Chapter 4: Bargain with the Devil

CASE FILES - PERSONAL NOTES - PATIENTS 333 & 334 - DAY ONE (CONTINUED)

TRANSCRIPTION FROM AUDIO - NOVEMBER 12th – 12:35 AM

HERRINGWICK

Thank you, Lily. Please relax now. Take a break. Terry, can you hear me?

TERRY

Sure. I can hear you.

HERRINGWICK

Can you add anything to Lily’s narration?

TERRY

Well, I guess. I don’t think it’s very pertinent, though. After she sat on my lap and confessed to having had another man’s cock inside her, I didn’t get to witness much else ... not relating to Lily, I mean. Just about everybody was naked by that point, and so I always had a lapful of nude woman to contend with. They all kept trying to get my prick inside them, and after awhile, I just gave up and let them. I mean, what the heck did it really matter, anyway? They were all wet and slippery ... and a few of them were downright sloppy. I confess they felt good. But, after several minutes, I felt the old, familiar failings. I wasn’t going to be able to achieve orgasm. I knew it, somehow. What really confused me was that I was able to remain hard. Once or twice, I began wondering about Lily ... about what she was feeling, about how she was reacting, about the possibility of her feeling pleasure ... and I felt myself inching toward sexual completion, but the sensation would never last for long.

After awhile, I was surprised to note that my sexy, blonde, naked partner and I were the only ones left on the stage. Almost gently, she urged me to my feet, took my hand and led me down into the massive theater room. The only beds left vacant were the ones farthest from the stage, and it was to one of those that we made our way and transitioned to the horizontal. I sort of figured that if I got her to climax, she’d simply lose interest and go away, so I used my fingers and tongue to bring her quickly to a screaming conclusion. But, instead of being satisfied with this course of action, she urged me onto my back and mounted me, riding me, trying almost desperately to bring me to my own sexual peak.

By this time, however, I was attuned to her ... to what turned her on ... and I reached up and began tweaking her hardened nipples, rolling them between my thumbs and forefingers. She had been scraping them on my chest while she was straddling me, up on the stage. And, as I expected, my sexual ministrations eventually began distracting her from her goal of providing me with pleasure, and she instead began reacting more and more to her own. Eyes closed, hair swinging wildly from side to side, she thrust herself down upon me with unrestrained abandon until she peaked again, and she collapsed atop me and nestled into my arms, humming softly in satisfaction.

I let her kiss me tenderly, and she gently extracted herself from my rod, which had temporarily lost some if it’s almost-painful rigidity. “That was wonderful,” she said softly, dreamily. “I wish I could have satisfied you, too. I’ll go and get your beautiful wife. I’m sure she knows what you want.” Then she kissed me and left.

I lay in bed, thinking about the events of the evening; and I’m not sure when I drifted off to sleep. In time, I became aware of a soft, naked body curled up against me. Lazily, I traced my fingertips along the smooth lines of a hip and ass that I knew very well. Lily was dozing alongside me, exactly the way she’d been when I woke up that morning, and exactly the way I knew she’d be the following morning.

“Hello, my love,” I told her.

“You are a bear,” she responded sleepily.

“Oh,” I said. For some reason, I couldn’t think of any reply worthy of such a statement of fact. Finally, I asked “Do you think you could find it in your heart to love a bear?”

She perked up at that. “I believe that goes without saying. I fell in love with a bear the moment I realized it was you.”

“Ah. I see.” I didn’t really see, but I figured that she’d appreciate it if she thought I did.

“You’re hard,” she murmured, wrapping her slim fingers around my shaft and stroking up and down.

“Um ... yes,” I agreed, arching my hips upward inadvertently.

“And sort of sticky.”

“Um...”

“You’ve had it inside another woman.”

“Oh, geeze!” I throbbed in her grasp. “Yes.” Before I knew what was happening, she had leaned over me and sucked half of my length into her mouth. “Holy shit, Lily!” I whispered, though it was almost a shout. She’d sucked me once or twice before, but never so enthusiastically or so deeply. I couldn’t help but thrust my hips up toward her.

She pulled her face away from me, making a smacking sound, and she looked up at me imploringly while she continued to stroke me with her right hand. It was dark, but I could see something odd about her eyes. They were soft with love, but also sort of wild and unfocused. “It’s hard to talk to you while you’re a teddy bear,” she said earnestly. “But I need to tell you, Terry. I need to!”

“Uh ... What?”

“I’ve been fucked, Terry.”

I felt myself lurch in her grasp. “Yes, I know.”

“I’ve been fucked by a snake.”

I could feel an orgasm building. “I’ve heard that’s what snakes do. Fuck people.”

“He made me cum.”

“Oh, God!” I exclaimed softly. I began throbbing.

“It was horrible! It almost hurt!”

“What!?” I jerked my body upward, bringing my elbows under me and half sitting up, looking down at her. “Somebody hurt you?”

But she ignored me completely. No ... that’s not altogether an accurate statement, because all of her attention was on me ... but only one part of me. “NO!” she wailed, grasping me with both of her hands and increasing her stroking motions to an almost painful tempo. “No, Terry! Don’t get soft! It didn’t hurt! I mean, not much. I mean ... Don’t think about the snake! I’ll explain all that later!” She lurched downward and sucked me into her mouth until I could feel my cock hit the back of her throat, then she eased off a little and sucked voraciously. I don’t think I’ve ever been more confused in my life.

Relinquishing her oral task and raising her body until she was on her knees beside me, she shoved me hard with a right hand to my chest until I finally gave up and thumped back onto the bed. She was stroking me furiously again, up and down with strong fingers on my rod; and once she had made me lie back, she used her other hand to massage my balls.

“I should tell you about the other guy, Terry.”

“Other guy? What animal was he?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He wasn’t an animal. He was just a guy.” She paused a beat and considered. “No ... he wasn’t JUST a guy. All the others ... THEY were just guys. And they all fucked me, Terry. All of them. They’ve all been inside me. A couple of them ... up on the chairs ... they came inside me. Two of them. I felt them.” She closed her eyes, remembering. “I didn’t cum, but they did. Inside me.” She shivered a little, and despite my confusion, I began to respond. Her eyes flew open, staring down at me, and a huge smile formed on her gorgeously cute face. “Oh, yes, Terry! I kept telling them: ‘I’ll do whatever you want me to! I belong to you, as long as you’re inside of me!’ And they thrust into me SO deep, Terry! And I could feel them cum!”

She seemed absolutely overjoyed by the return of my hard-on. “But it was the last one! The last man! He was so different! He didn’t want me to tell you. He asked me to keep it a secret ... the feelings that we shared. But I told him no. I told him that I would never keep anything from my husband. I would tell you. I would tell you everything!” She paused to suck me again. Almost lazily, she continued. “And he lay me down on the bed.” Suck. Lick. Stroke. “And he touched me. He touched me everywhere. And I let him.” A long sucking session. “And he mounted me.” Lick. Suck. “And he was SO deep, Terry!” Lick. “And he lasted SO long!” Suck. Lick. Stroke. “And, just when I thought he was going to finish, he grabbed me and rolled us over, keeping himself buried inside me, so that I was on top.”

She threw her leg over me and mounted me, issuing a long, loud, wailing moan as she slid herself completely down onto my hardness. “Oh, Terry! Oh, gosh, Terry! He was SO deep, inside me! So deep!” She was speaking too loudly. Others were most certainly listening. “And he told me to move! Like this! I moved on him like this! Up and down, like this! And he was SO big! So deep, up inside me! And I did everything he told me to! While he was inside me, I belonged to him! I was his! And he started swelling! Even bigger! Just like you’re doing now! And I knew! This was it! It was going to happen!” And she leaned over me, into me, her soft breasts mashed into my chest. And she put her lips to my ear. And she said “Now, Terry!”

And I went off like a friggin’ atomic bomb. There are no words to define the power of the feeling that washed over me, saturated me, exploded out of me. One of my hands was on her back, crushing her to me, and another arm was around her waist, holding her lower body in place, while I drove my hips up into her loins. I’d ram upward and throb, disgorging what felt like gallons of fluid into her shaking being; then I’d sort of lose control and relax a little, and we’d fall apart an inch or two; and I’d repeat the straining, pile-driving thrust, my climax akin to a seizure, the pleasure blossoming out of me, pouring through my shaft. I was shaking all over. It seemed to take a long, long time to come down from that dizzying height.

Finally, I loosened the strength in my crushing embrace, but Lily remained against me, nestled into me, her face buried into the side of my neck, and she was sobbing quietly: “I did it! Oh, Terry, I did it!”

I tried to back away from her face, but failed. “Did what?”

“I gave you pleasure.”

“You never fail to give me pleasure.”

But she ignored that. “You came inside me! I made you cum inside me! You ALWAYS make me climax. Always. Every time. And now, I’ve returned a little of that.”

I sighed heavily and a post coital shiver ran up my spine. “I can think of several pertinent adjectives, but ‘little’ is definitely not among them. I think that’s the biggest orgasm I’ve ever had in my life!”

She giggled, then drew back and studied my face. “You aren’t a bear anymore. Too bad. I sort of liked you as a bear.”

HERRINGWICK

Thank you, Terry. Take a break now. Let me think about this a little.

CHARLIE

Holy crap!

NADIA

I ... I think that was the most erotic story I’ve ever heard!

LORETTA

What did the Prophet give her? LSD?

HERRINGWICK

Probably something very like it ... or he believed that’s what he was giving her, anyway. The ingredients for Lysergic Acid Diethylamide are not naturally occurring substances. They have to be chemically manufactured.

LSD has a fascinating history. Albert Hofmann, the man who first manufactured the drug, was also the first to try it under laboratory conditions, back in the 1940’s. By the way, I saw him once at a medical seminar in 2008, just before he died at the age of 102 ... still sharp as a tack. In the 1950’s and 60’s, the CIA conducted a LSD study called Project MKULTRA, which was so heinously bizarre, that it still provides proof for conspiracy enthusiasts that the U.S. government is capable of some pretty weird shit. In the 60’s, a chemist named Tim Scully produced “Orange Sunshine,” 99.9 percent pure, with the goal to make enough to give everybody in the country a dose, if they wanted it. But, of course, it was quickly banned and outlawed. Modern underground chemists, however, are not the most trustworthy individuals. There are lots of fake formulas. LSD aficionados have a saying: “If it’s bitter, it’s a spitter.” Based on Lily’s reaction, it was probably a phenethylamine derivative. Very quick-acting, very strong, long lasting, and potentially very dangerous, especially when mixed with the other things our Prophet was feeding his guests.

DAPHNE

What about our patients? Do their stories support your theories?

HERRINGWICK

OUR patients?

DAPHNE

Our neighbors. Our friends. The people WE want to help.

HERRINGWICK

(audible sigh) Oh, shit, Daphne. I can’t believe you’ve talked me into discussing this as if it was some sort of class project. (10-second pause) The answers are yes and no ... and maybe. We still have one story to go. We don’t know what happened tonight. Inasmuch as our study of paraphilias go, we are obviously dealing with verifiable disorders.

CHARLIE

Which ones?

HERRINGWICK

Do you remember me telling you that we might be entering into the realm of normal psychology? Well, in a way, we have. Of all the various types of sexual fixations and obsessions, one of the most common involves dominance and submission. There have been dozens, if not hundreds, of sexual surveys and studies done in the academic and professional arenas; and among those that have addressed these issues, the most respected have determined that almost eighty percent of adults have admitted to multiple fantasies involving either sexual submission or domination. And, more to the point, as many as thirteen percent have told researchers that they have, at least once, taken actions to manifest those desires. Thirteen percent. That’s huge. We couldn’t possibly call that “deviant behavior.”

Lily achieves extreme pleasure from being submissive. That’s understandable, as far as simple submission goes. But her husband’s unique desires have forced her into a situation that is ... well ... psychologically confusing, to say the least. She enjoys the sexual stimulation, of course, but hates the possibility of becoming romantically entangled with people other than her spouse. She has justified it in her mind with a personal rule: complete physical and emotional surrender when she is being penetrated by a man. But, already she is cheating; because that surrender appears to be just as total when a woman embraces and kisses her.

There is danger here. She is not a strong personality, and she’s being pulled and tugged in different directions at once. She may be incapable of maintaining these simultaneous psychological extremes.

CHARLIE

Can’t we just change Terry’s ... uh ... proclivities a little? Does he HAVE to just be turned on after she’s been with another guy?

HERRINGWICK

That’s not the case here. You’ve missed something important if you still think that. He lost his sense of sexual stimulation when she began telling him about her “painful orgasm” at the hands of her snake-demon. No, the evidence is clear here. It’s not just Lily having sex that turns Terry on ... it’s Lily’s PLEASURE at the hands of another person ... male or female ... that thrills him.

CHARLIE

And that’s another thing ... this Prophet fellow gave her an orgasm. She admitted it. How come she didn’t enjoy it?

HERRINGWICK

Ah, the orgasm! One of the most common ... and most commonly misunderstood ... things in the human universe! We cannot look at a compilation of female orgasms on some porn site without commenting about how differently all women seem to react. And yet, we fail to grasp the most significant concept: that they ARE different! The orgasm is the one of the most intimately personal things in a woman’s life.

That is, assuming she can have one at all. Ten percent of adult females say they have never experienced one, though whether that is due to physical or mental barriers is unknown. About seventy percent of women will never orgasm through coitus alone ... needing, at the very least, extra clitoral stimulation to compliment the act.

Different studies return dramatically different results to the question of whether a woman is multi-orgasmic. As few as five percent in some studies, and as many as forty-five percent in others, believe they are. But when asked to DEFINE that term, we again get wildly different responses. Twice in one night meets the criteria for some ladies. Twice in an hour does it for others. Twice during one coupling is another answer. Still others claim to orgasm continuously for as long as stimulation is maintained after they reach a sexual peak. The world record, observed and documented under laboratory settings, is 147 orgasms in sixty minutes.

But, for the majority of women, the limit for their own personal orgasms is one. Some say they need at least an hour or two to recover before they’re able to try again ... with limited success. Others maintain they need a day to recoup. Attempts at forcing additional climaxes any sooner is met with physical discomfort. Without prompting, many women have used the same term: “over-stimulated.” Some liken it to electrical shock, like Lily did.

So, to your question, “What did he do to her?” the answer is simply: nothing special. He just over-stimulated her.

DAPHNE

I’m like that. One is my limit.

SIMONE

Yeah. But I can keep you right on the edge for an hour!

NADIA

Alright, T.M.I.!

CHARLIE

Speak for yourself! Go ahead, Simone. Give us all the “I” you want.

Ouch! Hey! No hitting!

NADIA

Pig!

HERRINGWICK

Now, children! It’s getting late. Let’s wrap this up. Time for our final chapter.

Lily, I’m assuming that nothing much else happened that night in the theater.

LILY

No, doctor. We dozed for a little while, and got up and went onto the stage to find our clothes. Then we just left and drove home.

HERRINGWICK

From what you said earlier, I am guessing that you’ve seen your “Prophet” again. Please tell us about it.

LILY

Yes. Today. I had been home for about an hour, back from my shift at the convenience store, and there was a knock on my door.

HERRINGWICK

Here!? He came HERE? To this building?

LILY

No, he sent his assistant ... his sister. She seemed very nervous ... very uncertain. She asked me if I remembered her.

“Sure,” I answered, smiling. “You’re Gladys.” The last time we were together, I had decided that I liked her.

She acted shocked ... stunned. “You know my name?”

“Yes. He called you that, don’t you remember?”

Clearly, she didn’t. She stood in my doorway, swaying a little, her hand to her chest, obviously distressed. Finally, she seemed to make up her mind about something. “I need you to come with me. Please?” She saw my hesitancy, and she added: “Please! I need your help. I’m in trouble! Please help me!”

Well, I couldn’t say no to that. She waited impatiently while I left Terry a note telling him that I’d be back after awhile, and I grabbed my purse and followed her out to her car. We drove west, in the direction of the old theater/church. “What kind of trouble are you in?” I asked her gently, after we’d joined the traffic on the interstate. “Does it involve your husband?”

My question seemed to strike an almost physical blow, and she looked at me so sharply that she inadvertently swerved toward the right lane, earning her a blaring rebuke from the pickup truck beside us. After a steadying half-minute, she stuttered: “You ... you know Dean? He ... he told you we were married?”

I gave a little shrug. “We were together for a long time that night while you were with Terry. He’s really sweet. I liked him a lot.” I paused, uncertain. “I hope you don’t mind me saying that. I just want you to know how lucky I think you are.”

“Lucky,” she murmured quietly. We drove another ten miles before she tried to respond to my comment ... and even then, I didn’t really understand what she was trying to say to me. “Dean and I are having some ... uh ... problems. It’s Frankie. The ... um ... Prophet.”

“Your brother,” I said, nodding.

That startled her, too. “Uh ... yes. Dean told you.” She cast a suspicious glance my way, obviously trying to make up her mind about whether to confide something. Then she sighed. “You affected Dean somehow. I think he really fell for you. Ever since that night, he’s refused to go with me to the orgies ... uh ... I mean the gatherings. It’s thrown off the numbers ... the pairings. Frankie’s been pissed.” She looked at me again for a long second. “Have you and Dean ... um ... met again since that night?”

I reached out and touched her arm. “No! I swear! I would never cheat on Terry. And Dean would never cheat on you! He really loves you. You have to believe that!”

“He told you that? Lying in bed with you, he told you that he loves ... me?”

“He didn’t have to. I knew it. I felt it. It’s true.”

She sighed. “Shit. That makes it even worse.” We were near the theater now, and she paused until she had parked the car. “Dean has laid down the law. Him or Frankie. He made it a demand. He’s given me until tomorrow to quit helping with these ... um ... events, or he’s going to leave me. And he means it. I know he does.”

“That’s no decision at all,” I told her. “You have to choose your husband. You have to choose the man you love ... the man who loves you.”

“It’s not that simple,” she muttered, and she got out of the car and waited until I’d joined her and walked with her to the theater door. I followed her inside and into the foyer, through a side door and up a very long flight of steps to an upstairs apartment. Immediately, she took my hand and drew me into a bathroom. The room was actually rather large, with a shower and tub at the end and a long double-sink built into one wall. She closed the door and gently pushed me back toward the sinks.

“What are you doing?” I asked her. “What kind of trouble are you in? How can I help you with your husband?”

“I don’t think there’s an answer for me and Dean,” she said, still manipulating me back until the tops of my buttocks were pressing against something. “I’ve gone too far. I can’t stop now,” she continued, “not even for him. Sit up on the counter. Do it now.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, confused; but, at the same time, I automatically reached back and put my palms on the countertop behind me, pushing myself up and into a sitting position.

She took another step forward, into me. When we’d both been standing, she was several inches taller than I was; but now her face was even with my own. I can remember thinking as her lips got nearer and nearer to my own: She’s not going to stop. And she didn’t. The kiss was tender, demanding, erotic. As she began unbuttoning my blouse, I contemplated moving my hands, which were still at my sides on the surface I was seated on, but I seemed incapable of doing that. Finally, the garment slid off my shoulders, just as her tongue invaded my mouth, and I moved my arms to encircle her neck.

“Wait,” she ordered. She reached around me and unclasped my bra, then waited until I’d moved my arms to let her pull it off. “Okay. Now you can hold me.”

“What are we doing?” I whispered into her lips, which were brushing my own, tantalizingly. “How does this help you?”

“Frankie has something I need. He won’t give it to me until I give him ... you.”

We kissed for a long time then. I sort of got lost in it, and I’m not sure how long it lasted, but when she finally broke it and pulled me forward and off the counter’s surface, I found that my skirt had been unzipped, and it fell to the floor around my ankles. In one movement, she stooped down, smoothing her palms along my sides and hips, taking my panties with them. She patted the back of my right calf; and I understood, lifting my heel and allowing her to pull my right shoe off, then my left. When she stood again, she put my skirt and panties on the counter. I was naked. Totally and completely naked.

She put an arm around me and drew me to her again, idly smoothing my hair above my right ear. “When you meet Frankie, I want you to pretend that you still have clothes on. You will act naturally. You’ll do everything he tells you to, of course; but that’s just because you always do what EVERYBODY tells you to, don’t you?” When I didn’t answer right away, she used an index finger under my chin to lift my face until my eyes were forced to meet her own. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered, but then I forced myself back into reality. “I mean ... no! This is for Terry. I’m doing it for Terry.”

Her smile turned curious. “Who’s Terry?” But before I could answer, she’d figured it out. “Ah. Your husband. I didn’t know his name. Nice guy.” The smile turned sort of dreamy. “Nice lover. Very attentive.” She paused, and she seemed to be looking into my soul. “So. He likes it when you’ve been with someone else.” She examined my soul some more. “And you’ve convinced yourself that all of these wonderful...” She kissed me tenderly. “ ... marvelous...” Another kiss. “ ... submissive...” Kiss. “ ... obedient...” Kiss. “ ... erotic feelings are for HIS benefit.”

Tears were in my eyes. “Please,” I said urgently, quietly. “I’m very confused. Please don’t...”

She sighed. “Oh, gosh, I like you,” she whispered sadly. “I really, really do. I’m so sorry I have to do this to you.”

She drew me to her and hugged me, then. That’s when I noticed it. The odor. The smell. It was in her clothes. I’d smelled it before, somewhere; and it took me a moment to place it. I’d detected it in a room that I had to clean once at the motel. I don’t know what it was or where it came from, but it was sort of unique. Kind of like the ammonia cleaner I use for stains on the bathroom tile ... but mixed with something else. A burning sort of odor ... like overheated electrical wiring. It was very faint, and a moment later, after she’d stepped away from me and she took my hand to lead me out of the bathroom, I thought that maybe I’d imagined it. But ... I know now that I hadn’t.

LORETTA

Oh my God! The fiend got his own sister hooked on meth and forced her to help him set up some kind of elitist sexual orgy club! He ruined her marriage! He ruined her life!

HERRINGWICK

That’s certainly a possibility. Lily, please continue. What happened then?

LILY

Gladys led me out of the bathroom and down the hall, into the main part of the apartment. Once again, she gave me my instructions: act normally, as if nothing at all was out of the ordinary. Just do as I was told. It’s hard to explain. I tried to tell my husband about it, later on tonight, after I got home, but I don’t know if I did a very good job of it. Terry got awfully turned on, though. It’s like I was in some sort of sexual fog ... almost like a trance. The kisses and caresses that she and I had shared in the bathroom had left me tingling and dazed ... sort of like I’d been the previous week, downstairs in the theater.

The Prophet ... that’s what I called him, all the way through the encounter... “Yes, Prophet” and “No, Prophet” ... he also kept up the incredible charade that this was no different than a normal meeting. He was dressed in a pair of Dockers and a turtleneck. And I was naked. Completely naked. He shook my hand and welcomed me, making small talk about the room we were in, the weather, asking me about the drive out; things like that. After shaking my hand, he stood very close to me, a hand resting on my shoulder. After awhile, he put an arm around me ... around my waist ... and he led me to a chair. I was blushing continuously, but I tried hard to answer him, and I did everything he said automatically.

Gladys stood over near one side of the room saying nothing, but she seemed very impatient, shifting her weight from one foot to another, fidgeting. Finally, she made some comment ... I can’t even remember what it was now ... and the Prophet excused himself, leaving me in the easy chair, while he escorted her into another room. They were in there for a minute or two ... it’s hard for me to estimate, since all I could think about was that I was sitting alone and naked in the middle of a strange room. But, finally he reemerged, and came to me, offering me his hand to help me stand, which I accepted at once; and we were back into this strange piece of character acting. Nothing out of the ordinary. Everything normal.

The whole afternoon and early evening is a blur in my mind. I can remember him leading me to a large window, where we stood, side-by-side, gazing out at the street below. He stood very close, and eventually, the arm went back around my waist, while he chatted about the few people we saw wandering past ... and who, fortunately, never looked up to see me. After many more minutes, his hand began to wander, stroking my side, my back, the top of my butt.

He led me into the kitchen. Set up there on the counter next to the sink, there were several bottles of liquors and wines, along with dozens of test tubes containing various colored liquids. Some others were filled with powders. A couple bore crystals of different sizes. He used an eyedropper to put a minute amount of some pink liquid into a wineglass, then he added some Chardonnay. “Taste that,” he ordered; and I did, commenting that I couldn’t taste anything besides the wine. He nodded, satisfied, and used some tweezers to add a pinch of white powder, swirling it in the glass to dissolve it, before handing it to me again. This time, he made me drink the whole amount, though the glass was only about a quarter full.

But he kept going, mixing this and that, a pinch of crystal, a squirt of blue or orange liquid, and having me sample a small sip of red wine or white wine or water or cola. When I commented about a harsh or a bitter or a sour flavor, he scribbled a note or two on a yellow legal pad. The room began to change around me, spinning slowly, and he stopped and gazed into my eyes, felt the pulse at my neck.