Monthly Archives: June 2013

An Act of Madness Part 3

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Below is Part 3 of my story, An Act of Madness. For Part 2 please visit http://newauthoronline.com/2013/06/01/an-act-of-madness-part-2/.

 

For several weeks following his rape of the 13-year-old Ian dare not turn on his computer. He knew that, for him the internet signified searching for child pornography and, even worse young girls to abuse.

Ian wasn’t stupid. Some of the men on the paedophile forums which he had visited from time to time spun clever arguments that children enjoyed sex and that “caring” adults could introduce them to a world of sexual delight. Ian felt physically ill when he recalled how the teenager had begged him not to hurt her.

“I won’t hurt you” he said as he forced himself deep inside the child.

Yes he felt a deep sense of self loathing, this was, however mixed with sexual excitement. When he recalled his encounter with the girl a frisson of excitement drove him to  masturbate.

“Masturbation is my safety valve. My fantasies are hurting no one” Ian told himself. However Ian knew in his heart of hearts that the pleasure he derived from masturbating stemmed from the recollection of his rape of a child, it wasn’t a harmless fantasy, rather it merely served as a means of further exciting his interest in young girls.

When at last Ian finally went back online he searched for 18-year-old escorts who catered to “the schoolgirl fetish”.

“I can have fun and not hurt a child” Ian said to Lucy a petite 18-year-old who arrived at his flat wearing the uniform of a sixth form schoolgirl under her long coat.

“That’s good mate. Fantasising never hurt anyone” Lucy replied as she slipped out of her uniform.

“If only you knew the truth” Ian said to himself.

The visits of Lucy and other girls helped to scratch Ian’s itch. However in the dark recesses of his brain he longed to indulge his lust for very young teens. At night Ian would lie awake often into the small hours fantasising about young girls. Masturbation and the attentions of escort girls in their late teens no longer served to satisfy what Ian knew to be his perverted desire for underage girls.

Ian grew pale through lack of sleep. His bosses raised concerns regarding the quality of his work. If he didn’t pull his socks up Ian would be “out on his ear” his employer said in no uncertain terms.

 

An Act of Madness Part 2

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Below is part 2 of my story, An Act of Madness. For part 1 please visit http://newauthoronline.com/2013/06/01/an-act-of-madness-part-1/.

 

Ian knew that he had a problem. For a long time he had convinced himself that he could control the fantasies. There was after all no harm in fantasising Ian told himself. Indeed if everyone was locked up due to what went on in the darkest recesses of their brain then half the population, perhaps three quarters would be behind bars.

Ian had for so long as he could recollect felt an attraction to young girls. This did not present a problem when, as a boy of 16 he fantasised about girls a year or so younger than him. However, as he grew older the fantasising intensified. As a man of 25 he found himself making excuses for taking public transport at times when he knew that the buses would be full of teenage girls on their way to or from school. He would sit on the bus pretending to read the paper while allowing his eyes to take in the school girls as they sat giggling with their friends. On reaching home he would dash into the toilet or his bedroom and masturbate while the images of the teenage girls remained fresh in his mind. After he had obtained his release the temporary feeling of elation would soon give way to one of utter self loathing.

“You fucking pervert, you should be locked up” he told himself.

For a while he managed to stop. At the times when he knew that the school buses would be full of young girls he stayed at home and attempted to read the paper or a book. It was no good, the words on the page made no sense, his mind was far away on the bus watching teen girls giggling with their friends or flirting with boys of their own age.

At first he saw the internet as a way of safely indulging his fantasies.

“I’m not harming anyone, they are only pictures. I’d never, ever, ever touch a child!” he reassured himself.

Initially he searched for “teen girls” and found mild stimulation in the pictures of nubile 18 and 19-year-olds in various states of undress or engaged in sexual activity. However bordom soon set in. “Teen girls” was soon replaced with “barely legal teens” and “underage sex”.

Every time he turned on the computer he felt his heart start to thump. The sense of breaking a taboo, of kicking against convention caused excitement to course through his body. Still, he reassured himself he was only looking. He would never harm a child. It was pure fantasy, where was the harm in that?

Then it happened. He was looking at a site displaying teens many of whom where clearly under 18-years-old when a pop-up advert directing him to a teen contact website appeared on screen.  Ian’s heart began to thump so loudly that he fancied that the people in the neighbouring flat could hear it. With sweating palms he clicked on the pop-up and was directed to a poorly designed webpage with a line of text

“For teen fun call –“.

There where no pictures, just the single line of text. Ian could feel his manhood stir.

“No this is so, so wrong, close the site, forget you ever saw it” the voice of conscience and common sense whispered.

Another voice chipped in

“What harm is there in calling? It will be an advert for 18 or 19-year-old hookers. Maybe you can have some safe legal fun with a teen girl. You can indulge your fantasies and scratch that itch once and for all”.

Ian reached for his mobile. Several times he started to dial only to delete the number and replace the phone in his pocket. Eventually he dialled and pressed the call button. The phone rang. On the second ring a man answered

“Yeah man?”

“I saw the advert and …” Ian trailed off not sure how to continue.

“You want some fun with a young girl?”

“Yeah, so long as she is legal”.

The man at the other end of the line snorted with laughter

“Sure man you and me both no the score. I’ve got a real cutie, very young with blue eyes and blond hair. Slim”.

“What do I need to do? I’ve never done this before” Ian said through his constricted throat.

“Its £400 for the girl. Wana come over?”

“Yeah” Ian managed to whisper. His mouth felt like sandpaper.

“Is this your number?”

“Yes”

“OK, I’ll text you the address”, with that the line went dead.

An Act of Madness (part 1)

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He awoke to a thousand little imps banging their tiny hammers inside his skull. Tentatively he opened his eyes. The battered old chair on which he had flung his clothes the previous evening with such wild abandon swam into view. Cans of beer some still half full littered the threadbare carpet but it was the scent of sex, cheap perfume mixed with the sickly odour of rutting animals which made him lean over the side of the bed and vomit onto the filthy brown carpet.

The act of vomiting made him feel a little better. Slowly his mind cleared. He focused on the girl lying beside him. She lay her head resting on the filthy pillow, her right arm clutching a battered old teddy bear. The bear had been brown long ago but the years had turned it almost black. The sheet had fallen away leaving the girl’s body exposed. Her almost hairless vagina and barely formed breasts showed that she was in her early teens, 13 or 14 but no older.

“Christ what have I done?” the man said.

His words spoken out loud made the girl open her beautiful blue eyes.

“Please, please mister don’t hurt me again” she said clutching the bear protectively against her.

“I’m sorry” he mumbled attempting to put his arm around her in what was, he hoped a comforting manner.

“Please, no more” she pleaded her eyes swimming with tears.

Without another word the man got out of bed and flung on his clothes. As he reached the bedroom door he looked back one final time at the girl. She lay her head buried in that bear her shoulders shaking convulsively with deep sobs.

The man descended the rickety uncarpeted staircase, his feet seemed unnaturally loud to him in this silent place.

“God I need to get out” the man muttered as he descended the final stair.

“Enjoy yourself did you man?”

The man’s heart leapt into his mouth. He haden’t seen the Jamaican standing, in the shadows at the bottom of the stairwell.

“Little cutie isn’t she. Just turned 13. I told you that Jo could find you fresh young meat. I didn’t lie to you”.

“No she was lovely” the man said. He wished the Jamaican would step out of the way of the front door so that he could get the hell out of that stinking flea pit.

“OK man, remember Tom and the next time you want some fun give me a call”.

The man nodded and Tom stepped out of the way allowing him to open the front door and leave.

Prime Minister’s Questions

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The Leader of the Opposition

“Can the Prime Minister tell the House “how much is that doggy in the window?””

The Prime Minister

“The one with the waggerly tail?”

The Leader of the Opposition

“The Prime Minister knows full well which specific canine I am referring to”.

The Prime Minister

“my civil servants have made extensive enquiries and I am advised that, that doggy is not, in fact for sale. I do, however understand from my right honourable friend, the Foreign Secretary that “In Rangoon the heat at noon is just what the natives shun, but mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the mid day, out in the mid day, out in the mid day sun””.

The Leader of the Opposition

“I have a little cat and I’m very fond of that but I’d rather have a bow, wow wow”.

The Prime Minister

“Perhaps the Leader of the Opposition could put  a doggy on his Christmas list, who knows what Santa might bring him. If the party opposite had handled the public finances more wisely when they where in office then more men and women would be able to afford to own a bow wow” (The Commons dissolves into laughter and Prime Minister’s Questions is suspended).