Teen Boy Femdom

Teen Boy Femdom
Something went wrong, but don’t fret — let’s give it another shot.

Sections

ProPublica
Local Reporting Network
Texas Tribune Partnership
The Data Store
Electionland

Browse by Type

Topics
Series
Videos
News Apps
Get Involved
The Nerd Blog
@ProPublica
Events

Info

About Us
Board and Advisors
Officers and Staff
Diversity
Jobs and Fellowships
Local Initiatives
Media Center
Reports
Impact
Awards
Corrections

Policies

Code of Ethics
Advertising Policy
Privacy Policy

Follow

Newsletters
Podcast
iOS and Android
RSS Feed

More

Send Us Tips
Steal Our Stories
Browse via Tor
Contact Us
Donate
More Ways to Give

The nation’s system of juvenile justice has long been troubled. But recent studies have revealed a surprising new menace: female staffers at detention facilities sexually abusing the male youngsters in their care.
The older authority figure wins the
trust of the young target by cultivating a false friendship, having
heart-to-heart conversations, giving gifts, offering protection. And then the
sex ensues, sometimes forced, sometimes seemingly consensual.
It is a classic predatory tactic known as “grooming,”
and no one familiar with it could have been terribly surprised when a new
report from the U.S. Department of Justice declared that young people in the
country’s juvenile detention facilities are being victimized in just this way.
The youngsters in custody are often deeply troubled, lacking parents, looking
for allies. And the people in charge of the facilities wield great power over
the day-to-day lives of their charges.
What was a genuine shock to many
was the finding that in the vast majority of instances, it was female staff
members who were targeting and exploiting the male teens in their custody.
The phenomenon -- a particularly
unexamined corner of the nation’s long-troubled juvenile justice system –
presents an array of challenges for those concerned about better protecting
young people in custody: encouraging male teens to understand such sex is, in
fact, a crime, that it is never really consensual, and that its long term
effects can be seriously harmful; requiring corrections officials to stop
blaming the young boys and meaningfully punish the female staffers; and
establishing standards of conduct meant to end the abuse.
“Many corrections leaders continue
to minimize this abuse, arguing that it’s the kids who are manipulating the
staff, that these boys are asking for it,” said Lovisa Stannow, executive
director of the California-based nonprofit Just Detention International, which
advocates for the elimination of prison rape. “That’s simply not good enough.”
The Justice Department first
discovered the startling form of abuse in 2010 , when it surveyed more than 9,000
youngsters living in juvenile halls and group homes. More
than 10 percent of the respondents said they’d been sexually abused by
staff and 92 percent said their abuser was female.
In the last three years, the
numbers haven’t changed much.
The Justice Department released its
second
report last
month , and this time researchers surveyed more than 8,700 juveniles housed
in 326 facilities across the country. In all, the facilities house more
than 18,000 juveniles, representing about one quarter of the nation’s total
number of youngsters living in detention centers.
Drawing on their sample, Justice
Department researchers estimate that 1,390 juveniles in the facilities they
examined have experienced sex abuse at the hands of the staff supervising them,
a
rate of nearly 8 percent . Twenty percent who said they were victimized by
staff said it happened on
more than 10 occasions . Nine
out of 10 victims were males abused by female staff.
Nearly
two-thirds of the abused youngsters said that the officials lured them into
sexual relationships by giving them special treatment, treating them like a
favorite, giving gifts and pictures.
Twenty-one percent said staff
gave them drugs or alcohol in exchange for sex.
Stannow said that the rate of abuse
perpetrated by female guards on male victims is the result of a “dangerous combination”
of cultural and institutional problems, not the least of which is the fact that
women forcing males into sex does not comport with society’s conventional
definition of rape.
“When you have an extreme power
differential and absolute unchecked power, bad things start happening,” Stannow
said. “When you combine this with a culture where sex abuse by females on males
isn’t taken seriously, then you have the perfect set-up for women with all this
power to get away with it.”
Stannow and others say that the
young male victims themselves may not even consider their relationships with
women to constitute sex abuse. They might consider it consensual because they
didn’t actively fight off their abusers.
“The biggest concern for me is what this
means they’re not getting inside detention, which is a positive relationship
with adults and with authority figures. They’ve not learned what those positive
relationships should be like, and, for many, they’ve never had them in their
life,” said Michele Deitch, an attorney and senior lecturer at the University
of Texas’s School of Public Affairs in Austin.
“These boys aren’t getting the
kinds of treatment and programming that are supposed to make them more
productive citizens and healthier youth,” said Deitch, who focuses on improving
safety conditions in prisons and juvenile detention centers. “Many have
experienced trauma their entire lives and now this is just more trauma for them
to deal with.”
Reggie Wilkinson, the former
director of the Ohio Department of Rehabilitation and Correction, said that
consensual sex between a corrections officer and an inmate is impossible given
the power imbalance between the two.
But he also said that, in some
cases, both female guards and the boys they molest share some responsibility.
“There’s no such thing as
consensual sex when you are supervising someone, regardless of their age, but
the reality of it is that some of the guys in prison are very persuasive and
some of the women are very persuasive,” Wilkinson said.
“I’m not sure anybody has got a
real handle on why the Bureau of Justice Statistics is finding these kinds of
numbers, but it’s on the radar screen of a lot of people.”
Wilkinson and Stannow agree that it
is important to keep women as detention facility personnel. They often do great
work. But the predators, they say, must be identified, halted and prosecuted.
“I think in many cases female staff
are better suited than males,” Wilkinson said. “A good mix of staff is what we
always want. That so-called motherly impact is a big deal and women who are
stern but fair with the inmates I think can perform that job as well as any
male could.”
Joaquin Sapien is a reporter at ProPublica covering criminal justice and social services.
Get our investigations delivered to your inbox with the Big Story newsletter.
The ultrawealthy poured money into a successful campaign to defeat a graduated state income tax. For the first time, we can reveal the scale of their return on this investment.
A California city’s flawed handling of fatal police shootings allowed six officers to use deadly force again before their first cases were decided. Experts say the department’s system "isn’t even basement standard practice” and needs oversight.
The comments were captured in body-worn camera footage the NYPD recently disclosed, 20 months after Kawaski Trawick was shot in his apartment while holding a bread knife.
Emails obtained by ProPublica and The Texas Tribune confirm that federal authorities are probing discrimination claims involving Gov. Greg Abbott’s multibillion-dollar border initiative.
Thank you for your interest in republishing this story. You are are free to republish it so long as you do the following:
Copy and paste the following into your page to republish:

Style | The Houseboy Wanted to Serve Me. I Tried to Oblige.
The Houseboy Wanted to Serve Me. I Tried to Oblige.
As a subscriber, you have 10 gift articles to give each month. Anyone can read what you share.
The Houseboy first messaged me six months ago on the online dating site OKCupid.
“Hi,” his message said. “I am a houseboy. I will clean your house, or anything else you want me to do. I expect nothing in return. I like serving strong, confident women. I also like women who smoke.”
I have always loved the absurd, and this scenario seemed too strange to pass up. I wanted to meet this man with a housecleaning fetish. And, frankly, I wanted a clean apartment.
I had joked with friends about how great it would be to have a manservant, someone who would clean, do my dishes and laundry and all the other things I hate doing. I’ll happily degrade him, I’d say. I’ll throw olive pits at him. Whatever turns him on.
“I’m a strong, confident woman,” I wrote. “I need my apartment cleaned. When can you come over?”
We started messaging and then texting. Although most of our interactions were fetish-related, there were moments of intimacy. Sometimes, at night, he’d ask me how I was doing.
“I’m O.K.,” I’d say. “Kind of lonely.”
I had been single for nearly four years, and it was easy to confide in this stranger who already had made himself so vulnerable to me. Although our exchanges didn’t always make me feel better, it was still nice to know someone was rooting for me.
Even so, I told him not to tell me his name. I thought he would like it better if I just referred to him as the Houseboy. After all, I wanted him to get something out of the situation, too. If his fetish was to serve a woman who would boss him around and make him feel worthless, I would try to play the role. His fantasy didn’t work if I didn’t play along, and I wanted to hold up my end of the bargain.
We set up a date for him to come over and clean. But at the last minute, he backed out.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I’m broke. I don’t even have subway fare. I could ask my dad for it, but I don’t think he’ll give it to me.”
A friend said, laughing, “He needs to get a real job as a houseboy to support his houseboy fetish.”
I tried twice more, and both times fell through. I didn’t hear from him again until I started my YouTube series.
“Ladies of Leisure” was something silly I thought up when I was drunk. It was a simple premise: I would sit in my bathtub, drink martinis and sing karaoke. Sometimes I would smoke cigarettes.
I posted a few videos on YouTube. My friends thought they were funny. I thought they were funny. That was all I thought would happen.
And then, I got a text from the Houseboy.
“Your videos are really good,” he said. “I bet they would go over well in the smoking fetish community.”
Over the next few days, people started following my YouTube channel. They had names like “AshtraySlaveNY” and “SmokingFetishVids.” I had gone viral. Except the people watching my videos were people who got turned on by watching me smoke.
“Are you right- or left-handed?” the Houseboy texted me.
“Sometimes you smoke with your left hand. You’d look more comfortable if you smoked with your right. It would be hotter.”
“That’s not really the point of the videos,” I replied.
I started to lose interest, but he kept texting me.
“Do you need a chauffeur tonight?” he would ask.
Or, “When are you going to put out a new video?”
Or:, “I want you to use me as an ashtray. Let me be your pig-slave.”
And then, I needed a lamp. And some wineglasses. And Ikea is in Red Hook, which is a hassle to get to. So I texted the Houseboy.
“It’s your lucky week,” I wrote. “I need a ride to Ikea.”
“I want to,” he replied, “but I don’t have money for gas. I know it’s not very slavelike to ask for gas money. But I’m broke.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “Cheaper than a cab.”
We made a date for a Friday at 2 p.m. Two o’clock passed, and then 3. I called him, trying my best to be domineering.
“I’m on my way,” he said. “There’s really bad traffic.”
Twenty minutes later, I called again. “Where are you?”
“Close. Ocean Avenue and Parkside.”
Finally he showed up, around 3:45. I walked outside to meet him, and saw a man waving at me from a red Toyota.
Perhaps I should have been scared, but I wasn’t. I was looking forward to seeing what this man, this Houseboy I had been talking to for months, would be like in person. I felt I already knew him. I walked over to his car and opened the door. The Houseboy was overweight and had long dark hair with streaks of gray. As I had already known, he was in his early 40s.
“Do you know how to get there?” I asked, trying to be cold.
“Yes,” he said. And then, “You’re really pretty. I couldn’t see your freckles in the videos.”
He started driving. Although I was trying to play the part of the cruel, confident woman, I couldn’t help but make friendly conversation.
“Yeah,” I said. “But not particularly religious.”
“What do you think about Israel and Gaza?”
I sighed. “I honestly don’t know if it can ever get better,” I said. “There are thousands of years of history there. Everyone hates each other too much. And no one is willing to compromise.”
He responded with an educated, nuanced take on the situation. I was surprised. I knew the Houseboy was kind, but I didn’t expect him to be so smart. After all, he lived with his father and couldn’t even afford subway fare.
When we got to Ikea, I told the Houseboy he could push my cart. He agreed, thanked me and went to get one. I led the way, walking two steps ahead of him through the assorted goods in the Ikea Marketplace. Occasionally I stopped, picking up bowls and wineglasses. I needed a new comforter. I needed a lamp for my room.
We checked out. I swiped my credit card, put my stuff back into the cart and walked out of the store, the Houseboy at my heels. He loaded my haul into the back seat of his car, taking care to put the fragile things on the floor where they wouldn’t break.
“You’re not going to take the B.Q.E.?” I asked, when we drove by an entrance to the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway.
“I’m afraid we might get stuck in traffic,” he said. “And then we’d never get off.”
When we got to my neighborhood, I gave him directions back to my building. He parked across the street, and I loaded things into reusable shopping bags to carry up to my apartment. The Houseboy offered to help me take them upstairs.
“O.K.,” I said, handing him a bag. “That’s me over there.”
I opened the door to the building. We walked up two flights, and I unlocked my apartment. I put my bag down on the floor, and the Houseboy put his down, too.
“I have gas money for you,” I said. “How much do you think? Twenty?”
“Oh, no,” he said. “Eight, at the most. Honestly, I’ll probably just give my dad six, and keep the rest.”
I gave him $11. We stood awkwardly, a few feet away from each other. It seemed strange to hug, but doing nothing felt uncomfortable, too.
“Thanks,” I said, and I opened the door to let him out.
“It was a pleasure serving you,” he said. “I hope you call me again.”
He started to walk out the door, but stopped and turned around.
“By the way,” he said. “You seem really nice.”
I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment, coming from a man who wanted to be abused. Maybe I should have been meaner. Maybe I should have made him take the B.Q.E. Maybe I should have lectured him on Gaza, interrupting him when he tried to give his perspective.
“I’m a little bit of a princess,” I often say.
And, “I like to get what I want when I want it.”
But the Houseboy saw through me. I wanted to give him what he was looking for: I wanted to dominate him, boss him around, make him feel bad about himself. But in the end, I couldn’t. When it comes down to it, I’m uncomfortable throwing olive pits. I’m not good at calling someone names, or ignoring his presence. I just want a friendly ride to Ikea with a smart guy who can talk intelligently about Middle East politics.
I guess I’m nice. But my apartment is still a mess.

One more step
Please complete the security check to access www.avvo.com

Please stand by, while we are checking your browser...
Please enable Cookies and reload the page.
Completing the CAPTCHA proves you are a human and gives you temporary access to the web property.
If you are on a personal connection, like at home, you can run an anti-virus scan on your device to make sure it is not infected with malware.
If you are at an office or shared network, you can ask the network administrator to run a scan across the network looking for misconfigured or infected devices.
Another way to prevent getting this page in the future is to use Privacy Pass. Check out the browser extension in the Firefox Add-ons Store .

Cloudflare Ray ID: 7287af9c882d9da2
•

Your IP:
Click to reveal
46.8.106.164
•

Performance & security by Cloudflare

Mr Creamjeans
Hypnosis Porn
Cum Vid

Teen Boy Femdom

Report Page