Wicked Wednesday 330 – A New Beginning

(Content Warning: This story discusses abuse, mental, emotional, physical and sexual. If this is something you’d prefer to not read I do understand. Keep yourself safe. Love, Livvy)

Brittany hadn’t been involved in a romantic or sexual relationship in years, not since the night her ex-husband left, leaving her beaten and violated in the process. The trauma had been enough to scare her away from any dating, even though there had been a time in her and her husband’s relationship where they had both enjoyed going out together and picking up pretty young women or handsome men. But as they grew older and Frank gained a bit of weight and felt like his wife was more attracted to other men than to him, the abuse started. It was little things at first, she barely noticed. But by the end, every thing was a fucking train wreck for her. She felt that was lucky she got out when she did and was able to start over. But being alone was…well, lonely.

She’d been through therapy and it helped some and she was on medication that was supposed to help the nightmares go away, but it only made her gain weight, which made her laugh bitterly at the irony there. Frank would’ve beat her and probably worse if she’d let herself go while they were together and now that she was free of him, here she was twenty pounds heavier and still terrified to reach out to anyone for anything. Her co-workers had finally given up on trying to make friends with her and the few friends she’d had before the divorce had drifted away afterwards when they couldn’t reach her through the fog of her own mental anguish. As the darkness ascended, her own terror became palpable every single night. Nightmares full of a hell that she relived over and over, of being held down and raped while he slapped her and called her a whore, waking up tied down and being forced to suck his dick until her shot his come across her face and left her there, immobile until he was ready for her again, and those were the tamer nightmares that she had. The mental and emotional hell had been worse because she couldn’t just disassociate herself from the name calling, the fights used against her, the gaslighting; it was all burned into her brain.

Rarely did she go out, except to handle necessities like groceries and other sundries, but when she was out she was constantly on high alert. Even seeing a man that had the same build as Frank was sometimes enough to leave her backing away in fear and hoping it wasn’t him, even though she knew he’d moved away after the divorce. On one of her trips she spotted a man, about her age, who looked nothing like Frank and watched him covertly as they both did their shopping in the small store. She was lonely she admitted to herself, but could she ever be that vulnerable again?

David watched the pretty, plump brunette that was watching him and wondered how to get her number without seeming too forward. He’d noticed her shopping before and she behaved like a frightened animal might if something unexpected crossed its path. He’d noticed it was always certain men who frightened her and he wondered who had hurt her so badly. He shook his head in frustration, knowing that, while, in his eyes, the good outweighed the bad, there was plenty of bad to be afraid of. It made him angry that a man could be so cruel to a woman, to anyone else, but he wasn’t naive enough t think the world was sunshine and roses.

After Brittany realized she’d been caught watching him, she hurried away, quickly finished her shopping and left. But by sheer coincidence they kept finding themselves shopping at the same time. David dared to smile at her and one time she gave him a tremulous smile in return. It was a good sign he thought. Next time he saw her, he posed a question about the best apples to buy and she took a deep breath before telling him that Fuji apples were her favorite. Her voice was so soft and quiet, he could barely hear her. He didn’t know that her heart was pounding so hard she could practically hear it or that he was the first man she’d spoken to outside of her job in longer than perhaps she cared to admit. Her therapist called this progress. Still the nightmares plagued her. She woke in a cold sweat one night, recalling how Frank had forced her to fellate the barrel of a gun that might or might not have been loaded while he jerked off to the scene before him, occasionally threatening to pull the trigger.

Weeks passed and each time David stopped her with a warm smile to say hello she grew less nervous about the tall, auburn haired man with his wire rimmed glasses; she realized she looked forward to seeing him. When he first suggested coffee she nearly turned and ran, but was able to stay calm and before she could think heard herself agreeing to an afternoon coffee date at a nearby cafe. Their relationship progressed slowly, with her setting the pace of things for the most part, although David dared to prod gently now and then, wanting to learn more about her. She indicated that she’d been though a bad divorce, but gave no other details. That alone was enough for David to fill in a few blanks.

After a solid year of coffees and dinners and the occasional trip to the movies, Brittany felt that David truly meant her no harm and she invited him in for a drink one night, wondering if she could handle where things might lead. She didn’t think he would push her to do anything, but there was a residual amount of fear still left in her. They shared a half a bottle of wine, rehashing the movie and talking about whatever came up. Before he left David turned to her, quite seriously, “Brittany, I don’t know what happened in your past or how I can help, but I’d very much like to be part of your future. And I’m going to ask you something I’ve wanted to ask for months. Can I give you a kiss?”

Brittany blinked in surprise; she couldn’t have looked more like a startled rabbit than she did right then and took a deep breath. Stepping closer to David she placed her hands in his and tilted her face to his. “Yes you can.” And their lips met, gently at first, and Brittany had to force back the tiniest feeling of panic. This was David and he wouldn’t hurt her. She trusted him. And slowly the kiss moved from gentle and tender to something a bit hotter, until Brittany pulled away gasping. She took a deep breath to steady herself and David smiled at her. “Goodnight Britt.” And he left her at her front door wanting more and realizing that maybe she could have it after all.

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Wicked Wednesday 282 – Mirror – (Reflections of a Woman)

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Lexi sighed and ran her hands down her body. She was curvy yes, but she was also chubby, no not chubby, fat in all the wrong places. Spinning around she looked over her shoulder at herself and let out another sigh. At least, she thought, her ass filled out a pair of jeans nicely. But she certainly couldn’t see in herself what her boyfriend James seemed to see, not even when she stared at herself in the mirror as she was doing now. Another sigh escaped her and she wandered over to her closet trying to find something to wear for a casual date.

Finding nothing that appealed to her, she walked back over to the mirror and stared some more. “What does he see,” she whispered. Another round of staring at herself from any angle she could manage and she fell back onto the bed behind her, depressed, curious, and well aware that she was going to be late for her evening unless she got moving.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall…” she muttered to herself as she got back up to take a stab at finding something to wear. They were just going bowling so she could get away with jeans she thought and slipped her favorite pair over her black lace boy shorts. Now to find a shirt. Hmm, that’s it. V-neck shirts always showed off her cleavage nicely and if James enjoyed the view so much then she may as well give him something to look at. She laughed as she swiped her lips in berry pink, grabbed her bag, and went to wait for James. His knock came at the door only moments later.

When she opened the door he enveloped her in a hug and a kiss before pulling away to smile at her. “You look ravishing as always.” And a s always, Lexi blushed a bit at his compliment, although she was getting a little better at accepting them. She still had those doubt though and tonight they were in full force just like they’d been on their first date. Lexi did her best to push them away, but she was pensive on the ride to the bowling alley, thinking about how she wasn’t exactly a ten on the attractiveness scale and how she measured up or didn’t measure up and generally tearing herself down despite how hard James was trying to help build her up. Those were her thoughts and when they reached the bowling alley, James stopped her from getting out and took her hands.

“Look Lexi, I know exactly what you’ve been thinking about the entire way here and I wish you could see what I do. You’re beautiful and you don’t even know it. And if my guess is correct, you agonized over what to wear all day and spent some time staring into the mirror and generally berating yourself for not being perfect or skinny. But I don’t care if you don’t measure up to the world’s vision of perfect. You’re my vision of perfect. OK?” She nodded trying not to cry at the sweet words and squeezed his hands. “You’re right, I’ve spent all day ruminating on how I look and how I fail to measure up and everything that comes to mind of that nature. I know I’m fat, I know not everyone is going to like me or want me or even be nice to me. I’ve experienced enough shame about my body to last a lifetime and it some ways it probably will. But you help me try to be better. Now let’s go bowling.”

The pair played a few lightly competitive games (they were both terrible bowlers it turned out) before James decided enough was enough. He stopped Lexi from setting up the next game and told her to stop and look across the room. He covertly pointed out that she was being watched by a man several lanes over. “That’s not disgust Lexi. He’s wondering if we’re together or if we’re just friends. He finds you attractive.” The moment she glanced up the man looked away quickly as though he’d been caught in the act. Lexi looked at James. “Seriously? We’re on a date and you’re pointing out guys checking me out?” He laughed softly. “I just want you to know that I’m not the only one in the world that finds you desirable my dear. That’s all.” He pulled her closer and gave her a rather possessive kiss. “Let’s go back to my place.”

They turned in their ugly rented shoes and left. Lexi began to anticipate having some fun with James, even though she was feeling extra insecure tonight. She almost dreaded taking her clothes off, although he’d seen her naked before and he hadn’t shied away. She was just too deep in her own head. She hoped she could relax.

James poured them both a glass of wine and watched Lexi drink hers more quickly than usual. He took it as a sing that she was eager for him and smiled. Perhaps his little speech in the car had some effect after all. He sat the glass aside and pulled her close to him for another kiss. Before too long her shirt was off and his clothing followed until they were both nude on his couch. James knelt down and kissed his way up Lexi’s legs, enjoying the feel of her skin and finding a sensitive spot just behind her right knee. They’d had sex, but he hadn’t gone down on her yet and that made her nervous too. What if he didn’t like her vulva or clit, what if she was just too fat there too? What if, what if what if?

And then he kissed her clit and she sighed gently. James smiled up at her although she wasn’t watching him and continued to tease her with small kisses, nibbles, and tiny licks here and there. He wanted her to ask for this. To relax enough to enjoy herself. Gradually her legs opened wider and she gathered up the courage to look down at him as he sucked gently at her. Their eyes met and she could see naked desire in his, while he saw the fear in hers. “You know we can always stop,” he reminded her. “I…I don’t want you to stop. Please…” He smiled at her again and finally, given permission, he fairly dove into her, lifting her thighs over his shoulders so her could bury his face against her skin.

Lexi shivered at the feelings he gave her and began to whimper and gasp, slowly getting louder and louder as she neared that edge. He murmured words that she couldn’t make out against her skin and the vibrations were enough. She arched her back, thrusting her body towards him as her orgasm took her breath away. James looked up at the satiated and wanton looking woman on his couch and grinned. He wondered if she knew he’d been telling her he loved her. He took her to bed then and took her over and over that night, always driving her to higher peaks than before.

Wicked Wednesday – 252 – Recollection (Memories from a Broken Mind)

((Trigger warning – Sexual Abuse, Rape)) If this may be a problem for you please feel free to skip this post.

I was 19 and he was almost 22. We had been married for just over a year. The first time it happened I was asleep and I awoke to him fucking me while I slept. I didn’t know what to do or how to respond so I pretended to be asleep and let him finish. I cried myself back to sleep long after he had passed back out. That happened several more times until I finally told him to stop one night and forced him off of me. He didn’t seem to understand why he couldn’t fuck me, his wife, any time he wanted even if I was sleeping.

Later on it progressed to forced blowjobs when I was on my period. He’d beg and manipulate me until I finally would give in just to get it over it with. I later learned that this was called coercive rape. There were many more instances of that, countless ones over the years. It taught me that I had no worth, no value as anything other than a human sex toy. And I accepted that for many years. Nine to be exact.

He fucked me when we were both drunk once. I didn’t want to. But his fingers, surer than mine, had my jeans undone and my panties down before I could protest. I wasn’t even ready and it hurt. I buried my face in a pillow and cried to myself, thanking the Gods that I had always been on the pill and that I took it like clockwork everyday. He never even noticed my tear stained cheeks or the lack of an orgasm on my part. He just took and took without caring or giving anything in return.

I told him that I wanted a divorce because I was queer and even in such a stressful time he was still able to manipulate me. He held me down and performed oral sex on me just because he wanted to know if he could still make me come. So I closed my eyes and fantasized about it being someone else, anyone else but him. Because I knew he wouldn’t stop otherwise. He was so triumphant when I had that orgasm. Later he wanted a blowjob and I was quite literally gagging at the thought because he repulsed me so. He forced himself into my mouth and as far into my throat as he could. I almost threw up on him and he shoved me away in disgust. “Stupid bitch. You’ve done this dozens of times before. Why not now?”

Even after he moved out he kept coming back, hoping to catch me alone I think. He never did. It has been five years now. I still have nightmares. I’m terrified he’ll find out where I live. I don’t even like to see him in public because it fills me with so much rage and loathing both for him and for myself. Slowly, I’m healing. With the help of my partner and my therapist and even this blog I’m getting better. And I’ll never be his (or anyone’s) victim again.

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If you missed it last week’s Wicked Wednesday can be found here.

Mental Health/Illness and Sexuality

I have spent the better part of a week now trying to figure out just how the connection between my mental health and my sex life intersects. I keep finding a lot of data, but it is difficult to parse and even harder to explain.

What it boils down to is that I have been everywhere from hypersexual to functionally asexual depending on how manic or depressed I was at any given time. Various medications that I have been on have also heightened these effects in either direction as well.

Having an abusive former spouse who did not understand or did not care about the wild variations and how they affected me meant that my own sexuality as well as my mental health was used against me (in addition to bipolar disorder type 2 with rapid cycles I also suffer from an anxiety disorder and, due to the trauma of my marriage, PTSD)

I’ve been coerced, tortured, abused, and more recently, loved for the first time in my life. The decade of the coercion combined with my mental illness has left incredible scars on my psyche. Talking about sex can, at times, be impossible for me (and I’m a sex blogger so that’s gotta change), communicating my wants or needs is an arduous task at best, and simply allowing myself to want something, much less ask for it is a struggle. My partner has been incredibly, incredibly patient with me and wonderful to me throughout everything that has gone on both while watching my marriage fall apart and being unable to help and then afterwards when we ended up together.

Sometimes, an unexpected noise like a door creaking can derail sex because it triggers my panic attacks, sometimes I can’t even bear to be touched because of the flashbacks; other times I wake up screaming. All of these instances work in conjunction to take my sexuality and smash it into a bunch of tiny pieces that I can’t put back together. All because the connections in my brain aren’t wired quite right and someone chose to exploit that under the guise of loving me.

Having spent years of my life viewing my sex life through that lens of abuse has meant that I didn’t really know what to expect from my partner and that my partner has been, and continues to be, very careful with me at times. It is a safety issue for us that goes beyond things like safewords and best practices regarding safe sex. It is what reminded me that consent is sexy as well as necessary. I was introduced to the idea of using lube, because my ex thought that it wasn’t necessary, I’m learning that it is OK to talk and laugh and have fun, that it is OK if things don’t end in an orgasm, or six. Basic things, that I may have learned long before I was married, but I later had ripped from me and dismissed as frigidity, sluttishness (in a condescending usage), or simple stupidity as though I was incapable of knowing about my own wants and needs and clearly too dumb to attend to those of the “man” in my life.

I wouldn’t wish the things that I have suffered upon anyone, not even the ex from hell, but it is my hope that even just one person sees this post and knows that they are more than their mental illness, more than just someone to be used and tossed aside, more than just their cunt, their breasts, their penis, their body as sexual tool. You can be crazy and having a happy fulfilling sex life. You can be an abuse survivor and find a new normal. Mental illness and/or trauma does not have to dictate who or what you are.

That’s your job. Now, go do you.

Love,

Livvy