The Writer, the Discovery, the Healing

by Jayne Martin

  

I'm a free lance writer in upstate NY– you know one of those people working on her novel, but taking just about any writing job in order to pay the rent. Rent is cheap here, but I don't get many assignments. Waitressing supplements things when I really get desperate.

I want to tell you about a story I wrote that never got printed, but it changed my life.

I got a call from an editor I know in the big city, who offered me an assignment for what he expected would be 2 days. Topic was some new program at a rape crisis center a few miles away. I agreed, and drove over, almost pre writing the story in my mind. 'Women recover in spite of tragedy in their lives". I arrived on Thursday, expecting to finish by Friday, Saturday latest.

I found the place, and went in to be stopped by a woman who told me "No cameras here". "I said I'll return it to my car, but cold you tell me how to find Shirley" The woman suddenly broke a big smile, and said the camera would be just fine, and Shirleys' office was around the back and up the stairs. I went around found the door, and walked in. I was a little taken aback at what I saw – An obvious man, dressed as a woman, with poor makeup sitting at a desk, acting embarrassed. I asked for Shirley while trying to maintain my professionalism, and also wondering what the hell was going on. The "woman" disappeared into an office, then returned and told me to go right in. I did and was greeted by a maybe 40 something, rather athletic looking woman, who extended her hand and introduced herself. I told her who I was, and asked about the new program my editor had heard of.

Shirley responded "well you've already seen part of it", but there's a lot more. Let me go back a few years and tell you a story that will maybe put things in perspective.

"My 15 year old daughter was raped. 5 boys grabbed her outside of school, took her to an abandon building, and took turns with her. The leader of the group just happens to be the son of the owner of the largest industry in town. My daughter didn't want to press charges for fear of the shame and the knowledge that likely nothing wold happen since "daddy pretty much controlled the town". She went through all the typical victim stages, anger, sorrow, powerlessness. I took her to counseling, and she said something to the effect "if boys could only understand the pain, shame and humiliation that went with a rape, I couldn't believe they would do such things".

I had a business at the time that dealt with some rather tough people, and I had an idea. I called my friend Guito, and pulled in a favor. I also called a few other mothers who had heard what happened to my daughter, and while not all went along with my plan, I knew I could trust them not to talk about it. The following Saturday the young man was delivered to my cabin outside of town trussed up in a canvas bag. He had planned to go hunting, and his parents wouldn't expect him back until evening, Knowing a little of his reputation, they probably didn't care if he came home at all. There were we 3 women (all who were in my aerobics class), my daughter, and a 3 of her friends; all of whom had been raped by one or more of the gang.

We opened the bag, and looked at a very subdued "little Dicky" (His name was Richard, but for the day he was "little Dicky)! He was hog-tied inside the bag, so we had no trouble getting him out and tying him to a chair. He started hollering as we cut his clothes away, but we were miles from anyone. We finally gagged him with a pair of panties just to shut him up. After a few minutes, we had a naked and very scared "Dickey" tied to a chair in the cabin.

I told him to shut the fuck up, as this was his lucky day. He was going to have sex with at least 5 women. He started to smile, but then I told him that while many men felt it was better to give than to receive, a lot of women felt differently. With this he started to go a little pale. I guessed he maybe didn't feel up to 5 women. At this point he still didn't know what was going to happen to him.

We carefully dressed him as a woman – panties, bra (stuffed with cotton) even a garter belt Dress and heels. . His hair was too short to curl, but we did manage a couple of pink ribbons. We were careful not to leave a hand untied – slide something up one rope, and secure his hand with another rope, before untying the first. It helped that one of my friends was a sailor and knew a little about knots. He fought us with makeup and it didn't come out all that well, but hell we weren't looking to make him into a beauty or anything. We then tied him face down to the headboard of the only bed – long ropes so he could kneel at the foot. Another rope around his middle, his legs were tied to the feet of the bed so as to spread them, and we were ready.

I handed my daughter a strap on, a tube of KY, removed his gag, and told her that he was hers for an hour. I never knew my daughter to have such a vocabulary – she showed him the strap on, and told him – now You're going to see how it feels! She put it on over her jeans knelt in front of him, showed it to him and screamed "Suck it bitch!" I thought it wise to leave the "lovers" alone and adjourned to the other room for a drink with the others. (Soft drinks for the younger girls). The cabin wasn't all that big so we could hear what was happening in the bedroom. He started screaming, she started cursing and then he began to gag. After a few minutes the screaming started again, then sobbing. We could only imagine what was happening. She must have tired after about 30 minutes since she came to the door with a smile, held out the strap on, and said "next?" All we could hear from him was sobbing. One of the other girls took over, and we cold hear shouting, gagging and screaming again.

My daughter came over to me and said "Thanks Mom – I have never felt so empowered!" and it was the beginning of her healing.

Well, "Dicky" was enjoyed by 5 women that day. I was last, and when I saw his ass felt so sorry for him, I gave him a tampon and some Vagisil. I made him put it in himself though. He wasn't much of a fight anymore. We re-arranged his dress, gave him fresh panties (The girls had torn the others off him), and fixed his makeup. We finally dumped him on one of the back streets of town, and let him get home on his own. Nothing was ever reported, nothing said, except the girls who were in the cabin with my daughter had a lot of fun the next week telling Richard just how much they enjoyed Saturday, and asking when they might do it again. They also told me he walked a little funny for a few days. Over the next few weeks we got the other 4 and did he same to them. It was just amazing watching how the previous victims responded to the empowerment we gave them.

Somehow word got out, and I was contacted by one of the other girls' grandmother, asking if I wanted to formalize my program with a grant

We went to a woman judge and asked if we could speak in strictest confidence, she agreed, and we told her of our success with the women who had previously been victims. We were very careful not to mention any names of either perp or victim, Turned out she herself had been raped at an early age. She told us that what we were proposing was probably illegal, and that had one of our victims' parents complained she would have to charge us with assault. She smiled a little and commented that she doubted anyone was about to complain though since it would have to be in open court – much as a rape victim. She asked to meet with us later after she had time to think about things.

At our second meeting, she first made us promise that their wold be no more vigilantism, and that she had found a way – at least for some. We formalized a trial program with her approval, demonstrated success with 20 offenders, and got state funding. The real success was not so much the offenders, as their former victims. It was a joy to watch the change in these women as they slowly realized that they could again have control over their lives..

That brings us to here – first time offenders are given a choice, 25 years in Dannemora (a notoriously nasty prison) or this program, followed by 5 years probation. Just about every first time rapist is under 25, so it's basically us, or the prime of his life in prison. His lawyer will probably advise him that he will be raped in prison – probably worse than here. I don't envy them the choice, but then I don't feel much sympathy for rapists. It's sure not pleasant here for them, we don't want it to be. We want them to feel as dehumanized as their victims. We have about 450 "graduates" to date, and not one repeat offender. Average stay here is only 60 days. For an unlucky 10% another 9 months, but they are permitted to live with their family. The cost is much less, and it really helps the women downstairs."

At sentencing, they are locked into a monitoring bracelet, and have to wait for an opening. We only handle 20 at a time. He (soon to be she) is given a folder explaining the program in detail, and told to bring 3 dresses, 3 skirts, 3 blouses, underwear, stockings, and makeup. If he's lucky, his mother or sister will help him with shopping and sizes. He is also encouraged to live as look as much a woman as possible before his arrival, in the hope that other women might with him and be a little gentler. We also have a bunch of clothing donated by women from downstairs – mostly slutty stuff, and nor many graduates want to take their clothing home with them. On arrival he is given a tour of upstairs, and 1 hour to change into one of our pink uniforms. We have a stock of breast forms for them to use while here. But that's about all we supply. If he resists, or takes longer than an hour, he pays for it upstairs. When he comes back from upstairs, he is addressed as a female at all times, and expected to act the same. We have penalties for various infractions.

Our residents are given a room, and told they are for the length of their sentence considered sex slaves for the clients downstairs. Any woman with a ticket, issued by one of our counselors can require any sexual activity she chooses, so long as the resident acts as a woman. It's usually about 6 months from the attack until someone finds themselves here, and that's just about the time a woman is ready to begin asserting herself. The victim is always notified, when her attacker checks in, and it's not uncommon to see her show up with a bunch of her friends to seek her revenge. They are on call 8 hours a day – alternating from 9 to 5, and from 5 to 11. Family may visit during off-hours to bring clothing, help with hair and makeup, but they must at all times treat the resident as a girl. They not use any male name, nor in any way make reference to male activities.

She pulled several files from her desk – Here are a couple of cases, Charlene – formerly Charlie, 30 days or 30 times, whichever is longer. Samantha – formerly Sam – 60 days, and 60 times, followed by 9 months pregnancy. Lucy, formerly Luke 60 days and 60 times.

"What's this pregnancy thing?" I asked

Shirley told me – "That's one of the judges innovations. IF a victim becomes pregnant as the result of rape so does her attacker. Doesn't matter if she chooses to abort, her attacker is pregnant, but only after she finishes her time here. Additionally all the girls here – (by the way it's "girls" up here, except for the staff "women" for everyone downstairs.) take a pregnancy test every 2 weeks. The tests were donated by the manufacture, since they found a batch defective for their purposes, giving a 10% false positive answer. Just perfect for our needs though. We have about 35,000 tests in stock, so we can go for a long time. The girls are continually worried about a positive test, just as a rape victim is. Additionally, for a girl who gives me an especially hard time, I can declare them pregnant (with the judges' approval of course). I've never done it, but it does help me maintain authority here.

When one of the girls becomes pregnant, she is fitted with a sort of panty/girdle/bladder thing. I'll show you one later. We start filling slow, but over the next 9 months she will gain 20% of her weight in a sort of Jello. She must wear it 24/7; the only time she can remove it is to bathe, or use the bathroom (she is given a second, so she can wash the first as necessary – both are filled equally). She is locked into a bracelet, and permitted to live at home if her family will have her and if they live within 50 miles one of our offices. We subscribe to monitoring services in all the major cities of this state, several in New York City, so we pretty much cover the whole state. We monitor regularly, we can tell if she's wearing her belly, and where she is. IF her family won't have her, she is permitted to take an apartment in town. For the others, we maintain a "Home for unwed mothers, just outside of town. The occupants must pay their own way though, some take jobs as maids, or waitresses for the first several months and save to pay expenses. Others sign a note promising to pay or come back – so far no defaults. We require they shop for their own maternity clothing, they are allowed the help of a mother or sister. There is a used clothing store in town that carries a lot of stuff, so the expense isn't too bad. When her 9 months is up, she reports to a small "delivery room" we maintain, feet placed in stirrups, we induce a little cramping, then the jello is expelled in a rush. We try to make things as realistic as possible. Then she comes back here to resume work, or discharge, depending on how much of her sentence she has served."

We also require a 3-day menstrual period every month. It begins after about 3 weeks here, a girl is out of commission for 3 days while she does other work – Laundry, ironing, cooking, sewing some clerical work. You saw Sharon outside my office when you came in. We require they wear pads in their panties, and just to make things feel realistic, we pre-wet the pads with a liberal amount of KY. They are required to change them 5 times a day. Those 3 days are not credited to her sentence and I can also declare a girl "on the rag" for minor offenses. It's uncomfortable for them, but they really hate the time away from their sentence. The 2-week test and number of days to serve still apply. On rare occasions Dr Smith can declare them just too sore to work, and they go on tampons and Vagisil for a few days. Again this is time is not credited them, but most are so sore at that point they just don't care.

I was more than a little astounded – the idea seemed so fiendish, yet so appropriate. I tried to imagine a 200 pound pregnant male, but just couldn't. The thought seemed funny though, and I giggled – a little from amusement, a little from nerves.

With this Shirley stood up, and said, "Lets take a walk", and opened the door for me. She led me up another flight of stairs to a dark area and flipped on the lights. I was standing in a hallway outside what looked like a medieval torture chamber for women. I saw dildos, and artificial penis everywhere. Mounted on chairs, hanging from the walls as strap-ons, various benches with lots of straps, an examining table with stirrups, even won of those hanging basket things I had seen in a couple of fetish magazines I had read earlier for another assignment. (The woman is strapped in a wicker chair, bare butt hanging out and slowly lowered onto her lover lying below) – except this time her "lover" was a dildo.

I looked at it all and my only comment was "Oh My" I found myself getting a little aroused.

"This is where we break them", They have been given a book of pictures, and told exactly what is going to happen to them, but the realization doesn't seem to hit until they arrive in this room." Shirley explained. "There's no one here today, but I suggest you come back tomorrow when we will have a new arrival. I'm told he's a handful – let's see just how tough he is after a day here?" "We had one girl last 2 days and a few hours, but that's the record so far, she went on to become one of our most docile residents. Don't worry, we do have a doctor on staff during the breaking time, and nobody has yet to be injured. They come out a little raw, but the Vagisil still works. Tampons and Vagisil were considered currency here until we started offering them to the girls for free. Most wear a treated tampon full time, just to ease the rawness. I don't think I mentioned that a woman is not obliged to use KY. Most do, but some, especially the first few visits chose to make things as unpleasant as possible for our girls.

We went back downstairs, and down the hall from her office, where we found a number of "Girls" dressed in various manner, sitting quietly and nervously. A couple made eye contact with me – one even winked. "I think she's trying to attract me" I whispered to Shirley. "She is" Shirley responded – you look attractive and gentle, and she has a quota to fill. If you're interested, just stop downstairs and get a ticket from the front desk. Just tell them I sent you Tickets are reserved for victims, but I'll make an exception in your case." With this I had a flashback of something that had happened 20 years ago. I was 15, and there was this barn and my boyfriend… Shirley sensed something and quietly asked "You too?" "It's been 20 years I replied – I thought I had buried it". Shirley told me their were counselors downstairs, and that it was never to late to start the healing process. I began shaking, and asked if we could return to her office. There I broke down for the several hundredth time. Shirley took me in her arms, and said 'It's OK – Perhaps you can find more than a paycheck here. I really think you should talk to Beth, Let me call her up here.

Beth came upstairs right away. The whole story just rushed out of me, I had never even told my parents. I felt so dirty and violated. Beth assured me this was common, and that I had just begun the healing process. 20 years wasn't too far back to heal, and that if I didn't this would always be with me and affect every relationship I would have in the future. I remembered the several failed relationships and even one marriage so far. Beth suggested lunch, and we went off with Shirley's blessing. Lunch and talk took several hours, and when we were done it was too late to return to the office; besides I felt drained. I had reserved a motel for the evening, and after assuring Beth I would be OK, left to check in. I felt drained, both from what I had seen, and from my talk with Beth. A hot bath helped, and I took a little nap before dinner. The motel clerk recommended a little place down the street so I walked the 3 blocks in the cool evening air.

I entered and first noted the hostess was rather big. When I heard her voice, things fell into place, and I tried to imagine her pregnant. My waitress was the same. The food was good, a small chicken plate, washed down with 2 glasses of white wine, and I was satisfied. I tipped generously thinking I might try to help the waitress, even though I was still feeling angry about rape. (Besides I was on an expense account).

I walked the 3 blocks back to the motel, and I started to write my story on my portable. I wondered if anyone would believe it. I wondered if my editor would believe it! Never the less, I wrote what I had seen that day, and made myself notes of questions to ask the next.

I turned in about 10, and woke in a sweat about 2, having had the dream I thought I had buried long ago, Bobby saying – "it's time babe, I've waited 3 months" as he forced me back into the barn. He left me sobbing, scared and alone. My life had changed then, and I was never able to fully trust anyone. Perhaps that was why I chose to work alone. I knew then that I needed to talk more with Beth.

Next morning, I changed my reservation to a full week instead of just the one night I had planned. I asked for a receipt for the one night, planning to turn this in with the expense account the rest of the week would be on me.

9:00 found me at Shirley's door and she invited me upstairs to see the new arrival. The lights were on this time, but Shirley assured me that the glass was "one way". People inside saw a mirror, while people outside saw and heard everything. The new arrival was escorted into the room by 2 Amazon looking woman. Lucy Lawless had nothing on these women, and they were dressed the part; Black leather vest, lots of cleavage tight leather pants, and perfect makeup – Bright red lipstick, and dark eyecolor. He (rather SHE) was wearing a plain pink dress, 3 inch heels and terrible makeup. Her hair was a mess, even though it appeared she had tried to style it just a little. She was maybe 15, and not all that big, with some effort and advice she might just pass for a girl. Her new name was Barbara, and she was told she dammed well-bettered answer to it. She stood there while one of the amazons began to berate her for her dress, makeup, and just about everything. I could only think of the portrayal of the drill Sargent to the new recruit I had seen in several movies.

She was then given a tour of the various machines and sexual items in the place, and was very graphically told how she would use these (or more accurately be used BY them). (I found my panties getting a little damp at some of the descriptions) – luckily I had worn a mini pad.

After the tour, the new girl (in more ways than one) was asked, "where do you want to start?" She blanched and I thought for a moment she was going to faint. Come and sit down one of the amazons offered and directed her to the wicker chair. She complied, and asked for a glass of water, not fully realizing the purpose of the chair. "How do you ask?" demanded the woman, and she replied, "Please miss a glass of water". One amazon winked at the other, and went off to get some water. "This one might be fun" was her comment. The other responded 'Aren't they all?" As she drank the water she found herself quickly strapped in, skirt up, panties down then raised maybe 8 feet off the floor. She was wearing a garter belt and nylons, and I found myself snickering just a little at this. She didn't have the hips to hold up the garter belt, so they had used duct tape. I had to admit her legs looked pretty good.

On the way up, one of the women started the chair swinging so it was arcing maybe 3 feet from center on each pass as she was slowly lowered. "Look down at what's waiting, one of the tormenters commanded as she began greasing the dildo waiting for her just off the floor. The girl looked down and started to cry, then struggle to no avail. It's the anticipation that gets them Shirley told me. Lots of tears and outright begging, but in about 5 minutes she was impaled. The last 6 inches was a quick drop, and I watched her gasp as she felt the dildo enter. One of the women turned a switch, and the dildo began to pulsate – both up and down and around, I cold hear the girl screaming – 'oh God, No, NO Please NO! "I'll bet you have heard that before was the response" I excused myself so I could change my pad.

When I returned the girl had been strapped to a sort of church kneeler, but with her head locked in place. This time the 2 of them were going at her, one with a strap-on in her mouth, and the other in her ass. There was no screaming this time – her mouth was full – she could only gag. Several minutes later she collapsed on the floor – this time in a real faint as confirmed by the doctor. The 2 women had taken a break from the room and come out to talk to Shirley "I love my work" one commented. The other said, "I think we have her. Too bad it went so fast; I'd like to have gotten her on her back with her legs in the air". Shirley introduced me, Joyce and Cathy and I asked how it was they had come to this sort of job? Their stories were similar – gang raped in their teens. Shirley later told me they were lovers, and in addition ran a dominatrix shop a few doors away. They were paid, but minimally -- She suspected they would work for free if it were necessary.

I asked if this wasn't considered "cruel and unusual punishment" by the court? Shirley responded – "Remember they asked for this – we have very thorough documentation. They come here fully informed of what's going to happen to them."

"And discharge?" I asked. She responded "their choice mostly – they can return home wearing either the male clothing they brought with them, or the girls clothing. She grinned, Nobody has chosen the girls clothing yet, but it is their choice. We offer them a haircut, and encourage those with hair long enough, to donate it to 'Locks of Love" (an organization that makes wigs for young cancer patients who have lost their hair during therapy). Funny thing is, I've seen more than one tear as curls were cut away,A couple have even chosen to keep their hair. Their body hair and eyebrows will grow back in a few weeks, they might get a few funny looks on the bus, but they're used to that by then. We give them a bus ticket back to their hometown, and the number of their parole officer. I give them a little speech, then a kiss, and offer them a box of tampons, and a tube of Vagisil. A handshake and there gone. The rest is between them and their parole officer.

I had seen enough, and told Shirley that I was interested in the next floor down – the one where the girls "worked". We went downstairs, and I again saw several of the same girls from yesterday. This time I took a closer look. (I hadn't brought my camera, since somehow I knew none of my photos would make it to print, besides I was starting to feel just a twinge of sympathy for the girls.) As we were watching, a tall teen-ager came in, looked around, and pointed to one. "You" was all she said, and the girl stood and led her toward one of several rooms in the back of the building. The teens walk was confident, the working girl was hesitant. The teen gave her a slap on the butt as they went down a short hall – "I hope you'll be as good this time as last" she commented. The girl blushed.

About 30 minutes later the teen came back down the hall with a smile on her face followed by the girl. The girl kissed the teen and said "thank you miss, I hope you'll pick me next time; I'll go back and clean up now" I noted the girl stuffing something white and lacey in her purse, and asked Shirley "Are those panties?" Shirley told me all women are entitled to a souvenir if they want; some hang them on the wall as trophies, much like some college guys I once knew. I then asked what the "clean up" involved, and Shirley looked at me more than a little surprised. "Don't you douche and change the linens after sex she asked?" I suppressed a giggle at the thought. Shirley explained that their were 20 girls and 20 rooms – each inspected daily. The room had to look as feminine as possible, as well as the girl, although some consideration was given the girl so long as she seemed to be trying.

Back to Shirleys' office, and it was there I told her that while I thought I had enough for my story; (Even though I didn't expect anyone to believe it, and doubted it would see print.) "I'd like to stay on a few days and talk to Beth some more." I asked "Fine" she replied, "I have some numbers you should include, and Tuesday is pregnancy test day for 3 of our girls, I also want to show you just how we simulate pregnancy, and I'll have one of them come in Monday to show you. IF your weekend is free I'll show you the town she offered" This sounded good, and I readily agreed. Shirley set up the afternoon for me to talk with Beth, and we went to lunch.

Lunch was where I had eaten the night before (there wasn't much to chose from in town) and again I saw the not so feminine waitresses. One walked over, and greeted Shirley, asking what she would like today. "Thanks Judy" she replied, but we'll take a few minutes with the menu. You can get us some water in the meantime. "One of your girls?" I asked. She replied "Yes, but in public we try to treat them as the ladies they are trying to be. They have served their time, pregnancy is about to hit them, so we let them try to blend in. Judy still has a little problem though; she owes us several more times, and she will serve them after her pregnancy, It's possible that should she be very unlucky she could become pregnant once again. It's happened a couple of times before. There is a small part of me that feels sorry for them, but then again when I remember their crime… Besides, I figure its in Gods hands with those tests, we don't know how they will turn out!" When Judy returned, Shirley asked her if she would stop bye her office Monday and demonstrate her pregnancy for me "It's worth a ticket," Shirley added, and Judy quickly agreed. "How about 10, I think you start here at 11" Judy agreed she would stop before work.

There were more tears later when talking with Beth – she had suggested we walk through a park for some privacy, and to get out in the nice weather. She mentioned that there was no need to fear anything – this county had the lowest incidence of attacks on women in the country. I smiled a little, thinking I had a pretty good idea just why. More and more of my past came flooding back as we talked – Beth seemed to have a way to unlock things. She mostly just listened, asking the occasional question, offering the occasional observation. I really dumped on her! Somehow I felt more rage for Bobby than I had ever known I was capable of. Beth asked if I knew what ever happened to him, and I told her that last I knew he was a career officer in the navy. Since things had happened 20 years ago, and no report filed, there was nothing I could do to him. Beth suggested however I could take things out on a new Bobbie. Only a few women got back at their attackers directly, but the release and empowerment taking advantage of one, any one, would be cathartic. I admitted to her that I found watching what happened to Barbara to be more than a little erotic.

Beth told me that based on her experience I should try one of the girls. I was a little hesitant, and she reminded me that I would be doing them a favor, since the more times they got in between pregnancy tests, the less chance they had of being caught for another 9 months. After the first few times, the girls welcomed the chance to serve, humiliating though it was. I agreed to consider it, and that alone seemed to empower me a little.

Beth invited me to dinner at her home. I was surprised to learn she had a family. I guess I had somehow thought that given the work they did at the shelter, she would be turned off on men. This home is MY shelter she told me, MY sense of normalcy. She also reminded me that neither her husband nor 13-year-old son knew anything about Shirleys' program. Looking at her son, I couldn't help but think of Barbara from earlier in the day.

Dinner was great – salmon shrimp, salad, and mixed veggies. Conversation was pleasant, and I learned that her rather large and affectionate husband worked in the town lumber mill. He supported her in her work, as counselor, but mentioned that several times she had come home very discouraged, and this hurt him to see her so unhappy. Beth said – "just part of the job – all and all, I feel I'm doing some good for the world. More so than cutting down 100 year old trees she jibed" He smiled, and I could somehow feel there was love between them – I hadn't felt this sort of love since I was home with my own family before the ….. the rape. There I said it! (Or at least thought it) Beth smiled and patted my hand, somehow knowing my thoughts. The rest of the evening was just idle chitchat, and I excused myself about 8 to get back to my motel. Beth drove me, and after a hot bath (The one thing I love about motels and hotels is unlimited hot water) turned in early, only to wake up in the dark with that dammed dream again. I knew I had to do something, and this was the time and place. I thought to myself, "I'm going to try what Beth suggested," then smiled to myself thinking, "after all, I'll be doing some girl a favor!"

Over the weekend, Shirley showed me around – it was a beautiful setting – trees, canyons, and a small lake. "This used to be the summer vacation Mecca for the rich, then it became a summer tourist place. There isn't a lot of business here, so our office is welcomed", she explained. "They have even held the Winter Olympics about 100 miles from here". WE wandered, lunched, wandered some more, hit some tacky souvenir shops, and had a most relaxing weekend – My assignment and my troubles were on the back burner, and I slept well Both Saturday and Sunday nights.

Monday morning found me back at the center, and after coffee with Shirley, there was a knock on her door. A rather attractive head stuck its way in and announced Judy. Judy came in looking embarrassed, and was told to strip down to her pregnancy. She was wearing what looked like an old-fashioned corset all-in one thing. Flesh colored, with bumps for boobs and a little hair in the crotch. Shirley mentioned that Judy was just 2 months along, so she wasn't showing much yet. She then showed me a small valve (like on a soccer ball) where a solution of water and thickening agent was added. Just a little at first, then progressively more. At first only once a week, but daily toward the end. Judy was wearing a bracelet to indicate to the monitoring service where she was, and there was a chip in the garment. If they were more than 3 feet apart for more than 30 minutes, she was considered in violation and a team went to bring her back. "What then I asked" and Shirley smiled and said "We haven't yet decided; it hasn't been necessary in 5 years"

"You can get dressed and go to work now" she told Judy as she handed her a ticket "Thanks for stopping by". I expected Judy to dress quickly and leave, but first she carefully put the ticket in her purse, and I realized just how valuable these tickets were. It was just a little amusing watching her dress but she had done it enough times before so that the expected problems of things like hooking a bra were almost as familiar to her as any other woman.

Shirley handed me a packet of data – mostly statistics concerning cost and success rate. It cost the state $60,000 a year to house a prisoner in one of their jails, and statistically 70 % would be back within 3 years. Shirleys' program cost $5000 per "resident" and to date not one "graduate" had committed a second physical assault. A few were found guilty of things like petty theft., but no violence.

Then I went downstairs to see Beth once again. She was with a client, so I had to wait several minutes, but when she was finished she came to greet me with a hug. Monday is our busiest day she explained. I told her I wanted to try one of the girls upstairs, and Beth smiled and commented that "sometimes God works in mysterious ways." It seemed that "Bobbie" was arriving today, and would be available tomorrow, so long as things went well on the third floor. There was no problem expected since "Bobbie" was most contrite, and seemed ready to accept his punishment. Then Beth opened a drawer, grinned, and said 'You just gotta see THIS! We just got a few in, and I'm sure you'll love it" She opened a box to reveal a realistic dildo complete with balls, and a limp bladder on the other end. "You strap it on, insert the bladder into your vagina, and one of the girls will inflate it for you orally – as hard or soft as you like. When you squeeze the balls, a shot of fake semen comes squirting out. I'm told it tastes just like the real thing." Then blushing a little 'I tasted it, and yes it does" I found a familiar dampness between my legs again—it had been a while…. Looks good I replied – "can I borrow it?" I was surprised to hear her say "No – these are not to be exchanged, they can't be cleaned as well as a regular strap on, and since part will be inside you….. We plan on selling them to those who want to use them, but for you it's a gift" Joyce, and Cathy have been testing these, and have nothing but praise for them.

I thanked her, and spent the rest of the day wandering the town once again, and fanaticizing about how I would treat Bobbie the next day. I'll admit, some of my thoughts were rather nasty. I was trying to decide if I should dress as a lumberjack or dominatrix, and purchased outfits for both. When I returned to my motel, I examined the dildo more carefully then experimented just a little – first trying to suck on it (I had never done oral, but felt in the interest of research… I learned that 6 inches was way to long for MY comfort, and wondered just how other women did it), then masturbating with it. It had been a while, and it felt good. I slept well again that night, my new toy on the nightstand beside me.

Tuesday at 9, I knocked on Shirleys' door – there was no attendant this time. I had chosen Lumberjack – heavy boots, flannel shirt, jeans, and very little makeup. My hair was mostly hidden under a baseball cap. I was wearing the dildo, and it showed a bulge in my jeans. She greeted me, with a gasp, and noted that I was really getting into things and said, "You're just going to love this; Bobbie is waiting for you" She escorted me down the long hallway past the waiting girls (a few of whom again tried to flirt with me). She knocked on a door, and was answered by a very timid "come in" in a sort of falsetto voice. "Here's your date" she announced – you bettered do well by her!"

I was amazed to see a rather attractive girl standing before me – well groomed, nice makeup, and nice clothing. "How do you want to do me she asked?" again in a timid hesitant voice. I quickly got into tough mode, and told her that I wasn't there for a "wham bang thank you ma'am" arrangement. I wanted some talk first. I asked how it was she came to look so good? She told me that her mother and sisters had made her live as a girl for 3 months while waiting to serve her time here. He hair had been professionally done, and she had learned makeup from her sister who was a cosmetologist. "You really look the part" I told her then back to tough mode. "How did you enjoy yesterday?" I asked. She told me that 5 minutes in the wicker basket was enough -–in fact the minimum time allowed. Her mother and sisters had prepared her well – even giving her a vibrator, and insisting she use it every night. They had also cautioned her that when she returned, she had bettered behave, since she would still have the clothing and toy.

Back to tough mode again (It was getting a little harder, then I reminded myself of Bobby and the barn)

"Go clean yourself up" I ordered – She looked a little confused, and I said 'Douche you bitch, and I want to watch. She went into a small connecting bathroom, blushing furiously, took down a small box from a shelf, opened it, and took out a familiar plastic bottle. I was getting into this, so I commanded "Scented", and she asked if Lilac would be OK. "Sure" I replied, and watched the strange sight of a maybe 18-year old boy trying to douche himself. She started to step out of her panties, but I stopped her, saying we had a ways to go yet. "Come here" I ordered, and when she did I grabbed a little ass, kissed her, and slipped her some tong. She started to tremble in my arms.

I sat on a nearby chair, and ordered her on her knees. I spread my legs, and told her to take it out and start blowing. She did so hesitantly, then paused and asked "How will I know when it's hard enough for you?" "You'll know" was my reply – and I started really getting excited as I felt the bladder inside me begin to fill. I noticed a lipstick stain on the outside, and thought about that guy clichι' "There's nothing like a little lipstick around your dipstick" I was starting to feel very empowered!

When I felt full, and about to come, I squeezed the balls, and squirted the semen solution into Bobbies mouth. She blinked, then gagged. "Swallow" I ordered, and I watched her do so with much gagging.

"It's good for you I told her – Prevents pimples" (I had remembered this old line from high school)

I then ordered her to drop her panties, and climb on the bed face down – knees up. I watched, and it appeared that maybe she had done this before – probably for one of her sisters.

I felt just a little merciful, and liberally greased both Bobbies ass, and my dildo with KY, then mounted her. Suddenly I only felt rage – "Bobby you BASTARD" I hollered "You SOB; you said you loved me, How can you love me and use me this way?" As I hollered I pumped away, finally reaching orgasm and exhaustion about he same time. I rested for a couple of minutes, still mounted to Bobbie, who was silently sobbing. After catching my breath, I pulled out and sat down again. As I watched Bobbie crawl from the bed, I ordered her to come clean me. She looked confused again, so I shouted 'With your mouth, you dumb cunt!" "Why do you suppose I had you douche before I fucked you?"

Bobbie crawled over – I wondered if she was able to stand just yet, and started to lick me (rather my dildo) clean. "Now suck, and suck hard" I commanded, and she, than started sucking. The nice part of being a woman is multiple orgasms, and I came twice more as she was sucking away.

Finally I was again exhausted, and ordered her to go use some mouthwash so I could kiss her goodbye. I made her autograph her panties with her name and date, kissed her (again with some tong) and then as a final shot asked "Was it good for you?" She blushed, but was under orders to thank me and invite me to "come again" as were all the girls.

I went back to Shirleys' office feeling a little tired, very powerful, and VERY empowered! I had come to understand the program. A lot of issues in my life seemed no longer important. Shirley saw the smile on my face and confidence in my walk, smiled and said, "I think maybe you understand now" I agreed, and thought I never would have got this from interviews and pictures.

I lunched with Beth – feeling exhilarated. She could see the excitement in me, and suggested that since I had extended my motel reservation, I come back again during the next 2 days. I readily agreed.

Later we watched as 3 girls took their "pregnancy tests" The were to old fashioned kind where you had to pee in a cup, insert a stick and wait 5 minutes. The cups and sticks were boxed, and the girls were told to wait 30 minutes before looking inside, I found it interesting watching them sweat. None of the 3 tests were positive, and the relief was obvious on the girls' faces. (I remembered a couple of times when 5 minutes seemed an eternity for me). They were then ordered back to work, Shirley told me hat had any of the tests been positive, there were counselors to talk to the girls, just as in real life. There was no appeal, but we do make an effort to help them accept it she told me. We were worried about suicide at first, but after 3 weeks here the girls seem resigned to just about anything.

Most of my anger had been spent with Billie, but twice more I enjoyed one of the girls, each time feeling just a little more empowered. I drove home after thanking Shirley, Beth and the others. They invited me back anytime I wanted. On the way home I reminisced about the week, and the healing I had done. I REALLY felt good about myself; better than I had ever remembered!

My story wasn't printed (I didn't think it really would) but the editor told me it was mine to keep, even though he paid me. I sent a copy to Shirley, and told her that it was hers, if she could find someone else to print it. I felt more than rewarded having washed away those years of guilt and shame. Life was looking better every day.

I do go back to visit now and again – it's beautiful country, I have good friends there, and always take my toy. I don't always use it, but it's nice to know I can if I want. I'll be married next month, and somehow know that this relationship will last. My past is where it should be!

I am finally healed!

  

  

  

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