Jenny Meatballs Chosen
Middle of the night, she awakes with a fright. Skunks ripping apart her hiking bag. She is worried that they will spray her. It might be better than the way she smells now. But she freezes anyway.
Laying atop a green picnic table, "whore" was the label her brain could not take! Hiking pack lined up 50 feet away, near the lake-so the animals would not eat her alive- like the boys did.
Flashback.
"Go have a panic attack and get hit by a car you fucking loser. You're not even that hot. Nobody wants you and everyone is laughing at you and you smell bad anyway cunt" said the same guy who literally hunted her down and attacked while she was sleeping.
"Jenny, Jennnnnnnnyyyyyy" he had whimpered in the middle of night. I look at the clock. 3AM. He is wasted again. My pores tremble in fright.
"Let me in."
He was referring not to my heart but to my vagina, where it lay asleep in my room (his old room in his parents home where he NO LONGER LIVED). "Why the FUCK is he here anyway?" my brain had just barely started to say to myself - I was still half asleep!! I just wanted to keep him the hell away from me. He was drunk, as per usual.
The door opened. He climbed into my bed (his old bed) and began rubbing my back...and then my front. He had tried to put his fingers in my cunt just a few hours before at his studio/office where we were working on some cool projects together. It felt good, sure. But I did not want anymore than that. In fact I hadn't even asked for that. So after a few moments, I had clearly stopped it. I LEFT that space and went home to sleep where I thought I was safe from the unwavering chase of his drunken advances which he had initiated a year prior when he was still married and I had to tell him to cool it back then too.
After his divorce, we had slept together once without threatening force, just your basic level of coercion! Clearly my diversion tactics were not swaying the course of his determination to fuck me. Is "fighting back" REALLY what we expect our girls and women to do with every single guy that tries to come through?! Let's get real here. He was attractive. He was my friend! Was I suppose to sock him in the face? As a woman, I have been taught that I should be FLATTERED by the chase.
A month prior, the first time, I had taken my chances on him because I was lonely. But I quickly realized that was the ONLY FUCKING TIME that would ever happen with him. I had CRIED in the middle of it because I was sober and he was so wasted. During that first time, he didn't care that I was crying as he just kept on trying to shove his dick down my throat. He huffed and puffed - like they all did - until I caved. Trust me folks, they don't care if you're shaved.
Fast forward to my room (his old room) in his parent's house. "Please stop. Common, we've talked about this."
We HAD talked about it.
We had several conversations in person about my discomfort with his advances but he somehow was convinced that I was a manipulative bitch because of the dances I often broke into when we were hanging out as friends. I guess the fact that I was always wearing yoga pants put no doubt in his mind that I was asking for it?
ASKING FOR IT? I IMPLORE YOU FOLKS - NO MATTER YOUR GENDER, TAKE A MOMENT TO SURRENDER YOUR OWN INTENTIONS AND CHECK IN. If this is what you think is going on, you better be SURE OF IT by OBTAINING ENTHUSIASTIC. I REPEAT ENTHUSIASTIC. CONSENT - EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. Trust me, I have NO PROBLEM ACTUALLY ASKING FOR IT.
The absolute truth is that I before the first time, I often thought I would have liked to mess around with him sexually. He was funny, and sweet - when he wanted to be. If only he just hadn't kept on trying and trying to knock down my door, and been told "no" several times, even sober, before. But he made it clear that night that if I was his tenant, then I was obliged to be his whore.
"Jenny, I've done a lot for you now. I gave you a good price on the shirts you needed printed. I've given you a place to live."
"Please stop. Common. Stop."
He wasn't violent in the slightest. Despite my squirming and resistance, he told me how wet I was and ready for him and that I was the tightest. As long as his alcohol breath stayed away from my face I thought I would be able to erase the moments that followed, which didn't feel all that bad. Maybe even good? Because he demanded that he should. He took off my pajama bottoms. I mentally prepared myself for what I knew was coming next.
"You love my cock, don't you, Jenny."
"Okaaaaayyyy. WELP. The time has come again for the classic role play.... Yes." I repeat to myself inside. Yes, I like it. And I may have even said it out loud, because I had learned over the course of several years to shroud myself in the fantasy of submissive pleasure as a measure of protection from the pain of being SILENCED and also no doubt in avoidance of the VIOLENCE I was sure would result from anything other than appeasement.
I guess being a "whore" could be fun? Better than putting a gun to my head since I was otherwise going to be homeless, right? So I let it continue, and into the next morning and day. What choice did I have? His parents, my protectors, were away.
"Will you at least cuddle with me next time?" I pleaded for my self worth. I had never felt the dearth of the empowerment I had worked so hard for over the past two years as deeply as I did that night even though his soft whisky dick barely touched my G-Spot.
THOT. "That hoe over there." Fair skin, childish grin, I guess this would be her sin as much as his since she let it be.
So much for being free.
She was still trapped by the PTSD. He attacked, and she was frozen.
But had she truly CHOSEN it?
Middle of the night, she awakes with a fright. Skunks ripping apart her hiking bag. She is worried that they will spray her. It might be better than the way she smells now. But she freezes anyway.
Laying atop a green picnic table, "whore" was the label her brain could not take! Hiking pack lined up 50 feet away, near the lake-so the animals would not eat her alive- like the boys did.
Flashback.
"Go have a panic attack and get hit by a car you fucking loser. You're not even that hot. Nobody wants you and everyone is laughing at you and you smell bad anyway cunt" said the same guy who literally hunted her down and attacked while she was sleeping.
"Jenny, Jennnnnnnnyyyyyy" he had whimpered in the middle of night. I look at the clock. 3AM. He is wasted again. My pores tremble in fright.
"Let me in."
He was referring not to my heart but to my vagina, where it lay asleep in my room (his old room in his parents home where he NO LONGER LIVED). "Why the FUCK is he here anyway?" my brain had just barely started to say to myself - I was still half asleep!! I just wanted to keep him the hell away from me. He was drunk, as per usual.
The door opened. He climbed into my bed (his old bed) and began rubbing my back...and then my front. He had tried to put his fingers in my cunt just a few hours before at his studio/office where we were working on some cool projects together. It felt good, sure. But I did not want anymore than that. In fact I hadn't even asked for that. So after a few moments, I had clearly stopped it. I LEFT that space and went home to sleep where I thought I was safe from the unwavering chase of his drunken advances which he had initiated a year prior when he was still married and I had to tell him to cool it back then too.
After his divorce, we had slept together once without threatening force, just your basic level of coercion! Clearly my diversion tactics were not swaying the course of his determination to fuck me. Is "fighting back" REALLY what we expect our girls and women to do with every single guy that tries to come through?! Let's get real here. He was attractive. He was my friend! Was I suppose to sock him in the face? As a woman, I have been taught that I should be FLATTERED by the chase.
A month prior, the first time, I had taken my chances on him because I was lonely. But I quickly realized that was the ONLY FUCKING TIME that would ever happen with him. I had CRIED in the middle of it because I was sober and he was so wasted. During that first time, he didn't care that I was crying as he just kept on trying to shove his dick down my throat. He huffed and puffed - like they all did - until I caved. Trust me folks, they don't care if you're shaved.
Fast forward to my room (his old room) in his parent's house. "Please stop. Common, we've talked about this."
We HAD talked about it.
We had several conversations in person about my discomfort with his advances but he somehow was convinced that I was a manipulative bitch because of the dances I often broke into when we were hanging out as friends. I guess the fact that I was always wearing yoga pants put no doubt in his mind that I was asking for it?
ASKING FOR IT? I IMPLORE YOU FOLKS - NO MATTER YOUR GENDER, TAKE A MOMENT TO SURRENDER YOUR OWN INTENTIONS AND CHECK IN. If this is what you think is going on, you better be SURE OF IT by OBTAINING ENTHUSIASTIC. I REPEAT ENTHUSIASTIC. CONSENT - EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. Trust me, I have NO PROBLEM ACTUALLY ASKING FOR IT.
The absolute truth is that I before the first time, I often thought I would have liked to mess around with him sexually. He was funny, and sweet - when he wanted to be. If only he just hadn't kept on trying and trying to knock down my door, and been told "no" several times, even sober, before. But he made it clear that night that if I was his tenant, then I was obliged to be his whore.
"Jenny, I've done a lot for you now. I gave you a good price on the shirts you needed printed. I've given you a place to live."
"Please stop. Common. Stop."
He wasn't violent in the slightest. Despite my squirming and resistance, he told me how wet I was and ready for him and that I was the tightest. As long as his alcohol breath stayed away from my face I thought I would be able to erase the moments that followed, which didn't feel all that bad. Maybe even good? Because he demanded that he should. He took off my pajama bottoms. I mentally prepared myself for what I knew was coming next.
"You love my cock, don't you, Jenny."
"Okaaaaayyyy. WELP. The time has come again for the classic role play.... Yes." I repeat to myself inside. Yes, I like it. And I may have even said it out loud, because I had learned over the course of several years to shroud myself in the fantasy of submissive pleasure as a measure of protection from the pain of being SILENCED and also no doubt in avoidance of the VIOLENCE I was sure would result from anything other than appeasement.
I guess being a "whore" could be fun? Better than putting a gun to my head since I was otherwise going to be homeless, right? So I let it continue, and into the next morning and day. What choice did I have? His parents, my protectors, were away.
"Will you at least cuddle with me next time?" I pleaded for my self worth. I had never felt the dearth of the empowerment I had worked so hard for over the past two years as deeply as I did that night even though his soft whisky dick barely touched my G-Spot.
THOT. "That hoe over there." Fair skin, childish grin, I guess this would be her sin as much as his since she let it be.
So much for being free.
She was still trapped by the PTSD. He attacked, and she was frozen.
But had she truly CHOSEN it?