My fianceé had dumped me. He lied and broke my spirit. I started meeting guys online. After this day, I never met anyone online again. I never told a soul. No one even knew I was gone...
I agreed to meet him at his house around 6pm. I don't even remember his name. I was expecting a house. I was expecting a gentleman. He was so charming and reassuring online. He met me out front and instructed me on where to park. It was the size of a trailer and he lived in the basement. A hand-full of vehicles of different types all but one broken down surrounding the building. The only bathroom was upstairs. He told me to use it if I needed to because I wouldn't be allowed back upstairs. That's when I knew I should run. But I was already inside and he was behind me. He was twice my size. I didn't stand a chance. I was scared and said I was fine. We went down stairs. There was trash and litter on the floor. Stained areas from leaking. An area of blankets in the middle of the floor as a makeshift bed. And a couch off to the side; stained and dirty. He told me to strip. I just stared at him in shock. He tried being charming again and started helping me. He told me to lay on the floor, on the blankets. I did. He turned on the TV. We watched for a few minutes. I don't remember what. I was taking in all the half burned candles and ritualistic looking items scattered around as decor. He rolled me over and started taking me from behind. Then he pulled me on top. Then he pushed me to my feet and led me to the couch with his hand on the back of my neck. He tried for anal. I screamed. He kept telling me to be quiet but I couldn't. I didn't have control. He put his hand over my mouth and nose until I passed out. When I woke I was laying on the floor next to him again, still naked. My ass throbbing. He asked if I needed to pee. I thought about being let upstairs and just running out the door; I said yes. He laid on his back and told me to stand over his face and go. I stood there for 10 minutes. I couldn't do it. My body wouldn't let me.
He'd had enough. He hit the backs of my knees so I fell to me knees on the floor above his head. He got up and took me from behind again. When he was finally done I was exhausted and passed out. When I woke it was about 6 the next morning. I had to pee so fucking bad. I was terrified to move. He was on the floor next to me. I laid their praying for it all to be over, for it all to be a dream. I felt him stir and the next thing I know he's inside me going as hard as he can. I lose control and pee on the blankets. He doesn't seem to notice as I cry. When he was done he hit me then yelled at me for the mess. He got up and grabbed a towel and told me to clean it. I stayed on my knees and soaked as much as I could into the towel.
He sat on the floor then told me to give him a massage. I did. I did until it hurt to move my arms and had to stop. He yelled at me again. I can't even remember about what..
He got a phone call soon after and had to leave. As soon as I heard the door I shakily got dressed and grabbed my purse. I waited a few more minutes then booked it up the stairs and out to my car. I left as soon as I closed the car door. I made it to a store nearby where I parked and cried. I sobbed for about an hour, shaking and trembling and trying to get my head on straight. When I calmed down enough to see, I put on my seatbelt and headed home. No one greeted me. No one noticed my absence. No one noticed the marks on my neck and face.
It was better that way. I didn't have to explain. I didn't have to lie. And no one would ever know. No one could ever know. The flashback brought back that debilitating fear. I even cowered away from the man I love. His touch. His curious and concerned gaze. I couldn't tell him. What would he think of me? It's one confession that will never leave my lips. But it needs to come out. So I turn to the internet ...
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