Trigger Warning/Content Warning: Simulated Non-consensual Sex
Why am I back writing this? Why am I spending my day bonding with my daughter and worrying about when she can safely go back to in-building school while my husband works in the other room (my job is at the very least on hiatus due to COVID-19, hopefully it'll exist again) and getting up early to write these memories up as stories? Is it because I have time to play on social media and see Russ and Rayna's pictures and follow their lives so regularly? Is it because my mind isn't occupied so it slips back to days gone by? Or is it because the last years of vanilla sex isn't enough anymore and I need to remember the days when I was really satisfied. Not that I'm not satisfied while we're having sex, I mean, my husband is wonderful. But I can't tell him that I want to be tied up sometimes. I can't tell him I want to be whipped. I can't even tell him I want to be spanked. We met at church. How can I sit next to him and listen to God's word and then ask him to call me a slut and demean me? He wouldn't understand that can be done from a place of love and trust. Maybe that's why I'm living in my memories more often now. And if I can't tell my husband to spank me, how can I tell him to forcibly take me? But I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm going to tell a story that might not be for you if you've been assaulted. I will start though by saying they loved me. They didn't hurt me. They gave me what I needed. That should be obvious, but I'm saying it out of respect for you. Don't read if you don't want some elements of non-consensual sex in a consensual framework.
I was home alone watching television. It was the middle of the week. I don't remember which day, but certainly a workday and not Friday. I had gotten out of my work clothes and was just wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt, no bra. The only panties I owned back then were parts of lingerie sets or otherwise just to wear for sex, not for daily wear. But I always had to wear a bra in public. You don't walk around with a DD cup size and no support. But at home alone, the girls get to rest.
Then the phone rang. It was Russ. "I need you to come over now. Right now." He sounded stressed and upset. I felt a knot in the pit of my stomach. He had been normal at work, no sign of trouble. Was its Rayna? Was it us? Was it some external thing and he just wanted my support?
"Let me just get changed and"
"No, now, how you are right now, just get here," and he hung up. The knot grew. I grabbed my purse and headed out the door. When I got home much later, my television was still on. I remember that. That should tell you how fast I left the apartment.
I pulled up to their house and something was wrong. It was past 10 and Rayna's car wasn't in the driveway, just Russ's. A hundred thoughts went through my head. I practically ran to the door and rang the bell. Russ must have been waiting at the door because it just flew open, he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me inside. He slammed the door spun me around, and threw me up against it, my braless breasts pressed against the hard wood, my head turned so my cheek was against the door, and his knee forcing my legs apart. I was pinned. I could hear music playing from the other room. My senses were in overload.
With his free hand he dangled my collar in front of me. "It's your choice. Stay and be up for whatever happens next or you can leave now and I'll see you at work in the morning. Your choice, but he pulled my hair and forced his leg up higher between my legs, against my sex. A different hundred thoughts went through my head, was this just a sex game? Why so angry? But if he's offering the collar, he wants consent. Where's Rayna, we shouldn't play without her? Did she leave him the collar for this? The rush of thoughts and feelings but more than anything an awareness that my heart was pounding, my adrenaline was pumping and I had to see where this was going.
"I'm staying."
He dropped my collar and leaned his whole body against me, pressing me to the door. He moved a little and the next thing I know he was pulling my sweats off. I was in two worlds. I was moving, shifting, trying to stop him, but wanting him to win. He grunted and leaned his upper body into my back, pressing me harder into the door and making it hard to catch my breath, then he just lifted his leg and stepped into my pants, forcing them to the floor in one motion, around my ankles.