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Rape Fantasy
I walked into my house after a long day at work. Grabbed a glass of wine, put on a CD & took a long hot shower. Got on the bed feeling more relaxed, sensuous… aroused. So as I was rubbing lotion onto my skin I was imagining it was my lover who was away for the week on business. After a while I felt kinda funny… almost like someone was watching me. So I got up and went to the window and looked out. There was nothing there & I decided to get another glass of wine. After I put on my sweatpants & one of my button down guy’s shirts I stepped out of my bedroom into the hall. Someone threw his arm around my neck and I felt something hard against my head like a gun. He whispered into my ear “shut up, be a good girl and I won’t hurt you unless you scream or try to get away”.
He dragged me into the bedroom, covered my eyes with some sort of bandanna and threw me down on the bed. He tied my wrists & legs to the four posts of my bed. I could feel him lay down beside me, smelling of male sweat, soap and maybe beer. He repeated the words to me again that he was not about to hurt me unless I made him.
I felt something cold against my cheek and realized it was a knife. As he moved the blade away from my face I could feel his hand running down my shirt, cutting away the buttons slowly, moving the shirt to one side & gently pressing the tip of the edge up against my nipples, which reacted to the cold steel and became hard. Then I felt his warm breath on me and they got even harder. He started to suck on them and I was ashamed to feel myself grow wet. He discovered that out for himself, slid between my thighs and fucked me.
He fucked me hard and long. And I came, a lot…
Sounds like a half way decent fantasy. And you would be surprised to know how many women have that fantasy. The big, strong, dominating male that takes you over... forcing you to feel things your upbringing, religion or consciencee won’t let you. Try Google, type in the words "Rape Fantasy" and you will be surprised by the hundreds of sites there are. Some more brutal... others lovely and erotic works of a silly woman’s mind.
Rape in America is a common thing... Chances are you know a woman who has been raped. Either by her husband, a date or a stranger. Rape is rape whether you know him, whether you are married to him or whether he is some skank ass hiding behind a bush. For those of you who have not had someone close to you raped, or have not ever heard a woman speak of it… let me tell you the truth of it all. Not the emotions or the aftermath, because all women who have been raped deal with it in a different way… all take a different route to get over it. No, the bitch is in the details & it’s the details we yearn to hear. It’s the details that they leave out. But it’s the details that show you how horrible the crime really is.
What I am about to tell you is a true story. Whose true story is not important because it could just as well be your wife, daughter, girlfriend or sister.
Hell, it could be you or me...
I was working in a restaurant that my family owned. It was a bar & grill kinda affair. Great food, good people. You all know the place. Anyway my family owned the building and the apartment upstairs was for whichever one of us needed it for the night. My three cousins usually lived up there but they had gone away to our weekend house.
So here I am; 20 years old, 5’6”, and 120 pounds. I close up shop for the night and say good bye to one of my friends... Let's call him Joe, he lives across the street. I go upstairs & get to the top of the stairs & hear something from inside the living room.
Now being the tough ass chick that I am, I go investigate…
Only to be greeted by six big ass bikers - all grinning & very drunk.
I do what any woman would do; I turn & run like hell down the hall, but I am of course no match for them.
One of them throws me over his shoulder & carries me into one of the bedrooms. He smacks me so hard across the face that I felt one of my molars crack. He rips open my shirt & with a knife cuts away part of it & shoves it in my mouth. Then with a knife he cuts off my bra & rips open my pants… all the time telling me what a nice little bitch I am... all the while with the rest of the guys laughing & hooting like they just won a jackpot.
As the main guy was pulling my pants down, one of the others was biting on my nipples… Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough for me to fear that he was going to actually bite one of.
The main guy now gets between my legs. In times like this there is no wetness, there is no moisture… you are dry as a bone… He spits in his hands, slaps it against me & shoves his dick in. And it hurts; it hurts like hell… it hurts like I think he is going to rip me. But ripping me wasn’t his job… it was the next guy’s. And even with the shirt in my mouth I screamed… and they hit me... hard… When the next guy got between my legs he ripped me open. When the third guy got between my legs he punched me in the stomach because there was blood all over me. It pissed him off...
The fourth guy not wanting to go where his three friends had already been, decided he would go a different route... and as one of them flipped me onto my knees, the last guy spit on my ass & shoved his dick in. Fast and hard… and at that point I knew or prayed that I would die sooner rather then later. I had blood all over me, cum all over me & bruises from where they repeatedly slapped, punched & bit me.
It lasted five hours.
Do you have any idea how much damage six men can do to a woman in five hours? Neither do I, because I lost consciousness at some point.
At some point you no longer feel the pain. You go numb...
At some point I woke up to see my friend Joe tied to a chair. Beaten bloody to a pulp & being forced to watch the entire thing. I don’t know how he got there… Maybe he came back to check on me? I passed out again...
Well, when it was over and they left… after cutting me deeply below my left breast and leaving me instructions on what they would do to me if I ever told anyone…. I somehow managed to go to the chair & untie Joe.
Oh hell no was I calling the cops, and I made Joe promise that he would not tell them. Not them or anybody.
He ran downstairs & barricaded the door in case they came back, found one of my cousin’s guns in hopes that they did come back & then helped me shower.
I sat in that shower for two hours, feeling nothing… Totally numb. I came out like I was just sore from work, laid down on my other cousin’s bed & went to sleep.
When I woke up, almost two full days later, I was surrounded by my cousins. When I yelled that fucking Joe fucking promised me he wouldn't tell… He FUCKING PROMISED ME… they told me Joe was dead.
Dead.
You see, Joe had his brothers come sit with me, then got on his bike & went to my family’s house upstate... To get help...
Only he never made it.
He was already badly hurt and he drove off the mountain & died.
My cousin Paulie found out & immediately came home… to find me in his bed, beaten. Joe’s brothers told him that I had been jumped but he knew that was crap.
And this is where the kicker comes in play. This is why I am telling you this, so pay attention…
I had been brutally raped, beaten within an inch of my life... My best friend died trying to get me help... and the thing I remember the most of all of this… the thing that stands out the most... is the shame I felt telling my big tough crying, wise guy cousin what had happened.
Not the actual details… cause when you love someone you can’t handle the details. You don't want to know...
But now you know them... So the next time you hear about a woman being raped… don’t be so curious… just know that at some point that woman probably prayed for death.
Are rape fantasies bad? Hell no, but we have glossed over them to the point where you don’t find their origin as horrific as maybe you should. Nor do we penalize the men who are guilty of the actual crime as we should.
So Rosie, what the hell was the point of this whole article?
Maybe none, and maybe one. I had a story, you heard it… now you tell me what your opinion on it is.
I don’t want you to tell me: “Oh that story was horrible, I’m so sorry for that poor girl”.
The girl knows you’re sorry... Nobody can read that and not be sorry for that girl. That is not the point. That’s in the past. It may be an ugly scar, but it’s just a scar nonetheless.
I want you to tell me what you are teaching your kids.
Would your wife, mother, sister or daughter come to you if this happened to them?
How are you approaching this subject with your daughters?
Do you think it’s possible for us to raise our daughters to know that if this ever happens (God forbid) to them - that it should never, ever, involve shame on her part?
That is the thing that is the hardest to get over for women who have been through the above.
The shame… The hopelessly degrading unfounded shame…
Think about it.
Talk about it.
TTR
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