Behind Closed Bedroom Doors

All characters portrayed in this story are over the age of 18-years-old. There are no minor characters in this story.

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Continued from Chapter 1:

The reason why Barbie became a whore was, not because she had an affinity for cocks and for being fucked in her mouth, in her pussy, and in her ass but because she was emotionally, physically, and sexually abused as a child. Obviously, one had much to do with the other. There she had written it. The abuse was on the table and out in the open. Now, as her excuse for her atrocious, anti-social behavior, for her anger, and for her rage, everyone now knows that she was a survivor of emotional, physical, and sexual abuse.

Moreover, in the way it was for her, it's never just one abuser. Oh, no. As if she had a sign on her forehead, in addition to Hawthorne's Scarlett Letter pinned to her chest, that read abuse me, men abused her. As simple as that, that's how she became a whore.

Interestingly enough, in the way that some men saw her as a beautiful and sexy woman, other men perceived her as a whore. By treating her as such and making her feel as such, men physically, emotionally, and sexually abused her into becoming a whore. Trained from the outset to give men sexual pleasure so that they wouldn't beat her but instead give her things, that's what happened to her. As simple as that, she was abused. Cause and effect. You give one and you get the other. You give me this and I'll give you that.

Yet, in the way that the blame was squarely on the shooter of the handgun, should the blame for being a whore be on Barbie? What did she do to deserve this? It wasn't her fault that she was sexually abused by three men and gang raped by her four brothers. Or should the blame be pinned on someone else?

Setting her a bad example, should the blame why Barbie's a whore be pinned on her mother for being a whore, a stripper, and prostitute and never being home? Should the blame be pinned on her uncle and on her cousin for physical, emotionally, and sexually abusing her as a child? Should the blame why Barbie's a whore be pinned on her four brothers for gang raping her as an 18-year-old adult when she was still an innocent child?

Stunting their emotional growth, those who have been so abused never fully mature. Surely, just by referring to her as one name, a whore, Barbie shouldn't be held responsible for all that had happened to her. That's not fair for her to shoulder all of the responsibility and guilt when she was nothing more than an innocent victim.

In the way there are lots of superhero books and movies ala Batman, Superman, the Avengers, the Hulk, and Spiderman, there are just as many vampire books and movies. Other than Bela Lugosi of old, Barbie doesn't like vampires. She never liked vampires. Suffice to say, with her an abused product of parochial school and corporal punishment delivered to her from priests and nuns, she wasn't crazy about Catholic priests and nuns.

Had she not dropped out of school at 16, with her bad attitude, she would have been another one of the nun's and priest's sexual victims. Her friends told her horror stories about Sister Mary Kathryn and Father Murphy. They only picked on the other girls, those 18-year-old women who were of legal so that they couldn't be accused of and arrested for child abuse. As 18-year-old seniors, when called to the office the nun and/or the priest would lift their short skirts, pulled down their panties, bend them over their knees, and spank their naked asses for being disruptive and unruly in class. After a while, with all of her friends deemed whores too, looking forward to the spankings, they all enjoyed having their asses spanked even long after graduating high school.

Chapter 2:

Barbie always wondered why vampires, vampire stories, vampire books, and vampire movies were so popular when vampires don't even exist. Then, taking vampires personally and equating what happened to her when her blood relatives forced themselves upon her, she was kissed by incest for the ejaculation of their cum as if bitten in the neck by a vampire for her blood. If being raped by a blood relative was not being bitten by a modern day vampire, then she didn't know what was. As if she was infected, she was so cursed to relive the incestuous behavior of her relatives before her for the rest of her sad and miserable life.

Yet, deemed one of the lucky ones, when most survivors of any form of abuse, especially incestuous abuse and especially during the stages of early emotional development, most people who are abused gravitate to things they know will comfort, soothe, and relax them. They turn to alcohol. They turn to drugs. They turn to sex or food, and/or even become abusers themselves. Even though she turned to sex in the beginning for shock value, attention, and comfort, she was glad that she didn't turn to alcohol, drugs, food, and/or become an abuser herself.

Some of those victims who were so abused and who were so afflicted with and affected by that kind of lifelong pain, even after years of therapy, were generally sad and were seldom happy. Some of those victims who were so abused committed suicide. Some of those victims who were so abused needed anti-depressant medication just to get them out of bed in the morning and to function throughout the rest of their day. Even though she had become a despicable and despised whore of a woman, hated by other women and lusted over by most men, she was one of the lucky ones.

"Oh, lucky me. Happy day. Yeah, me," said Barbie with cynicism.

After the need for sex wore thin, she turned to writing. She turned to music. Writing stories and playing her music was her therapeutic medicine that kept her sane and that kept her rage from controlling her in the way it controlled her brothers. Keeping her pot from boiling over, writing stories and playing music was her salvation.

Albeit still a whore, sadly, she was still a whore. Certainly, unless she became a nun, she couldn't stop herself from being a whore. Only, just as one may wonder what goes on behind closed bedroom doors, others may wonder what goes on behind high, convent walls.

Something she'd always be, especially after participating in the swinging lifestyle, able to see sex for what it was, just sex, she didn't feel the guilt, the embarrassment, and/or the shame of having sex with strangers. As if her emotional feelings were severed, she had no compunction about sucking the cocks of her friends, her bosses, or her friends' boyfriends or husbands. Just as it was just sex to her, with most men just a one-time thing, they were just cocks to her.

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Her four, much older brothers were all victims of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse too. Often launched in a rage for the slightest provocation, her brothers were all very angry men. As if a pack of wild dogs going in the red zone, they'd soon as kill someone as look at them. With her mother a victim of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse herself, continuing the cycle, her mother sexually abused her sons by having sex with all four of her much older brothers before Barbie was even born. She even suspected that one of her brothers was her father. How's that for fucked up?

Even though she hadn't had contact with any of them in years, not her mother, nor her brothers, nor her sisters-in-laws, her nieces, and her nephews, for some convoluted reason, her big brothers were still her ultimate heroes. Why? Even though they were bad men, even though they were criminals, and even though they raped her numerous times, they were still her brothers.

In their own ways, they were actually good men. They lived by a code that had a sense of fairness. Only, with them so big, so strong, and so violent, they were the judge, the jury, and the executioner. As long as those they happened upon stayed on their good side, they could be good friends and powerful allies. What got in the way of her relationship with her brothers was sex. Even though it was forbidden sex with their sister, it was just sex to them and a way for them to fill a personal need.

Able to forgive them for what they did to her, she could never forget what they did to her. Ultimate Navy SEALs even though they were never in the military, if they ever came upon terrorists, they'd rip them to shreds with their bare hands. Even before her mother got her horny hands, her dirty mouth, and her overused pussy on her brothers, a Catholic priest got to them first when they were innocent, altar boys. Yet, what comes around goes around and, again, with payback a bitch, after being transferred from parish to parish, once found, the Catholic priest who sexually abused them was buried in pieces somewhere no one would ever find him. She could only imagine the torture the pedophile suffered at the hands of her angry brothers.

"God rest his soul. Amen."

Yet, in the way that she had been so abused, she was angry that her brothers were so abused, first by her priest and then by their mother. Had her brothers not suffered as much abuse as she had suffered, she couldn't have forgiven them. With her brothers not getting any psychological help, that would explain why they were so angry. All anyone needed to wind them up was for them to see someone being abused, a husband hitting his wife, a bigger kid picking on a smaller kid, or if they happened upon a violent crime. Even though they were all bad men and criminals, they still had a sense of fair play and justice.

May that priest rot in Dante Alighieri's ninth circle of Hell for all of eternity for what he did to her brothers. Shame on him. Shame on the Bishops for transferring his ass from parish to parish to sexually abuse even more children. Shame on the Catholic Church for covering it all up and for not acknowledging their guilt right away for fear that they'd by liable for damages that would cost them money.

There we go again. If it's not about the sex, then it's about the money, isn't it? Shame on God for allowing that to happen. Whether a parent of a sexually abused child or an adult survivor of sexual abuse, if this isn't Hell on Earth, then what is?

With her mom not a stupid woman but a conniving one, the way for her mother to control four, enormous men was to give them sex. Soothing them while abusing them with sex, it didn't matter if the four, enormous men were her blood, related sons. Her mother sucked and fucked all four of her brothers for years. One, two, three, and/or four at a time, Mommy, the incestuous whore, gave her four boys the sexual comfort they so wanted and needed. If Barbie considered herself a whore, then she considered her mother the ultimate whore, the Queen whores. Only, especially in the beginning, where Barbie had guilt and shame for the things she had been forced to do and willingly had done, her mother showed no guilt and no shame.

With them all drinking, drunk, and drugged out of their minds, she could hear her mother having wild, loud sex with her brothers from her bedroom. She'd routinely go to sleep with her bedroom door shut, locked, and barricaded and with her covers and pillow pulled over her head. Sometimes wishing she were dead, she didn't know why she didn't abort her but sometimes she wished her mother had aborted her. Sometimes, burning them all alive as if they were prematurely in the Hell where they belonged, she wanted to set fire to her house with all of them in it.

### TallBlondeBustyBlueEyedBimbo ###

It all started early one Sunday morning. In the way that her mother and four, much older, drunken brothers were never home, especially on a Saturday night, she stayed out late in defiance of her midnight curfew. She didn't want to go home alone to an empty house where there was no food, no interaction with anyone, and no love from anyone.

She was hungry. Just as she was hungry for food, she was hungry for love, attention, and affection. Back then, the last thing she wanted was sex, especially from any of her four brothers. Back then, with sex seemingly free and plentiful, the only thing she got was sex.

Ever since she was a latchkey child with the television her babysitter, she was always hungry for food and for money to buy the things she so needed and wanted at the mall. Especially when she saw how much the other girls at her school had, she was tired of having nothing and living such an empty life. She was tired of being the tall, skinny girl dressed in her brothers' old clothes and the butt of jokes. It wasn't until she grew to be beautiful, sexy, and shapely that the other girls wanted to be her friend and the boys wanted to be more than just friends.

She was tired of the television being her only companion for as long as she could remember. A movie and TV trivia buff, when she wasn't watching old movies and situation comedies on TV, she was reading. Just as she was a prolific writer now, she was a veracious reader then. Reading and writing saved her from going down the path her mother had wrongly taken.

Until she earned her own money working a part-time job after school and on weekends, she wore her brothers' old, hand-me-down clothes that she altered to make them look like her clothes. A blessing that she had a parochial school uniform to wear, otherwise she'd be wearing her brothers' old clothes to school too. Seemingly with all the money her mother earned stripping and prostituting herself at all hours of the late night and early morning, there was only enough money for her hair, her makeup, her clothes, and her booze, cigarettes, and drugs. God forbid she bought food for the house, her daughter an Easter outfit, and/or a gift for her birthday and for Christmas.

Ready to take a stand, having already dropped out of high school as soon as she turned sixteen-years-old, now that she was 18-years-old and of legal age, she was ready to move out and live with her girlfriend. She was tired of being left alone. She was tired of being lonely. She was tired of being hungry. She was tired of men coming to her door at all hours of the day and night looking for her mother. Taking a lesson from her mother, she knew if she hooked up with a man, at the very least, he'd feed her maybe even clothe her. Sex for food, she was a cheap albeit a hungry date.

### TallBlondeBustyBlueEyedBimbo ###

Normally when she arrived home at any hour, there'd be no one home and she'd be alone. There was seldom any one home. With her brothers all criminals, God only knows what dirty deals they were doing under the cover of night. With her mother a stripper, a prostitute, and a whore, her schedule was whatever the man's schedule was she with.

A beautiful woman, she was tall, blonde, busty with blue eyes, and had big tits. Later in life, not so beautiful anymore, alcohol, drugs, late nights, and chain smoking took a toll on her looks by giving her wrinkles and a raspy voice, albeit a voice that some men thought was sexy. Besides with her mother on her knees or bent over to have doggie style sex from behind, men really didn't care what the Hell she looked like.

At 5'10" tall in stocking feet, at a time when most women were between 5'2 and 5'4" tall, her Mom was a giant Goddess of illegal and forbidden sex. She towered over other women especially when wearing her high heels. Often asked if she was a model, beautiful enough and shapely enough to be, she used to tell everyone that she was. Whether sex with a blood relative or sex with a John as a prostitute, the only sex she had was illegal as it was immoral and forbidden. Since she dumped her husband more than twenty years ago and kicked him out of the house for beating her and being unfaithful to her, she no longer had sex for love.

Truthfully, the only modeling her mother ever did was posing for men with her arms and legs wrapped around a strippers' pole when topless and/or naked. The only modeling she ever did was when bouncing up and down, gyrating side-to-side, and grinding on a man's cock while giving him a lap dance. Like mother like daughter, just as Barbie had become a whore now, her Mom was such a whore back then. Taking one to know one, her mother was the example set for Barbie to follow.

"Whore! Dirty, nasty, disgusting whore! Whore! Get out here and fight so that I can mop the street with you. Whore! Dirty, nasty, disgusting whore!"

She could still hear the hysterical woman, some angry woman, coming to their house and banging on the front door and screaming in the middle of the night looking for her husband. Obviously, figuring he was drunk and in her mother's bed, as he was the night before, there was no one home but for Barbie and her big, bad, brother, Big Louie. When Big Louie opened the front door, having to duck his head to step out on the front porch, as if he was the late, great Michael Clarke Duncan in The Green Mile as John Coffey in the flesh, she never came to their house again. Unless armed with a gun, no one dared mess with Big Louie.

In the way that her mother physically and emotionally abused her and allowed her brother, his son, her brothers, her piano teacher, and strange men she brought home to sexually abuse her too, the same thing must have happened to Barbie's mother. With incest a continuing cycle of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, her mother's mother, her grandmother, was a whore too. Even before that, after her great grandmother died in childbirth, with her grandmother living on the farm alone with her father and three brothers back in Czechoslovakia, no doubt, she was sexually abused by her father and brothers too. Even though it was a different and slower time back then, incestuous sex was not only common but rampant just as it still is today.

Odd that she'd remember such a thing but she remembered her grandmother never wore underwear. With her only seeing her in her housecoat or nightgown with nothing on underneath, she didn't think the woman owned a bra or a pair of panties. With her big, saggy breasts swaying and her big nipples making permanent impressions through the thin, sheer material of her nightgowns, her housecoats were just as transparent as were the men willing and wanting to have sex with her. Willing to open her mouth and spread her legs for anyone willing to give her a few dollars, her grandmother would willingly have sex with anyone, man or woman. As if her front door was a Venus Fly Trap, whether a traveling salesman selling irons, encyclopedias, vacuum cleaners, or aluminum siding, whoever knocked at her front door was invited in for coffee, tea, cake, and sex.

"Coffee, tea, or me?"

With her not even a stewardess, most times, they'd skip the coffee, tea, cake and just have sex. In the way her mother had numerous times, she wouldn't be surprised if her grandmother had sex with her four grandsons too. Now with her brothers possibly having sex with their grandmother, definitely having sex with their mother, and most recently having sex with her, the abusive, incestuous cycle continued for three generations.

### TallBlondeBustyBlueEyedBimbo ###

As soon as she neared her house, she heard the television. It was loud, so very loud. As if they were all deaf when yelling over the television, the TV was always so very loud. Something they routinely did, her brothers were watching a porn movie. Seemingly if they weren't having sex with strippers and/or whores from the strip club, they were watching porn movies.

"Oh, oh, oh, yes, yes, yes. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Stick that big, black cock in my warm, wet cunt. Then, after you fuck me. I'll suck you. You may cum in my mouth and I'll swallow your cum," said some porn star of a whore on TV.

It was after one in the morning. Most people were sleeping but not her brothers. Unless they were drunk or drugged out of their minds, seemingly her brothers never slept. Just like mother like her sons, her brothers were up at all odd hours of the night and early morning. They were talking loud, laughing louder, and drinking. A daily ritual they did, night and/or day, with them watching porn movies and having sex in between, they were always talking loud, laughing louder, and drinking.