Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Home Bath House For Children

Home Bath House For Children

Home Bath House: For Children

Home Bath House: For Children




Nothing illustrates the evil nature of my childhood and my mother’s personal evil as the steam rooms she would set up for orgies with her own children.

She molested me from the ages of 2 and 9 in her bed and also in the tub. I was the first born and thus she bathed me alone. During these “baths” she would stimulate my penis to the point of pain.  Next my younger sister was added to these molest sessions in the tub. She being groomed as I was molested both of us in the tub with mom undressed.  Next, after my sister was groomed my mother molested me and had me molest my sister which amounted to tactile oral stimulation, after I was worked up tacitly by mom. All of the time suffering great physical and emotional pain, as well as, scrambling boundaries that were due to be forming at that stage of childhood development. My brother was born next and added to the bath house grooming procedure. Then my youngest sister was born and added to the tub. After her grooming the children’s bath house was complete. This is how we bathed. I faced my mother as she stimulated me, then I was made to stimulate my sister; and my brother would be stimulating my youngest sister. Always with mom calling us little whores, who were going to hell.

As I grew older I rebelled and did not want to be part of this ritual of being objectified by my mother, which is the way she loved us by objectifying and raping us and having us stimulate each other to satisfy her evil desires. I was always the last to join and had to be called to be part of this ritual of rape and abuse which aroused my mother. O these evenings. O those bath times. After EMDR today I realized that all bath times were like this bath house but not in San Francisco for gay men only for mom and her kids.

I was the last to come into the bath house, because I didn’t want to. At the age of 6, 7, 8, and 9 I felt I should be taking my own baths. It was time for me to develop autonomy, and control over my own body, which I never had. And I did not want to participate in the orgies that these bathhouse events always were.  

We had a one-bedroom house and mom would gather us all together for her evil pleasure.   I would protest but to no avail I had to comply.  I started out in the shower bath last. For those of you who don’t know a shower bath is the bath water rising the drain sealed but instead of the water running through the spout, it rained from the shower head. On to mom in front me second as the eldest child, Jemma third facing me as the eldest girl, Mark and then Gina facing each other. With all of us in the tub you can imagine that we started out rubbing together and generating our own steam for mom’s pleasure. 

Mom would titillate me first as I developed an early interest in her breasts (ages 6, 7, 8, and 9), she would “wash” me which amounted to rubbing me all over with soap with special attention to my nipples and penis. Thus excited I would then be required to turn to my sister and stimulate her rubbing nipples touching kissing touching her genitals and letting her give me oral sex.
I did not enjoy the home bath houses. I was groomed to endure them from the age of 2. Being first born I was alone with mother for a year. As she fondled my penis in the tub there was at the start little sexual pleasure and more pain than titillation. As the grooming continued and as I developed forming sexuality in my mind and body the moments of pleasure increased as the moments of physical pain decreased. My sexual rape and objectification by my mother in the home bath house continued until I was 9 years old and the pleasure/pain ratio never reached 50/50.  There was always more physical pain than pleasure. Added to the pleasure pain ratio that occurred that occurred on two developmental planes simultaneously, was that there was never any release for me. As my mother’s lust and excitement grew, based on her rape her tactile stimulation of my penis grew, my pain sense of being used and betrayed and objectification also grew. Since it was my mother spending tie with me and raping me these physical sensations and emotions my sexual objectification became associated with love and affections. That is, I was classically conditioned, starting at a preverbal phase of my development as a child, to associate over stimulation with no release, pain and sexual rape and objectification with love for me and affection for me.

I dealt with this cognitive dissonance b dissociating the memories emotions events and tactile feelings, while constructing the fantasy of a normal childhood around they few moments I was allowed on my own to play as other children, army, tinker toys, Legos, coloring. Although these were rare moments of childhood pleasure I constructed them into an illusion of continuous reality – a fantasy world with which to repress the dissonance between a real mother and the sexual predator who gave birth to me and my siblings.




I also cut myself off from my family including siblings. I never talked much with them or interacted at all and never expressed the love and affection I felt toward them.  This normal sibling affection was expressed in a distorted fashion during the bath house orgies. It was during these that I expressed my love and closeness.  The distortion and the continuous nature of the abuse, left me with nothing to express with regard to normal love and compassion and affection for my siblings. Deep within me where the unmolested compassionate child that is the real me, the me of me, the me that God created and that my perpetrators could not steal. This love still exists and is felt, if not expressed. 

Copyright Fred Celio 2016

Other Blogs by Fred Celio

Sunday, April 24, 2016

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Growing Up In An Incest Ring: Raped By My Parents (Part 2)

Growing Up In An Incest Ring: Raped By My Parents (Part 2)

Your SEO optimized title: Growing Up In An Incest Ring: Raped By My Parents (Part 2)

Growing Up In An Incest Ring: Raped By My Parents (Part 2)





Last time I wrote about memories unlocked from trauma therapy using EMDR, I went into some of the details of being molested in what I thought was one on one molestation by my mother. My father’s involvement was minimized

After sessions the last two weeks it has become apparent that my father was a full participant. He was involved as much as my mother in both my individual abuse, s well as the rape,  of my brothers and sisters.  

This is how it worked. Mom would pick me out of bed and begin the fondling, which is a polite word for tactile rape.    Children below the age of consent when stripped nude by nude sexually aroused adults are tactiley raped. That is childhood rape, and that is what my mother and father did to me between the ages of 2 and 9, as well as, to my younger brother and two younger sisters. Children blow the age consent, which is 16 in most states can’t give consent. We also have nether developed physically mentally to experience sexuality. Thus it is tactile rape which brings and evil stimulation and arousal to the perpetrators, how in their rape are the only ones engaging their sexuality.  

When I was between the ages of 2 and 4 I was also pre verbal. That mean not only could I not give consent to what was being done to my body, nor mentally and emotionally did I have a sense of what consent was, what sex was and what boundaries are, that I could not verbally express the experience nor did I have the cognitive ability to realize consciously what was being done to me. I experienced the abuse emotionally and physically but could not consciously express the abuse through thought and language.  This lead to cognitive dissonance as a child and repression through dissociation.  It also leads to nonverbal reliving of the abuse experience both as a child and as an adult re-living the abuse experience know as re-enactment at a non-verbal level is robotic – it occurs at uncontrollable times and without free will choice of the abused child.  Therapy coupled with anti-anxiety medicine benzodiazepines, which have a long history of use and effectiveness in combating anxiety are useful for the duration of therapy

So this is how it would work. Mom would call me into her room. I would e told to come into her bed, robotically I complied. She would be stripped naked and then she would strip me. It would always began with conversation because although compliant I was reluctant I would be warned that I would be killed in some heinous way abandoned or she would stop molesting me and pick my brother or sister. This type if warning invoked my protective nature of the smaller children as I was the eldest and felt it better for me to suffer the abuse than they.

After being stripped and coerced in to compliance by violent abusive talk I would be touched all over chest nipples genitals until whew s sufficiently aroused to go down on me or give me oral sex.
Inevitably after a period of this type of over tactile stimulation I would at first be titillated and then in pain, and then my father would come home and join us in bed. I would be told to do the same things to my father that my mother had been doing to me including rubbing his chest licking his nipples and giving him oral sex meaning taking his penis into his mouth.  It was more and more painful and repugnant for me as they became more and more aroused.

Eventually when they were done with me when they were sufficiently aroused. I would be dismissed to go back to my room, as my brother and sisters either lay in bed anxiously or scurried back into their beds as I climbed in to mine, hurt physically and mentally and exhausted.
The exhaustion helped the repression as did the cognitive dissonance of having to go to Catholic school next day, and act as if nothing had happened even though I was called by my parents a little whore who would go to hell.


This was the regular routine of my life during formative years and yet there was more rape and humiliation at the hands of others simultaneously from my mother and maternal grandparents during my life as a child in an incest ring.  

Copyright Fred Celio 2916

Other Blogs by Fred Celio
Childhood: Raped by My Parents