A Forced Replacement

I stood in front of the stove cooking dinner. I didn't hear him let himself in the house with his key. He quietly came up behind me and grabbed my breasts hard. It hurt and I let out a cry. He spun me around and ripped the neck of my shirt from my body. I did nothing to enrage him, but yet again he was in a mood and taking it out on me.

He tore my t-shirt off my body and grabbed my breasts again like a wild animal. It felt like he was going to tear them off. I tried to push him off but he was bigger than me and I didn't stand a chance fighting him off. He slammed my back into the wall oven and the handle dug into my shoulders. He bit at my nipple and I punched him in the face to make him stop.

I knew I couldn't stop him. I never could stop him. It was like a ritual with him. He'd beat me and rape me and I couldn't do anything about it. I tried to tell my family about what was happening but my father said I was lying about what was happening and didn't do anything to stop it. My Aunt tried to help but my father wouldn't believe her either. I started to drink and my doctor put me on Xanex to help with the anxiety. I started having panic attacks. My family couldn't understand why I was doing the things I did. The only time I felt safe was when I went to school. At college, I could get away from him and be myself.

He ripped my gym shorts down and called me a whore for not wearing underwear. He slipped his rough hands between my legs and shoved two fingers in my vagina. I was dry and it hurt. He continued to paw at my breast as he added a third finger. He fingered me hard and fast and got pissed off when I wasn't enjoying what he was doing to me. He stopped then he threw me across the room and slammed me face down into the kitchen table. I was completely naked. He undid his belt and dropped his pants. He was rock hard and ready to rape me again. My head hit the table again as he shoved me back down. He entered me from behind and it hurt badly. I tried not to scream because he enjoyed it when he knew he was hurting me. I thanked the lord that he was not a large man because the whole event could have been much worse if he was. He shoved his cock into me and sounded like a grunting pig as he did it.

He was sweating like crazy and it grossed me out feeling his sweat drip on my back. My hips were slamming against the table edge and I knew they would be bruised by the morning. His handprints would be visible around my arms for weeks as well. I was glad he didn't do this to me often. He told me that I deserved what he did to me because I was giving it away to every other guy and not him. He'd tell me that it was my duty to sleep with him because my Grandmother couldn't anymore. I could not describe my feelings towards this man. It was more than hatred. It was more than hatred. It was loathing and despising to the Nth degree. I couldn't wait to dance on this mans grave someday.

He forced himself in me and I felt my ribs press hard against the table. The pain kept me from thinking about what was happening. He kept slamming it into me and I started to get slightly aroused. If I went with what was happening, it wasn't so bad. It defiantly turned me against men and love and romance. There was no romance in a world where Grandfathers could get away with raping their Granddaughters. Nor was there any justice.

I started to get into the motion and pressed back against him as he fucked me. I felt myself get wet and sickly turned on. He pumped faster as I met each of his strokes. I squeezed my vaginal walls with every thrust he made and he started to moan. I reached back and grabbed him by the balls. I rolled them around in my fingers and he moaned louder. He was totally into his own little world as he fucked me. I tugged hard at his balls and he screamed. I shoved him off of me and he bent over in pain. I ran to my room and locked the door. He came to my door and started pounding on it and calling me a whore and a bitch. He tried kicking my door in as I called my Aunt to come help me. She lived next door and was there in two minutes. She asked him what he was doing standing in our hallway with his pants down around his ankles and he couldn't answer her.

He left and he never touched me again. My Aunt made arrangements for me to go away to college and we never told my Dad why I suddenly decided to go away to college. My Grandfather died a few years later and I didn't feel any remorse when he died. The only thing I felt was relief. My Grandmother never knew because it probably would have killed her. Today I really don't bother with what is left of my family. Most of the people who allowed him to hurt me are dead. I still don't have meaningful relationships with men that last any longer than a month. I have a PhD in Psychology and council sexual abuse victims. Maybe someday I'll heal myself and stop living a lie and get on with my life.