Bob took me to more places as a child to gain experience, but Henry just sat me in the chair a lot and read instructions or stuck that big pin in my thigh or hand, and gave me things to look at to 'take a picture with my inner camera.'
Henry had his driver take us to different parks in New York and they would let me out. I was eight or nine years old one time when Henry told me to, 'walk toward the man in the blue suit,' and when he dropped his handkerchief I was to give him a message. When I walked back to the car, Henry said, 'You're some kind of homing pigeon.' He called me that often when I was little and doing «errands» for him. He wanted me to have short hair so he could disguise me to look like a boy or a girl, whatever the job required. He had me be everything including 'invisible'-that is, hidden inside of a box that was transported into a large warehouse. Of course I was instructed that once inside, to wait two hours, get out of the box and come and unlock the warehouse, and if necessary I was instructed in how to break the security code to get out. Like Henry said, 'Who would suspect a kid?'
'Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us…'
Chapter Five: Initiation into the Political Arena as a Sex Slave
My father sold me as a prostitute to neighbors and business contacts. He programmed me to ride my bike to the gas station at the corner of Ventura Boulevard and Fallbrook Avenue in Woodland Hills. Mr. Teesdale and Mr. Roberts owned the station. Frank, the auto mechanic and gas station attendant who worked there, traded my father free gas and auto servicing in exchange for having sex with me in the bathroom at the station. That went on for several years. The gas station has since been demolished and in its place stands a large office building, but the memories of what happened to me remain. He also took me to the next door neighbor, Mr. Faciano, to perform sexual favors, always in exchange for twenty dollar bills. My father also sold me for sex to groups of men who met at the welding shop he owned. These men took me by the hand, behind Smitty's Wood Lot, and sexually abused me (I performed oral sex, or they would rape or sodomize me) in exchange for cash paid to my father. My father, and later my brother Rick, who through a series of events ended up owning the family welding business, sold child pornography out of the shop. These pornographic materials were kept behind a corrugated metal wall and sold to interested customers when they came in. (My brother may not be consciously aware of his criminal activities.) Over the years, I was well trained, through trauma and sexual abuse, in line with the technology that was shared with my father so he could condition me for a higher level of future use.
One night at the dinner table my father announced that the actor, Robert Taylor, had been in to visit him again. I never knew why a famous actor like Robert Taylor would want to visit my father at his welding shop, but even though I couldn't yet piece the separate parts of my mind together enough to understand, I was impressed nevertheless. During this time when I was around 8-10 years old, my father told me that Robert Taylor watched a ballet performance where I danced the Swan Lake ballet on toe shoes. I wore a pink sequined leotard with pink sequined straps and the outfit had pink feathers attached to it. I had a pink-feathered headband that made it look like I had pink feathers all around my face, like a swan. Later on I found out that Robert Taylor liked child pornography; my father sold it to him from his welding shop, and he also liked sex with 7-10 year old girls.
This was an important time of deciding just how far I would 'go.' Dad wanted me to go all the way to the top. He said he was so proud of me and together we'd make his father Ivan, a proud grandfather.
My father had a group of pedophile friends with daughters my age. They traded us sexually and each independently participated in filming us pornographically, sometimes including bestiality. I had many personalities who were trained both in porn and prostitution.
At age seven, I was further trained by older women prostitutes in a back room at the Corbin Bowl, located on Ventura Boulevard in Tarzana, California. I was taught the 'tricks of the trade,' most of which I already knew from years of sexual abuse. The prostitution and pornography I was a part of was a highly organized activity.
There were times a personality within me was programmed and used to entice and kidnap other children off the street and into a big black car. The kidnapped children were initially kept in cages in back rooms and then used in pornography and usually killed, often in snuff films. We were all shocked with cattle prods or other electrical devices for lots of different offenses. Pornography was filmed at the
Corbin Bowl, with other children, women, men, and animals. Perhaps this is where many of the missing children, whose faces we see so often on postal cards or billboards are disappearing to and why they are never found. At this young age, I was also locked in a small, darkened room with a bed and sold as a prostitute to large numbers of men in a day. The people in charge left ropes, whips, and sex toys for use by the men who paid for sex with me.
One of my father's pedophile friends and partners in the child porn and prostitution business was Dean Hartshorn. Although Dean was nearly 20 years younger than my father, their shared sexual perversions kept them close friends. Dean and his family lived in the Encino Hills area and he operated a pesticide business. Dean had a beautiful daughter, named Donna, who had the blondest hair and bluest eyes I'd ever seen. She was traded to my father for sex and I was traded to Dean and some of his friends and relatives. The Hartshorn family joined my family on vacation several times a year and Donna and I were filmed as we performed sexual acts with numerous different people.
Over the years I was taken to many different locations and filmed and/or programmed. Some of these were: Turlock Lake, Mount Shasta, Clear Lake, Lake Arrowhead, Bass Lake, Lake Cachuma, Lake Isabella, Millerton Lake, Pine Flats, Lake Elsinore, Big Bear Lake, La Jolla, Mission Bay, Salton Sea, Coronado, San Juan Capistrano, the Colorado River, Lake Mead, Lake Mohave, Lake Havasu, Death Valley, Las Vegas, and other places we went for so-called 'waterskiing vacations.'
Cliff Spear was also a pedophile friend of my fathers. His daughter Debbie (also known as DeeDee) was my age and was in my brownie troop and class at school. I was traded to Cliff by my father, and was molested by him every time I spent the night at Debbie's house. In the middle of the night, Debbie and I, and sometimes her younger sister Jana, were awakened and taken to Cliff's carpeting business to be filmed pornographically.
Guy Cooper was a man who filmed me in porn at his home in Hidden Hills, with his younger daughter, Buffy. In this porn I was also forced to have sex with animals, some of them large farm animals. You can imagine how shameful and degrading these experiences are to a child.
To my knowledge, my father's affiliation was not limited to any single group, nor did he subscribe to membership in any group for any length of time. Instead, his membership was temporary, as he moved from one group to another, suiting my programmer's needs for the time. The groups I am aware of that he attended for different periods of time were the Lions Club, Ku Klux Klan, and Neo-Nazi groups. Publicly and consciously my father adamantly professed that he was not prejudiced against any race or religion and taught me not to be racially prejudiced. In private, secret gatherings with like-minded men, he witnessed and participated in ceremonies where they humiliated, tortured, dismembered and killed Black people and Jewish people. I know, because as a child I was present at some of those 'meetings.'
I was taken often to rituals that were performed late at night. One incident that stands out in my mind was a night near my 10th birthday when a group of men sacrificed a Black man, saying it was done in my 'honor,' to give me power. As I watched in sheer panic, devastation, and horror, they tortured and then threw this man alive into the bonfire. To withstand this extremely traumatic event, I split off another personality to deal with it. On another occasion, as a Fourth of July event, a small child was delivered by a black sedan to my father at the gully at the end of our street. I watched in horror as my father strapped a homemade bomb he had made to this little boy's body and told me he was so powerful he could make the child live or die. The next thing I knew the bomb went off and the child was nowhere to be found. The tactics used to keep me dissociated and split were endless.
