Message-ID: <25138asstr$963317408@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: Dirt Nap X-Original-Message-ID: <8ka16u$3od$16@nntp9.atl.mindspring.net> Reply-To: Mkarl2000@hotmail.com Subject: {ASSM} The Psychiatrist's Dilemma By Mkarl Date: Tue, 11 Jul 2000 08:10:08 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: IceAltar, english Copyright (C) 1999, Mkarl. ALL Rights Reserved Date of first publication in Mr Double's Palisade : Sunday PM, June 27, 1999 Without the written permission of Mr Double and during 120 days after the above mentioned date of first publication this story may be downloaded uniquely for your private use. After the limit date mentioned, the story may be freely distributed on condition that this notice remains attached, but not for profit, and providing the usual precautions have been taken to prevent it being read by unauthorized persons, especially under age children, or by people who might be offended by its contents. Mr Double may be contacted by emailing mrdouble@mrdouble.com or mrdouble@ix.netcom.com. A Palisade Author story from MrDouble's archive, Filename: dilemma.txt http://www.mrdouble.com The Psychiatrist's Dilemma By Mkarl I could loose my license for this one but it is so good I just have to share. I first got into the field with the dream to get such a case, but over the years I have always been disappointed. I was beginning to worry that I would never hear the "ultimate" confession, but then Mrs. K became my patient. The lady really was messed up. She looked as bad in need for an M.d.. as a shrink, but she told me she could not risk getting the police involved. When she came to the office I was booked full but seeing the bruises and guessing the rest, I scheduled an "emergency" after hour session. It was critical to Mrs. K that her anonymity remained intact so I will not reveal her real name but will refer to her as Leta. Even after her ordeal, Leta was a real looker and I could see how she could drive any guy to act. At thirty years of age she was still as firm as a teenager with tits and ass to match. Blackened eyes uglied the face a little when I got my first look, but could not obliterate the innate angelic quality that almost had me feeling a "genuine" empathy for the battered little plaything. It may have proven to be nothing more then "stupid girl in wrong place at wrong time", but then I would not be risking my career with this worldwide Internet publishing. Leta's story was really special and just about stroked me out as I listened to her confession. The event was only hours removed and she was hesitant at first. She wanted to insist what a good girl she had always been. She went to church every Sunday as though that proved anything at all. She had only had one lover, which to me was actually a crime more then a blessing (she really did look hot). Leta prided herself on being the personification of decency and respectability; as pure as the driven snow, and in nothing did she take more comfort then her relationship with the "boy." I can only imagine the kid having not yet met him. I have suggested she bring him to me for counseling, of course, but all I really want to do is congratulate the bastard on living the ultimate wet-dream. I will call him Michael and I guess he is almost thirteen years of age. Leta always thought he was little typical all-American kid next door. Popular at school, if a little shy with the girls, honor roll and stardom on the school sports teams; a boy to make any mother proud but obviously a child with a dark, hidden side. For everything that happened Leta still was the "mommy" and it was like getting blood from a stone at first to get the details in the words I wanted to hear them. She started to blame herself and I had to play the good shrink with reassurances but that was getting me nowhere fast. I wanted her humiliation, the pain and anguish. She had resisted the attack and had been beaten for her trouble which that excited me to no end. For a boy to rape his own mother was amazing and to share her with friends was the ultimate shame that I needed to hear from the mother's own lips. I believe if it had only been Michael whom had raped her then Leta would never have even came as far as me. She was determined to protect her son no matter what his sin. But Michael was a boy with perversions of my own heart and he had wanted a real party for his mommy. What I have pieced together as follows is a reconstruction of the hours I spent with Leta. I have limited my embellishments as much as possible to maintain the flavor although I have attempted to edit for coherence and story flo. I did my best to get Leta to confess her shame in detail and all the acts as follows are real but some of the words are my own. I did get her past the clinical use of terminology in her initial visit with me and into some filth during our session and I actually believe it was a relief for her to speak as dirty as she felt. When a bitch is raped she will always naturally blame herself a little and my personal feelings are that she should be encouraged to take all of the blame.. One last warning before you read on. Michael picked his friends to punish his mother and the family has a very obvious racial streak to it. I know the racial sensitivity of certain words are even more offensive then the act of rape to some so I thought hard about editing for political correctness but that old conundrum of censorship came up as to where to start and where to end. If I am risking patient confidentiality I will also risk the scorn of the racially intolerant. Michael's Sleep over A Love Story It had all started with my husband going away for the week on business. Dwayne is a good man and a good husband. He works hard for the family and has been the only one ever for me. The other man of my life is Michael. I could never hate my own son. Everything I am was for him. I would have died for my son. I never dreamed he could do such wickedness. I raised my boy in church but I blame his friends. My husband always knew what "they" were all about. Now it will kill him when he finds out. That is why I can not go to the police. I will just say I fell down the stairs to explain my bruises. I have to keep this secret. My son betrayed me. He just wanted a sleep over for the weekend. He said it was for football. I felt uneasy. I did not want "them" to steal from us. I said just three boys, because we did not have enough beds. Michael started to protest but then Tyrone whispered to him and Michael got a smile. I guess they agreed once the party started the team could just come over. To know that my son spent two days with me knowing the hell I would live come the weekend, I can not understand the boy. Was he imagining the sites he would see? Did my son have a hardon, while we ate lunch, dreaming that soon I would be on the dinner table myself as the main course? Maybe a girl can tell when she is in for it. Animals make no pretense when they breed. A bitch is a bitch and the stud does the job. I felt my skin crawl. I tried to say with was my imagination. They were just kids, no older than my son but why did I feel naked when they looked at me. It was already evening when they got to the house. I wanted them to go watch television or something but they told me they had other plans. I was really so uneasy I went to my bedroom and shut the door but the mistake was not locking it. My son was in front, as the door opened. "Don't fight mom and you won't get hurt." The lying little bastard. Jerome actually had a gun. My son was willing to let them use a fucking gun. I will never know if it was loaded but they were not shy with the threats. I was to be their cunt and I better be good or else! Leroy really got into it fast. I was in shock and barely managed a pathetic little protest before he was on me. God it felt like he was fucking pulling my hair out of my head. He slapped my face so hard I could have had my teeth knocked loose. "Don't scream you honkey bitch. Your son told us how you feel about us "Niggers" so we is here to get you an attitude adjustment." The Black bastard had to be lying. It could not have been my son. They must have threatened to kill him. I could not allow then to hurt my son with their gun but what could I do. I was the fucking adult for Christ's sake. They were just punk kids. They had to listen to me. "Get out of my room. Leave me alone. I will tell your parents." Fuck! How pathetic was I? Leroy was in front of me with his huge bulge obvious in the front of his pants already slapping the fuck of me while dirty Jerome held the gun on me and the bastard Tyrone was just a smiling. Even Michael had a smile. I wanted to die. I knew this was not real. I had to wake up. "You think you're too fucking good for it bitch but we are going to dirty you real nice. When we get done you will call us all master and be a proper slave. Michael's going to get the laugh he always wanted." "Don't cry mommy. The boys are going to love you real good. You can even have the baby dad was never man enough to give you." I could not believe what my son was saying. I heard myself scream. There was no need for the boys to keep me quiet; out on the acreage no neighbor would be spoiling the "fun." Leroy slapped me anyhow. "Shut up, bitch or I will give you something to scream about." "Don't slap her so fucking hard." Tyrone commanded. "We need to keep her pretty for the pictures and video." There was no fucking way. There was just no fucking way. I guess I had purposely been avoiding addressing my son in some motherly way of pretending he was innocent but I begged him "Michael I am your mother. For God's sake baby I am your mother." The look he gave me broke my heart. I may as well have been a two bit whore and he my crack pimp cause I was getting so mercy and his look told me he was going to laugh. "Get up bitch. We can't start the good stuff till the team gets here but we can still have some fun." Leroy was pulling me by the hair. I fell down but the bastard dragged me like some scene out of a god damn cave girl movie. I think he pulled hair out of my head it hurt so much. (I actually had to reassure Leta that I could not see any bald spots. They must have really pulled her hair hard) They dragged me on my face, across the carpet, down the hall, and even basically threw me down the stairs. If those bastards did not want me too bruised before the videotaping they certainly could have fooled me. I could have broken my neck and maybe I wish I had. I had to escape. I was going to be killed. I could not believe it, but my son was having these Niggers kill me. I was at the door but I hurt so much. I could barely get up and then I was running. It was like a horror movie come true. I was screaming but the nearest neighbor was over a mile away. Without shoes every step was agony across the gravel. The cocksure little bastards had stopped to put on shoes. They knew it was hopeless for me. Maybe they wanted me to run. To build my fear. It was all some sick game for them but it was true hell for me. "Come back here you little bitch. The party is just beginning," someone taunted. "Fuck listen to that cunt scream. She must be freaking to be our's." "I told you what a racist mom is. Just get her." My face was wet with tears and my heart was going to explode but the run had been as pathetic as my stupid begging. I probably accomplished nothing more than giving the brats a show at my bouncing breasts like that show Bay Watch. Then as if on que like a scene from some grade b horror movie I actually went falling hard on my face with a stupid trip. The boys actually laughed that I fell on my own as Leroy once again took me by the hair this time to put my face in the dirt. "You are going to be punished you stupid cunt. Don't you understand. The whole team is going to rape you and beat you black and blue. You will be our slave and a slave never runs from her rightful masters. Now you are going to be whipped." The Nigger was serious. Michael could never let his own mother be whipped. How could I continue to try to defend my son's actions? As Toby dragged me face down on the gravel I heard Michael suggest to use my husband's Christmas belt to whip me. It had been a gift from myself. There was a car on the road. Our rode is sparse with brush. It was my friend Tena. They said if I screamed they would kill her. I actually could hear the boy's hearts as we huddled in the ditch. I tried a scream but the Black hand on my mouth muffled it too much and a very insistent threat of death for my friend forced me into silence. My chance of salvation drove away and then I was back in my house. I will never be safe in that house again. Besides the obvious repercussions of a son with videotape on his mommy just that fact that a home is supposed to be the great sanctuary. My home will always be the rape dungeon to me now. I was kicked for the first time as punishment for the close call. Toby had not been gentle dragging me on the gravel either. I could feel the scratches on my face. Having me pretty for the video was a fast fading reality as things were going so the kick to the ribs should have been no surprise but what hurt me the most was it came from Michael. "You stupid little cunt." My son will always be my son but I could no longer pretend he was anything but a true bastard and I was just going to have to accept I was fated to be the mommy slut. We were in the living room until the rest of the team showed up. I spent my time forced to dance myself down to my panties. The first couple of polarides are just your basic T&A. Michael put his photography knowledge to practice as the infacto director of events. I ended up on the couch while the kids took turns sitting with me for some kissing. I took a couple hickeys as they had their fun then finally the bark of our dog told us the gang was arrived. I had been a little fearful of the numbers. When Michael and the boys tossed around the word "team" I half expected better then forty kids to show up but of course I was not taking into account that a third of the team is white and Hispanic. Michael just wanted Niggers for his mommy. Even then maybe there is decency in some of them because three were missing so in total there was only twenty-three boys not counting my son. The house was full of so much pent up lust I could almost taste it in the air and every face I looked too showed the hostility of two hundred years of social injustice. I wanted to protest that it had not been me but I knew my own eyes gave away the truth of my feelings and nothing I would say would save me for paying the price of every white on Black crime ever. It was not enough to beat me into submission. The humongous gang-rape violation of my helpless body would not satisfy the Nigger's desires. I had to be broken totally and finally. My son provided the first tools for the job. "Are you ready for your new marriage mommy?" It really was like a game to the children. See what might destroy the bitch. If I was a good wife then force me into a divorce Nigger style. If it was not so disgusting and full of malice it may have even been funny for how pathetic it all was. How could anyone reasonable think I would believe it was for real and legal. I give the brats marks for trying talking up some stupid Nigger religion saying I would be divorced and then remarried so that everything that followed would be legal. Maybe that works in Egypt or whatever that stupid country was where rapists could get off my marrying the poor bitch but how could the boys expect me to believe it in a civilized country. (On a side note the boys little act does bring up an interesting possibility. It does not have to be limited to Black culture but in a country with a division of church and state would not an officially sanction religion allowing for the forced divorcing and remarriage of any desired fuck-toy be wonderful. I am no legal expert but I know one psychiatrist that would be converting in a heart beat. If multiple wives (victims) was also indoctorined I can just imagine the fun for everyone.) The real pain of the boy's attempt to humiliate be came from the destruction of my most precious belongings but that was probably by design so I curse the bastards for that as well. First to go was my wedding video. I had four copies to ensure against lost but tree were pulled out in front of me and the original was teasingly put into the video camera by my own son. "If dad ever tries to watch this video again mom he will get such a surprise now smile for the camera like a happy little divorcee." The shot was of my face. My head forced up by the hair (of course). On my knees I must have looked the good little victim dressed in nothing but panties but I would not smile. I would not give the satisfaction. "Hey, Niggers get that paper soaked already." One of the kids shouted. I could not really see around with all the naked and partially naked Black bodies surrounding me and with my head at the mercy of my hair to begin with but the paper in question was my wedding certificate and the soaking to be down was some sort of jerk off to give it flavor. The boys meant to film me in close-up as I got rid of proof number two of my true wedding the hard way. As much as I tried to keep my mouth shut a girl does need to breath and fingers pinching my nose made me give it up. It was slimy with their juice and I started to gag. Tony had taken point on my hair and with a kid I did not know they were forcing me to chew as good as I could. I gagged until I started to heave. Every bite gave me a taste of cum that sickened me and then I lost it. I felt so weak as I fell to the floor while the boys released me to get out of the way. I was really crying it was so unfair. "You're not done eating yet bitch." The new hold on my hair was the hardest yet and pushed me into my own mess. "Eat that paper trash. Now you're getting dirty. Eat it!" Michael kept the fucking camera on record as my face was pushed down to it and then I chewed it and I swallowed. I had to look to the camera and hold my mouth open to prove what a good little divorcee I was becoming. The final symbol that had to go was the ring. It had been my husband's mother's and her mother in law's before that but it would never be my son's wife's. "Take it off or we will break your fucking fingers." I heard myself squealing on the verge of complete despair. He could have broke my finger as far as he cared but he did not hurt me that much. Someone had already prepared the toilet. I had to do the rest. "Put it in the shit bitch. Prove to the camera what you think of your old marriage." I held out while two of them did their best to beat me into cooperation. The more I screamed and cried my eyes the louder the giggles got. The money shot was my clean white hands placing the ring into the Nigger shit and mushing it until I had to drop it back into the toilet and flush. They ordered me to smile. But I was crying too hard. "You are such a filthy little girl you need to get clean." They were running the bath tub full and I was pushed down deep. I guess even these Niggers had their standards and I was a mess from the vomit and shit. "We could just drown you bitch" they proved keeping me deep until I was almost passed out. "You are a lucky bitch we got a better fate for you." When I was clean enough to the Nigger's standards it was time for my new wedding. The whole show had obviously been planned out in advance as everyone was in character and the props were prepared. In a way it turned to be a curse that I was the same size at thirty-three as eighteen because the dress still fit. Of course this time the alterations made me glad I was not in front of my loved ones with both breasts on display through the knife cuts. The vows were really stupid but with the reassurance that it was a legal Nigger style religion I was slapped into saying my acceptance of this "marriage." My "I do's" were actually sworn sacrilegiously on the family bible I had always worshipped. All that was needed was kiss the bride but the final act had its own filth. "You think Nigger's are animals anyhow bitch so animals mark what is theirs with a soaking. On your knees now!" Tyrone had actually been the one to "marry" me and as I was held submissively at his feet his was the first cock to water me. I instantly shut my mouth and eyes as he pissed all over my face. The wedding was "official." It was time for the reception but the line up was not to kiss me. They must have been saving it all day and I know some of the filthy bastards got in line more then once. Michael switched videotapes and occasionally went for the polarides. Every guy had his own style. Most were just happy to have my face but of course it got pretty quick where I needed to keep my mouth open. A pinched nose and some pulled hair did the trick so I swallowed until I was full. The occasional slap startled me enough my eyes were soon burning. Some put it in my nose and ears just to be evil. I was told not to suck but several boys took the opportunity to get their cocks in my mouth for some added excitement. If my dress had not been ruined from the knife it would be stained for ever in piss. It was practically see through by the time the boys were drained. The reception was a huge success and the hornymoon was about to begin. With my loving little son once again on camera and my last copy my real reading back in place it was time to inform me of my true fate. My son had been studying me for months and it was my time. They had me but good and how would I ever know who the real father would be with twenty-three possibilities. My "husband" did the duties first. A bride's first fuck should also be with her husband. An added outrage was moving the hornymoon back to the master bedroom just so I would never again be allowed to sleep without remembering in my dreams. Tyrone was big like everyone always says "they" are. I guess some myths have their truths cause every boy was big. Tyrone was actually bigger then my dildo. I could not help a moan as he filled me. It was repulsive but maybe a girl can only take so much before she has to respond. God help me I did not really want to breed. Did I? The group was into it watching me respond little by little. Tyrone had style I will give him that. The kissing and body work would have worked on even his own mother. Everyone knew I was going to cum but the trick would be for him to shoot at the same time. "Have your baby now bitch." It was horrible. I released and he flooded me hard. I do not care what people say if a girl cums on a guys cock that has to count for something. To help the odds my studly "husband" held me up by the ankles so his soldiers could do the job. Mustafa a buck that had to be fifteen inches was next but despite the size he was just a wham bam thank you mam fuck. A nameless kid got third crack at the grand prize and the rotten bastard had the balls to complain that I was too loose from Mustafa. If he had a real problem then, I can only imagine his feelings by the time Sunday rolled around. The weekend was a blur in so many ways. My first multiple penetration took place about two hours in. The low kids on the totem pull were getting impatient when it was Michael that pointed out "She has more then one hole." I was already in the middle of a fuck so a kid just scouched up beside me where he could force me to suck. When pussy boy was finished the next kid decided to do things right. He laid on his back and said "get on me bitch." It was like I was fucking him but of course the worse was about to sneak right up on me. The kid was almost as big as Mustafa and no one was stopping for lubrication. The slop from my pussy helped a little but I screamed. "Gag the bitch." I was in a three way. A true oreo sandwich. It was my first of several multiple penetrations. On Saturday they had to finally answer the phone. It was Dwayne. What use was there in me upsetting him. A boy fucked me while I talked. In the evening they forced me to call his hotel and actually pretend phone sex while I was screwed some more. They made me tell my husband that I could feel the most wonderful cock in me. They forced me to "pretend" suck while I was truly gagged for him to hear. On Sunday the boys were close to spent. I had long given up on any attempt to keep track of the number of fuckings but every boy had been with me several times. I had also given up on fighting but as the rape drew to a close they could finally mess me up. When I should have been at church, I was tied to the front yard tree with tape over my mouth for the slave whipping. They whipped my back for ever, occasionally strapping across my ass before finishing up with several hits to my tits, cunt and face. I had cried myself dry and could only show my suffering with my muffled screams of pain. The dog was freaking not knowing if he was suppose to protect me or go along with my son but I was so soaked in cum and sex I guess he only had one purpose in mind for me. The boys made me start the courtship on my knees, first stroking the beast before putting my mouth to work. An act that would have had me vomit just days earlier was almost a relief compared to my three days of service as a human toilet. If the dog had wanted me as his bitch since puppy hood he could not have been any more enthusiastic with his performance. When his initial mounts proved clumsy and ineffective I actually got bit like it was my fault he could not get it in. It was a combination of awkwardness and actual pain as the beast handled me hard until he proved himself the stud. The boys wanted me hung-up which surprisingly took awhile. Everyone seamed so fucking calm and relaxed as they watched the dog have his cum. I was suffering my bruises but to them I had deserved everything. Tyrone decided to give me the facts of life. They were all too young to go to jail and if I went to the police Michael would get it worst. They had a huge collection of pornography staring me and could edit themselves out to post it on the Internet without a hassle. I was fucked and I could not change it. He said I had better be pregnant or I would get it again. If my husband threatened to leave me they would make me a widow so the insurance money would provide but he preferred my husband to be stuck with the Black bastard. I was never to try to be the boss of Michael again and if any of the guys got horny I was always to be available. I cried myself to sleep Sunday night and came to you today what can I do? What could a mother do in such a situation? What should a psychiatrist do when he hears this story? You can see my dilemma. It may have seamed my decision was rather easy to betray the patient by posting her story but the actual rub is how to keep this little scene alive. If Leta is knocked-up then Dwayne is history I am sure. That can not be my concern as long as Michael does not back out from having his mom again and again. The boy seams evil after my own heart so I really hope his mother is able to bring him to me so I can encourage him onto the next steps and possibly buy a copy of his special video. Watch for it on the net. I am Mkarl -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+