubricant. She felt something
thick and blunt push at pussy and then slip inside her a couple of
inches where it rested.
And then Matthew turned the machine on again.
What little physical resistance her body was able to summon was pushed
aside with indifferent ease by the long, inexorable thrust of the toy
inside her cunt. She felt her flesh simply shoved aside, felt her body
opened, physically forced to accommodate the relentless stroke. She
felt it push deeper into her than anything or anyone had ever been and
felt something inside her give, to part somehow with a liquid sensation
that made her give a grown of part pain and part revulsion. And then it
withdrew almost entirely, the briefest sense of relief flooding her as
she felt it’s presence inside her withdraw only to drive back inside
her with the same measured, undeniable intent.
‘Why?’ Carolyn choked out through gritted teeth. ‘Please, why is this
happening?’
‘You know the rules, Carolyn,’ Matthew replied. Carolyn began to plead,
but he spoke over her. ‘Now we didn’t really make progress until we got
the clamps out so we’ll try them again.’
The first time, the pads had crushed Carolyn’s flesh top to bottom. The
second time, Matthew secured them just as brutally side to side and
instead of tying them to the frame he weighted them, heavy metal
weights dangling from length of silver chain. They moved in low, lazy
arcs and circles with every movement, twisting and turning Carolyn’s
already bruised and abused nipples constantly.
When she’d finally calmed down and the crying and wailing had stopped
once more, Matthew continued.
‘Anyway, like I said, you told eventually. So what happened next?’
A blur, really, a series of freeze frames in an otherwise
fast-forwarded series of events.
Scandal, of course, accusations by the police, denials by her father
and incredulity from her mother, who, when Carolyn provided a date for
her father having raped her, stated that though she couldn’t prove it,
she was convinced of her husband’s innocence. She said that she was a
light sleeper and that they’d turned in no later than midnight and
probably earlier because they never did. Patricia stated as fact that
if her husband had left to see Carolyn or returned to bed afterwards,
on that or any other night, she would have woken. Regardless, social
services assessed Carolyn as high risk and advised she be immediately
taken into temporary care, something her parents fought but lost in
court, a verdict that counted heavily against them in the eyes of the
community.
Carolyn, mostly because she was advised to as far as she could
remember, chose to keep the baby and, though a DNA test in the womb
would have cleared up the paternity issues, it was decided that her age
made such a procedure too dangerous. Identifying the father of her
child would have to wait until after it had been born.
Her parent’s life disintegrated. Irwin lost his job, they were vilified
in public, had more than one brick sent through their window and
obscenities carved and sprayed into their cars. Both of them maintained
Carolyn’s story was fiction but nonetheless had to sell up, at a huge
loss, and move house. At some point they hired a private investigator,
obviously unhappy with the police investigation, which, as far as they
were concerned, had ended the minute Carolyn had opened her mouth.
Carolyn herself hated being away from home but was terrified of
returning, and so lived in a kind of limbo state with a kindly,
childless couple who regularly took in ‘troubled’ teenagers for short
periods.
But it was sometime during the first month after being put into care
that Carolyn’s story of being raped by her father began to unravel.
It started with the party Carolyn had been talking about when Irwin had
arrived at the police station. The party had happened of course, and
once the investigator hired by her parents began to speak to people
who’d attended, the police were pressured to actually look into it. It
was, all things considered, absurd that they hadn’t done so already and
no one could actually justify the decision not to at least look into
the story Carolyn had been giving before implicating her father. There
was a record of several complaints being made and the report from the
officers who’d been called to attend was revisited.
It was obvious that someone knew the police were on their way well
before they arrived because by the time they got there, it had pretty
much run its course. Still, a few unidentified young men and women had
run off like cockroaches when the lights go on as the police turned up
lights flashing, and a few cars quietly drove off up and down the
street. The police decided that though it had been quite a party and
that there was some property damage, it was only to the address they’d
been called to, which saved paperwork. They’d done a cursory inspection
of the house but found nothing except a couple of drunks who didn’t
live there and a couple more who did. All were cautioned and had their
parents called, and then everyone went home. The time was stated as
3am.
The next morning the outraged parents of the shamefaced hosts had
assessed the damage outside and in and began the clean-up. It was a
huge house, sporting 8 bedrooms, something that had made it the venue
of choice for the party.
But after the clean-up, the police were called back. A small baggie
that had once held cocaine had been found under a chair in the lounge
and traces found on the glass top of the coffee table. Two bags of pot
were found too, one mostly empty in the same area as the coke and the
other, almost full bag, in the under a bed. And then there was the
small pill bottle discovered in a flower bed under a fence that some of
the unidentified party goers had fled over. Presumed to have been
dropped mid-flight, it contained two white tablets that tested as
ecstasy. Upon being subsequently pulled from evidence and re-analyzed,
the tablets were identified as Rohypnol.
Everybody who had their name taken on the night was interviewed and
everybody they named was likewise paid a visit, but the total number
interviewed was maybe half that reported in the numerous complaints
received on the night. The known age of attendees went from 13 to 30,
the former resulting in a great deal of ‘uh oh’ because if a couple of
13 year olds were known to have attended then why not another girl aged
12, and the latter resulting a several men being very thoroughly
interviewed before being released without charge.
Ultimately it proved nothing but opened a slew of possibilities.
The machine slid in and out of Carolyn with implacable regularity. She
felt cunt juice and lubricant slide down the inside of her thighs, felt
herself actually being lulled with the rhythm, not aroused so much as
relieved that she wasn’t being actively tortured, at least for the time
being.
Could Carolyn have been at the party without anyone recognizing her?
Yes.
Could she have been in the house when the police attended? Yes.
Could she have remained in one of the bedrooms even when the occupants
had gone to bed? Yes.
Could she have left without anyone seeing her? Yes.
Could she have been drugged and raped in one of the rooms? Yes.
Could she have seen the police arrive and hid and just didn’t remember?
Yes.
The forensic evidence was a non-event. Carpets in two of the bedrooms
had been stained with a variety of fluids, as well as had cigarettes
stubbed out on them and had been replaced as well as blankets, pillows
and even two quilts. All that remained to tie Carolyn to the party was
that her initial story matched several known details about it.
So the police went back to her account of the rape.
‘Just relax, Carolyn. It’ll all be over soon. You’re doing very well
for me. Such a good girl,’ Matthew almost crooned as, once more, he did
something between her spread legs. She felt something smooth and
bulbous press hard against her clit and stay there. There was a click
and deep, powerful vibrations hummed through her, a sudden and
undeniable shudder of pleasure rippled across her mind and body and
Carolyn gave a small ‘oh’ of delight.
‘Enjoy it, girl,’ Matthew said. ‘It’s tied off hard against you so you
can’t get away from it.’
Carolyn looked at him open mouthed, her head suddenly reeling from a
pleasure she didn’t want but couldn’t turn from.
‘Is that nice,’ Matthew asked and Carolyn nodded without a thought
before shaking her head furiously as she tried to collect her thoughts.
An exquisite pressure began to build up inside her and she fought to
keep it in check.
The problem was that if you assumed Carolyn was at the party, assumed
she’d got drunk and/or taken drugs and assumed she’d been raped, all of
which were perfectly possible, then anything could have happened to
her. Coke, pot, alcohol and Rohypnol, certainly one, likely two but
maybe all of them had been taken by a 12 year old girl. The side
effects were anyone’s guess. Her memory suddenly began to be
questioned, and alternative explanations constructed to explain her
accusing her increasingly vindicated looking father.
Carolyn was largely unaware of this. A raped 12 year is still a raped
12 year old, after all. That she was confused and traumatized and maybe
got events completely wrong was cause for sympathy, not recrimination.
The side effects of the drugs she’d taken (it seemed simpler to assume
she’d taken all of them even if she repeatedly said she wasn’t even at
the party, let alone drunk and on drugs there) could be shaped to
explain why she’d told one story and then switched to another. She
would no doubt have been terrified of her father finding out she had
been at a party at her age, and one with drink and drugs apparently in
abundance, let alone the fact that his barely teenage daughter had
gotten herself pregnant. That she wasn’t to blame, and that no one in
their right mind would ever think she was, simply hadn’t been a concept
she could grasp.
Maybe all of that fear of her father’s wrath as a result of her actions
had resulted in her immature, traumatized mind with its fractured
memory of the night making no sense to her, simply trying to keep her
away from him. Really, who knew what was going on in her head?
Carolyn had been on the verge of orgasm without even knowing it. Her
breathing ragged and short, her body fighting the restraints to push
harder against both the wand on her clit and the toy fucking her cunt,
she’d had her eyes closed, reaching for her pleasure when Matthew
brought her back to earth.
Her voice, already raspy from exertion, gave another series of cries as
Matthew began to abuse her breasts with short, abrupt flicks of the
cane. The pain of that made her jump and that in turn set the weights
into disarray. The swung and jostled, twisting and tormenting her only
recently numbed nipples.
Carolyn said nothing, just let out a cry as she felt her pleasure slip
away, only to be replaced by more torment, more suffering. Eventually,
as the weights steadied, she just began to cry, a soft weeping of pure
desolation.
‘I can’t do this, sir,’ she said in thoroughly diminished voice. ‘No
more, please, I don’t understand what I’ve done. I don’t. I’ve told you
everything…’
Matthew removed the clamps and weights and for a second Carolyn thought
this was over. But the machine kept pushing in and out and the wand
keep buzzing against her swollen clit and he pushed her onwards.
All things considered, the birth of Carolyn’s child was fairly
straightforward and a healthy baby girl was delivered into the world.
Carolyn named her Daniella after a name she’d on the TV in her hospital
room, and everyone agreed it was a wonderful choice.
And by the time of Daniella’s arrival ‘everyone’ was quite a lot of
people because it meant her baby’s DNA could be taken and the truth
would finally come out.
Even Carolyn had become aware that there were two opinions. Either
Irwin Harper had raped his daughter, got her pregnant and everything
she’d said was true or she’d been to a party, taken alcohol and drugs
either willingly or by force and been raped on a bed somewhere in the
house by person or (and this was another nasty thought) persons
unknown. Either way she was a victim and needed love and care. What was
to be decided was who would be the ones seeing she got that love and
care. She may have been a mother but she was still a child, and
children don’t get to make those choices.
It was a lady from social services who told her the results and she
looked almost ashamed as she did so.
‘Carolyn, your baby, your beautiful baby, it’s not your father’s
sweetheart, I’m sorry. I know you-‘
‘Yes it is,’ Carolyn had said flatly, as if stating the most obvious
thing in the world. ‘It is his.’
The woman shook her head, made a face. ‘It’s not sweetheart, really it
isn’t. They’ve done three DNA tests on your dad, taken three separate
samples and they’ve all come back negative. I’m so sorry, angel, really
I am, but he just isn’t the father of your child. It’s just not
possible.’
And Carolyn lost it. Everyone understood, of course, but that made it
worse really, the patronizing comfort of strangers who simply didn’t
believe her was like throwing petrol on a fire.
‘And the reunion with your folks?’ Matthew asked mildly, replacing the
broad head of the wand with the smaller tip of a stimulator against her
clit.
‘Oh God,’ Carolyn cried. ‘Oh please. No. No. Oh God.’ Pleasure rose up
inside her like an unwelcome guest, easily pushing aside her resistance.
‘Focus, Carolyn. Tell me about the reunion,’ Matthew encouraged her.
It didn’t go well. The words that came out of her mouth were obscene,
culled from overhearing the conversations of people around her and
reading the local paper when she could. They’d been following her story
with the avid, desperate interest of a paper that usually gets to
report cats in trees and charity fundraisers where everyone dresses as
a vegetable. This was real news and Carolyn would later find it had
occasionally even gone national.
‘Leave me alone! Don’t touch me! No! I hate you! You’re sick, dad,
f-f-fucking sick. A pedophile, a sick fucking pedophile!’
Irwin had broken down in tears. ‘I didn’t baby, I didn’t. I wouldn’t do
that. I couldn’t. You’re my girl, my princess. I love you Carolyn,
please. Please. It’s all in your head, baby, can’t you see that? Oh
Jesus, what did they do to her?’
Patricia had tried to calm her daughter down but all she got was an
equal share of Carolyn’s outrage.
“And you! You’re the same as he is! You never believed me, never!
Always took his side, always thought he was innocent, that he didn’t…
didn’t rape me.’
Her mother began to cry. ‘Carolyn, please. Irwin’s innocent. There’s no
doubt anymore, not with the DNA test. It’s alright, sweetheart, this
has been such a traumatic experience for you. No one blames you for
what you said about your father, but he didn’t do it. You have to
understand that, please,’ but her daughter wasn’t interested.
A barrage of people tried to talk sense to her but Carolyn switched
off, descending into a sullen silence she refused to emerge from.
That was the first reunion with her father and everyone wrote the
disaster off to shock, trauma and a refusal to let go of a delusion
that had come to explain the horrific trauma suffered by a child. She
would surely come round.
Carolyn snapped out of her pleasure when Matthew removed the vibrator
and stopped the fucking machine. She felt it slide from her with
frustrated need, arousal and shame at being aroused fighting inside her
mind.
‘Nearly lost you there,’ Matthew said, and then he caned her.
It was as brutal and sudden as it was unbelievably painful. He struck
the thin length of wood on her skin over and over until one strike
blurred into another. He started with her breasts, almost picking up
where’d last been hurting her, and then moved to her ass. Inner thighs,
backs of her legs and then the soles of her feet followed and he
finished by selecting a short, flexible cane about the length of a
school ruler and flicking it hard against her pussy and clit.
Throughout this unexplained torture, Carolyn screamed and begged and
apologized. She wanted to know what she’d done, demanded he tell her
and then offered sobbing apologies for doing so. She screamed abuse at
him and then offered to do anything he wanted if he’d just stop. She’d
do anything, say anything and answer any question if he’d just, please,
God please sir, please stop.
When he did, Carolyn’s vision was blurring, the world beginning to wash
out in front of her. Seconds after putting the cane down, Matthew stood
in front of her again. He held another dildo, this one bigger still
than the one she’d already experienced.
‘No, please. No more. Tell me what you want. I don’t know what you
want. Just tell me, I’ll do it. I’m sorry. Please,’ but he just smiled.
‘You were enjoying the other one a little too much. See how you go with
this one.’
She was thoroughly wet and lubricated but still the toy felt colossal
inside her and Carolyn gagged at the repetition of that liquid
rupturing feeling inside her again. There was pain as the dildo
ploughed into her cunt, pain as it withdrew and more still when, with
the same maddening regularity, it drove back in again, but the pain
barely registered. The agony of what felt like a thousand white hot
cuts on her skin still washed over her senses and everything else was
background noise. Soon enough the dildo stopped hurting and her mind,
desperate to find relief, began to focus on the comparatively pleasant
sensation of being fucked as a refuge. Matthew fastened the wand back
in place against her clit and, though the inflamed flesh protested,
it’s soothing, sweet vibrations soon eased that away, too.
‘Where were we?’ he asked pleasantly.
She stayed in the hospital far longer than she’d ever thought she would
need to and at some point during her stay, it occurred to Carolyn that
they never left her alone with Daniella. A nurse would bring her
daughter in and then stay, watching and waiting until some unspoken
time limit was reached and the baby was taken from her again.
Carolyn’s counselor came to talk so her, social services regularly paid
her a visit and, from time to time, a policewoman dropped in. All
repeated variations on the same theme; Irwin hadn’t raped her, wasn’t
Daniella’s father and that Carolyn had been raped by persons unknown at
a party after consuming a cocktail of drink and drugs that would have
mess with anyone’s head, let alone that of a child. And Carolyn nodded
and listened and tried to let their words sink in, but after they left
she remembered that night, the smell of him, of his hands, the weight
of him between her legs and his cock thrusting in and out of her body.
And she remembered what he’d said.
Whore mouth. Fucking sweet. Do the right thing.
And inside her, like a dying fire rekindled, hate flared up, rage built
and a thick, heavy disgust at herself and her father rose up inside her
like bile. She hated him, knew what he’d done and hated him for it. She
didn’t care how unreasonable she was, didn’t feel the sad, pitying eyes
of the people who were observing her and, most unfortunately of all,
didn’t ever get to see herself in a mirror every time her father and
mother came to see her.
‘Get out! Get out! I don’t want to see you, not ever. Leave me alone. I
just want my baby, I just want Daniella. Fuck you! Fuck you both!
You’re sick, sick fucking pedophile. You r-r-raped me! You raped me!’
She would spit and scream, shrink back if Patricia reached out to touch
her and fly forward like a banshee if Irwin did the same. Eyes wide,
hair everywhere, spit flecked lips, and ranting. Whenever Daniella was
brought to Carolyn, a nurse always stood in, watching and vigilant in
case she flipped, though she never had with anyone except her parents.
The notion of psychological damage, perhaps permanent, began to do the
rounds; words like schizophrenia, delusional and paranoid began to be
muttered. Carolyn went from someone needing help to someone needing
treatment to those watching her.
‘Why did they take Daniella away, Carolyn?’ Matthew asked. He was
kneeling in front of her, stroking her face, a curiously tender look on
his face. Behind the dildo pushed in and out still, but she barely felt
it. The wand lulled her exhausted, pummeled senses into something akin
to being stoned.
‘Huh?’ Carolyn murmured, blinking slowly as she refocused on Matthew.
‘Daniella,’ he prompted, ‘why did they take her away?’
‘No,’ Carolyn said, stunned. ‘No, please. You can’t do that.’
‘You can’t stay here, Carolyn. Your baby needs to go home and so do
you,’ her counselor said. ‘We’ll keep an eye on you both, I promise we
will, but you and your baby need to go home,’ she insisted with quiet
authority.
‘Not there,’ Carolyn said, wide-eyed and feeling panic ballooning
inside her. ‘Not there. Not with them. Don’t you remember what he did
to me? In my bedroom! I can’t go back there, I can’t, and I won’t let
you take Daniella there. Not with him. Not with him. Not my baby. No,
please, not there,’ and she began crying, her hands clutching at the
poor woman’s dress.
When the day came to leave, she was actually doing quite well until she
saw her mother holding Daniella when she was escorted from her room.
‘Give her to me!’ Carolyn cried out, running over to her mother, arms
out. ‘Don’t touch her.’
And then she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to find her father
stood behind her. She gaped at him, so stunned by the contact that she
was temporarily frozen in place.
‘It’s alright baby,’ he whispered. ‘We both love you, baby, we both
love you. This will all be over soon, baby, it’ll all be over
soon and we can put it behind us, forget it never happened.’ He smiled
down at her with love and warmth. ‘This is the right thing to do.’
The minute of absolute chaos that followed when Carolyn attacked her
father for simply trying to comfort her, in full view of all manner of
witnesses, is why they took Daniella away from her. Two orderlies held
her, a doctor came running with a needle full of something that kicked
the fight out of her almost as soon as he shoved it into her arm and
she was taken back to her room.
Daniella went home with her grandparents.
And that only made things worse.
‘Did they put you on pills at the hospital,’ Matthew asked. He was
behind her again, the dildo sliding out of her, leaving her feeling
empty and almost sad at its absence. He readjusted this and that and
then she felt his fingers, once more thick with lubricant, push into
her anus. She winced at the sudden intrusion into this previously
unexplored part of her body.
Then the blunt end of the huge dildo pressed against her ass and felt
it impossibly huge. ‘Please, no. Not that. I’ve never had anything
there. Please, sir, not that big, not first time. I’ll split, please.’
She fought, begged, shook, screamed and none of it achieved anything.
The pressure from behind grew as Matthew pushed the tip home until,
with a physical pop as her body gave way, the dildo shoved inside her
an inch or so. And then the machine broke her in.
‘And don’t worry about making a mess,’ Matthew said absently as he
walked back round. ‘I gave you an enema before I tied you down.’
Carolyn looked at him with mute astonishment, mouth open, face twisted
in pain as the dildo ploughed indifferently in and out of her. To her
mind, the sensation was just wrong, plain and simple, something that
didn’t feel natural, didn’t feel good in any way. Truth be told, the
feeling of the dildo inside her ass made Carolyn want to vomit more
than anything else she’d endured. And the pain was just unreal.
After a short time, she felt her body simply break, felt the bright,
impossibly sharp pain from her ass as her anus was stretched with
brutal inevitability. She didn’t scream anymore, she just endured. Even
the vibrations of the wand were buried under the onslaught.
‘We’re on the home straight now, Carolyn, not long now,’ Matthew said,
and a small voice in Carolyn’s head wondered what that might mean for
her.
Carolyn met with a psychologist a few times, cried a lot, was angry,
demanded her daughter be returned to her, spoke of ill of her family;
the usual spiel. He explained the situation, as others had, that her
father was innocent, that her memories were delusions born of chemicals
and trauma and that, as returning home was obviously impractical, she
would be moved to a psychiatric hospital for specialist care. Carolyn
was 13 years old, a mother separated from her newborn and suffering
delusions of being raped and impregnated by her father, a belief that
remained even after it had been proven the baby was wasn’t his.
She began to receive medication regularly and receive proper
psychiatric treatment, but progress was slow. She was diagnosed as
delusional, depressed, prone to anxiety and panic attacks and showing
characteristics of paranoid schizophrenia, all of which could be put
down to whatever it was she’d taken at that party.
After some time though, she began to improve and her mother was allowed
to visit and soon after that, Patricia began to bring a rapidly growing
Daniella to see her mother. A former counselor visited, assuring her
that her daughter’s development was being strictly monitored in her
absence and that all was well. She was a happy, healthy baby who lived
in a happy, healthy home, doted on by her grandparents who were, it was
emphasized repeatedly, merely caring for the child until her mother was
enough to do so herself.
But though she began to improve with her mother, the mere sight of her
father, such as seeing a photo whilst her vital signs were being
monitored, resulted in a spike on pretty much all of them. What made it
worse was that Carolyn, desperate to try and see more of her child and
perhaps even get out of the hospital altogether was trying her best to
hide what she felt.
The delusions had taken hold, the doctors decided, and Carolyn was
trying to deceive them into thinking she was making better progress
than they knew she was. Medications were changed, therapy sessions
intensified and it was decided Carolyn would have to be in this for the
long haul.
‘How long were you there for, Carolyn?’ Matthew asked.
‘Please, sir, take it out of me. I can’t stand it. No more, please,’
Carolyn implored her tormentor.
He made another of his disapproving sounds but did so, much to her
surprise. The relief was short lived. Matthew was moving one aside to
make room to bring another in to compliment it. Before long, her pussy
and ass were both being subjected to violation, as one was pushed into,
the other was pulled out of, over and over and over. She felt the
penetration, felt the pain and humiliation to a lesser degree and
barely noticed the stimulation from the wand anymore. There was
certainly no pleasure now, just a slow and seemingly pointless
endurance.
She left at 17 and moved in with her parents. Carolyn still had
memories of the night she thought her father had raped her but she saw
them now like a movie she remembered scenes from. The event itself had
become fractured and lost in her subconscious, broken up under intense
therapy and carefully refined courses of medication, some of which she
was still on and might be on for the rest of her life. She left the
hospital knowing, without doubt, that the reality she remembered was
not one that had happened. And she knew, also without doubt, she’d been
wrong, that she’d ruined her parent’s lives and lost more than she
could ever hope to get back as a result. Worst of all, her mental
deterioration at the time had cost her the chance to see her daughter
grow up.
For the time she was with her parents, she got along well. She slept in
the same room as Daniella in her parent’s new house. It held no
memories for her damaged psyche to lock onto, which was a good thing,
and she slept well enough, though her medications helped considerably.
She had some bad dreams, mostly of smothering and sometimes woke up
with the smell of alcohol and smoke in her nose, but it was fiction,
just the last sparks of fake memories firing in her subconscious. In
fact Irwin kept his distance until Carolyn, increasingly consumed by
guilt and self-loathing at how she’d treated him, approached him like a
lost child emerging from the fog.
Life went on, reconciliation went on but there was always coldness in
her and wariness in her father and, though they were civil enough,
Carolyn just didn’t want to be there. Sometimes she wondered if either
of her parents wanted her there anymore, either. The problem was, she
didn’t want to be anywhere Daniella wasn’t.
At some point, Carolyn realized she’d lost control of her bladder, a
hot stream of piss squirting from her with every thrust of the dildos.
It ran over her skin, dripped on to the floor and Carolyn, consumed by
utter humiliation, just shuddered and lowered her head in abject shame.
The dildos continued moving in and out of her, oblivious to the
suffering they caused.
‘Tell me about Adrian,’ Matthew whispered into her ear.
She was in the backseat of the car, mother and father up front, when
Adrian entered her world in a screech of smoking tyres and a hefty
thump as he drove into the back of her father’s Mercedes. As everyone
exchanged apologies and details, Adrian just couldn’t help but keep
flicking his eyes at Carolyn. He was tall, dark and handsome, a
stereotype really, and every time she felt his eyes on her it was like
being hit by sunlight.
Shortly afterwards they bumped into one another at a shop close to
where Carolyn lived with her parents, though it was nowhere near where
Adrian’s home. Later he confessed he’d been driving by her house
whenever he could, hoping to see her and somehow bump into her entirely
by accident. She found the idea of him stalking her rather enjoyable.
Adrian was older than her, mentally and physically, but he never
patronized her or treated her as anything other than a grown woman.
This was a fairly new experience for Carolyn and it felt giddy with
possibility.
They began dating, Adrian met her parents and, though Carolyn’s mother
approved, her father did not, dismissing him as too old and just
wanting something pretty on his arm. Irwin’s disapproval, of course,
made Carolyn like Adrian even more.
Time passed and Adrian asked her to move in with him. That was when
Carolyn broke down and told him about her childhood, about how
Daniella, who Adrian had met and liked immensely, had come into the
world, told him about the psychiatric hospital and everything else.
Expecting him to run, she broke down in tears when, after holding her
for a long, wonderful minute, he simply asked if any of that meant she
didn’t want to be with him, because it hadn’t changed him wanting to be
with her.
That was the first night they really tried to make love. She’d gone
down on him a few times before that, though not he on her, but that was
about it for them as lovers. Sex, it turned out, was something she
couldn’t do, couldn’t even truthfully say she wanted to do, not even
with him. Adrian said that was fine and that either they could get over
her very understandable problems with physical intimacy or they’d just
go around. Either way, they’d get past it.
In the end, after much effort in trying to get over, they had to go
around. They were both fertile so having children was easily enough
achieved, though Carolyn felt she diminished Adrian somehow by needing
artificial insemination to conceive. They went to a private clinic for
the treatment and had no problems. Soon enough, Joshua came along,
giving Daniella a baby brother. By then, Carolyn and Adrian had been
living together for some time, neither her mother or father tried to
stop her moving out and taking Daniella with her. She was a grown woman
and Adrian was a good man.
Amanda followed, but after that things started to go downhill between
Carolyn and Adrian. There was too much love and respect between them
for the split to be anything other than amicable and full of regret.
Adrian paid more maintenance than he needed to and Carolyn got a decent
job as well. They talked regularly and Adrian regularly had his kids
stay with him for a week or so whenever he wanted. It was about as
healthy a separation as you could get.
But when Josh and Amanda were with Adrian, Daniella stayed with her
mother. She had grown to be an introverted girl, quiet and studious,
eyes always taking things in but her mouth rarely commenting on what
she saw. Carolyn hadn’t really been anything more than a peripheral
figure in Daniella’s life until she was gone 4 years old but the girl
loved her mother openly and with a kind of intense need. The feeling
was mutual. Carolyn loved all of her kids but Daniella was, and always
would be, hers and hers alone.
‘I think that brings us up to date,’ Matthew said.
Carolyn said nothing, just look up at him with dull, glassy eyes. She
ached all over and hurt on top of the ache. Her ass throbbed from
entrance to deep inside her and her cunt was almost beyond feeling
sensation. The wand had likewise dulled her clit, her senses having
long gone past the point where it was over-sensitized to where it was
now just a twitching nub of flesh. Her breasts likewise ached but with
a much more dull, deep sensation that spoke of deep and colorful
bruises to come.
‘Can I go home now, please, sir? Please? See my children? Please?’
‘You were warned…’ Matthew said with a tut of what sounded like genuine
disapproval.
Carolyn let out a wail of utter abject misery.
The U clamps went back on in seconds and were again tied off near the
bottom of the frame. As Carolyn was giving out great racking, gasping
sobs of pain, Matthew began to fasten a head harness around her. She
shook her head out on instinct, barely felt the additional torment her
movement caused, but Matthew simply took hear by the hair, stepped
back, and slapped her hard across the face. The impact was hard enough
to blur her vision and bring a sound like a dial tone to her ears.
While she was recovering, Matthew had the harness secured.
He showed her the hook, a chromed steel curve that ended in a steel
ball, let her see him attach cord to it and then she felt the coldness
enter her body. She simply gasped as he forced it home above the in and
out thrusting of the dildo. Then he pulled it tight and she felt her as
try and lift back, to follow him as the hook dug into her flesh. The
other end of the cord he passed through a ring mounted on the back of
the harness and pulled it taught.
Carolyn felt the world tip away, felt her senses seem to plunge down in
darkness, as if someone had turned a dimmer switch on the world. She
gave a pitiful groan and a thick line of spit flowed from her mouth as
it was pulled back. Her nipples, pinned remorselessly by the clamps,
felt like they would simply tear off, the skin and tissue stretching
with a severity that simply knocked the air out of her lungs. She just
couldn’t cope with the torment, couldn’t find anywhere to put anymore.
Carolyn hit her limit and so her head decided it was time for her to
rest.
.