After I'm done abusing you, I let you cry for some minutes. I take pity on you. I gently rub your back. I ask you if you need anything. You don't reply. I tell you to stay put. You know your place, so you do. I come back with a glass of water and a blanket. I hand you the water and I tell you to drink it. You look at me. You can't trust me, but you've been crying all night long. You figure you need it, so you drink. I cover you up with the blanket. I rub your back, I run my fingers through your hair, I caress your thighs. You feel dirty. Hollow. Broken
I tell you to take it slow. Drink your water. I'll be right back. I go to the bathroom and turn the shower on. I let the bath tub fill up. I come back and tell you to come back with me. We enter the bathroom and it's nice and warm. You have a pit in your stomach. You're not sure of what I'll make you do. I tell you to get in the shower, as I grab the blanket and take it off for you. You get in. The water is warm. You sit there, letting the water wash away the memories. You try reaching out for the shampoo, but I get it for you. I start washing you
You're dirty. Full of bruises and marks. It hurts. I tell you that I'll tend to them later. I'll wash your hair first. You feel like I didn't enjoy hurting you. Maybe that's what I want you to think. You're having a hard time processing what happened. Why am I being so soft, caring and gentle? You know I'm just manipulating you. Trying to make you feel like I care about your well-being. Maybe I just don't want my toy to break. You're not sure of what to think. But you feel cleaner now
When we're done, I help you get out and dry yourself. You notice I don't even try touching you. You go sit on my bed. I got you some nice clothes. Too nice. They're also exactly your size. They're clothes that you would enjoy wearing, if not for the fact that your rapist is giving them to you. You put them on anyways. I come back after you're done dressing with some ice packs and painkillers. I take care of your bruises, and I got you some more water to help drink some pills. You trust me, and you do as I tell you. I want the best for you
I rub your back, and your legs. I take such good care of you. You don't even recognize me anymore, but it feels nice. You enjoy this. You almost want this to happen again, just so I could softly wash your hair again, just so I could make you feel like someone loves you and cares about you. The pit in your stomach starts to hurt again. I continue to take care of your bruises, and I also apply some antibiotic ointments on your cuts. It stings. I dress them with bandages, and you feel a lot better. You really feel like I'm doing this for you
I tell you to go to the bathroom and pee. I can tell you've been holding it. Your legs are shaking. Your body is squirming. I ask if you need any help. You tell me you got this. You go and take your time. You don't understand why I'm being so thorough, why I'm taking such good care of you. You assume I'm just trying to manipulate you, or to give you a false sense of security. And it's working. I come back and enter the bathroom just as you're done. You feel embarrassed. I wordlessly come next to you. Your adrenaline rushes. You begin to feel scared again. But I just take some toilet paper and clean you. You freeze in place. I ask if you need help getting up. You don't reply. I pull your underwear and pants back up, and I help you get up and come back to bed with me
I made you dinner. There's a lot of food. Your legs are shaking and you feel weak. There's that pit in your stomach. You wonder if it's hunger. Once you think about it, you realize you're starving, and you begin to eat. You feel shy and embarrassed. I tell you that you're doing well. That you did so well today. I tell you to eat slowly and to enjoy the food. I made it specially for you. You notice that it's a lot of food you like. I even brought you pastries and snacks. I get close to you, and tell you that I'll be leaving. I kiss the back of your neck. You want to cry. I tell you that I'll be back later. We'll do this all over again. And you better get used to it. Don't worry. I'll take good care of you. You'll learn to love your rapist. You'll enjoy being raped. You'll crave that feeling, and you'll feel so relieved once it's over, because you know I love you and will take good care of you
dededos
prguitarman
romaincrisis
gummygunk
discoholicmusic
stormborns
dailybridgerton
theartofmadeline
