Chapter 3

"Hi, Bill," said Amy.

"Hi, Amy." Her visits were definitely the highlight of his day. This time she was carrying a shallow pan full of water, a bar of soap, and a towel. "Time to clean up."

"Oh," said Bill. He pulled the offered items into his cell and looked at them doubtfully.

"How did you get clean at Washington Lake?"

"They let me go to a shower every few days."

"Oh, fancy place! Here you just give yourself a sponge bath. Mind if I watch?"

"No," he said simply. The way she said it made him feel nice. She could of course watch if she wanted anyway, but she was giving him a choice.

While he stripped, she pulled up a chair and sat, her khaki-clad legs splayed wide apart, arms folded across her chest. Bill tried to suppress his thoughts, but he couldn't help noticing Amy's pretty face and friendly smile. He was naked, washing himself, and she was watching. He saw her eyes looking at his sex organs. Although her body was completely covered, the way the cloth spread tightly over her crotch made it apparent that she wasn't like him between the legs. He'd occasionally seen little girls down there from a distance, but he'd never seen a woman. Did he have a deep desire to stab his penis into Amy and cause her agony and humiliation? He wasn't aware of such a desire at all, but he guessed it was just his nasty male nature deceiving him. These fleeting thoughts made his penis grow. He turned away from her and tried to finish his washing as quickly as possible.

"Say, your penis is getting stiff again, and you weren't touching it. Just like at the auction when I lifted that skirt thing. What's the story with that?"

"I'm so sorry," said Bill. "I'll do my best to keep it from happening in the future. If you have ideas for how I can improve myself and keep it from happening, I'll gladly try them."

"Wait," she said all of a sudden. "Is it me?"

"Oh, no, of course not! I mean ... I would never do that, never think of you in a bad way. It would be terrible of me!"

But Amy was smiling and looking at him skeptically. Bill was stepping hastily back into the dirty sweatpants.

"No, no, take those off again," said Amy with a smile.

Miserably, Bill complied.

"Now come stand here at the bars ... Face me."

His cock was growing again. There was just something about her face.

She reached her hand out slowly to grasp his penis, but he pulled back.

"Why are you doing that?" he asked. 'Why did you do that at the auction? My organs are disgusting, right? And my penis should never get hard except when I'm giving a sample! I try to overcome my male nature but you make it so difficult!"

"Oh ... Oh, I'm sorry," she said, her smile gone.

He suddenly realized that he had gone beyond his station, questioning his handler, who undoubtedly had her reasons. And he knew that saying all that was risky. If Shady Grove got tired of him, they could simply kill him, as easily as Washington Lake. He gathered again his calm and submissive voice and said, "I am sorry, ma'am. You know best. I will do whatever you command to the best of my ability."

Amy regarded him thoughtfully. "You really believe it all, don't you? Interesting. You could tell Carl never really believed it."

"Believe what?"

"Everything in the Dworkinian manifesto. Especially all the stuff about men."

Bill was wary of a trap, but Amy's expression put him at ease. It was almost as if she thought he was a woman -- a real person. But she also made his loins stir, which was the start of the male response that would soon make him intent on brutalizing her. "Um, it's what I've been taught."

"But does it make sense to you?"

Bill sat on the cot, dressed once again, and listened warily. "Of course, ma'am. We are moving forward to the perfect society under Dworkinism."

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"What do you mean?"

"Can I tell you something and you promise not to tell anyone else?"

"Yes, I know what a secret is," he said, trying to hide his irritation. "But why?" He was trying to think why he'd tell anyone else. She was the one in charge of him, but her smile loosened him up. "Yes, I can," he said definitely.

"In the attic, my mother has tons of books and magazines from the old days that she's not really supposed to have. All books that aren't specifically allowed are banned because they perpetuate harmful obsolete thought patterns and interfere with finally building the Dworkinian society."

"That sounds wise."

"Yes, well ... If my mother found out I'd be in big trouble. I'm really not supposed to look at them."

Bill nodded.

Amy sighed and shifted in her seat. "But how can knowing something be worse than not knowing it? Anyway, let me tell you what I've discovered about men. It's true that men were dominant over women on the whole, but it was way more complicated than that. Men could only have sex with women if the women said they could." Bill raised his eyebrows. "OK, rape did occur, and women worried about it. But at least 3/4 of women never got raped, and the others it was usually just a time or two. It was a crime, and if a man got caught, people -- men, often -- would send him to prison for a long time. Men couldn't marry women unless they agreed to it. Even when they were married the man couldn't have sex with his wife unless she said it was OK."

Bill nodded noncommittally. This was sounding far-fetched.

"A few men did enjoy causing women pain, but most didn't. Men loved women, and did their best to make them happy. And here's the biggest thing. You know how the Dworkinian position is that all sex is rape? That women submit to men's desires?"

Bill nodded.

"Well, it's not true. Women wanted it. They craved sex a lot and missed it."

"Pain? They wanted pain? To have their bodies punctured?"

"No! Women have a hole, built just for sex. It's called a vagina. It's big enough for a penis to slide in without causing any damage or pain. The woman felt good when the penis was sliding in and out of her. She felt pleasure -- a lot of pleasure."

Bill looked at Amy with unease. This was contrary to everything he'd been taught. "But women are meant to love each other as equals. The idea that a woman wants a penis was one of the big lies of the patriarchy. Semen can be placed in a vagina with something very small like an eyedropper, and a vagina is a birth canal." He also realized his penis was getting hard again, so he raised the nearer leg to block it from Amy's view.

"Yeah, well..." Amy sighed. "That's the theory, isn't it? We women date each other, kiss, and sleep together. We know how to give each other orgasms. It's nice."

Bill felt jealous. He knew women felt ecstasy at the culmination of sex with other women, and his own pleasure when he produced semen was the primitive counterpart of the real pleasure women felt. If only he could be a woman and feel some of those things!

"But Bill, there's something missing! Dworkinism teaches us that our vaginas may change and release fluid when we get excited, but this is a primitive reaction -- paltry self-defense against the stab wounds men inflicted on us -- and inconsistent with true pleasure, which is of course from the clitoris. That's the teaching. But I put my finger in my vagina when I'm excited, and it feels good, damn it! Two fingers feels better than one, and the in and out motion feels just right. I've tried it with some of my lovers -- starting to put my finger in them. A couple told me I shouldn't do that, but a couple let me, and they thought it felt good, and then admitted they'd done it themselves. But they were ashamed of it and assumed I was too."

Amy looked at him intently. "I like it that your penis gets hard when you look at me. It's exciting. You don't want to hurt me, you're just interested. It's natural! Or at least I think it's me you're interested in." She lowered her eyes.

"Um, yeah, you have that effect on me. But Amy, I don't know," he said, very uncomfortable. "A male feeling sexual attraction to a woman is the first step to rape," he said feebly, but he wasn't so sure any more. "Isn't it?"

"No, not very often. So please," she said. "Please, for me, could you stand up, come over her, pull down your sweatpants and let me look at your nice stiff penis?"

Bill gulped. It felt very dangerous. But his handler Amy was asking. Pretty Amy, and he couldn't resist. He slowly rose and walked to the bars, then pulled his sweatpants midway down his thighs. And there was his penis, sticking straight out, right at Amy. But she didn't look disgusted. She looked fascinated, adoring even!

"Come right up and stick it through the bars," she said.

When he had done that she reached out her hand and touched it. A woman was touching his penis when it was in its disgusting, violent mode! But if what Amy said was true...

"It's so soft," she said. "But hard too." Her light touch was terribly exciting. "I bet a vagina feels kind of like this," she said, forming a tube with one hand and putting her other hand at the end of the first to make a longer tube. "Now you push in, like it was a vagina. In and out ... That's it. You like that?"

Bill nodded enthusiastically.

"That's what a man wants to do, not to make a woman feel bad but because it feels great to him. And the woman wants him to do it because it feels great to her."

Amy's story was amazing -- could he dare to dream it was true? In any case, it felt fantastic pressing into the tunnel formed by her hands. So fantastic. He stopped and pulled back. "Um, I'm going to provide a sample if I keep doing that."

"That's OK," she said with animation. "I want you to."

"But your hands will get all gross and sticky."

"It's OK, I want it. I want to feel it. I can wash my hands, you know."

Bill shoved his penis into the tunnel of Amy's hands and pressed. As he pressed harder, Amy's hands adjusted to resist. Just as if he was pressing into her body.

"That's great. I love that," she said. "Just go ahead; let it happen!"

Both of them had been looking intently at where his penis stuck through the bars and into Amy's hands, and then she looked up at him, and he looked at her. There was something in her expression, something amazing and wonderful. With a final flurry of thrusts, his penis started spasming and spewing sperm all over Amy's hands. She raised her eyebrows in surprise at the first surge, but then smiled and said, "Yes, that's it! Great!" as he kept spurting, getting her hands messy and spreading it all around with his thrusting.

He pulled back, panting, suddenly mortified. What had he done? It was his rapist nature, losing his judgment and penetrating Amy's hands, getting them messy. It was his duty never to let something like that happen. He pulled his sweats up again and sat back on the bed, burying his face in his hands.

"That was great, Bill. Just what I wanted. I'm going to try tasting some."

Bill looked up in time to see a tongue dip into one of the whitish clots on her right hand. She made a face. "Not too bad."

"I shouldn't have done that ... I'm so sorry," he said.

"No, it was great. I'm so glad you did!" She went around the corner and he heard the water running in the sink.

With no one watching, Bill smiled. Despite his terrific guilt, it had been a fantastic experience.

When Amy reappeared, she said, "Would you come over here again? Take your sweatshirt off."

Bill liked that idea.

"Stand real close. Let me touch you." She gently placed her hands on his beard, then moved them out to the sides to run all over his head. "You're so ... masculine!" she said, then ran her hands down his chest, around behind his back and to his neck. It was awkward with bars between them, but she managed.