Brenda Buttsmit spent over two years in therapy before the professionals deemed her dealing with, if not cured of, a sexually submissive fixation. That one weekend at Riana's home had left clear scars on the surface of her developing psyche that her parents and mental health professional mistook for trauma. Brenda had not been traumatized; she had been sensitized, energized and hypnotized.
Brenda was just 14 years old when she learned the art of fellatio with the help of six boys from the high school swim team. For two delirious days and naked nights she had been sex slave to boys three and four years her senior. All the deep delving of psychotherapists and social workers could not unearth the secret truth held close to Brenda's heart and soul, the young girl had embraced her inner slut.
On her sixteenth birthday Brenda left home. She felt it had become a cage rather than source of safety and love. She had contributed to those feelings, of course. Her alienation from family and friends was seen as a direct result of the abuse she had sustained on that lust-filled Labour Day. Her parents tried their best, but the effect on them merely reinforced the bars on their daughter's mind which Brenda then transposed onto her image of 'home'. Inside that cage was a fledgling bird about to take flight.
With false ID she'd prepared months before, Brenda wandered into an Adult Marital Aids and XXX Video store in Montreal. There, at the back of the store, she found what she'd been told of by the drug dealers at the high school. Past the wall arrayed with sex toys and beyond the aisle shelves filled to the ceiling with porn DVDs were the viewing rooms.
Each of three booths had a DVD player. These 5 X 5 foot spaces were rented out by the quarter hour and the only rule was patron had to 'clean up their own messes' after, before they could get their $20 deposit back. The booths also had one short swivel stool you could sit on while watching your favourite fantasy unfold on the viewing screen. The two rooms at either end had wood doors with internal bolt locks. The room in between these two had only a pull-curtain made of canvas which fastened with Velcro strips along the two side lengths. In the middle of this canvas curtain, conveniently at crotch height, there was a four inch circular hole cut out with a circle flap of fabric sewn on the top of the hole.
This was a Glory Hole. Most of the porn shops in Montreal had one or two of them, mostly used by gay men looking for a cheap date or by ladies of the night looking for a cop-free zone in which to ply their trade. In this particular store 'the middle way' was not a political movement, but a lucrative and convenient set-up for gays, hookers, store owners and, every once in a while, sororities looking for a place and means of initiating their young pledges.
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