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"Uncle Frank" told me who to sit by at the baccarat, black jack or crap tables. He told me what to say to certain men, where and how to have sex with them and gave me a key to the rooms to take them to. These men had two hours of sheer luxury and sex, and sometimes it ended with me soaping them down and redressing them. Sex, whipped cream, chocolate sauce, whatever they wanted for added pleasure. Whips and chains and leather straps, that Uncle Frank often used to nearly strangle me, were provided to these men.
Frank was very private about his private life — to the point of violence if anyone ever asked him anything. Bob had to remind Frank that I was of small stature and told him he didn't want him to "break anything" on me. Frank could get very carried away. Once, he grabbed my hair and kept pushing my head into a full tub of water until I couldn't breathe and was gagging, choking and grasping for air. Uncle Frank was the one who made me really sick in Vegas. He nearly killed me and knew all kinds of ways to torture a person. I saw him break a guy's arm on the corner of a desk, very easily, like it was a pretzel. The guy fainted. He loved to do stuff like that to people. But I did the men Uncle Frank told me to, and did the best job I possibly could, or there would be retaliation. If I didn't perform to their standards I got hurt very badly. Uncle Frank would throw me up against walls and when my body hit, I felt like I was broken. "Body slams," he called them, and I got a lot of those. He nearly killed me after I was with some darkski
Often I was given instruction by a group of men in a darkened, smoke-filled room in Vegas. The man in charge of the security area I entered, knew me, and always waved me through. These men seemed to operate above the law, above the rules, and had co
These top men all knew to watch out for me and someone was always "keeping an eye" on what I was doing. My father or mother just disappeared, as usual; I don't know where they went or what they were doing while I was working for my controllers in Vegas. My father had co
Sometimes they had me so booked with men for sex that they had to program me to go to the bathroom in between men; I was so robotical I wouldn't remember to go to the bathroom or even be able to feel that I had to. I was just one big act, as I went from room to room with sometimes as many as four men a night. Each man had to have at least two hours. Bob said that was minimum time to have to wind up and then have to wind down (he pretended he was screwing something tightly and then he changed directions and started humping). I looped all around the hotels, from room to room, having sex with men. I was instructed to start at 8 p.m. and then did another man at 10, and one at 12, and the last at 2. At 4 a.m. I was finished. It was a nightmarish swirl of endless men. I performed the sex acts, was electroshocked in between and then switched personalities and went on. They were Bob's friends, Uncle Frank's friends, mob co
Uncle Frank reminded me I'd be meeting St. Peter if I didn't cooperate and toe the line. He told me about St. Peter at the Pearly Gates and explained why I would be there — which was because he needed to kill me because I stepped out of line. This was in the late 60's and early 70's, before my kids were born. Once they were born these men used threats related to my kids to terrorize me. Bob would throw his arm around Uncle Frank's neck, wink at him and say, "Take care of her Frank." That's when I knew I had gotten out of line again and was terrified, waiting in anxious anticipation for my punishment. Frank slapped me over and over, sometimes until my cheeks were stinging and burning like they were on fire. Then he would throw his head back and laugh. He was obviously very sadistic.
Sometimes Bob would fly in just to have a quick meeting with Frank. Sometimes I flew with him for a quickie.
Brutal pornography was filmed at the Landmark Hotel in Vegas during my late teens and early 20's (196874). They used costumes and sex toys, and had themes for the porn that was often violent. At times people were killed in the porn. They didn't kill me because I was a programmed asset and they had far-reaching plans for me.
Uncle Frank could have had me killed if he wanted to. He had friends who killed people quickly and neatly. He showed me what his friends could do and I was forced to watch as they tortured and killed people. Then I knew I could be snuffed at any moment and that everyone, including Bob, knew what I was doing. I couldn't comprehend that there wasn't any mysterious, miraculous reason why they knew exactly where I was; in essence, they knew because they had sent me there! In my programmed reality I believed that my controllers magically knew everything I did.
Uncle Frank played the following song for me to listen to, the words of which I will write as well as my memory serves me: