Chapter 1: Bona Fides
All I wanted to do was complete my dissertation; my doctoral thesis on:
Micro-economic factor influence on cultural/religious beliefs and the establishment of immediate normative behavior.
I was not here to determine good or bad, right or wrong.
I didn't care. I did not have a dog in any fight.
I didn't care what the factors were.
I didn't care what the changes in normative behavior were.
I was aware that they might impact women more than men, but how that worked out, was not a factor in my mind. I just wanted to document it, whatever it was.
It just didn't matter to me.
Yes, sure I am a third generation product of the Woman's Liberation movement in the USA, but while my grandmother might speak of Gloria Steinem and Betty Friedan in terms of reverence and my mother is a card carrying member of NOW ... me?
I'm part of a completely Title IX generation. Ever since I was born, I haven't known anything else. I played soccer from the time I was five and continued on through the varsity high school team. That was the only reason I didn't go out for track ... I couldn't do both at the same time.
My grandmother might see herself as in a fight for equality. My mother might be irked by the way the men in the world took things for granted that maybe they ought to not.
But my world is different.
No one in my world told me that a woman goes to college for an 'Mrs.' I went to college because it was assumed that I would. I pursued my Master's Degree and then my Doctorate because I saw myself as traveling that path. Nowhere did I ever think, what exactly am I doing? It was the trajectory of my life. I had a serious boyfriend. We had lived together for five years. He was pursuing his studies in high-energy experimental particle physics. Life was comfortable.
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I had been using Skype to interview some women in Cambodia but I was getting nowhere with my thesis. I was frustrated when I went to meet with my thesis advisor, Dr. Corneal Glade. Cornie was easy to talk with and he listened to my rambling grouchiness for a good ten minutes before he picked up a book and started to read it! I got the point and came to a full stop.
Cornie put the book down and asked, Are you asking for a little direction as to where you might focus your attention?
Like, Duh! Yes ... that would be great! Where should I look?
Amber, I ran across something recently that will require care and discretion but might be a treasure trove for your work. I don't know much about it, but from the very little I have heard, it just might give you a direction. All I know is that it associated with some school in the Philippines. Check out this website.
He then handed me a scrap of paper with a URL on it and nothing more. That was it. We chatted a bit and then I took off.
I was at my desk as I typed the URL into my Dell notebook. The page that appeared allowed for login and for registration. There was nothing else on the page. I chose registration. The screen that came up next was a little surprising. There were three radio buttons for: mother, daughter, husband. There was a graduating class date dropdown box. There were address fields, and cell phone fields. Attached to each cell phone field was a drop down box for carriers. These included: Globe, Smart, Sun, Talk 'n Text, US based provider.
Next there was a question: Whom do we know who will vouch for you?
There were three fields. Check boxes with the names: Jun and Jake. Below that there was a text field.
That was all. Below was a submit button.
I figured that before I submitted a registration page I needed to get something else ready. I put a PDF of my thesis proposal, an NDA I would sign for them and a cover letter, all on my personal website under a hidden link. The cover letter explained that I would protect their identities and the nature of my research. I went back to the registration page and listed myself as daughter, put my contact info in and then in the memo field I put in the URL for my documents. I clicked submit. A screen displayed a confirmation of my submission and that I would hear back in seven days if my submission was accepted.
I waited. Seven days came and went. Nothing. Another week passed and nothing happened. I was going to meet with Cornie again and discuss my failure to contact this group, when there was a knock at the apartment door. Looking through the peephole I saw an Asian woman standing there. I opened the door to find three Asian women. All attractive and nicely dressed. Maybe close to my age? Hell, I didn't know. I was bad when guessing the age of Asians.
Hi. What can I do for you?
Are you Amber?
Yes... Who are you?
We will answer some of your questions after you sign this non-disclosure agreement.
We were still standing at the door and I didn't have a clue what this was about, but the mention of an NDA got my attention in a damned hurry.
One of the women handed me the document.
It was not the one I had prepared. Did this have anything to do with my thesis?
It said that this was the first of three documents and that I could never disclose the names of the individuals or any identifying information related to this meeting to anyone, ever, regardless of the outcome. My failure in this regard would cost me five hundred thousand dollars.
The monetary amount was a bit goofy. I was a poor grad student, but what the heck. What could they divulge that was so damned important? I had no idea what this was about, but I would play along. I invited them into the house.
Having no intention of divulging anything, I signed. I did so with one of the women video recording the session and the other two countersigning. The three women put all of that away and relaxed.
They introduced themselves as Flory, Ivy and Jonna. They were Filipina. They told me that my 'registration' attempt on the website had caused a great deal of discussion within their group.
That got my attention! I had succeeded in the contact. So why the need to be so mysterious?
But then the women dropped a bomb on me. I had to sign a document saying that I understood that I was to learn about acts that were illegal in some locales and to gain access to such information I voluntarily would engage in such an act so that I put myself in as much jeopardy as were the people I wished to study. I had to sign the document (again on video) and then engage in the act on video. Only then would any more be explained to me.
What type illegal acts? Was I in physical danger if I went forward? They wouldn't say another word.
I had no way to know if the content of the information I was to glean was worth this effort. They would disclose nothing else until I was in jeopardy.
They sat there and waited for me to make up my mind. They refused to answer any of my questions.
What do I have to do?
They wouldn't say.
I was asked again to sign the document. I gave up and signed. It was again videotaped.
Now, they had questions.
Do you like girls or guys?
For what?
Sex. Love.
You mean men or women?
No. Answer!
Neither.
We will leave now.
Wait!
Girls or guys?
Guys.
Do you have any sexually transmitted diseases?
No.
One of the women picked up a cell phone and spoke into it briefly. The rest were silent and remained so. Five minutes later, there was a knock at the door. I was getting up to answer it, but I was instructed to stay where I was. One of the Filipina women opened the door. Standing there was a Filipino looking boy. He was slight of build and could not have been 16 yet.
The Filipina brought the boy to me, This is Raymon. He is a virgin and you will teach him how to make love to a woman. You can take as long as you want – but your task will not be complete until he leaves his cum in your pussy. We will video record everything.
What they were expecting me to do was engage in statutory rape. Raymon looked like a nice kid, even with the tent in his pants as he gave me the once over — five times. The fact that he considered me desirable was reassuring that I could complete the task. The question was, would I?
The same woman told me, Show me your bedroom.
I got up and led them to my bedroom. It was nothing fancy. The women started to undress me. I let them.
Why didn't I stop them? I don't honestly know. I guess I can look back and assume that I figured fucking a fifteen-year-old kid was worth the price to complete my dissertation, but was it? What if he was younger? Is that a rationalization in any case?
Raymon was told something in Filipino and he started to undress. Once undressed, I was led to the bed. Raymon was told something else. He climbed onto the bed, grabbed my hand and pulled me gently onto the bed with him. I was twenty-seven. Raymon was no older than fourteen or fifteen. But for the moment, Raymon took charge and guided me to lie down on my bed.
I allowed it to happen.
I allowed this child to spread my legs and touch my private most parts without comment or complaint.
I allowed it as he slowly placed his cock at my entrance
I guided him in and helped him establish a rhythm with me by slowing him down.
I spoke to him quietly telling him he was a fine man, that he was pleasing me, that he would be able to please other women his own age later.
He whispered back saying that he would have other women, but from now on, I belonged to him and would for life. I was his first wife, but not his last. I don't know why, but I came with a thundering orgasm and he followed me into the chaos of lust with his own orgasm.
Raymon rolled off me, but he wasn't done with me. He was playing with my breasts as one of the women brought a third document for me to sign. He didn't stop and it was causing goddamned echoes of the orgasm as I tried to read what was in front of me. The women didn't stop Raymon. It sounded like they were approving of it all.
It took me a while to get it read, but it said that I am aware I chose to engage in sex with a fourteen-year-old minor and that I was aware he was a minor when the act occurred. That I was to never divulge identifying information related to my studies. If I did divulge such information, I understood that the video would be released. With the video still recording, cum running out my pussy and Raymon sucking my milky white breast, I signed the document.
I watched as media from the video-recorder and the three documents were placed in a FedEx mailer and sealed.
All three women proceeded to undress and pushing Raymon out of the way, proceeded to bring me to orgasm so many times that I lost all contact with the normal world. My legs quivered out of control, my pussy ached from excessive contact and my breasts ached from nonstop sucking. I was a rag doll.
I was told to pack a suitcase.
I asked how long I would be gone. I was told a few months. I did as asked, left a note for my boyfriend with whom I lived, explaining that I had to leave for an extended trip and didn't know when I would be back, but that I would touch base with him by phone shortly to get him up to speed.
As the women watched, I sent an email to my advisor telling him that I had made contact and was now 'in the field.' I would contact him at a later date.
I was asked if I had a passport. I did have one. I was told to bring it. Following a shower, a change of clothing and a last look around, I said goodbye to the world, as I had known it.
And then we were gone.
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