It was dark, as it always was. Lying battered and bruised in my room, quilt pulled high up over me. My comfort. Safety. The sounds of joviality from downstairs, which should be comforting, was jarring and unsettling. Knowing what was to come when the sounds dissipated made my head swim with images of HIM ravaging me, forcing me to do things I didn't want to. I cry. The hopelessness of everything washing over me like a wave. Who would care? Who could I tell? What importance would it have to anyone? I was a piece of shit put on this earth to serve men. Why would my feelings mean anything to anyone?
The music pulsing thru the ceiling was hypnotic. It was making me sleepy. Knowing the kids were asleep and safe giving me a little solace. I could feel myself drifting. The slow waves of sleep taking me over. The memories of being beaten in front of HIS friends washing away with the tide of slumber. Watching the looks of curiosity turn to amusement as blow after blow rained down one me. The humiliation and worthlessness I had felt less than an hour ago giving way to the clouds of exhaustion.
I wake, not sure of the time, the music has stopped. For some reason I feel like I'm not alone. The feeling unsettles me. I feel HIS hands on me, but in my head I feel like it's not just HIM in the room, I feel exposed. The quilt no longer protecting my skin. It's so dark. HIS rough touch making me wince, not only because my body is damaged but because he doesn't care if it hurts. HE seems oblivious to the bruises, ignores my moans of displeasure, how I shy from HIS advances.
'Please don't' I implore, weakly. 'Please, stop'
'Shut up!' HE snaps, HIS tone authoritative, there's no point me begging. It's futile. Just let him take what HE wants and I can sleep.
I hear HIS zip pull down and know it won't be long. Then I hear the low laugh, it's not HIS laugh, my body goes numb. It's not just HIM in here there's someone else. It sounds like M, why is he in here? My brain implodes. I can't think. Frozen now. Panic taking over every cell. Just don't think, just ride it out and it will all be over soon. How I felt earlier paling in comparison to the emptiness I felt now knowing that my most private pain was going to be witnessed.
HE's on me so fast I don't have time to think, pushing my thighs apart, I give in to it. No point fighting. The pressure of HIM pushing inside me and the pain ripping thru me is enough to make me grimace. But I can't react. Reactions mean more pain. More violence, and I know HE will be violent with HIS needs. Every part of me wants to fight back but I can't. I'm trapped in my body and as long as I comply I will be safe.
I think of the kids, their smiles and how they laugh at the smallest thing. Losing myself in the memories as HIS hands push on my throat, his cock pierces my being. His deep breaths washed away by the thoughts of my babies. I try. I don't succeed.
HIS authority over me apparent as he twists and turns my body to HIS whim. Pulling me over and pounding against my ass, my body so weak I can't hold myself up. HE's supporting my weight. Controlling my every movement. HE pulls my arms back and holds both wrists in one hand, HIS pace quickening. The stench of sweat becoming my focus. The foul odour of alcohol and sweat mingled in the air. HIS last thrust as HE falls onto me can't come soon enough. HIS waning cock subsiding into nothing.
HE pulls away, seemingly disgusted with what HE has done. Slapping my cheek, zipping up HIS jeans as HE walks away.
I feel disgusting. Dirty. But HE's done with me, I can sleep now. I have done my duty. Served my only purpose. I start to feel relief. It's short lived.