I Finally Had Had Enough

Author's Notes: I am trying something new this time and I hope it will come across in the manner I intend. That is, I hope to shine a light on how emotional abuse from a partner can destroy a relationship and do considerable damage to the victim's psyche. This story is partially based on an experience that I had a few years ago. As you read the story, I know that some of you will say that it is ridiculous because no man would ever put up with that much abuse. But I can tell you firsthand that some people are expert manipulators and will have you all twisted up before you even know what is happening.

While this story contains some details about sexual activities between the characters, those activities are overshadowed by the account of the emotional abuse endured by the main character. You should look elsewhere if it bothers you to read about emotional abuse, or if you want to read a story that is focused on the characters' sexual encounters.

I want to personally thank Mike for his tireless help with proofreading and editing this story - you know who you are!!

I also want to thank mydeepsix for his help with the ideas and helping me form the original story. If you haven't read his stuff, please do yourself a favor and check it out!

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As I sit here in this room and look around, I notice that there isn't much furniture. Everything is white and bright, very clinical in its design. Through the windows, I can see ducks on the water in the distance and that brings me some joy, so I'm grateful for that.

My name is Craig Jennings. I was the victim of emotional abuse from my girlfriend. My therapist, Dr. Caldwell, recommended that I write this story as part of the healing process I am going through. I'll write what I can remember, but I suspect there are some parts that I still can't remember, or they are still too mixed up in my mind or even too painful for me to express. So, let me begin.

Sometimes it's difficult to determine why things happen the way they do. As men we try to do everything to please those we love, albeit sometimes to our own detriment. Then when something goes wrong, we over analyze it and bottle it up inside to the point that we become depressed and introverted. However, this reaction can only take us so far. But we push forward like we were told to do as young men and continue to bottle up the rejection, the humiliation, and the jealousy. Then, at some point, it all becomes unbearable and, like a bottle of beer that has been shaken too much, we finally blow up.

Looking back on it now, I'm guessing that's what happened to me. I had a wonderful girlfriend named Angie who I thought was really the one. She was the perfect girl in my eyes when I met her in college. She was athletic, intelligent, a great conversationalist, and absolutely breathtaking to look at.

While I was in school for accounting, she was getting her psychology degree. Looking back, I can see how all those classes and training might have played a part in the disintegration of our relationship. Things always become clearer when you are looking at them in hindsight once it all comes crumbling down. It's been over six months since that fateful day and, after reevaluating everything with my therapist, I now realize that she used emotional and verbal manipulation to get her way.

From the moment we met at a party, we were inseparable. After we dated for about six months, I thought there was no one on the planet quite like her. She had a fantastic sense of humor; she could carry on a conversation for hours, and she was an absolute magician in the bedroom. Once I was completely enamored by her in every way, I asked her to move in with me. It only made sense because we spent every night together anyway and, by living together, we saved some money. Looking back now, I realize that once she moved in, she kept her money separate from mine and never helped with the rent. So, I guess we could say she was saving her money. I didn't care because she was the love of my life, and I was just happy to be sharing a life with her.

Sure, we had our hard times and more than a few times I wound up sleeping on the couch or going for a long walk to cool off. We were living together for about a year and, hindsight being what it is, I now see that, during that time, she did things to manipulate me. For example, she wrote me a letter on Valentine's Day telling me how much she loved me, but she wasn't sure why because I wasn't always there for her and was too busy going to college instead of making her my priority. Then she would end the letter with some things she thought were great about me.

It was like her compliments were always backhanded ones. I didn't see it at the time, but it gradually became a lot of her taking advantage of the situation and, if I didn't fall in line, I was made to feel like I let her down. Then, if her words weren't enough to make me comply, her crying and finally her yelling and slamming doors would get me to just give in.

I had to hand it to her, it didn't take her long until I was working early in the mornings, going to class in the afternoon, taking her out, or cuddling with her on the couch giving her the attention she expected until she went to bed. Then, of course, I would have to stay up late to study and grab maybe a few hours of sleep before I started the process all over again. Heaven forbid if I fell asleep on the couch while watching a movie, or if I refused to take her to a nice restaurant because I was broke. If either of those things happened, all hell would break loose. She would start crying and yelling about how I didn't appreciate and love her. Then she would start screaming threats like, "Maybe I should leave you and find someone else who can take care of me and focus on my well-being." Then, if that didn't have me groveling, I would get the cold shoulder, a locked bedroom door, and certainly no sex until she decided to have mercy on me.

She surprised me one Monday evening when I came home thirty minutes late because of traffic, by telling me I was taking her for granted and never did any grand gestures anymore. So, about a week later, when I had an easy day at work and didn't have any classes, I made her a home-cooked meal complete with candles and a nice bottle of wine. That was on a Tuesday, and she was normally in the door no later than 5:30 on Tuesdays. However, I was very upset when she came in a little drunk around 9:00 p.m., to me sitting at the table with a ruined meal and half-melted candles. I simply asked her where she had been and explained I had created a romantic dinner for her, but it was all ruined because she didn't even have the decency to call me and tell me she was going out.

She immediately took on the offensive and blamed me for not telling her what I was doing. She had gone out with her friends from class because I never did anything for her, and she was tired of sitting on the couch watching TV. It was my fault for not letting her know, even though she was the one that wanted me to start surprising her. Then she yelled at me for spending so much on a dinner that was ruined, and that money wasn't going to come out of the grocery money that she pitched in each month.

By the time she was done, I was the one begging and apologizing. She kept going and used the opportunity to tell me about some other ways she felt I wasn't performing up to her standards, threw a pillow and blanket at me, and slammed the door to our bedroom for the night. I guess I was in love, brainwashed, or something else and just took it.

I mean, it wasn't always like this. We would go through months of her being loving to me. She would wake up and make us breakfast or shower me with kisses when I got home. It was like she was happy until she found out that some of her friends were getting surprises or gifts from their boyfriends and she wasn't getting the same treatment. Then it would rapidly start going downhill, a lot like a roller coaster. Eventually she would explode in my face, I would grovel and, after a week or two of me being subservient to her, she would start to forgive me, and we would start this weird relationship roller coaster all over again.

Maybe I was blinded by love, or maybe it was just during one of the extended high points in our relationship that I took her to dinner one night. During dessert, I got down on one knee and proposed. Angie's hands flew to her mouth as she squealed and quickly nodded yes. She leaped from her chair and threw herself at me telling me how much she loved me.

Since I wasn't making a whole lot of money at the time, the diamond wasn't massive, but, nonetheless, it shined brightly. Angie loved it for a while, then she started periodically mentioning that it looked a little small on her hand. When we went shopping, she would stop by the jewelry store and compare it to others in the case. She wouldn't outright complain, but she would mention that, perhaps once I finally graduated and got a real job, I could get her a proper ring before we were wed. I guess, at that point, I should have realized that no matter what I did for her, it would never be enough.

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THE BEGINNING OF THE END

Life went on and we lived together in happiness for the most part. Occasionally Angie would complain about something that I did or didn't do, but we were happy and loved each other. Angie had a rough semester that took a lot out of her. So, she decided (without my input) that, during the next semester, she would take only a few night classes from her favorite professor. That way she could work more hours as a receptionist at her company and save some money while giving herself a mental break. I only learned about this after it was all decided but just went along with it because I was so close to graduating and starting my career, it wouldn't matter if she was a semester behind me. We could finally stop struggling financially and properly start our lives together.

I thought that, with her having a less stressful workload, we might get even happier at home. Boy was I wrong about that one. The classes that Angie took were led by Dr. Thompson, a female professor that she looked up to. One of the courses was titled "Female Studies." I never thought anything about it until about a month into the semester. I came home exhausted one evening and found a very unhappy Angie. She began to tell me that it was starting to turn cold outside, and her car was freezing when she would get in it to come home. The heat would only start to thaw her out when she got to our apartment complex. She explained that it was my fault because Dr. Thompson told her that it was the man's job to make sure that his lady was always comfortable. If she wasn't, then it was a failure on his part and an expression to the world that he didn't care about her at all.

I tried to laugh this off, but she didn't think it was funny. That led to me sleeping on the couch and, before I was allowed to grace the bedroom again, we leased her a slightly used car with seat warmers and all the extras.

Once Angie broke down my barriers and got her car, then it was brought up to me that I also hadn't bought her a new coat in a while. But it wouldn't just be a coat, there had to be matching gloves to go with it. When I explained I didn't have the money right now, she started in again about Dr. Thompson's thoughts on the matter.

It became almost routine for her to bring up Dr. Thompson's thoughts and how I should change and do things to make her life more comfortable to show that I truly loved her. After a few months, it was so bad that, if we were eating and she brought up Dr. Thompson, I would suddenly lose my appetite.

This new philosophy was also starting to affect us in the bedroom. From the beginning, we were hot and wild in the bed. Almost nothing was off limits to try at least once, and we would talk through our fantasies and what we each would like to try. Angie's flexibility and her animal lust made all the ups and downs worth it. I mean I figured I could either be lonely and miserable alone, or I could put up with a little arguing and fighting and have a partner that was fantastic in the sack. As most men who think with the little head from time to time, I chose the latter option.

However, over the course of her semester with the famous Dr. Thompson, things started to change. Before, when we would have sex, both of us loved to give and receive oral from each other. In fact, we could spend thirty minutes just slowly appreciating each other either in the 69 position or take turns focusing on pleasuring each other. However, this started to change to Angie wanting me to spend all my time licking and sucking her to multiple orgasms while she lay there and enjoyed it. Once she had enough, she would push me off and either just straddle my waist and impale herself to ride my cock until we both exploded, or she might give me a quick little lick or jerk with her hand before telling me to slide in and fuck her.

It was a slow progression, but looking back, the additional loving gestures and the extended pleasure she would show me vanished. One night when I asked her to get me hard by giving me a blowjob, just like she had hundreds of times before, I was lectured on how degrading it was for a woman to have a dick shoved in her mouth. Anal wasn't ever something that we did a lot, but that quickly was taken off the table as being barbaric and not arousing to a woman at all.

Over time, Angie stopped initiating sex. If I wanted it, but she wasn't in the mood for me going down on her, she would strip and lean over the side of the bed, telling me to use some lube to get her wet and then just hurry up and get in and get off. Not a very arousing thing to tell the person you love.

The sexy little outfits that Angie loved to put on and parade around in for me started to show up less and less. As we were on the couch starting to make out one night, I asked her to go put on the red lace teddy she had for me. Her face soured and she immediately moved to the other end of the couch. She loudly asked why I needed her in lingerie to get in the mood. I quickly apologized and said I didn't need it, but I missed her little lingerie she would wear for me.

That statement made her stand straight up, hands crossed over her chest as she started to tear up. Her tirade began with the fact that Dr. Thompson was correct after all. She couldn't believe that I was like all the other men that were so perverted that we had to dress up our ladies so slutty. She ranted, "Wasn't the fact that she kept her trim little body in shape for me enough? Was I that disgusted by her body that I had to cover it up to stay aroused?"

I wasn't sure where this was coming from, but suddenly she got upset and told me to enjoy jerking off in the shower because she wasn't going to take my mental abuse anymore. Then she slammed the door to the bedroom leaving me stunned, alone and completely confused. That evening, since I wasn't apparently going to be busy with Angie, I decided to investigate this Dr. Thompson.

The internet is a wonderful thing when you know how to use it. It only took about thirty minutes for me to figure out that the wonderful Dr. Thompson was apparently a man-hating ball buster. Apparently, Dr. Thompson was her maiden name that she had gone back to using after three failed marriages over the last twelve years.

The further I read, the more I was shaking my head. She believed in men giving their wives anything and everything, even if they couldn't afford it. In her mind, if you couldn't afford it, then that meant you weren't working hard enough to be successful to show your love to your wife.

There were several articles she wrote stating that the problem with most of the world is that it was being led by men. Her biggest issue was in traditional marriages that were a 50/50 partnership. She explained in one article that, if the marriages were more female led, then the marriages would be more satisfying for the women and the men who, in her opinion, struggle to make decisions anyway, would be happier be told what to do.

I was very concerned about what Angie was learning from her new mentor and how this would affect us. I started wondering how many of our problems were coming from the new philosophies she was learning, and I also started questioning how we could ever survive this.

THE OTHER MAN

It was close to the end of my fourth year of college when there was a seminar at night that was mandatory for my class. I had done this before and normally it wasn't a big deal. However, the night in question happened to be the same night that Angie had a formal dinner at the company she worked for as a part-time receptionist. When I told her I couldn't go, she got upset, yelled, screamed, and informed me how inconsiderate I was before sending me to sleep on the couch again. The next day I apologized. She accepted my apology, telling me she just loved me so much that it hurt her that she wouldn't be able to show me off to all the girls at work that she bragged too about me. It was two days later, while we were getting into bed, that she came in the room in a sexy sheer negligee. As we kissed and embraced, she slowly made her way down to my shorts and tugged them off. Then, while she was doing a masterful job of licking my dick from my balls, up the shaft and back down again, she informed me she would just go with her friend from work so she wouldn't be alone. Like I mentioned before, the lingerie and the blowjobs had been off the table for a while, so I was in heaven for this treat. She had my brain all twisted and I just agreed that it was better that she went with her friend than go alone. My therapist has allowed me to understand that, by this time in the relationship, I was just trained to agree with whatever she offered and be happy with the scraps she gave me.

This was before cell phones, so the night of her party, before I had to go to my class, I went by the apartment after work to wish her a good time at the party. I walked in the front door and heard her getting ready in our bedroom. I walked in and was blown away by her beauty. She was standing at the mirror in a black sheer thong and garter belt that held up her black hose. Her matching black lace bra held her breasts up perfectly and pushed them together to accentuate the cleavage. Hanging on the bathroom door was a short shimmering black dress that I had never seen before. She appeared to be trying to dress to impress and was finishing up her makeup when I walked in.

She was surprised to see me and a little cold toward me while she finished up. She kept asking why I wasted gas coming home before going to class. I told her I came by to say I loved her and to pick up my suit because there was a chance that I could possibly cut out of class to meet her there. She told me not to worry about it because I needed to focus on my classes if I expected to graduate and get a good paying job. That was the only way I would be able to marry her and start a family, keeping her in the lifestyle that she deserved. Then without turning away from the mirror, she suggested I go before I was late. I walked out dejected and trying to figure out what I did wrong and how I would make this up to her.

I was in bed by the time she came home and barely stirred as she climbed in and went right to sleep. When I woke up the next morning, she was already gone. I called out for her but all I found was a message on the bar saying she had to go into work early to fill in for another receptionist. She thanked me for the thought of trying to go with her to the party last night and said she loved me so much. She did say that, while it was a nice sentiment to try and come by to wish her a fun time at the party, I should have been more conscious of the money I was spending on extra gas for a frivolous trip home. Perhaps I could pack a lunch and not eat at the college cafeteria to recoup that wasted money. I read the note twice and then I got ready for work...and packed a lunch.