My Problem Ch 04

Normally a return trip from Winchester takes an hour. That Saturday morning, well over 90 minutes. In my state of mind it seemed twice that time. For days my imagination filled my mind with wonderful images and drove me blindly forward. To say my body, mind and spirit anticipated being with Nancy would be an understatement. Longed or craved are more accurate descriptors. In looking back, clearly my unbalanced desires led me into a nightmare. The erotic weekend I craved and imagined turned into a nightmare with eternal consequences. The last reflection was to be the end. I would be forever burdened if I my leaving the impression my problem resolved romantically with a new love interest encouraged another woman to throw caution to the wind and end up harmed.

This is not an erotic reflection and is not intended to be such. If that is what the reader is seeking, stop reading and look at another posting. As with the last postings this is part of a process of self reflection, a neotherapy of sorts. As I had invited others to provide helpful comments, it is only appropriate to continue this reflection for the handful who are interested in life experiences and who seek to build their understanding of sexuality and life not upon fantasy but upon what has happened to others. I am not condemning fantasies, as I have them too. Building our plans and understanding of our own selfhood upon ungrounded fantasies is risky. I find fantasies to be helpful in stirring the imagination and desires, particularly if they happen to be grounded in reality. To those who have posted such stories from their experiences and who have touched upon the human soul and life issues I wish to thank you. Such writers have given me food for thought during these past months, particularly as I have sought to move beyond my rape. And as you can imagine this is the most difficult of the reflections to write.

As I edit this I realize this one is much longer than the others. So much has transpired in my heart and life these past weeks that I just need to get it down on paper and to conclude it rather than splitting it into two. Some commented have suggested that an editor would be helpful, and I would agree if this was just a story where one can refine the details. In these past three weeks I have heard stories from Kara that tantalize my erotic side and which I may use as a basis for stories. If I do them, for those yes partnering with an editor would be welcomed.

I have contradictory feelings and thoughts from one day to another. There are contradictions between thoughts and actions, between what we say we want and what we do a few days or weeks later. Yet, that is our humanity, dynamic travelers in life, a bundle of conflicting feelings, thoughts and actions.

Other than a few glitches what was to be a lovely weekend started well. I am ashamed that as a critical thinker I missed several warning signs while those that were recognized I summarily dismissed.

Nancy first seduced me on February 12th. The Valentine's flowers and the enclosed note put to rest any misgivings. Overwhelmed with a flood of thoughts about the intensity of rediscovering the joys of sex coupled with the new experience of being intimate with a woman drove my heart and mind forward. I became like a kid on Christmas Eve, eager with expectation of the unknown and the joy of wonderful discovery. I recalled her perfume and the aroma of her hair. I imagined how they would impact me again. And in tasting myself I wondered how her womanly moisture would taste.

Initially we were going to meet in the Stafford area but Nancy did not want to risk one of her husband's friends seeing her at a motel while he was out of town skiing. I booked the Winchester motel she named. Nancy stated in her emails she would take charge and would introduce me to new experiences. In an email I replied, "with joyous anticipation I will surrender fully to your erotic tutelage. I want to experience it all." Now those words appear so foolish.

Nancy via emails instructed me to bring a tight short skirt or two, seductive tight flattering tops and sexy lingerie. I shopped for what she wanted. I was doing all I could do to make the weekend a great experience.

Arriving at the motel a message saying Nancy was delayed, but to go to dinner at the planned restaurant and leave her key at the desk. She would try to join me there. Knowing she wanted me to dress to entice and tease her, and to catch the attention of others, I dressed accordingly. Her email stated, "if you dress just right, not only will you have my full attention, you will give many a man an embarrassing bulge over which we can laugh together. And we may notice a woman or two looking with lust as well." Dressed in a red stretch camisole a plunging neckline and the shortest skirt I have ever worn and heels I made my way to the restaurant. Though I felt self conscious my heart was racing and I felt a little lightheaded. I looked forward to seeing the look upon Nancy's face when she noticed how I interpreted her instructions.

She was right, heads turned as I waited to be seated. When I sat down I noticed men looking my way and a few women saying something to their man. Ten minutes after I was seated a note from Nancy arrived saying she would be later than anticipated and I should eat without her. I was disappointed. My heart skipped a beat when I noticed the waitress serving the table across the isle smiling at me. I thought I detected more than just a smile in her eyes and on her face. I felt a little flushed thinking about what the waitress's look communicated.

While eating the main course I noticed a man looking at me from the bar. He looked familiar. His two friends looked over occasionally as well. As he approached my table I recalled he was from the lounge that Sunday night. Sitting he complemented me on my appearance. He offered that he and his friend would be "pleased to have me." The stress upon have did not go unnoticed. In a frosty reply I told him to leave me before I called the waiter. He smiled. He rose, leaned over and whispered I needed to be put into my place for being such a tease. If I was not interested I should stop dressing like a slut. Fortunately I was nearly finished. I called for my check, paid and headed to the motel. This was not a good start I muttered to myself, but gathered myself in the car.

Nancy was waiting for me in the room. I immediately went into her open arms. After several kisses she commented how hot I looked. She giggled that I must have made every cock hard and the juices of a few women to flow. Nancy herself was dressed in a black latex halter bustier with black hose.

During our first time she had been slow, seductive and gentle. She focused mainly upon my pleasure. Within thirty minutes that gentle Nancy was replaced by a more demanding and commanding Nancy whose focus was upon me pleasuring her. As the evening progressed her language became increasingly crude and taunting which she explained would move me to new heights. The allure of that thought caused me to surrender fully. With any second thoughts dismissed, her demanding tone and language pulled me deeper into her web of deceit.

She pushed me between her thighs demanding satisfaction. I gave my best and found her responding. I must confess that my heart was beating rapidly at the thrill of it all. The reality of drawing forth her desired release was better my uneducated imagination envisioned. After drawing forth a second release using my fingers and tongue, I was moved onto my back and blindfolded. She promised the blindfold would heighten the experience. And it did. Being deprived of the visual sense caused other senses to be more acute. Her touches and her kisses on my lips and body felt far more sensational than before. Repeatedly I was drawn toward a release, but she never took me over the summit.

I felt her womanhood over my mouth. I knew what she wanted. I provided it to her. The newness of it all was thrilling. I was easily aroused physically and emotionally.

Every time I came to the summit, she backed me down from the peak. Eventually she shifted and moved my heads above my head. My hands were tied while she explained that not being able to move would further increase the sensations as well the need and strength of my climaxes. My feet were also tied apart as well with another pair of hose.

Nancy moved over me and drew forth from me a moaning kiss. She was right, not being able to move focused my sexual energy into the kiss. She moved downward ever so slowly to my open womanhood. Her touches, licks and kisses pleasured me as I have never been pleasured before. I wanted to move to express my pleasure but found I could do little. The restraint focused my desire and my mind upon that focal point of pleasuring. Yet just as I was approaching that a climactic moment she backed off again. She asked if I enjoyed it. I cried yes. She told me to beg her for more. And begged. And she gave more. Again she brought me close only to stop. Her taunting and desire for release started to make me cry out as if I was nymphomaniac. I have never begged like this in my life but I pleaded again and again for her to take me to the mountain top.

I felt her legs on either side of my head and then felt her womanhood moving upon my mouth. Just as I drove in giving her pleasure hoping my desires to please her would be rewarded. Moments later I felt her lips and a tongue were upon my womanly channel. Just as I was arriving at the station suddenly my womanhood was filled.

As I came harder than I could ever remember, I suddenly became aware that the feeling inside me did not seem to be artificial but real. Then just as I came I was empty and lips were upon me. But these lips and tongue were different. This was not right. I cried not with pleasure but alarm. This is not what I wanted. I cried out aloud asking for it all to stop. I heard Nancy laugh commanding me to pleasure her. She was calling me a bitch, a slut and her pet. I stopped my pleasuring of her with my mouth. The moment I started to scream tape of some sort was placed across me mouth.

The dreamed weekend of pleasure quickly turned into a night of agony, a nightmare. My mind was awhirl with anger as my hips were raised with a pillow being placed below me. Nancy had seduced me, then betrayed my trust.

Anger and rage filled me. Rage toward Nancy and the man. I was angry at myself. Beneath the mask tears gathered in my eyes as the man entered me again. When he satisfied himself enough, I heard another man. Seconds later I felt another man enter me. In my state of mind each minute seemed like five, nay ten. If a penis was put into my mouth I knew what I would do, I would bit down with my teeth as hard as I possible in an attempt to bit through it. Unfortunately I was not given the opportunity to extract a pound of flesh as punishment.

My mind kept screaming NO, NO, NO! My head was constantly rocking back and forth, NO, NO, NO! Though voiceless my vocal chords were becoming raw with the effort to scream and cry. Each thrust into me was like a dagger being thrust into my soul. I never realized until how the ability to cry was tied into one's vocal chords, and that the inability to cry out only deepened the anguish, pain and frustration.

A third took the place of the second. Yet this shaft was not warm and fleshly. When Nancy laughed I realized what she was using on me with the toy I saw earlier.

My body was in pain. My vagina was burning it was so irritated. Contrary to what men believe, a woman's vagina does not necessarily moisten when stimulated, especially when the stimulation is not invited and desired. I was dearly paying for my rash behavior. I was in pain all over, including my bladder which increasingly sending its uncomfortable feeling throughout my body.

My breasts were not lovingly suckled as from my dreams of prior days. They were used, abused and bruised. Nancy and her cohorts cared nothing about me. Replaying in my mind was Kara asking me to be careful. If only I heeded her words.

Eventually another man replaced Nancy. His hips were larger, and the hair on his thighs and lower abdomen told me this was a different man. The first man had a larger stomach, the second was thin. As this third man was spilling his semen in me my mind was flooded with a terrifying thought. I felt flesh, no condoms. An alarm went off in my head, I am not on the pill. The other two had not had not worn condoms either but they did not come.

Rapidly my mind tried to calculate when my last period started. Was the last month 29 days or 30, or 31? I cursed that I could not focus clearly enough. I cursed that I was not regular from month to month. Fear, anger, pain, confusion and denial running through my mind frustrated my ability to count. By one count if this was a shorter cycle I was a day or two past my prime ovulation window. Two other counts left tears flowing like a river. One put me entering my prime period. By one I was in the middle of my fertility period with thousands of seeds of life in me seeking their fulfillment.

I heard a manly cry and grunt just before I felt his release flooding me. When he was done one of the other men again took me and filled me also. Then the second man did the same. Maybe they were a fourth and fifth man. I was in no state now to know who was who.

I reminded myself it would end and I just needed to focus upon other things besides what was happening to my body. It helped some but not as much as I would have wished. I kept coming back to the same thought and image; being a ruined woman. My ruination crushed my heart. I imagined a brave knight charging to my rescue. Then Tim's face briefly flashed in my mind. I groaned even more. There no hope, no hope. Why would he ever be interested in me? The only benefit these thoughts had upon me was to distract me from what was happening to my body. Images of my parents and family vacations were pulled to mind. I focused upon how lovely a couple my parents made, he being Swedish with blood hair and she being Chickasaw and white. I had inherited my father's Swedish complexion and blond hair whereas my brother reflected my mother's darker complexion.

Eventually it did end with a familiar voice saying, "anyone up for anymore of this slut?" I heard at least two grunts, possible another. I do not know who or how many abusers there were. There were at least three men, possible one or two more. I could not be sure. How many men participated would only be a guess.

When things ended I heard Nancy ask after kissing someone "did I do a good baby?" His statement "you sure did. Tina, I love how you serve and pleasure me. She was great to have" struck me. How he pronounced "pleasure" and drew out the "pl" was distinct. It was the man from the earlier in the restaurant and from the lounge. I was a pawn in his chess game.

I heard rustling of cloths as my abusers dressed. A mouth came upon my breast for ten or so seconds. When he disengaged he proclaimed, "the $250 is well worth it. This is much better than a hooker for an hour." And another voice "call me when you have another party. I get off stuffing white meat. Thanks for first dips cumming." I thought I heard another say "this is great." I had been sold. I cried, I was now a whore.

When the door closed again I struggled again against my bonds to no avail. Laying beside me and touching my body Nancy quietly informed me that she enjoyed introducing me to a new world of experiences. She whispered wanted to turn me into her pet and introduce to more. NO! I screamed within. Pulling the tape from my mouth she kissed me forcefully. I tried to scream my hate and anger but it was useless with her mouth forcefully affixed to mine. Breaking the kiss she immediately placed her hand over my mouth before again covering it with tape.

After removing the blind Nancy told me clearly that she became her lover's pet similar to this. If I yielded I would discover so much pleasure. She was commanded to find a woman to seduce and a woman who could serve her lover and her. The two did not have to be the same person but our first night and our email exchanges indicated I had submissive tendencies. Tears were streaming out of my eyes as I shook my head.

The clock in the room read 1:53. It had been nearly five hours since leaving the restaurant. I could only cry. Nancy had moved to the chair and was studying me. My bladder could not hold out any longer and once it started I flooded the bed. Nancy grabbed some towels and laughed at my predicament. I refused to cooperate so she kept me secured and mute.

She thought I desired to explore my sexuality and be a submissive in the process. She was partly right about exploring my sexuality. My reaction shouted, not in this manner. To bully me she called me various unflattering names. Then she turned sweet and seductive again in another not so veiled attempt to get me to surrender psychologically. Focusing upon the memories of my mother and father's loving relationship I tuned her out. Her game was not working. Her touches to arouse my body now discussed me. That which stimulated me before had no affect. She miscalculated.

I was exhausted but the bright lights and her touches kept me awake. I remained firm. I looked upon her with bitterness and rage. All but the bathroom light went off. The clock read 3:47. Finally I slept.

Just before 10 I awoke to children running in the hallway. My hands and feet were untied. Though free physically I was still confused and numb. Part of me knew what happened, part of me was in denial. As I showered I wondered about calling the 911. What would I say? I could tell them what happened but could I give them any names or leads? Everything was in my name. I did not know Nancy's last name. And Nancy may not be her real name. Would they believe me? Would they believe me after learning about the emails? As the warm beating of the shower massager soothed my torso it struck me that showing was the last thing I should have done if I was to call the police. As I dressed I the desire to get to the safety of my home overwhelmed me.

Getting to my car I took hold of my cell. In my bleary sight hit Tim and Kara's number. Tim answered and I asked for his wife. He was in LA speaking at a weekend conference and I mistakenly called his cell. I must have sounded in a bad way because he kept asking what was wrong. I rambled I needed to talk with Kara. Getting hold of Kara I asked her to meet me in an hour at home. I needed her more than ever.

Five times, maybe six or seven times, I pulled off the interstate to cry and clear my eyes. I was relieved to find Kara waiting in my drive. Telling her the whole story helped some, but I still felt numb. I wept and wept. She just held me and cried with me.

I appreciated Kara's comfort with no platitudes or condemnations. Being believed was an emotional comfort. She kept offering to take me to the hospital but I refused. I rationalized that my damage was psychological and the bruises would heal. I do not know why neither of us thought about getting the morning after pill at that moment. I was still wildly fluctuating between denial, anger, acceptance and the desire just sleep and move on the next day.

Twice during the day moments of pain crossed Kara's face. This was not empathetic pain, it was not a good day for her but she remained with me. Seeing her suffering reminded me that though such days were rare in these past weeks, she was not the only one dealing with turmoil in her life. In a ghastly way I was comforted seeing her pain and with the thought that at least I was not dying.

Around 7:40 she responded to the door bell. Tim appeared and threw his arms around me while assuring me of his support. Explaining he did the first two presentations the prior night and immediately after the call he left the third undone because a good friend in need trumps a conference presentation. His hugs felt strange. I was conflicted. I did not want to be touched by a man yet his comfort calmed my spirit. I wanted him to hold me. He was a good friend who had charged to my side. I felt protected and safe as I curled against him.