Started With My Father Posted on: March 20th, I apologize for how long this is and how graphic if graphic descriptions are going to be hard for you consider this your warning to stop now.
Anyway… My mom died when I was 12 years old. My dad and I both took it pretty hard. Anyway, my dad just kind of ignored me after that. I mean he made sure there was food in the fridge or whatever, I always had enough money, but I was basically on my own. He sort of checked out.
And when he looked at me it was like he saw something that he hated. And I just laid there and pretended I was asleep. I knew him touching me like that was wrong. I went to school, they told us about that sort of thing. To have him notice me and his touching was so gentle and nice at first. Again I knew it was wrong, but I let it happen. And after awhile that first time my body started to react and he realized I was awake. When I looked up at him he just looked shocked and immediately left the room.
But after a couple of nights he was back at it and it progressed to him taking me to his room and watching porn on the TV. He was old fashioned enough he actually still went to the porn store and rented DVDs. I loved the attention. I loved being introduced to such forbidden and adult stuff. It made me feel grown up. And most of all I loved that my dad looked at me again with something other than disgust.
And it made me feel so good. I liked how it made my body feel to have him touch me to have him inside me. I liked those feelings so much. Then maybe a year later it just stopped. I felt like someone had died again. My life went back to this horrible monotony. Then I met, James. He was an older guy that hung out at the mall a lot and he was cool, and had money and he told me I was pretty.
We started dating soon after that, I was 15 I think at the time. He took me to restaurants and held my hand and told me how beautiful I was.
He bought me sexy clothes and nice high heels. And I did all the things I knew a guy wanted from a girl. I let him use me however he wanted and whenever he wanted. I was convinced I was in love and that he loved me too. Which meant I was supposed to give them a blow job or sometimes let them have sex with me. His computer was full of photos of other young girls having sex in his apartment. I know a normal person would have just left. And it was pretty clear to me at that point that I really was a whore.
I felt like I deserved to be used that way. And I was good at it. The men I had sex with often praised me for my ability or told me I was pretty. I got called a whore and a bitch and some of the men were mean and liked to slap me while they had sex with me. They all wanted to have anal sex with me and they wanted me to deep throat. I decided I would be proud of it and embrace it so I did.
As time went on James got mean too though. He started hitting me sometimes when he was upset about things. And the things that I was supposed to do for the guys got worse and worse. They wanted ass to mouth, they wanted me to swallow.
They wanted me to lick their butts. Some of the guys would choke until my vision would fade and then slap me to wake me up. I did and allowed many very disgusting things. And the craziest thing, the thing that makes you feel even more like a whore, is that your body gets used to the abuse.
And it starts to like it. This is it, I thought. After, he went to bed. And something in me snapped. I put some stuff in a backpack and walked out of that apartment and went to a shelter and here I am now.
But things are bad in some ways too. Nice guys have trouble hitting you during sex, go figure. Mostly I just have sex with strangers. Sometimes all you have to do is walk out. But it does get better all the time.