My name is Laura. I'm twenty-three years old and up until recently, I thought I was incapable of having an orgasm.
I made multiple visits to my gynecologist to diagnose the problem, but no matter how many times she examined my genital area, she was unable to find any physical or anatomical reason for lack of orgasm. Blood circulation to my clitoris wasn't a problem. I could get my clit impressively hard and swollen, however, achieving orgasm was impossible,
This stumped both my gynecologist and me for years, and then recently, I learned that the reasons for my sexual dysfunction were psychological.
Apparently, I have a lot of pent-up guilt and it causes so much psychological tension that my body tenses up when I'm close to achieving orgasm and blocks me from reaching climax. I have a multitude of reasons for the guilt I carry around. For starters, my family is Catholic and I'm a lesbian. My family and my church have very strong views on homosexuality and none of them are good.
My family is also insanely wealthy, and we own hotels that pay some of our workers slave wages. In addition to abusing their employees, my parents commit all kinds of fraud when it comes to paying their taxes. My parents also give millions of dollars to corrupt politicians that enact laws that hurt the working class, the homeless, minorities and the unemployed.
All of this guilt ties me up in knots and inhibits my sex life.
It wasn't until recently that I discovered a way to deal with the problem. One night after hours of furious masturbation and sexual frustration, I fell asleep and found myself in an erotic dream. In this dream, I was chased and captured by tall, imposing women in military-style uniforms. They grabbed me and roughly ripped off my clothes. Once I was naked, they threw me down on a desk, held me down and abused my naked body in ways that were both painful and humiliating.
They started by grabbing my breasts and roughly squeezing them. Then they proceeded to smack my breasts and my inner thighs hard enough to leave angry, red handprints. I screamed and I struggled to get free, but the women were too strong, and they easily held me down and kept my legs pulled indecently far apart.
Then one of the women removed a truncheon from her utility belt and placed it between my legs. She briefly rubbed the rounded tip of her truncheon against my lewdly exposed pubic lips, and then with a wicked smile on her face she shoved her truncheon inside of me, stabbing the shaft of her truncheon into my vagina as far as it would go.
I screamed and suddenly I was in the throes of orgasm. My sex contracted around the truncheon and my whole body shuddered uncontrollably. It seemed as if an orgasm had been building inside of me for years and suddenly it had been released by these women who had stripped me against my will, thrown me down and raped me.
When I woke up from the dream, I was gasping and still in the throes of orgasm.
"Oh God,"
I moaned over and over as I reveled in the post-orgasmic afterglow. It was my first orgasm ever and it was far more exquisite than I imagined it could ever be. I continued to pant for several minutes before the euphoric sensations began to die down.
That dream was a sign, or a message, or something. I discussed it with my psychiatrist a few days later and she hypothesized that my feelings of guilt were so strong that on some deep, subconscious level I refused to allow myself consensual sexual release. However, if I felt that I had no control over the situation and somebody else had control over my body then I would be able to achieve climax.
She also hypothesized that my Catholic upbringing demanded that I do some sort of penance for the "sin" of lesbian sex, thus the women in my dream had to hurt me before I could achieve orgasm,
"So, basically, I have to be raped and punished in order to enjoy sex?" I asked.
"That's a rather simplistic way of putting it," Doctor Cordes replied, "but, if control is taken away from you, there's no guilt. In this dream, you couldn't be held accountable for anything because these women made you helpless and forced everything upon you. You weren't a lesbian indulging yourself in sexual pleasures of the flesh. You were captured, held prisoner, and sexually assaulted. You didn't instigate anything or give consent."
"I was a victim," I said.
"Precisely. That removes any possibility of you being blamed for your orgasms. Nothing that happens while you're helpless can possibly be your fault. There's no guilt, therefore you stop resisting."
My issues required that I be ravished without my consent because consenting would be sinful. It was far better to be sexually assaulted and taken by force. And I had to be hurt, because despite resisting, well, deep down I suspected that I really was a slut and needed to be punished.
We discussed the psychological implications of my dream until the end of the session and I scheduled a follow-up session for later in the month, but I was already formulating ideas for how this new information could work for me.
There were women in the lesbian community who were into rough sex. I thought that I could go into lesbian chat rooms or website or clubs and find a woman who would be willing to tie me up, make me helpless and smack me before forcing things inside my vagina and making me cum.
Simple, right? It was the obvious solution.
Wrong.
I wanted to be treated roughly, abused, punished and raped. However, once women realized who I was they were afraid to be rough with me. The Sterling family was wealthy and powerful and had a reputation for destroying people who crossed us. Even if I gave people consent to spank me or whip me with a belt, they worried that my family might come after them later and claim that I was assaulted or sexually abused by them and that my family would send them to jail, even though everything they did was consensual.
I'm not making this up. My family has a truly scary reputation. When they go to war with someone, they don't play fair. This is part of the reason I carry around so much guilt. My parents, my Uncle David and my Uncle Charles are all malicious, vindictive people.
I discussed these problems with my twin sister. Lexis and I are identical twins. And while we may look exactly alike, our similarities do not extend into our abilities and skills. Lexis has proven time and again that she's far smarter than me. Maybe I couldn't figure out a way to get women to abuse me and treat me like their whipping girl, but Lexis was clever. I was certain she would figure out something.
"I see your problem," she said. "Our family has a reputation for destroying people. If I was an ordinary person, I'd be afraid of our family too."
"So, what do you think I should do?" I asked.
Lexis toyed with the straw in her drink. It looked like one of those fruity cocktails that was 95% strawberries and 5% rum. It was the kind of drink my sister liked. She considered the question for several moments and then said, "I seem to recall there was a business we owned stock in that did stuff to girls...what was their name?"
Lexis was being vague, but she seemed to have an idea. She grabbed her laptop and ignored me for several minutes as she pulled up windows and opened folders. She was searching for something, although she wouldn't say what it was. I assumed she had the bare bones of an idea, and she was searching for a way to put some meat on those bones.
"
Yes! I found it!"
Lexis screamed triumphantly and she pumped her fist in the air in some sort of display of victory.
What Lexis had found was an institution that went by the innocuous name, the Crestview Center.
The Crestview Center was founded in 1947 by Johannes and Vanessa Cropp. Back in the 40's and 50's daughters and wives from wealthy families were sent to the Center if they were deemed to be too ill behaved, lazy, willful, obstinate or disruptive. Upon arrival at the Center, they would be stripped naked and given menial labors to perform. If they were lazy, disobedient, or misbehaved in any way, they could be harshly disciplined. Spankings and whippings were common forms of punishment used on women who were judged to be in need of correction.
"Since then, the Crestview Center has slowly evolved," Lexis explained. "Most of the women who are sent there now are actually wealthy women who are into forced nudity, strict discipline and corporal punishments."
"Oh, my God!" I exclaimed. "That sounds ideal! How do I sign up?"
"Well, it's a little more complicated than that," Lexis said as she raised one eyebrow and studied her computer screen. "It's still required that an authority figure such as a mother or father sign the papers to sentence a woman to time in Crestview."
"Oh, hell," I grumbled, frowning at the news. "There's no way Mom or Dad will go for this."
"No, there isn't," Lexis agreed. "Hang on. Let me see if I can't come up with a way to get around this."
Lexis sipped her drink and took notes as she read more about the peculiar institution that stripped girls naked and punished them. It took her less than twenty minutes to formulate a solution.
"Okay, I think I've got it," Lexis said. "There's nothing in here that says that the authority figure who sentences you to time in Crestview has to be older than you. They mostly just want someone who can pay the incarceration fees and look like they have authority over you. Hell, I could do it!"
"You? But you're my sister! You've never had any authority over me."
"Not yet," Lexis conceded. "But what if I got you to sign documents that gave me power of attorney over you?"
"Do you think that would work?" I asked. I'd heard the phrase 'Power of Attorney' before, but never really understood what they meant.
"It'll work, trust me," Lexis said confidently. "It'll make me look very powerful in their eyes."
* * *
So, we had the power of attorney papers drawn up. They were signed, witnessed, and notarized. Lexis kept one copy and the original paperwork was kept on file with one of our family lawyers.
Next, Lexis went online and applied to have me incarcerated at Crestview for ten days.
"Okay, the earliest I can get you in is July the fifth. Is July the fifth okay with you?" Lexis asked.
