When you come in to town I leave my doors unlocked. I wait for you to give in and do everything you’ve wanted to do to me since we met. You remember, sweater vest, pleated skirt, Gogol. You remember.
It’s not really, like, rape per se, but like, I want to have no choice in the matter. To just be picked up and carried and be taken care of. It’s not like I’m saying no and he’s not stopping. Well, there are some things I’m gonna say no to that he’s supposed to keep doing anyway, but like, I’m not crying or anything, well, maybe. I just want to be taken care of. Just picked up and dealt with.
Before we had ever said words I had flash fantasies. There weren’t any storylines or plots, just his ringed fingers imprinted onto my face, tossed into a wall with my head slammed back. The thing is, slapping has never done anything to me. It feels weak, insulting. The all consuming hit where your skin tingles all the way down to your cunt. Your face was flushed before hand, but now it’s hot. Now you know he can take care of you. You’re something that someone can do something about. I imagined him saying nothing. He just had me by the throat or the collarbone and I was struck like I was dumb, like I was brain dead. The first time I saw him behind the wheel I thought of where the best cliff was.
It’s the freedom of it, that you don’t have to make choices for your body anymore. There is nothing for you to decide because it has already been done. And it’s sexy, if he’s sexy, to be in full possession of someone like that.
I remember, once, I said I was about to come and he took himself out of me to come in my mouth instead. The degradation of, take everything I can give and take it and take it and take it. Isn’t there a kind of love in that? They take on what you can’t. I guess I shouldn’t be mixing sex and love, but isn’t that how it is, even for the people who think sticking your fingers in her mouth is dirty, they say they love their “rock?” The one who doesn’t move no matter how much they throw at them? I think it’s something like that.
I lost my virginity to a guy who was afraid to slap me. I didn’t know what I was doing but I had to hold his hand to my throat. We didn’t use a condom and he didn’t buy me Plan B. I still have the box. I was afraid to throw it away incase someone saw it. I just wanted to know how to do it, to know that I could. I’m pretty sure he was bad at it, but I liked when my legs were up on his shoulders. I never made eye contact once.
I think I confuse sex and suicide. I want to be annihilated, but in a sexual way. And that’s where it comes into play. I would carry myself over the edge but it’s hard to be both the waterfall and the boat. It feels like assisted suicide. It’s coming and I asked for it and I want to take it even if about the absence of pain, it’s the presence of the pain-that you are feeling it and receiving it. The presence is worthwhile, the pain is beneficial. It gets you where you want to go, even if you’re scared. It makes things appear more real, corporeal, if you’re not the only one doing it. The cutting is masturbation, it’s fun, you know your body, but it’s nothing like someone knowing you better than you do.
I don’t know if I like all of that, but sometimes as a joke he’ll slap my ass but he doesn’t do it when we’re having sex and I don’t know how to ask him to hit me. I know it’s not the same, but it feels like that’s what I’m doing and I don’t even know why I like it. My home life was great growing up.
I was seeing a guy for a while who never wanted to have sex. He would always push me off of him or tell me to slow down when I started rubbing on his leg. I always dragged his hand further up my legs but it rarely went anywhere. He wasn’t a daddy but he was my dad. I accidently said that once and he cringed. He wasn’t fucking me but he wanted everyone to think he was so he’d bruise me, mostly my neck. He had total control over my body without ever tying me down. I wasn’t getting sex and I wasn’t sneaking around. He had every say and it had nothing at all to do with his penis.
I remember laying in bed with a boy who couldn’t give me what I wanted so I touched myself thinking about this other boy who only hours before told me how badly he wanted to kidnap me. I came and he didn’t even wake up.
I daydream about choking to death while giving head. I think I’d want it, if it happened. I think I’d take it as an opportunity.
I don’t know what to tell you, I’m the one who hears all of it, but it’s part of my job, to be voyeuristic. Some people love talking right away about all they want to do or what they want to be done to them and others are too ashamed to even consider acknowledging they have them. It works both ways, dads and moms. It’s just what happens, some cases are just more extreme. It’s my job to listen and not to judge, or at least don’t let them know that I’m judging. My daddy left me when I was eight but you don’t see me trying to get covered in candle wax do you?
He likes when I call him daddy in front of other people. One time we were on the phone. He was blackout drunk and I said, goodnight daddy. The next day we talked and I was surprised that he remembered. He says he remembers the important things. Another time I was seeing someone else. He’d just come back from a shroom trip and was wrapped around me while I was on the phone with him. I said, goodnight dad so the guy wrapped around me wouldn’t know and he said, goodnight daughter and laughed because now I ruined it. I was wet before the call disconnected. Shroom boy fell asleep. Had to take care of it myself. After that, he always became daddy. Not just in public, but when I was bad, or when I needed saving.
Pretty fucked up, the relationship between dads and force, huh? What’s the science behind that one, Freud?
What about the Virgin Mary? Without context it just sounds like a title on PornHub. What roles does force play in that? God had a rape fantasy over Joseph’s girlfriend. That’s all that happened and look, we got the whole world. Fuck me under the pew, shove a rosary somewhere it shouldn’t be, I don’t give a fuck. Humans drink cow’s milk. God’s got a fetish tab bookmarked. Powerlessness is sexy. Why do you think we’re all trying to orgasm 3 times a day? Force created the world. What more is there to say? Just fuck until you stop hating your parents. Whatever that looks like.
In case you guys haven’t seen one of these before it’s an imprint ring and they come in other messages too. Zach chose always because we always say, “I love you forever and ever and always” and it was just very fitting. I had no idea it was coming because he had told me he didn’t get my promise ring yet and I never even knew what it was to begin with but it arrived at my house on Thursday afternoon and he said tons of cute things and I was sooooooooooo incredibly happy :)
Oh and that’s my new claddagh that he got me too!:D