| Jul. 8th, 2004 @ 11:55 am abused. |
|---|
He is at least kind enough to bring me a towel - slightly dampened, to wipe the cum off my face. I keep my eyes squeezed shut when he comes because if it gets in my eyes, they go blood-shot and it looks like I've been toking up.
This was all play, of course. Completely consentual: that's what I keep telling myself. I asked for it, and not in the sense that I looked slutty so he wanted me. Not in the sense that I was drunk, so he took advantage of me. It wasn't like that. When I say I asked for it, I mean I looked him in the eye and said, "Hurt me. When you fuck me, I want you to fucking hurt me."
I said, "I want you to use force. What I really, really want, is for you to take me and tear me apart. Fuck me like I'm just an object."
Granted, I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew about his fantasies and fetishes. I knew that he'd once bashed a girl's head into a wall until she passed out, out of anger. And I knew that he got off to it.
I asked for it, so I really shouldn't have been so surprised when he actually did it. I probably shouldn't have been so afraid.
He punched me. Right in the chest, hard enough to knock me back onto the bed. I lay there for a moment, trying to breathe. That moment was enough for him to take off his belt. I thought, "Oh, shit." Hearing the leather slap against my face made my heart skip beats, and my cheeks stung. Tears welled in my eyes.
This was probably out of instinct, but I tried to get up. I pushed my body up, half propping myself up on my elbows. He grabbed my arms so hard they instantly bruised deep blackish purple, and I seemed to hover in the air just above the bed. Between the bed and him. Through tears, I squinted up at him - his silhouette. Against the light from the ceiling lamp he looked almost holy.
He twisted me around. I couldn't help it: I yelled. My body ached everywhere he touched me. He whispered to me, "Shhh. Be quiet and stop moving." He grabbed my wrists and I tried to pull away. He slammed the belt down on the back of my neck and suddenly I couldn't focus anymore. I couldn't struggle. He could do as he pleased.
The belt cut into my wrists, he wrapped it so tightly. I couldn't move them but I could feel them beginning to tingle, losing circulation. |
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