I’ve continued exploring the idea of being more dominant in bed with Mr. Trustworthy in my fantasies and there’s no escaping it: I’m terrified! Oh don’t get me wrong, the idea of getting *exactly* what I want, when I want and how I want is naturally appealing. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that I DID explore my dominant streak some with H and I feel like the consequences were disastrous! In my head I recognize that these feelings are all wrapped up in the trauma of how abusive H eventually became and everything is twisted up because of H’s emotional and sexual abuse. I just don’t understand how it happened…how did we go from talking about his cuckold fantasies to the reality of him watching me with other men and me *enjoying* it to him at some point pulling away from me, emotionally and sexually, and manipulating and forcing me to have sex with other people when I didn’t want to!? How did exploring the idea of me being dominant with H, something I was extremely hesitant to do, lead to me losing the right to say no???
It’s not fair. I TRUST Mr. Trustworthy. He’s nothing like H. Mr. Trustworthy would never hurt me, would never pressure me, would NEVER violate my consent. It’s just hard…and they way I love Mr. Trustworthy, I’ve never even allowed the thought to enter my mind before…I know the limits, I respect them; his life, his family, his marriage, his future come first…but the way I love him, gods, I love him like a partner, like the person I share my life with…I love him the way I loved my husband. He’s my best friend and I’ve never had a relationship anything like this before, hell, I’ve never HAD a healthy relationship before Mr. Trustworthy came into my life. So maybe I loved H the way I’d love a best friend? H *was* my best friend, but that was in part due to his control and isolation of me, not allowing me to have other friends for the most part, combined with my utter lack of understanding and skills to know how to have healthy friendships that aren’t about sex or whatever else we could get from one another. Maybe it would be different, if I had someone for the happily ever after Mr. Trustworthy wants for me, maybe there would somehow be even MORE, I don’t know. I can’t image more, but that doesn’t prove anything.
Anyway, it scares me knowing that Mr. Trustworthy wants to please me in bed so badly. There was a time when that’s how it felt with H, which led to talking about fantasies, which led to acting on fantasies. And at first, for a while even, I enjoyed it. But things changed over time and I wanted to stop, tried to set limits and boundaries and H would violate them every time. After a while H would punish me for even trying to speak up, say what I did or didn’t want, for trying to say ‘no’. By that time he’d become so abusive in so many ways I was totally under his control and too afraid to even try to object or ask for anything. In my head I know things could never turn out like that with Mr. Trustworthy, but trauma isn’t so simple to let go. Mr. Trustworthy has been willing to try so many things with me that he never would’ve done otherwise, things he didn’t even enjoy at times but did anyway because of how much it benefited me. I know he really struggled for a while when we started doing impact play, although now he’s grown to enjoy it. He tells me that if he doesn’t want to do something he’d just not do it and I WANT to believe him, but I’ve already seen how he will put my desires first and push himself out of his comfort zone to please me. So what happens if I do push too far and at the time he’s willing to give it a go but regrets it later? What if he ends up feeling used or violated? I don’t know how I’d ever forgive myself. Would I even know? Would he tell me? I want to believe he would and I’m sure HE believes that he would, but he doesn’t have the experience to understand the emotional consequences and toll something like that takes, how it can change you. How it can change how you feel about the person you love.
I guess I am afraid to even experiment with trusting the combined inexperience of his submissive side with my dominant side. At this point I don’t intend to let that stop me, but the plan is definitely to proceed with BABY steps. I’ve been meaning to ask him how he felt about the other day in bed when I told him what I wanted multiple times. When we were texting he told me he noticed, but for one reason or another I didn’t ask how he *felt* and while I’m sure it wasn’t anything negative or he would have told me, hearing his thoughts will help me going forward. I’m going to need a HELL of a lot of communication and reassurance for this, ironic as that’s usually the top’s job I’ve always thought! Maybe our D/s just has to be a bit more fluid than anything I’ve ever imagined before so I can feel safe enough to experiment. I really hope this doesn’t destroy us. I don’t think it will or I’d just say ‘no’, but I definitely fear that could be the end result.
On the up side, every single thing I’ve feared would destroy me simply hasn’t had the power; hopefully this fear will also lose it’s strength now that I’m shining the light on it…
It wasn’t good and I’m not proud, but I do *remember* the relationship I previously wrote about back in 2014 from when I was 16, 17 & finally ending right after I turned 18. Coincidence??? Well, 2014 was a long time ago…I have a LOT more miles on the clock these days, for better or for worse. Clarity and wisdom, even when hard won, can be downright excruciating to endure. There’s really a lot more to be said than what I managed to face back then; even so, that trauma is small potatoes compared to what brings me back to the subject of the sexual abuse of minors. What I don’t remember…
The thing about having complex PTSD is that I can’t ever expect it to go away, all I can do is manage it so it interferes in my life as little as possible. The only way of achieving that is of course through learning about how PTSD affects you and over the years I’ve learned a LOT. On the up side, my PTSD is extremely well managed lately and even when I do have attacks I very rarely have to resort to Xanax to end it as I used to have to do every time, rather I’m usually now able to use many different tools I’ve learned which can help me get through it with knowledge rather than drugs! The down side is the seemingly perpetual decent down into the never ending horrors of my past in order to face them and try to heal.
Memory can be such a fickle and subversive force in how it influences our lives. The thing about trauma is, as has been shown through the use of fMRIs, it can (and usually does) literally rewire the brain. Because of this memories of traumatic experiences are inherently different from other memories. The ways in which the memories differ can vary widely, but gaping holes are common. I genuinely *understand* what this means as what memories I do have of the year I couldn’t escape Efeel different. I wish facing what these two men did to me was enough, but I’ve learned the only way out is through and am thus unable to avoid descending to even greater depths of trauma in my past. A great deal of time in therapy learning about my PTSD and how it affects me plus years of practice have taught me the ability to quickly and easily identify traumatic memory – or trauma-based lack of memory. Don’t get me wrong, there’s undoubtedly TONS of things I’ve forgotten from my childhood, but the characteristics of that lack of memory is dramatically different from the shape and feel of the gaping holes in my memory which were caused by trauma, such as E’s abuse.
These days I rely heavily on massage therapy to help me cope with chronic pain and when I find a massage therapist I like, I always seem to end up getting to know them perhaps far more than is appropriate!? But there is a great deal of intimacy involved and I know that what’s going on with me emotionally is a factor tightly tied to my pain level and flare ups of various chronic diseases from which I suffer. So, when I’m in pain, upset/stressed/frustrated or whatever else, then spend anywhere from one to two hours being massaged by someone combined with the fact that I’m already an extroverted external processor and I’m opening up in no time. The release of whatever is on my mind always aids in my body’s ability to relax, making for a much more powerful outcome than massage alone – I know as there have been too many massages trying to find the right fit and getting little to nothing results wise. I don’t think there are ANY topics I’d consider to be off the table (if you can pardon the pun!) for discussion with either of my two regular massages gals I currently see…the variety of topics is perhaps the only thing in existence more eclectic than my taste in music lol.
Yesterday I had a massage with the massage therapist I only started seeing a few months ago, so she doesn’t know me personally super well yet. We were talking about my recent surgery in which I had a uterine ablation and my Fallopian tubes removed and she was sharing similar information. A few days after the surgery I got to see Mr. Trustworthy in person, who naturally asked how I was feeling? I shared my sense of relief knowing that FINALLY I absolutely could not ever accidentally get pregnant. This has been on my mind more than usual this year due to Roe v. Wade being overturned and abortion being an even hotter topic than I ever remember before – perhaps a bit ironic considering Mr. Trustworthy is my only sexual partner at this point and he’s had a vasectomy!
I count myself incredibly luck that I’ve never become pregnant as, due to my gender dysphoria, I could never survive a pregnancy. Had I ever found myself accidentally pregnant an abortion would have been my only realistic choice. Realizing I was pregnant would have made me instantly near (if not totally) suicidal. Trying to go through with a pregnancy and…I can barely even TYPE it my gender dysphoria is making me cringe so hard…carry a child to term!? That would truly be impossible for me. Even just the concept that my body was in theory capable of doing so is, for me, horrifying beyond description. Go straight to suicide, do not pass go, do not collect $200. Given what I went through losing H to suicide, know that I do not say that lightly nor would I exaggerate to make a point, not about this topic. Something I hadn’t consciously realized until recently is just how pervasive and *constant* this fear was, even when I didn’t have a sexual partner or when my only partner has had a vasectomy!
E absolutely refused to wear a condom. Continuing to bring this up and trying to get him to use them was the most obvious way in which I pushed back against his near *absolute control* over me, but of course to no avail. It took me years before I realized E wanted to knock me up; then as so many batterers do, he would have had a child to use against me as even more leverage, tightening his grip around my throat even further and injecting trauma into another innocent life. I was on the pill but I had a terrible time trying to remember to actually TAKE the damn thing every day and missing even one dose meant I was at risk of pregnancy for something like a week! Talk about disproportionately harsh consequences. I remember living in constant terror of becoming or finding out I was pregnant. However, between my history of gender dysphoria going back my whole life and the extent of fear and trauma E imbued into my life, this particular fear never specifically stood out in my mind. I worked hard to get my hyper vigilance better managed and saw slow but steady improvement. But after my surgery, I could feel something hugely significant had changed for me, something far more profound than the mere relief I’d expected.
Talking to Mr. Trustworthy that day and trying to find the words to describe how I felt, I realized for the first time how encompassing this fear of pregnancy with which I’d been living was, as I simply didn’t know any other way to exist. I have observed for most of my life the price of living being paid through suffering; this truth was inescapable given the cruelty of my childhood. Even once I was lucky enough to get away from E, the ripples of the suffering he created in my life are still felt. Thus it was easy to mistake my pregnancy phobia as just another of the many waves permeating my life. Turns out THAT fear was more of an anchor, tying me down by the very core of my being and constantly threatening to strangle me to death. As months passed and E became increasingly violent I retreated within myself, making it that much easier for him to systematically annihilate what little support system I had. It became easier and easier for me to believe his lies, the shame and guilt and sense of worthlessness he so effectively manufactured inside me quickly drowning out any sense of hope. I thought my abuse didn’t matter because it wasn’t hurting anyone else and *I* deserved it; I thought as long as he had me to harm no one that mattered would get hurt, especially the people I loved. Probably eight or nine months in things had escalated to the point that I can clearly recall, on multiple different occasions, having the thought cross my mind, ‘He isn’t going to stop this time. I’m never leaving this apartment alive again.’
Hey girl you know you drive me crazy One look puts the rhythm in my hand Still I’ll never understand why you hang around I see what’s going down
Cover up with make up in the mirror Tell yourself it’s never gonna happen again You cry alone and then he swears he loves you
Do you feel like a man When you push her around? Do you feel better now, as she falls to the ground? Well I’ll tell you my friend, one day this world’s got to end As your lies crumble down, a new life she has found
A pebble in the water makes a ripple effect Every action in this world will bear a consequence If you wait around forever you will surely drown I see what’s going down
I see the way you go and say you’re right again Say you’re right again Heed my lecture
Do you feel like a man When you push her around? Do you feel better now, as she falls to the ground? Well I’ll tell you my friend, one day this world’s got to end As your lies crumble down, a new life she has found
Face down in the dirt She said “This doesn’t hurt!” She said “I finally had enough!”
Face down in the dirt She said “This doesn’t hurt!” She said “I finally had enough!”
One day she will tell you that she has had enough It’s coming round again
Do you feel like a man When you push her around? Do you feel better now, as she falls to the ground? Well I’ll tell you my friend, one day this world’s got to end As your lies crumble down, a new life she has found
Do you feel like a man When you push her around? Do you feel better now, as she falls to the ground? Well I’ll tell you my friend, one day this world’s got to end As your lies crumble down, a new life she has found
Face down in the dirt She said “This doesn’t hurt!” She said “I finally had enough!”
I hope you can’t related to this, have absolutely NO IDEA how it could be possible to think this and feel only one thing: relief. The pain would finally stop, and stop for good. I didn’t want to die but living was absolutely unbearable. Huddled against the wall, shrinking in fear as far back as physically possible, this thought appears in my mind and my whole body instantly relaxes. I was relieved beyond any words that I could finally just die and the suffering would end. I’d say it was a mistake except that the reaction was 100% involuntary, so I really can’t say I made a mistake…regardless, E’s fury reached a whole new level I’d never seen before when I had the GALL to appear to relax. I don’t remember exactly what happened next and I hope to remain forever oblivious of the details as I know my brain is trying to protect me from remembering the worst of E’s brutality. Unfortunately I’ve had to relive it many, many times in flashbacks so I know more or less how it *felt* both emotionally and physically even if I’m not totally clear on the details…head trauma will do that to a person! But I truly believed this was it, this was the time he’d go too far and genuinely was ready to greet my own murder with nothing but a sense of relief on multiple occasions. That’s the depth and breadth of the well of fear and hopelessness in which I was trapped, and present in the walls at every single level was that terrifying dread of the possibility of an unwanted pregnancy. Thanks to time, therapy, more knowledge and support I slowly clawed my way out of the bottom of that well, never seeing this one central fear was still at my side every step of the way.
For the past couple of years I’ve felt like I was perched on the ledge of that well. I’d climbed my way OUT but it was still very much a part of me, always with me as I continuously work to manage my PTSD. Thanks to this surgery I had the chance to stand up and walk away for the first time. I suppose I’m mixing my metaphors quite a bit, it’s just so difficult to describe. Something which had been a prison, then an anchor dragging behind me, then I was set free without ever having believed such a release could exist! I feel safer just existing. Being alive, being ME is less emotionally painful. I had no idea what a deep fear I’d been carrying of someone getting me pregnant some day when I didn’t want to be and using it as a means of exerting control over me; and then, suddenly it evaporated! So yes, much more than the mere relief I anticipated.
While talking with my massage therapist I mentioned how thrilled I was that I’d never have to have another IUD inserted as I’ve been using them for over a decade now to prevent pregnancy and manage serious issues related to my menstrual cycle. I said offhanded that the IUD insertions were ‘always traumatic’ not even thinking anything about that detail until she immediately asked simply, ‘Why?’ And in an instant of unusual bravery I told her something I’ve never said aloud before, having been struggling against even thinking it internally for I’m not even sure how long, ‘I don’t remember, but I think I was molested when I was really, really little.’
[and it only took me 2400 words to work my way up to putting it down in black and white]
I went on to explain the significant and classic signs of sexual abuse my sister exhibited when she had her daughters, suddenly treating her husband like a threat to their kids. It was heartbreaking to watch. There are of course other signs. I may resent, perhaps even HATE, LFD but I can assure you the idea of him being a child molester appeals even less. But I have good instincts and what ought to be an alarming amount of knowledge and experience with psychology, the subject having always been a closely held interest of mine, and I’m certain she was abused. What are the chances we grew up in the same household and one of us was abused but the other, nearly eight years younger, wasn’t? I, of course, exhibit many classic signs also, a fact I’ve been increasingly aware of over the past few years. It goes back further than that, but even though I saw similarities I wasn’t able to handle actually considering this could mean I was abused, I could only handle believing it was coincidence. Not anymore. The suspicion has been growing louder and louder inside of me and, apparently, yesterday I was finally ready to acknowledge it.
I have Daddy issues. I’m not as ashamed by that as I used to be, but it does still hurt quite badly. My psycho bio dad LFD literally brainwashed me and I remember the training going back to when I was only three years old. Before the brainwashing I have an enormous gaping hole in my memory. Not in the I-was-young-and-I-don’t-recall-much-detail kind of holes but an enormous canyon with edges screaming DO NOT ENTER: PTSD. I started self harming when I was only two years old, biting my arms until they were completely covered in red bites all up and down both arms, doing all this damage in just one day. From where else would the instinct to harm myself so extensively at such a young age have come? In a very real way, LFD’s abuse ruined me. I made easy prey for predators. Like Demi says, ‘Thought it was a teenage dream, a fantasy but was it yours or was it mine?’ I was desperate to feel loved after being told by the psycho who was supposed to be my FATHER that no one loved me and that everything wrong in the world was MY fault. I was just a kid, I had no way to know I shouldn’t believe him so I did. When V wanted an escape I was all too eager. But I was only 16! My Mom and LFD were 15 years apart in age; my older sister that I grew up with is 7.5 years older than me. I’d been around adults my whole life; we lived rurally and I didn’t have many friends my age. My version of normal involved people much older than myself and I’ve always continued to very easily relate to those same demographics. V was almost exactly the same age as my sister, so to me it made sense that I’d relate to him so easily and the validation of receiving the positive attention from him which I NEVER got from my sister also felt good. It was all too easy to rationalize away.
It feels out of character to say this now, but back then I tried to do the right thing. When I realized that I had these BIG feelings for V (at some point after we became MySpace friends and got in the habit of talking every single day) I sent him an email. I expressed concerns our relationship was inappropriate and explained I had feelings far above and beyond friendship for him and that we should stop talking for that reason as he’s married. Turns out his wife is a snooper and SHE read my heartfelt attempted Dear John letter. That’s when V and his wife separated; I personally and directly caused it to happen with that stupid email I sent. I believed his lies, not yet aware of my hopeless romantic tendencies so I could keep them tightly leashed as I do now! I thought he and I had a future, that we were going to be together and live our dreams together. I lost so much innocence to that affair. What really scares me, now that I am old enough to realize I was victimized, it’s of course well beyond the statute of limitations so he couldn’t be charged if I came forward, and last I knew he owns a martial arts school and is an instructor, meaning he has access to teenage girls who are impressionable and naive and trust their martial arts instructor deeply. Is he still preying on underage girls? That question haunts me.
A few weeks ago Mr. Trustworthy and I had a *particularly enthusiastic* morning rendezvous at my place and my upstairs neighbor, who already hates me, was apparently working from home. I was quite a bit louder than usual that day and apparently she’d put on her coat and gone for a walk even though it was pouring out. Once we calmed the fuck down, Mr. Trustworthy and I decided we were hungry (can’t imagine why!?) and wanted to go out to lunch. As he held the screen door open and I locked my apartment door behind us, the neighbor comes back from her walk and is all pissy saying she needs to get by. Well, if she hadn’t been angry enough by the extremely loud sex interrupting her work day, she all but lost it when she saw Mr. Trustworthy with me. The next morning she was on one of her angry rants about how I’m just pure evil and I heard her say, ‘I’ll just fuck a 60 year old!’ I didn’t engage with her but I was instantly furious. She knows NOTHING about our relationship and she was denigrating him based solely on his age!? What gives her the right to judge. The disgust in her voice broke something inside of me. No one has ever loved or accepted me unconditionally before, only Mr. Trustworthy. For her to imply something negative about me being with him offended me beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined. It’s a strange dichotomy, on the one hand I honestly don’t give a fuck what other people think or do, I’m gunna do what I wanna do for better or for worse. But I am fiercely protective of the people I love and even MORE so of Mr. Trustworthy, so hearing disgust in her tone kicked those instincts into high gear. Also I admit while my independent streak nearly always seems to win, I am still human and crave love and acceptance.
I have been preyed upon. I have been victimized. But now I’m in the healthiest relationship I’ve ever had, with Mr. Trustworthy. As much as I’ve always been aware of the age difference, I wasn’t willing to let that one thing keep me away from an incredible relationship…and boy am I glad now! I’ve learned so much as our relationship has grown over the past few years, lessons I will need to have in hand if I’m to have a shot at the Happily Ever After I know Mr. Trustworthy wants for me. I’m still not in a place where I’m even remotely ready to consider that, but I DO know that I want to continue our intimate relationship for as long as possible! Letting go of that part of our relationship is going to be unimaginably difficult. We’ll do it when the time comes, but I’m in absolutely NO hurry for it to arrive, selfish as that may be. I guess all of this is my protracted way of saying:
-Age is NOT just a number, as I believed when I was 16 – it truly does matter
-When all parties are consenting adults, age is not the ONLY thing that matters
I have paid the heaviest of prices, over and over again throughout my life, in exchange for merely surviving. I am a survivor, but I want MORE. I want the opportunity to be healthy mentally, physically and emotionally and truly THRIVE. That’s what keeps me motivated, that what I’m fighting for; that’s why I’m facing these horrific demons. What happened to me was NOT my fault and there is NO SHAME in surviving. It doesn’t matter what it looked like, my only job was to escape with my life and I have. Now I get to learn and grow and, hopefully, heal. Things don’t get better when you ignore them, they get worse. So down I go, following the pain echoing up from the depths of my soul. More work to be done, but my very existence is less painful thanks to this exact type of work and the floors through which I’ve already fought my way and passed beyond. The only way out is through – and thankfully through works out well time after time!
Things with Mr. Trouble were really good for months, as hard as that might be to believe! I still fear it was manipulative when I stopped sleeping with him because of his alcoholism, but I know in my head I was protecting myself and putting my needs first which was healthy. But even as afraid as I was due to Mr. Trouble’s drinking, I refused to abandon him and our friendship continued. I made an effort to support and love him as much as possible without crossing any lines, building him up and being a shoulder on which he could lean. I continued working hard on myself in therapy and feeling that paying off. We were really talking with sex off the table and I watched, amazed, as he pulled himself out of the dangerous downward spiral he’d been in. While I’d certainly have preferred he stopped drinking entirely, he DID get it under control. He made changes throughout his life and was truly fighting to do better. He was working less, actually taking holidays off! Even making time to golf, something he’s loved his whole life. I was beyond impressed and proud of him, after all, right in front of my eyes he was doing what H couldn’t even *attempt* and fighting for himself.
By the time the weekend to **** rolled around on June 24th I’d all but given up fighting against us. I was in love with him and he was practically begging to be with me again. The fact that we weren’t having sex any longer, hadn’t even been sexting or anything, didn’t feel like it actually mattered. He was still betraying his vows – in fact I think having real feelings is much worse than sex. I had so much fun with him when we’d take our bikes out, and even just texting and talking. I was holding him accountable for how he treated me and for the first time he was actually communicating effectively with me. We were closer than ever.
When I decided to go to **** I didn’t know his wife would be there. I was tempted to skip going because I was unraveling beneath the effort of not holding him in my arms, it just HURT so fucking much to not be able to touch him. He suggested I stay with him Sunday evening after finally telling me his wife would be there Friday & Saturday night. I agreed, then made plans to do the couple hour ride to **** with him Friday afternoon…which involved going about 40 minutes in the wrong direction to meet up with him first lol. I made a new playlist for the trip, one which only included songs about him that make me happy. A playlist of songs reflecting me accepting how deeply in love with him I am and how transcendentally happy he makes me.
I don’t have the words to describe that ride to **** other than to say it’s the most fun I’ve EVER had on two wheels! The weather was perfect, the ride beautiful and he was absolutely RADIATING joy, so loudly I could read it in his body language while he was wearing a motorcycle helmet and full riding gear! But it’s true, that ride was without a doubt the happiest I’d ever seen him. It came to an end all too soon and as he went in to check in to his room at the hotel, I hung back in the parking lot and checked in on their app on my phone. I then lugged all my gear and overnight stuff to my room only to discover the door to my room wouldn’t open! It didn’t appear to be anything wrong with the app and I was forced to call the front desk and have them send someone to help. That person thought the battery in my door had died and said they’d send someone to replace it in the next ten minutes. Mr. Trouble then texts me offering for me to come hang out in his room for a few before he had to leave as he had work to do that evening to prepare for the class I took from him as one of the students the next afternoon. I could barely believe I had to text him and tell him I couldn’t leave my room until the batteries were addressed! I invited him to come to mine not really expecting he would necessarily, as at a minimum the employee who came with the replacement battery would then see us together…not an entirely great idea in my mind! But he took me up on the offer. The next several minutes were sheer HELL as we chatted and kept several feet between us at all times for fear of the employee arriving to find us embracing one another. In less than ten minutes someone did indeed arrive and proceeded to work for an interminable five or six minutes on my door with it partially open. Mr. Trouble clearly didn’t object to being seen in my room chatting so I let it go even though my better judgement knew I should have made him wait so we were seen together by no one. I just was so *desperate* to be close to him again after months of enforced space.
Before we rode together that day I’d asked him if being with me again would make the things he was struggling with worse and, much as is his habit, he did not directly answer. Because of this I had no intention of sleeping with him – before going back there, I needed to be sure at the very least that I wouldn’t be causing him to struggle even worse. What is that saying about no battle plan ever surviving first contact with the enemy!? The instant my door was fixed and FINALLY closed we were in one another’s arms. I could so easily just hold on to him forever. But our time was extremely limited and in no time at all I was drowning in his kiss. The bastard knows me too well and my resolve shattered within seconds when he reached under my top and started playing with my nipples excruciatingly lightly, just the barest brush of his fingertips taunting and teasing me. I was devouring his mouth in an instant, but that wasn’t anywhere near enough. He reached for my pants and I did something I’d never done before, I grabbed his hands and stopped him. He pulled back, his face suddenly worried and immediately apologized.
I absolutely could NOT accept his hands no longer touching me, so I quickly reassured him and went about undressing him! I knew he wanted me just as badly, had waited just as many long months since we’d last been intimate. He was desperate and as always, the moment I tasted him I was *lost*. It’s funny, he’s the second guy I’ve been in love with who told me he can’t usually cum from blow jobs. I of course gladly took that as a challenge in both cases lol but this time, with the clock ticking down until he had to show up for work, on my hotel bed with only him naked I finally got to feel him cum down my throat as I’d been begging for since long before we ever had sex for the first time! In spite of not cumming myself I felt relaxed and happy. I mean I was fucking DRIPPING wet but I was entirely content to simply soak in his afterglow with him. I got out of my clothes and made like an octopus I attached myself to his side so securely 😛 We probably had less than ten minutes to touch and cuddle before agreeing he had to get cleaned up and go to work.
I’m not exactly sure why I did what I did that afternoon. Mr. Trustworthy was on an off road motorcycle trip and out of cell service that week which had been tough on me. As far as he knew from the last time we’d talked before he left my relationship with Mr. Trouble was no longer a sexual one and it had been my intention to keep it that way. I feel guilty about the blow job and it was my plan to tell Mr. Trustworthy what had happened when he got back from his trip. That didn’t go exactly as planned, but that’s a story for another time. Maybe I feared that if I relented and let Mr. Trouble touch me, sink inside me, make me cum without answering my question I’d regret it later…he was already suffering so deeply, I couldn’t bear the idea of adding to his pain and I truly feared us resuming our sexual relationship might cause exactly that. But I didn’t have the strength to resist him, I was in SO MUCH PAIN staying away and then suddenly, after months of the best version of our friendship we’ve ever had, he was again in my arms. Apparently part of me thought the damage might be less if I were to give only and not receive…rather an impressive trick considering what a point Mr. Trouble makes of being a generous lover! I just couldn’t give myself to him without a direct answer to my question…nor could I deny my soul deep yearning to be with him. And all this while still feeling guilty about Mr. Trustworthy not knowing what I was up to with Mr. Trouble and knowing Mr. Trouble’s WIFE would be here in the next few hours, in his room, sleeping next to him. I can’t say she’s in my place because next to him was never *my* place, and yet I cannot deny how everything just feels right the moment we’re in one another’s orbit.
The next couple of days were profoundly lonely for me. It hurt knowing Mr. Trouble’s room number, just down the hall from me, going to sleep alone in my room and knowing his wife was next to him. I went to **** because that’s what I would’ve done if I’d been okay. I wasn’t okay without Mr. Trouble, not by a long shot. But I decided to go because I did want to take the classes that were being taught there that weekend and to, I don’t know, prove to myself I guess? That I could go, I could do it. Even with my heart breaking from not being with him for so long. I went to a late night showing of Top Gun: Maverick in IMAX at the local theater Friday night, which was a blast, even alone. The hours in between saying goodbye to Mr. Trouble and leaving for the movie were endless and poignant. Thanks to getting back to my room around 1am I was tired enough to sleep and slept in the next morning. Still I had a couple of hours to kill before heading to the class I took that afternoon – and I showed up early! I knew Mr. Trouble was teaching the morning and afternoon classes and would be there, and I had nothing to do in my cold and empty room but rest my neck which I hate doing anyway!
Saturday’s class was a blast. It was a class I’d taken before so I only received coaching once the whole time and pretty much crushed every exercise. The only real difficulty was the heat! We were in a high desert climate and with class starting at 1pm all it did was get hotter and hotter as the hours went by 😐 I was struggling a bit but I also had a great time! Sadly, class came to an end and I had nowhere to go but to return to my lonely hotel room knowing he was headed back to the same hotel, the same damn FLOOR to spend the evening with his wife. I showered and ate something and rested my neck knowing the next day was also going to be taxing. My soul was crying out in emptiness without my best friend to talk to and literally just down the hall from the other man I love who was with his wife instead of me.
Sunday was even worse. I woke up thinking I would get to see him after class was over. I did all of the usual grooming that morning and anxiously counted down the hours until the instructor only class scheduled to begin at 5pm. I forced myself to rest my neck but my body was crackling with energy, barely able to restrain myself from the forceful pull of Mr. Trouble. When it was FINALLY late enough I could get away with showing up for my class (as there was another class running immediately prior) I did so totally delighted to see Mr. Trouble and believing I’d be able to enjoy his company for the remainder of the night. Class started late but only runs a couple of hours and because it was instructors only, Mr. Trouble said at the end the director of our program had come into town and wanted to do a group dinner. I was disappointed thinking we’d be alone in a hotel room by then but agreed to go, wanting the face time with the director. I headed back to the hotel to change and wait to hear where they decided on for dinner. Only then did Mr. Trouble text me to tell me his wife’s plans had changed and she was staying that night also! Which means she was going to the dinner I’d already committed to attending. FML!!!!
Dinner was brutal. The fucking director decided at the last moment he was tired and not to show, so dinner was just myself, Mr. Trouble, his wife and three local instructors I didn’t know well. I truly couldn’t get out of there fast enough. But the next morning Mr. Trouble and I were up early and did the 3+ hour ride in the general direction of home ending at a cornering clinic, my third class as a student in three days! Now I’ve taken this exact clinic on the same track numerous times, but somehow there is still one specific curve I always struggle with. Lo and behold, Mr. Trouble gets out there to help with coaching head turns etc. and he just HAD to pick that one corner I always have a hard time with as the spot he was going to coach. So, I’m approaching that curve and realize he’s in the coaching position. Naturally I quietly *panic* afraid that if I turn my head for the curve and am looking at him, I literally won’t be able to look away! Target fixation is already a reality I struggle with at times on two wheels and always a difficulty around him…so my dumb ass apparently decides to just NOT TURN MY HEAD AT ALL! After so many classes on that course, I finally had my first ‘unplanned exit from the track’ lol but at that curve there is precious little space before one encounters a TREE! I was so close to crashing head first into the tree I had branches in my face before I was able to get my bike upright and pointed in a safe direction! Scared the crap out of Mr. Trouble which I felt bad about…I certainly didn’t exit the track or come within INCHES of crashing into a tree on purpose!!! I just literally was at my mental limit and couldn’t function with him so close to me and how sideways the weekend went from my expectations, thinking I’d get the chance to quench my need for him and then just NOT.
It ended up being nearly two weeks before I next got to see Mr. Trouble and in the meantime I needed to deal with breaking the news to Mr. Trustworthy that I was back in a sexual relationship with Mr. Trouble again
July 5, 2022 conversation with Mr. Trustworthy:
I made plans to see Mr. Trouble this weekend
Ya?
What are you and Mr. Trouble planning
Nothing I’d admit to anyone but you
I’m jealous
If I could make it not what it is I really would
Are you going somewhere
Not trying to pry
Just to ** Friday then down to my class in ******** Saturday morning
You’re allowed to ask, if I had an issue with answering I just wouldn’t
No secrets
No secrets
I hope you have fun
I’m a bit nervous for my class. I haven’t taught in a month…then again I’m frequently nervous before classes lol…it always disappears once I’m actually working and I do love teaching so much
I’m not sure how much else to volunteer
With me?
In response to your last text specifically
You are welcome to be totally open with me
I have fun when I’m with you. You make me happy. I get to be the best version of myself thanks to how safe I feel with you. I see him to get a break from the pain. I hate that it still hurts so much being away from him. I hate how terrified I am because of his drinking. I hate that things with him have nothing to do with you. It would be easier if it was about pushing you away or feeling like I don’t deserve you. I hate him for giving me something you can’t, that I’ve never found before. I wish I’d never met him but that’s just wasted energy.
Honestly I don’t think Mr. Trouble or myself will give you what you’re looking for. You know I love you and it hurts me when I know you’re hurting.
I know. I still have serious emotional issues around my fear of abandonment, my health and a continuing lack of willingness to trust anyone enough to have a real future. Part of me wants it desperately but I’m nowhere near in a place where I’d be ready for that possibility. That’s why you’re both married. Still he sees and understands me in unique ways which sucks. I”m always hurting, I’m just not desperate like I was before. I’ve made some progress but I can’t imagine ever having *any* sense of security with him and I’ve accepted that. He could never give me what you and I have and I’m not willing to entertain anyone even if there was someone who could give me everything. So I’m here and this is my life and the people in it. There’s pain but it’s not crippling or panic attack inducing anymore and there’s love and joy and safety thanks in great part to you. I can’t see me ever allowing myself to *depend* on Mr. Trouble for anything. I depend on you constantly, you’re my rock and my sunshine on the darkest day. Unfortunately that doesn’t have much impact on the much smaller part of my life that he still occupies
Telling you I plan to or did see him hurts almost as much as not seeing him does
Please don’t worry about me. We have talked about this
Lol. I won’t worry about YOU the moment you stop worrying about ME! Worry is part of caring and in this case it isn’t worry, it’s empathy. I hurt but you knowing about my pain hurts you and you hurting hurts ME just as me hurting hurts YOU lol. You know that’s part of love. Pain is part of the deal and that’s okay to a point and our relationship is not dysfunctional due to worrying over one another so that one you are just going to have to learn to let go otherwise you’re beating your head against a wall for no reason love
Beside this is me being totally open which is what you specifically invited😘
Capiche?
Please feel free to talk to me, about anything. I want you for myself but I know I can’t.
Capiche
It helps to hear that you want me. I know you show me and I know you do but it makes me feel better when I hear you actually say it…greedy of me
I talk to you about everything love, even when it’s difficult. You’re my best friend and we both agree that’s always the top priority and I treasure that and you
I just wonder sometimes if I’m doing you a disservice by continuing to let down walls and let you in more and more
But I’m doing it anyway lol so I guess until you object or tell me it’s too much I will just keep going
Cuz I wouldn’t trade the relationship we’ve built for anything
I feel the same
You truly have allowed me to feel things I didn’t believe I’d ever have in my life, safety and security, love and trust and unconditionally
Then we’re on the same page
I’ll always be here
You’re the only person on earth I’d believe when you say that, and I do. As will I, whatever the future may hold
I’ve got your six
I will say I would have been upset with you if I found out another way. Not that I ever would have but…
Thank you for trusting me
But the deal is no secrets. Which matters more than anything
I would never willingly betray your trust
The times I felt I did I was under extreme circumstances emotional and with my PTSD and panic attacks but I’m doing better as you know and hopefully my communication has been improving
I’m putting conscious effort into being totally honest in our relationship
Still practicing but learning I dare say!?
I wish I could say I was exaggerating for Mr. Trustworthy’s benefit in saying this, but I wasn’t…
‘I have fun when I’m with you. You make me happy. I get to be the best version of myself thanks to how safe I feel with you. I see him to get a break from the pain. I hate that it still hurts so much being away from him. I hate how terrified I am because of his drinking. I hate that things with him have nothing to do with you. It would be easier if it was about pushing you away or feeling like I don’t deserve you. I hate him for giving me something you can’t, that I’ve never found before. I wish I’d never met him but that’s just wasted energy.’
What does it mean that I can be in love with both of them, in such different ways and for such different reasons, at the same time!? What does it mean that I’m in love with a man I wish I’d never met??? Will I ever figure out how to truly be okay without Mr. Trouble?
Everyone needs something to feel safe. Whether or not you’re aware of that and what those things depends a lot on the experience you’ve had in the past, especially if there have been times in your life that you sense of safety (or actual safety) have been compromised. Part of navigating the kinkoverse, it’s spaces, […]
Recently I was cleaning up my email accounts and went in to my oldest account, from when I was in high school. There are very few things still attached to that account, but one or two things of interest still show up once in a while. That’s why I log in occasionally. What I wasn’t expecting was to see was an email from E, only a couple days old. I’ve always known E had that email address, but he hasn’t tried to email me in years, so I’d kind of assumed I didn’t need to worry about it. E has tried to contact me occasionally in the past, but not in a long time. After I cut off contact and blocked him on FB, he text me once. I responded politely asking who it was, then asked if I knew him. Convinced him a new person had my cell #. He never called or texted again. It wasn’t easy though. I very likely had a panic attack in fact. I don’t know that I’ve ever had one otherwise, but thinking back on it I was terrified.
In many ways, I was a classic domestic violence victim. Even after E was out of my life and had moved out of the state, I was still always looking over my shoulder. I was afraid he would come after me, try to hunt me down. Hurt me more, again. Thoughts of E and my fear of him consumed my life. I tried to leave him three or four times at least, but he had systematically destroyed what little self esteem I had when we met and layered guilt on top of the ruins of my former confidence. E threatened to commit suicide if I left him. I was also afraid he would hurt people I love if I angered him. E knew where I lived, where my Mom lived, where my sister lived. He knew where I worked. I believed he was an alcoholic, and that he had anger management and depression issues. But that’s not true at all.
As a victim I wasn’t able to identify the patterns of behavior of my batterer. In fact, E was very controlled. E had high self-esteem. E was charming, like most batterers. He was a skilled manipulator. E never lost his temper with his boss, his coworkers, his friends or family. The only time E was ever anything other than a perfect gentleman was in private, alone with me. E only got drunk a hand full of times in the year that he abused me. While those nights were never easy, in truth they weren’t any worse than when E was sober either. As I was only 18 at the time, I had no real concept of what the normal consumption of alcohol was like. I assumed E’s drinking was a problem, something he couldn’t control. I thought he was an angry drunk. I now realize that E had fun when he drank; he was always smiling and laughing, until we were alone. He only drank when it was appropriate, such as when he had a couple days off from work. E didn’t drink to cope with stress, or drink until he was blackout drunk. E didn’t need to drink, as an alcoholic would. Part of why I was first attracted to E was his easygoing, friendly, upbeat personality. No pun intended. So, now I’ve ruled out depression (and low self esteem) as reasons for his behavior.
E’s control over himself seems obvious now, but at the time I was unable to comprehend the fact that someone in control of themselves would be capable of inflicting upon another person the things he did to me. It’s a coping mechanism, assuming E’s out of control, that there were reasons for him to abuse me. I fabricated excuses for him as discussed, convincing myself none of it was his fault. It was mine. Batterers are masters of avoiding accountability and victim blaming. I fell for all of it. I vividly remember confiding to my best friend after he’d left the state about the abuse. Her response was, “What did you do, burn the roast!?” Which, if you don’t recognize it, is a family guy quote. Point is, even if I had burned dinner, it still wouldn’t have been my fault. No victim, in any way, causes their batterer to abuse them. Violence is a choice. It is not acceptable for any reason. Everyone has the right to live a life free of violence.
For me, understanding how batterers think and work has been extremely important in helping me begin to let go of these experiences. The shame, guilt, disgust, pessimism and fear never left, even after E did. There is a seven stage cycle of abuse which shrinks over time as a batterer asserts more and more control over their victim. When I realized that E fit in to this cycle, it was another step in the right direction for me of realizing E was a batterer, which is not something I had control over at any time. The cycle is:
Incidence of Abuse (this follows #7)
Expression Guilt (the batterer does not actually feel guilty, but is attempting to ensure the victim remains available in the future and/or that the batterer will not be caught or face consequences for their actions.)
Rationalization/Minimization (the batterer gives reasons why it isn’t their fault, and blames the victim. Ex. I wouldn’t have reacted that way if you hadn’t _____.)
“Normal (or Honeymoon) Phase” (interactions with the batterer are superficially ‘better’, allowing the victim to fall in to a false sense of safety/security.)
Fantasizing (the batterer imagines in their head how they would react in situations involving the victim. Ex. If ____ forgets to _____ again, I’m going to _____.)
Planning (the batterer begins to think about how to turn their fantasies into reality. This may include deciding what the victim has done wrong and how the abuser will make the victim pay for these wrongs.)
Set Up (the batterer puts their plan in to action, with built in justification for the next incidence of abuse.)
As the batterer becomes more confident in their control over their victim, stages of this cycle begin to disappear. Often, #2 and 4 go right out the window. The batterer becomes so confident in their control of the situation and the victim they feel no need to express false guilt or allow for a “normal” phase to ensure the victim’s compliance.
At this point, I’ve gained the greatest tool in recovering from my past abuse that I’ve ever encountered. No amount of individual or group therapy, nor time or changes in lifestyle had any impact on my feelings of responsibility for being a victimized. But, learning how batterers think, work, plan, their personality traits, and understanding for myself how clearly E fit in to that category, that finally made the difference for me. Prior to learning all of this, I truly believed I was different from every other victim out there. Of course it wasn’t their fault they were abused, but I was different. The truth is, we are all individuals, in unique situations. That doesn’t mean that the abuse was my fault, or within my ability to stop. This leads me in to my next topic: Why do victims stay? Why don’t they leave?
There are more answers to those questions than I could ever possibly cover, but there are several important things I can share on this topic. First of all, it takes a victim on average 7-9 attempts to leave their abuser before they are successful. I personally attempted to leave E at least 3 or 4 times, possibly more. I don’t recall exactly. One of the many reasons I always felt guilty was because I went back. Now I realize I did exactly what most domestic violence victims do, I tried and failed, and tried again. Leaving an abuser is a process, not an event. As I touched on earlier, there were many compelling reasons for me to fear E, as there are for any victim to fear their abuser. As in my case, batterers isolate their victims. The victim is cut off from contact with friends, family, coworkers and everyone else who could possibly provide a support system as much as possible. The abuser learns of the existence of all the people the victim cares about in order to implement the isolation, and therefore potentially poses a legitimate threat to all of these people. Children are also commonly used against the victim as a means of control. Although I didn’t have children, I was terrified not only for myself, but also on behalf of those I loved if I angered E.
In addition to physical abuse, victims are often subject to other types of abuse as well. This may include emotional, psychological, sexual, financial and other types of abuse. Batterers systematically destroy the self esteem of their victim, convincing them they are worthless and untrustworthy. A victim may not be able to depend on themselves enough to make even basic decisions as a result of ongoing abuse, thus erecting a powerful barrier to escaping abuse. Sexual abuse is also common. Sexuality is used as a weapon agains the victim, further eroding their self esteem and convincing them no one else would want them. Batterers are often in control of all financial resources, and may not allow the victim to work. This causes the victim to have no means of supporting themselves and their children if they leave their abuser. These are just a small number of the many reasons victims stay.
My advice to anyone who is confided in by a victim of domestic violence is, don’t ask them why they stay. This would most likely be interpreted as blaming the victim, which speaking from experience is the last thing they need. Instead, listen to them. Tell them you care about them and support them. Assure them you will help if they want it, or just give a friendly ear if that’s all they’re ready for. Ultimately, the victim is the person who can most accurately judge when it’s the best time to leave. Don’t every tell a victim they need to leave, get a restraining order, or anything else. A victim doesn’t need told what to do or questioned on their decisions, their abuser is already doing exactly that. If possible, help victims connect with local resources, professionals who are better equipped to help them, but only if that’s what they want. Otherwise, just support them unconditionally.
I hate going to my annual exam. I’m sure a lot of women dislike that particular time of year, but I absolutely hate it. Every year I seriously consider not going, risking my health rather than facing that particular appointment. I have a very specific reason for this, I find answering the questions asked at an annual exam nearly impossible. They always ask if I’ve ever been raped (or ‘the victim of a sexual assault’). How do I answer that? I was terrified E was going to kill me. He forced me to have sex on a regular basis. But I never said “no”; I never said “stop”; I never fought him. I thought if I didn’t submit completely he would kill me. I was afraid for my life, so I let E use me. But that’s been the flaw in my thinking all along; I didn’t “let” him – I survived. Cliché, yes. However, it’s also the truth. As a victim of domestic violence, my consent was not ever a consideration for E. This wasn’t because I’m submissive by nature, it’s because E made the choice to be abusive. I’ve only recently made that distinction, but it makes all the difference.
In my relationship (I’m using that word very loosely here) with E, I had no power. There was no trust involved. I didn’t have the ability to consent, as E never allowed me any option other than to surrender to his will. Even then, I wasn’t safe. Surrender was simply the safest option available to me at the time. BDSM is, when practiced correctly, the polar opposite. In any group, one can find those who are abusive; however such people are the exception, not the rule. There are a couple of very important concepts in BDSM: SSC and RACK. SSC stands for Safe, Sane, Consensual; RACK stands for Risk Aware Consensual Kink. Regardless of which participants prefer, they both include the key word (at least in my case): consent. There is a wealth of reading material available on SSC and RACK, so I won’t delve into them deeply at this point, but hopefully after reading the preceding information about abuse the difference in practicing BDSM is apparent.
For me, BDSM is a power exchange at its core. All participants: top, bottom, dom, domme, submissive, slave or otherwise must recognize all other parties’ power to consent and withdraw that consent at any time. Thus, even when deep in a scene and appearing to be completely without control, the bottom still holds the power to stop the scene. No matter how much power the top has, it will still always be secondary to the power the bottom holds simply by consenting. How is this possible? Trust. The top has to trust that the bottom will safe word if the scene becomes too much, that the bottom won’t allow themselves to be truly harmed. In return, the bottom has to trust that the top will respect their hard limits, their safe word, and any other factors which have been negotiated. BDSM is the practice of fulfilling complementary desires on a consensual basis.
Sadists enjoy inflicting pain, and masochists such as myself enjoy receiving that pain. That does not in any way override the issue of consent. Everyone has their limits, and the right to have them respected. Everyone has the right to not live in fear; this is just as true in BDSM as in the vanilla world. The trust between practitioners of BDSM runs very deep, it is a vital element. It is easy to understand how, on the surface, BDSM looks no different from abuse. However, with just a little analysis, the difference becomes clear. I personally have only limited experience in BDSM, but quite a lot of experience with abuse. I hope what I’ve learned can help others understand not only the differences between abuse and BDSM, but also how to recognize abuse and gain a better understanding of batterers and the choices they make. While the bottom in a BDSM scene has chosen to accept that role, no one ever chooses to become a victim.
P.S.
I will likely continue my discussion of this topic, as there is so much more to say. However, I’ve been working on crafting this post for weeks now and don’t wish to wait any longer to share what I have so far. Thank you for reading!
24 is just a number. To anyone else, there’s no reason for me to have been emotionally debilitated by that particular birthday. What most people don’t know is that I was once in love with a 24 year old man. I was 16. It gets better. V was married and had an eight year old daughter. Yeah, that was a great plan. I never thought it mattered, back then. Whatever (whoever) I wanted, I just took. V was my best (only) friend. He listened to me pour all my 16 year old angst and heartbreak out. He was only the second guy I ever slept with. He told me he loved me. I believed him, back then.
Here’s the thing, once I was 24, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The shoe’s finally on the other foot. Now, I’m horrified by the idea of even being attracted to, let alone sleeping with, a 16 year old! I feel used, and dirty, and worthless. I still do, when I think about it. Now I finally get why minors can’t consent. At 16, I was still so young. I was out of control. I needed guidance, protection. I (cliche warning!) truly didn’t have the emotional maturity to make the choices I was making, or handle the consequences of those decisions. I feel so foolish looking back, V promised he was going to marry me. I believed that too. We were together for about a year and a half. The last time I saw him was shortly after my 18th birthday (yeah, I started dating E 5 days after the last time I saw V). The plan, according to V, was to back off our affair. To give him time to get a divorce (at the time, he’d been separated from his wife). Give V time to find a permanent place of his own. Give me time to grow up a little more. V swore when I turned 21, we’d be together again. Get married. Happily Ever After. Right.
So, I got involved with E. Emotionally vulnerable much? Yeah, I just wanted a rebound. Wish that’s all I’d gotten. Anyway, a few weeks later I find out V’s wife is pregnant. So, apparently not only did he move back in with her, he was fucking both of us. Awesome. Glad to know everything you ever told me was a lie. Hope the sex was worth it. Now the stage is set for everything E did to me. Everything I let him do. Everything I never said “no” to. Great memories. So, least favorite number? Gunna have to go with 24.
Hopefully one day things will get easier. I know I can’t forget, but maybe I can figure out how to let go, move on…
LifestyleGambler 