I write this as my hands still tremble from whats just happened to me. It's just past 2 in the morning and I can't sleep at all. I know, I just know that I am going back in the morning as soon as I pretend to leave for school. My heart is beating in my chest so hard that I can feel it all over my body. I'm so sore, so stiff, and so very turned on. My cock is straining against my white shorts and I'm breathing hard and my mind can't focus. I thought the best thing to do, since I can't sleep at all, is to tell what happened to me tonight; and how I got there.
It had been over six months since I first read the story on the Internet. I didn't know why, at the time, the story affected me so much. Maybe it was because I was this kids age, or had his name, or maybe something less tangible than that. As I got ready for bed I pulled out the notebook I kept with all of the clippings and printouts I had on the whole story. I had the police report, the trial information, the interviews with witnesses and the men who committed the crime. It was fair to say that I was obsessed with this story.
My name is Jessie McClain. I'm 13 years old. The story I'm obsessed with is that of a boy named Jessie Dirkhsing. Two men, Davis Don Carpenter and Joshua Brown tied up, raped, and then accidentally killed the boy back in 1999. Almost every night I tie myself up and bugger myself with a dildo, cucumber or sausage and imagine that I'm THAT Jessie. I know, its sick.
I can't help it. As I read through the well-worn printout of the police report for the hundredth time, I got a hard-on. As I tied my left hand to my left leg and got up on my bed face down, butt in the air I started to breathe hard and fast. And as I shoved the Vaseline-covered cucumber into my asshole, I started to dream that I was tied and gagged and helpless -- that I was so turned on and yet so scared and terrified all at the same time. And as I shoved the cucumber nice and deep inside of me, I came; my cock spurting out its huge load of jizz all over the sheets under me.
I collapsed on my side, the cucumber still in me and fell into a deep sleep. This is the way that I go to sleep nearly every night.
Chapter One: Surprise
They moved in about two weeks ago.
My mom and I live together in a nice condo; she bought it with the money from my dad's life insurance. Dad died two years ago in an automobile accident. I mostly over it now, but I was a bad wreck for a while, and even thought about suicide at one time. I was serious about it, and then mom happened to say something that changed everything. I asked her if she ever felt like killing herself, and she said, "All the time. You just have to come up with one thing, just one to hold onto; a goal, something to look forward to. That's how you get by day to day." Then she told me what kept her going: me.
I was a little better after that, and two days later, about 9 months ago, right after I turned 13 and mom finally let me get the Internet in my room, I found the Jessie Dirkhsing story. I read news article after news article and learned all I could about it. Mom works second shift, so we hardly see each other. The Internet was a way for me to make friends without having to "really" make friends. I chatted with two guys, who were also into the Dirkhsing story. We met in a chat room that was talking about it. I admitted how old I was and how much I was into the story and about how I masturbated to the story all the time. They said that they too were into it, and wanted to act it out with a boy, but make sure that he was safe and not harmed like poor Jessie. I stopped talking to them after that. It was just to much to think about, but the thought that I might be able to find two guys who wanted to do that to me was enough to drive my fantasy into overload!
Like I said, they moved in about two weeks ago. A father and his 17 year old son. They seemed nice enough, and even invited me over for pizza and to watch Monday Night Football with them. The boys name was Josh, I didn't really catch the dad's name. For two weeks, they got to know me and I got to know them. Then, today right after school it all changed. Right after I got home there was a knock on my door and Josh was there. He had a funny look on his face and he asked if my mom was around. I told him she was at work, like usual, and he asked if I'd come to his place. I agreed and followed him outside and around the corner to their condo.
Once inside, Josh's dad grabbed me. He said in my ear, "We talked to you on the Internet a while ago. We wanted to get to know you a bit before this happened. I'm going to let go of you in a moment, and you will have ten seconds to run out the door. If you do, nothing more about this will ever be said again, and we will never attempt to do this again. However, if you don't move, Joshua is going to grab you from behind, and then you know what's going to happen to you."
I did know. The police report was etched in my mind. As the man let go of me, my mind's eye saw the printout on the computer screen:
"...Brown stated that on this occasion he snuck up on Dirkhising, tied his hands behind his back, placed a pair of underwear in Dirkhising's mouth and secured them with a bandana and duct tape. He placed a bandana over Dirkhising's eyes and secured it in place with duct tape. He then placed a tee shirt over Dirkhising's head, and checked to ensure that Dirkhising's nostrils were not covered..."
I wasn't moving. I wasn't scared, well, okay I was; but I still wasn't moving. The man, who I knew only as Josh's father....wait! Josh...Joshua. Oh, god! They ARE going to do this. I gulped and realized that Josh was behind me now. His big, strong arms went around me and he roughly grabbed my hands and tied them together behind me at the wrists. There was no going back now; this was it. Was I going to die like Jessie Dirkhising? A small part of me wanted it, believe it or not!
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Mr Double's Palisade A MrDouble Production:
Changes last made on: Saturday, December 6, 2003