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.

Advertisements

Wicked Wednesday 283 – Memory Lane (Traumatic)

WARNING: This post is about sexual assault and rape and may be triggering for some readers. Please take care of you and if you’re worried about this causing a problem feel free to skip this post. Love, Livvy

wickedwednesday

When I told my ex-husband I wanted a divorce, he asked me why and I simply told him I was gay. There was far more to the story than that, but that’s for another time. He took this declaration of mine as a personal challenge. His stance included a suicide threat that was nothing more than attention grabbing, but far worse than that was the quickly escalated abuse.

He wouldn’t have penetrative sex with me because I had immediately stopped taking my birth control in order to avoid just such a thing happening, but he wanted something so he grabbed me by the hair and forced me to give him a blow job. I choked and gagged and eventually he grew disgusted with me and threw me back across the bed. I honestly thought he was going to physically harm me at that point. If things had stopped there it might have been OK for me. I might have mentally been able to get over that particular incident (although I’d put up with years of such treatment.) But that wasn’t the end of it.

Several days later he found me nude in our bedroom. He asked me if he could perform oral sex on me and I said no. I found this to be an odd request given how he’d never liked doing so before now. But when I said no he kept pushing and trying manipulate me into giving in. Finally (and to my shame) I did. Why? Because I just wanted it to stop. Later I learned of the term coercive rape and that is what had happened to me there. I didn’t even have the courage or ability left in me to fight back and stand up for myself. I felt so defeated and broken. I felt like it was my fault for a very long time and it has taken years for me to learn and understand otherwise

These are two memories that will stick with me, and haunt me, for the rest of my life. Sometimes I still wake up crying. It took some time before I would let my current partner see me naked and more before I was OK with oral sex again. I try to remember these good times when the bad ones come rushing back. It helps. So does talking about it.

But today I’m writing about it largely to get the term coercive rape out there. For all the people who were pressured, badgered, and manipulated into a sexual act that they didn’t want, you’re not alone. And it isn’t or wasn’t your fault. If you’re suffering or struggling, please seek help. Talk to a counselor, a trusted friend, your pastor…whoever you can open up to (I know that’s hard), but it helps the healing process. I’ve struggled with opening up and I rarely go into detail about this if I do talk about it. I use euphemisms and subtle hints and references, but rarely do I say anything words related to sexuality out loud. I just don’t have it in me to do so.

And I know these are terrible memories to share and I hope that my readers will forgive me, but I needed to talk about this as I do every so often, because even after half a decade I am still trying to process it all, still trying to cope. I don’t know if I’ll ever be better, but I’ll be stronger eventually.

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.

wickedwednesday

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