We’d been together for 3 years, best friends before that, so why was I so scared to try something new? Why was I scared to trust him sexually? He knew I’d been molested, raped, and he loved me, so it’s not like he’d hurt me like that. Why not try it out to make him happy? Maybe I’ll like it.
So I did, I let him buy some things and set it up to surprise me. He told me I had to listen to what he said, that he was in charge. It sounded hot, I liked the idea of not having to be in control, like I always feel the need to in everyday life. He kissed me and I melted; I loved this man, why was I ever afraid? This could be fun.
The the cuffs came out, and my stomach dropped. You can do this, if you don’t like it just tell him and he’ll stop. Just breath, you are safe. He told me to lie on my stomach with my arms behind my back, so I listened, trying to hide the shaking in my hands when he clamped the cuffs over my wrists. “We can stop whenever you want, but I’m so glad you agreed to this. It’s a major fantasy of mine, and it’s really turning me on.” he whispered it into my ear as he teased me with his hands. I can do this for him.
“Now for the next surprise, I get to torture you with teasing”. He’d bought a Bullet vibrator with a remote. He ran it along my back and hands, getting my used to the vibrations, until he put it in. I tensed up, this was very new to me and I didn’t know how I felt about it. I mean, it didn’t hurt, but it was foreign and kind of scary, but I didn’t want to disappoint him, so when he asked if I liked it I told him yes. He asked if I wanted more, I wanted to be sexy, I knew he wanted me to respond correctly, so I whispered, “You’re in charge, whatever you want”
That was the first mistake.
He growled in response, getting exactly what he wanted. He told me I was being a good girl, and he would reward me, but first I had to feel what it was to wait, like he had to for me to agree to this. He turned up the bullet and walked to the door, “I’ll be back when I’m ready, until then you will wait.” I can’t do this.
“...Dan, wait” I started to tell him I wasn’t comfortable with this, even with him being in the next room, the idea of being left like this scared the Hell out of me. But he just threw a “You’ll be fine” at me and walked out. I lie there, trying to hear him moving around the apartment over the vibrations, but he is getting farther away until I hear a door close.
“Dan?” Nothing. “Dan?!” He left. Oh my god, he left the house, he left me like this. “DANIEL!” Too late, he can’t hear me. I try to get out of the cuffs, wriggling and pulling until it hurts my joints, my breathing is ragged and my heart is racing, I feel like a caged animal. Oh God, Oh God, Oh God. I start crying, trying to tell myself he probably just ran to the car, he'll be right back. I trust this man, I love this man, he wouldn't hurt me. Time goes by, seconds, minutes, I'm not sure, but I begin to realize that he isn't coming back anytime soon. I know that I have to get out of this, so I bear the pain and try again to break the cuffs or get out of them someway. Maybe if I roll onto my feet I can get to the bathroom and see the cuffs. So I try to inch to the edge, the vibrator is starting to hurt, I try to push or wriggle it out, but it's stuck and the more I move the more it hurts. I start to calm down knowing once I get on my feet I'll get out, and then...I don't know what then. But I make a small error in my movements and start to fall off the bed at the wrong angle- CRACK- I hit the floor screaming in pain, feeling my shoulder dislocates from the impact. I can't move, I just lie there and scream, until my screams turn to weeping. I'm broken, inside and out. How could he do this to me? He said he loved me. Images of when I was raped fly around my head. Is this the same? No, it can't be, he loves me.This can't be that.
I lie there for so long I start to feel like I'm going to pass out. The vibrator stopped after a while, batteries dying, but I was raw. It felt like I was bleeding, My arm felt broken when I tried to shift for a better position, but I honestly didn't know what felt worse; my body or my soul. I may have passed out off once or twice, accepting that I might just die like this. Would it be so bad? If my soul gave out and drifted away? I would welcome it at this point. I hear a noise, the door? I don't know, I can't even call out for help anymore, I have nothing left in me. I hear my name and it shatters me to my core "Dan....Please..." It's all I have. He comes in and takes the cuffs off, trying to help me up until I wail in pain from my arm. "Don't touch me, just leave me." He pulls out the Bullet and this feeling of shame fills me. I'm embarrassed that he sees me like this. "I'm sorry, I lost track of time" He repeats it over and over, lying a blanket over me and putting a pillow by my head. "Where were you...Why did you leave?" I'm not mad or sad, I'm just numb. "I went to church and then went to my parents after, they wanted to hang out, but I lost track of time, I didn't realize it had been so long, I'm sorry, I would never hurt you, I didn't mean this!" I just needed to know one thing "How long?" He knows what I'm asking, and his voice falters as he whispers in my hair, "...Three hours...I'm so sorry, I'll never do this again, you know how much I love you, please forgive me."
I didn't go to the hospital, I couldn't. No one could know what happened and I didn't think I could lie. I told him what was wrong with my arm and he tried to pop it back into place. I bit the pillow and blacked out mid scream, but he had done it, when I woke up my arm hurt but I could move it again. He had put me back on the bed while I slept, put underwear on me and had turned off the lights. He was lying next to me asleep, one hand on my hip, holding me but not disturbing my arm. I lie there the rest of the night, not knowing what to do.
Is it rape? He didn't force me, I'd agreed to it. I didn't say no outright, and when I changed my mind he was already gone. He was wrong, he had fucked up, but was it rape? He didn't mean for that to happen, and he was sorry.
He cried the next day and promised to never do anything like that to me again. I forgave him. A part of me knew I shouldn't, that I should get out, but the other half blamed myself. I should have told him from the start I didn't want to do it. I should have laid down rules or boundaries. I loved him. How can I hate him for making a mistake? I'd made mistakes and he forgave me, granted they weren't anything like this, but still. He loves me.
I never told anybody. I was seeing a therapist at the time for Trauma Counseling, and we would be sitting there and it would just hit me. This immovable urge to blurt it out, just say it like I was talking about the weather. But I couldn't, I was so ashamed. For it happening, for staying with him after. If I stayed then it was my fault, I deserved to feel this way, to suffer in silence. It became all I thought about, it consumed me completely. When I was at work it would play in my head over and over, when I was with my friends I would avoid eye contact, terrified they would read it on my face. I couldn't tell my family, they would hate him forever. And they would never look at me the same way again. Their tainted daughter, granddaughter, niece, sister. No, I could never tell them. I couldn't bring it up to him, when I did he would tell me he couldn't bear to think about it much less talk about it, so I just needed to let it go, forgive him and move forward together. And I tried, I did! But when he would hold me I felt this need to pull away. I started keeping my clothes on when we were intimate, and we couldn't do it often because it would hurt more times than not, and I started bleeding almost every time. I felt like I was a virgin every time, it just hurt. But it wasn't all about me, he needed to be intimate and so I would hide the pain until I couldn't go any more and I'd ask him to stop. Most of the time he would, but every so often he would pause only to start up again. I would have to tell him "Dan, stop, it hurts". Even then he would hesitate but wouldn't pull out, asking if I was sure. Every time he did it rage would fill me until my whole body felt hot. I would turn over so he couldn't see my face while I quietly cried myself to sleep. Sometimes he would hold me, sometimes he would leave to watch movies or play video games. I could feel pieces of myself chipping away every time we would have sex. Sometimes I initiated it, wanting to feel something, but no matter what at one point I would need him out, off, away from me. I hated myself more and more afterwards for wanting it in the first place.
