Thank you to Mac who last night surprised me with by leaving a comment on my last post. It made me giggle. I realised today that the two 'fantasies' that I have posted have both been written from the male's point of view. I guess this is because I want to know what's going on in His mind and I like to assume it is more than just 'GOD THIS FEELS GOOD' although I don't mind that it does feel good. I would guess that if I asked Mac to write about the same sequence of sex that I wrote about yesterday, it would go something like this:

"W/we had sex. I took her from behind. She came. I came. I fell asleep. It was good."

And, that's basically what I said. I just used more words. Grins.

Thanks also to k and again to okami{Rizz}. Mac is right, your comments mean a lot to me.

I have debated with myself over what I want to write today. This is not going to be easy to share and chances are someone will be offended or hurt, maybe even me. I am lucky though, because when the demons come to visit me, Mac is there to hold me tight. Please do not read any further today if you are offended or hurt by violence in a relationship.

I lived in an abusive relationship for nine months. It never started out abusive though I had heard things about his ex leaving him because he had hit her. I could not equate the funny, charming and in control man with someone who would hit a woman in anger. I am not sure how long I was dating Ian before the abuse started but it was an insidious and gradual thing.

I went from being his beautiful girl to needing to lose a few pounds. Then I was fat. Then I was ugly. Then I was lucky to have him and I believed him each step of the way down. Why wouldn't I? I loved him and he loved me. He must be right. Then He started to hit me.

I remember the first time so clearly. Sometimes I wish I couldn't. Ian and I went to the movies on Boxing Day and we bumped into a friend of mine from university, Tony. He was a sweet guy, doing the same course I was and I was happy to see him. I said hello, introduced him to Ian and they shook hands then Tony kissed me on the cheek and wished me a merry Christmas. Ian and I said goodbye and watched the movie and went home. I didn't notice anything wrong with Ian's behaviour at all.

Ian started to kiss my neck and he led me to the bedroom and I followed eagerly. He started to kiss my fingers and it was making me feel all mushy inside. He took my little finger into his mouth and he sucked on it and I shivered and then he bit it. Hard. I was screaming and trying to pull it from his mouth and pushing at him with my other hand and I heard the bone crack and the pain was excruciating. He let my finger go and he backhanded me across the face. I fell to the floor, nursing my finger and trying to protect my face at the same time. He asked if I had fucked Tony and for a few moments I had no clue what he meant. He kicked my thigh when I didn't answer and I screamed again. He asked again if I had fucked Tony and I quickly answered no. He kicked me again. I had backed myself into a wall and I couldn't get away from him. He asked if I was sure I hadn't fucked Tony and I told him I was sure. He grabbed a handful of hair and put his face right to mine and he screamed that I was to never allow another man's lips on me again.

I was stunned, I was aching in so many places and I didn't understand his anger at all. He picked me up off the floor and pushed me onto the bed. Every time I moved, jolts of pain would shoot up my arm from my finger and I had numb spots on my thigh from the kicks I had taken. I lay on the bed crying and watching him, ready to run first chance I got and he casually undressed himself while he watched me. He was erect and even when I noticed this, I didn't realise straight away what it meant. As he moved towards the bed, it suddenly struck me that he intended on having sex with me and without thinking I rolled away from him and tried to get off the bed. He was faster than me and grabbed my hair and easily pulled me back down while he laughed.

He climbed over me and I tried to push him off but it was pointless, he was at least 40 pounds heavier than me and I only had one hand I could use. I scratched at His chest with my uninjured hand and I drew blood and he slapped me hard enough to make my head ring. He called me a bitch and he grabbed my other hand and he squeezed it tightly and the world went black around the edges from the pain. I could feel the broken ends of bone grinding over each other and my brain was fuzzy and my stomach turned over. He pushed my skirt up and pulled my panties aside and he entered me.

I know that some people would say that I was raped, but I wasn't, not really, because he wasn't inside me long before I was wrapping my legs around him and pushing my hips up to meet him and kissing him and doing everything I could to make him come. I wanted to him to come, I needed to please him and I hated myself for needing it.

He came quickly and rolled to lie beside me but he kept one leg and one arm firmly over me. He told me it was okay now, I was forgiven, but that I had to understand that no man was ever to kiss me, that was only for him. I was his property and he did not like it when other men touched his property. I stared at the ceiling and cried quietly. He kissed me and told me to go to sleep. He kept his arm and leg over me and I didn't try to move. I didn't move when he was asleep and rolled away from me either. I just watched the ceiling and cried a lot and tried not to move my hand at all. I thought of so many things. I wanted to kill him, I wanted to die, I wanted to run away and never come back, but I never moved.

When he woke in the morning he looked at my finger and announced we had better go to the hospital. It was x-rayed and strapped to the finger next to it. It was really silly of me to slam it in the door like that. For the next few weeks he was great, doing all the things that I couldn't do for myself, helping out with anything that I needed help with. He never said he was sorry, he never even mentioned that night again.

Then one day, completely out of the blue, something set him off again. He didn't break any bones this time, I guess he didn't want me back at the hospital and he made sure none of the bruises would show. It aroused him to beat me and he forced me into sex and again I wanted to please him and as much as I hated him, I hated me more.

I stayed for another 6 months. He didn't beat me all the time, probably 6 or 7 times in all, and the reason that I did finally leave him was not because he beat me. We were at a party and Ian was drunk and so was his best friend Paul. Paul started to feel me up and I pushed him and started to walk away. Paul punched me in the kidneys and my knees buckled and I found myself on the ground gasping for breath and Ian did nothing to stop it. Ian did not protect me. Some other guys at the party stepped in and threw Paul out and one of my friends took me inside and cleaned me up. She said nothing about the bruises that were already healing. I told her I wanted out of the relationship and she hid me in a bedroom and got one of the guys to stay with me in case Ian came looking for me. When Ian had passed out, my friend and the guy drove me to my parents place and they stayed with me while I told my parents everything.

My parents were amazing. They never left me on my own, they wouldn't let me answer the phone and they made sure I never saw Ian again. They never blamed me for the 3am abusive phone calls or got upset at having to go places or stay home with me. After a couple of weeks my brother went to Ian's place to get the things I had left there and it was a while after that I heard that Ian was sporting a black eye around that time and had put in for a transfer at work. I never asked my brother if he had anything to do with it. Some things are better not known.

My bruises healed and I moved on and I was able to find a healthy relationship with someone else. I was lucky. I know there are women out there that stay in these types of relationships and I can actually understand why they do and I hope they find the help they need to get out.

I brought this up here because it came up in a discussion that Mac and I had on how submission can be taken advantage of and has been playing on my mind ever since. I have a habit of playing things over until I write them down, then I am able to let them go. I have never really forgiven myself for needing so desperately to please him when he had hurt me so badly. I think now it is time.

If you made it this far with me, I appreciate it.

Thank you.