From mnemosyne.cs.du.edu!tali.hsc.colorado.edu!boulder!agate!howland.reston.ans.net!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!cs.uiuc.edu!cs.uiuc.edu!laff Thu Mar 17 13:15:35 1994 Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Path: mnemosyne.cs.du.edu!tali.hsc.colorado.edu!boulder!agate!howland.reston.ans.net!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!cs.uiuc.edu!cs.uiuc.edu!laff Message-ID: CMnDvI.6vI@cs.uiuc.edu Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: laff@sal.cs.uiuc.edu Organization: University of Illinois, Dept. of Comp. Sci., Urbana, IL Lines: 331
This story is another from the archives, and is not written by me. Requests for just about anything concerning these posts will be ignored. See the FAQ in a.s.s.d for more information.
Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage From: an1993@anon.penet.fi Subject: STORY: Marc's Diary (pt. 1)
This is a fictional account. The names and characters are fictional. The entries contain explicit descriptions of violence, bondage, non-consensual hetero- and homosexual sex. If such things bother you, read no further.
-} Marc's Diary {-
9/28/92
When life is tough, you grow up one of two ways. You can grow up tough, fighting and overcoming obstacles in your path. Even if you make it, you carry some scars. If you're lucky, you find someone who helps you forget your past. Or you can grow up timid, retiring from the world, seeking some inner order or explanation for the chaos. I'm more the latter, a seeker. I thought I had my life together, but the nightmares are coming back, encroaching on my life. My past is fragmenting my life. Perhaps this is the action of a desper- ate man, purging his thoughts and casting them in an electronic bottle upon a sea of electrons. I simply want the dreams and pain to stop. My shrink sug- gested a diary. Hated them in school. Maybe it's because I had to lie. My diaries reflected the world I wanted. Who knows? Here it goes...
My name is Marc Alan Halbred. I'm a programmer. A very good programmer, I like to think. Thirtysomething, married with a daughter and son. I'm quiet and reserved. I do most of my talking inside my head. Mitz and I have been married, happily, for fifteen years. It doesn't seem that long. She knows very little about my past. My coworkers don't suspect. It's just me and my therapist. I don't think I've even told her everything. I'm terrified but need to expel the shame and guilt. My therapist is hung up on the symbolism in my dreams. Oh yeah, I should tell you about them.
I'm stalking through the jungle. I hear rifle fire and drop down. I crawl slowly coming up to a camp. I sneak about the tents. I see a large net (?) with a guy dangling from it upside down. The scene shifts, I'm beside the guy with an officer next to me. "I'll interrogate him," he says, and be- gins thrusting his cock down the guy's throat while the guy struggles. I turn back towards the tent and walk in. It becomes a school room. The teacher is handing out tests. I didn't know I was taking classes. I don't know any of this. I get up and leave and walk down the hallways. Most of the lights are out. I push open one door entering the men's locker room. I strip naked and take a piss. I walk out into the gymnasium where there's a meet going on. It's my turn. I face my opponent on the wrestling mat, he's on top. The whis- tle blows. [In different dreams, he's fucking my face or ass. In others, I'm fucking his and enjoying it.] Afterwards, we have to climb across this rope. As I work across, I see this rickety house below. Just bare house frame with studs, rats crawling around on the floor. "Come on" I hear. Someone begins shaking the rope. It grinds into the crack of my ass. [Usually I get a wet dream here.] They keep shaking until I fall into the water. I try to stand, but my feet are stuck in the mud. Worse, I'm sinking. I feel eels or leeches swimming about my ass. The seaweed is wrapped about my hands. The water is rising up to my mouth. [At this point, I usually wake up drenched in sweat.]
This is a composite summary. When I see it written, it doesn't seem so terrifying. But at night, it's so vivid; I wake up drenched. In one dream, I dreamt that two children were taken hostage. I grab them and we're running to the squad cars. They start shooting at us. I lay over the kids. I feel the bullets hit me. I wake up and the small patches still tingle on my back and side. Some of the symbolism I can see directly. My past does live in my dreams. To understand, I will try and provide some pseudo-chronological back- ground.
My father was an alcoholic. I didn't know it when I was three. I do re- member the last time I ever saw my father.
"What the fuck ya doin' Helen. Come here!" My father had just come home from one of his drinking sprees. My mom was in the kitchen. His hands started pulling at her shirt when I ventured in. "Why don't ya give me a kiss to wel- come me home!"
"Come on, Hank. You're drunk." She said quietly.
"You're damn right I'm drunk!" He grabbed her roughly by the arm. "Come here." He pulled her like a doll into his arms, fastening his lips to hers. She tried to push away.
"Mama?" I asked. My father swung about to see me, then turned back to my mother thumbing his finger at me.
"Why's he still up?" He turned to me. "Get your ass in bed!" I stood frozen in terror. My mother started toward me, but he held her fast. "Go!" he cried. We stood there staring at each other; my terror transfixed by his rage. Then he advanced towards me.
"Mama?"
"No, Hank!" I heard her cry, grabbing his arm. I turned and ran. I hid in my closet, clutching a stuffed animal. [My seal. Fred? Anyway] "Hank!" I heard a slap.
"I work hard all day keeping you in clothes. When I come home at night, I expect a little lovin'. Is that so much to ask?" he shouted. Things were crashing to the ground. "Take off your clothes, damn it." There was a ripping sound. I heard my mom scream. I remember screaming into the seal. The table squeaked. "Damn it, it's your fuckin' fault!" There was another thud and my mom was crying. "You use me, bitch. You and that fuckin' brat!"
"No, Hank, stop!" More scuffling.
"Stupid cunt," his voice said more hazily. Later I heard my parents' bed- room door close. The next morning my mom took me and a few possessions and left. I've never seen my father since.
We moved in with my mom's Aunt Lillian. The woman was bonkers ever since her husband died back in the Korean War. It was there that my mother gave birth to my sister Doreen. A horrible name, I think, but one of those passed down in the family--a hapless heirloom.
My aunt never remarried. There were pictures of him everywhere; the liv- ing room was more a shrine. My mother had to work to provide the necessities for my sister and me. My aunt wasn't poor just very rigid in how we were to fit into her environment. While mom worked, Aunt Lillian cared for us. She was a strict disciplinarian.
Once I accidently knocked over a flower pot sitting on the windowsill. She ushered me down to the basement, locking me in the coal cellar. I remember the darkness clinging about me. When something brushed against me I realized that there were mice or rats in there and began screaming. I was told to quiet down or I'd be there until dinner. I told my mother that night, but she chided me for lying and that we relied on Aunt Lillian's courtesy. Aunt Lillian had told my mother how I had broken the pot and hid in the basement. It took my aunt several agonizing hours to find me. I often was punished for my sister's actions. As the boy, I had to do a number of chores. I guess I'll talk about her tommorrow.
10/2/92 <---i
Yep, I'm great at writing in diaries. Let's see, I was going to talk about my Aunt Lillian. Yeah, I had a number of chores. My least favorite was helping my aunt bathe. I would wash her back and front. Her breasts hung limply, like wrinkled old sacks. I would have to take off my clothes and join her in the cold, white enameled tub. Once while washing her front, I got a slight erection. My aunt's face grew red. "You horrid boy! You atrocious child!" She grabbed her scrub brush and began beating me with it. I clammered from the tub quickly unaware of my transgression. I ran down the hallway to my bedroom. I sat on my bed, dripping wet, shaking. The door openned and she entered, her silk robe draped about her. In her hand was a riding crop. "A razor strap is a man's tool, but a nice crop is a woman's" she used to say.
"The devil's in you. We must get him out! Turn over." I remember beg- ging her. She lashed at my arms and back until I complied. I can still recall the burn and sting as the leather landed repeatedly on my wet ass and thighs. My sister, maybe six, peeked about the doorframe with mixed horror and curio- sity. I slowly realized that my aunt had stopped beating me and had risen. The throb started to return. The ache caused me to cry. "Don't cry like that. When you do something wrong, you should expect to be punished and take it like a man." So saying, she left the room. In my mother's absence, I was the man of the house--chopping firewood, shoveling coal. I suppose it made me grow up early.
My aunt often sided with my sister who used that to her advantage. If my aunt was concentrated evil, my sister is sociopathic. Though I can't really blame her. I feel I sometimes encouraged it. Once my sister told Aunt Lillian that I'd released her pet rabbit Harry and released him in the garden. I can't say now if I did, though I might have. She always poked him and was rough. Anyway, Aunt Lillian grabbed me by the hair and lead me to the cellar grabbing her crop en route. I was made to pull down my pants and was given several beatings. I was forced to crawl into the small hutch. The wooden frame with the chickenwire mesh was maybe 18x30x24 inches. She locked it shut and went back up stairs. My sister Reena remained to taunt me, poking my sides. The wire was sharp, and my shorts and briefs still down about my legs. She took a stick and began batting about my penis causing it to grow erect. I called to her to stop. She rose. I couldn't shift my head about. She came walking about to the front of me, unlatching a small door above me. My sister grabbed my hair. "Ow! Hey!" I began to shout as she stuffed a rag into my mouth and ran a strip of cloth or something about it, tying it through the chickenwire on the outside. She laughed at my predicament. She disappeared behind me and went over to the stairs.
"Shouldn't you be shovelling coal or something?" She got the coal shovel and slid the shaft through the mesh and placed it against my asshole. I tried to cry out. She turned and twisted it until it entered enough to be secure. Then she started putting coal in it. The upward pressure was causing an in- tense burning pain, a feeling of needing to void, and a desire for it to never stop. I heard her laugh and dash up the stairs. The door closed and locked. I don't remember how long I was like that. When finally released, I felt elec- trified. I wanted it to happen again. I wouldn't ask my sister to do this. But that winter, after shovelling, I found a beam I could dangle from and lower myself down onto the shaft, looking over at the hutch highlighted by the fur- nace flames. Later next year, Aunt Lillian died leaving the house and a size- able sum to my mother. By now I was starting junior high.
Socially I was backwards. My aunt was very stern about coming straight home after school. I wasn't an "egghead," but I was unsure what to do. I felt more comfortable with girls than boys. I knew what girls expected, boys were unpredictable. My mom that that being with other boys would help me, so she enrolled me in boy scouts.
It was fun. Mr. Myers was our pack leader. I often wished he were my father. I was one of five tenderfoot scouts. For one of our badges, we needed to go on a campout. An informal camp out was organized by the eagle scouts. I didn't know that this was part of their initiation ceremony designed to change boys into men. Our initiation consisted of sleeping naked with just a blanket. After everyone went off to sleep, the five of us were awakened and lead off to separate areas. After settling down at my site, my guide had me strip and took my clothes. I shivered and settled down for the night. The stars sparkled, the crickets chirped, the new moon blanketed the meadow in darkness. Compared to the coal room, this was easy to drift off to sleep.
I was awakened shortly thereafter by a pair of hands pressing down on each limb and a hand cupped over my mouth. As I started to call out, a neckerchief was stuffed into my mouth and another wrapped around tightly to secure it. My kicking and turning was futile. They worked quickly, my wrists and ankles fas- tened tautly to tent stakes with now familiar knots.
"Now for the magic trick. Hope you don't mind a few ants," laughed one of the boys. They pulled the blanket out from under me and left. The dew from the ground was cold on my back. I screamed but only a muffled sound came out. They were gone for an hour when I heard a rustling behind me. I looked up. It was Billy. He was older but never really hassled us.
"If you do as I say, I'll help you. You don't, you spend the night like this." I nodded assent. He started taking off his clothes. It was dark, but still I could see the silohuette of his body having reached manhood. He knelt beside me. He bent close; his breath was warm against my cheek. His lips ran over my earlobe. My breathing was erratic; I didn't know what he was going to do. He must have just started shaving; his stubble was still soft. His tongue and teeth were exploring my neck which I tried to pull away. He noticed my cock was starting to grow. His tongue worked its way down towards my nipples, biting then licking them. He straddled my head, his dick hitting my cheeks and chin while his mouth worked along my side and stomach. My cock was rock hard. He crawled forward; his legs pressing down on my shoulders while his tongue danced around my dick and inner thigh. He stopped and flipped about, undoing my gag. "I want you to lick my cock," he whispered. He repositioned himself so that it dangled over my mouth. Hesitantly, I licked it. It was much bigger than mine at the time. I watched fascinatedly as it grew. He leaned forward and licked mine. Then he took my head into his mouth. Without much thought, I did the same. His tongue flicked my cock back and forth. Then he turned back to me.
"It's easier if you tip your head back," he said confidently. I nodded and tipped my head back. He sat back and pushed his dick into my mouth slowly. I nearly gagged. He withdrew partially. I caught my breath. He leaned for- ward, this tongue flicking over my stomach sending ripples. His hand grasped my dick and gave slow, smooth jerks. My mouth closed about his dick causing him to rock back and forth gently. I felt it growing hard. His breathing was growing faster as was his pace. I tried to disengage. He sat back, clamping his knees beside my head. His dick managed to run down my throat. I panicked. I felt my own cock spraying warm cum on my stomach, slowly dripping down my sides. Suddenly something went shooting down the back of my throat. He with- drew and sat back as I twisted my head and barfed. I heard him laughing as I laid there panting. He wiped his cock on my face. "See ya later pup." He rose and began to gather up his clothes.
"Hey!" I shouted, "You said you'd free me."
"I said I'd `help' you," he snorted down at me.
"Asshole!"
"Watch who you call an asshole, shithead!" he said giving me a sharp kick in the side. Bending down, I took the neckerchief wiping up the vomit and dirt and stuffed it back in my mouth, resecuring it. The taste and stench nearly caused me to wretch again, but the gag suppressed it. He disappeared. I hardly slept watching the darkness be dispelled by the dawn.
"Pee-ee-yoo! Looks like Halbred's a barf baby!" Two youths emerged, re- leasing the ropes at the stakes. One of them tossed my clothes on my stomach, then the bed roll over my face. "Breakfast is in half an hour," said one, and both promptly stomped away. I sat up slowly. I let the blood flow back into my hands slowly. My thighs ached having been outstretched for hours. I undid the gag, spitting several times. I put on my clothes. While they had tried to confuse us (the tenderfoots), orienteering was one of my few hobbies. I had noted several landmarks and was quickly back in camp. I showered and washed out my mouth. I saw Billy at breakfast and avoided him. The other tenderfeet (?) didn't seem to have received the same treatment. Had he done the same to them or just singled me out? I still wonder about that.
10/15/92
Another nightmare last night. I'm standing on the pier at Lake Shawmpat. It's nighttime. I decided to go swimming. While I'm swimming, I see these snakes slithering from the grass into the water and approaching me. I start swimming to the shore as they approach. As I start climbing out of the water, my feet are stuck in the black mud. They start biting my legs and slithering up my trunks.
When I told my shrink, she asked me what I thought it symbolized. I joked about the Freudian stuff, snakes = penises. I said it could be that. I think Billy is the root of my problems. After that incident, things seemed to stop. We avoided each other, except when forced by circumstance. He started hanging around with another kid. Todd. Much older. Typical throwback, 14 or 15 with a 5 o'clock shadow, smoked pot all the time. Somehow, I got on Todd's bad side; the elbow jabs, tripped, and threats. At one of our campouts, Billy in- vited Todd along. I was partnered with Dusty, a new tenderfoot. At the ap- pointed time, he was escorted off for his initiation. Should I have warned him; told him my experience? Would they do the same thing to him? Should I go help him?
I waited until they had left then bundled up some of his clothes and went into the woods. He was being lead blindfolded. They stripped him and left him his blanket. I went up to him and gave him his clothes. I explained that if he hid in a tree or something until morning, he'd be "safe." I told him how to get back to camp. I returned to camp and bed.
I was sleeping when they broke in, roping my ankles. One of them sat on my back pressing my face into the pillow, while the other bound my knees to- gether. My wrists were pulled back and bound together, with a sock(s) being stuffed in my mouth. I felt a pole being slid under the bonds, and I was hoisted up like a deer carcass. My head hung down with my shoulders awkwardly torqued. I struggled causing my captors to stagger. The branches and bramble scratched my face. They said nothing except an occassional fuck. We came to a small clearing where they dropped me, the pole striking me squarely between the shoulder blades. The pole was pulled out and I was rolled over roughly.
"I don't like you, Halbred." I stared up angrily at Todd. "Bill tells me you give good blowjobs." I glanced down at Billy. "Do you know how to breathe under water?" I began to sweat. "Can ya crawl like a snake? We're gonna make a wish." Fuck no! He grabbed a twig and began whipping me with it forcing me to inch my way over to an old well. They stood me up against the well. Billy untied my feet. As soon as they were loosed, I began hobbling off, but Todd jumped me. He rolled me over while Billy tied ropes from my ankles to stakes near the well. "Leaving so soon? Don't you want lesson two?" The two of them picked me up and leaned me against the wall, tightening the anchor ropes. Todd removed the strap about my knees. The ropes were drawn out further.
Billy slipped a diving mask over my head, covering my nose and eyes. The gag was removed. "You'll need to breathe through this. Open up." I refused. He pressed my stomach to the wall and pushed me over. The ropes tightened about my ankles and my toes slid off the stone upward. My head went falling into the water, cold and stagnant. I panicked as I grew desperate for air. I felt Billy's hand grab my hair and hoist me back up as I coughed out water. "It's a lot harder to breathe under water without a snorkel." I relented. He inserted it and secured it. I was pushed back into the water. At first I could barely breathe. The water was cold; the well's rim pressed into my stomach. Old leaves would brush and cling to my face. Then I felt my briefs being pulled down about my knees. I waited what seemed to be an eternity. The twig began blistering my ass. I was getting a hardon. Billy's (?) hands began milking me. Then stopped. Again the long wait. I struggled to raise my head, but couldn't. I felt two thick hands on my ass. Thumbs began pressing into my asshole. I twisted about vainly, my bound hands reaching out to grab onto anything. Then I felt a thick, hard cock pressing into my ass. He began to pound, each thrust ramming my hips into the side of the well. I felt him ex- plode inside me, I shot my load too.
I can't describe the feeling adequately in words. Surrounded by cold. Breathing through my mouth the cold wet night air. The hot air causing sweat to form inside the mask. The pure pain of my hips and his thrusting. The utter helplessness of my hands and legs. The scene was replay twice more. I hung there for maybe a half hour (?) more, the come dripping down my ass and legs. Afterwards, I was pulled up and tossed to the ground. Billy removed the mask and snorkel. I laid there and coughed. Todd bent down, his cock dangling by my face.
"Hey! I've yet to see your great blowjobs!"
"Come on, Todd," Billy said, "It's getting late. We've had enough fun with shithead there." That really surprised me. Todd looked at me, snorted, and rose, walking away. "Watch out Halbred or the boogeymen will get ya'!" Then they left.
I remember laying there, sore and aching. The ropes had cut into my wrist and were soaked with sweat. I tried working at the wet tangle of knots with no success. The pine needles were sticking to my ass. After one last desperate clawing, I managed to slide one hoop of rope over my wrist loosening the bonds. I felt triumphant and rolled back. Renewed, I freed my hands then my ankles. Ironically, I felt lost for the first time. I had started back but stopped, deciding to wait by the well for more light. I then returned to camp, climbing into my sack for a couple hours sleep. We left that day. Dusty had survived his initiation. I dropped out of boy scouts. I saw Billy in school, but never with incident. I can't say I respected him. Never understood him. Todd drop- ped out of school; never saw him again. The bad thing about this is that it gave me a new way to masturbate. That's all for tonight, dear Diary. -- I will ignore all requests for: reposts, e-mailing missing parts, archive locations, ftp sites, gif sites, and subscription requests. These stories get deleted immediately after they are posted. For more info on the ARCHIVE postings, read the FAQ posted bi-monthly to a.s.s.d