*Trigger warning of rape play
Mr Texas, my new guy, is ridiculously sweet and old fashioned…and a tad clingy. He knows he needs to tread carefully in that aspect of his personality, as it really clashes with mine.
He is a great father and has a few kids. He drives this massive suburban, black, with the windows tinted.
We kissed goodnight in the dark as I walked him to his car. “I should just throw you in the car and take you with me,” he whispered into the darkness as he pulled away from the kiss.
I gripped him harder and said against his chest, “yes, you should tie me tightly, throw me in the back, kidnap me and fuck me hard.”
I peered up into his face and the moonlight showed shocked. He hugged me to him. “I never know what you’re going to say,” he laughed. I knew he would never do something like that, I knew that my statement surprised him.
With his arms around me, my mind drifted to someone else. Someone a month ago, who as a parting gift, gave me my fantasy of consensual non consent. He appears in my thoughts unbidden, being held in the arms of another man.
…His arm whipped around my neck and I was thrown back onto the bed.
The force of this made my jaw hurt for weeks afterwards. Also, my legs were very bruised as they are my biggest asset in fighting back, and I did. That was the point.
…At one point, I kicked against him and kicked myself right off the bed. His long arm reached down and dragged me up by the hair. “Go the fuck to sleep,” he growled with a hand around my throat as my nails dug in for all of a second before I lost consciousness. When I came to, I was in the center of the bed and there was a pressure between my legs as he ripped his favorite pair of lace panties.
The beautiful lace panties – his favorite pair – being torn to shreds, seemed incredibly symbolic to me. “Hope you don’t want these anymore,” he said as he ripped. Those panties would have served as a reminder of how he desired me every time I put them on. No, I probably didn’t want that reminder anymore. After our session, I threw the tattered lace in the trash and never saw them again.
…He forced my thighs apart and held down my body, both of our harsh and ragged breathing the only sound.
But we stopped at that point, he didn’t have an erection in trying to force me. Whether from exhaustion of the actual struggle we both seriously engaged in or the concept being so foreign to his nature, he simply couldn’t get hard. We were both out of breath and just held each other amid the gasping.
“You were holding back,” he accused me once he could talk again. I looked at him, at his fat lip and bruises, and nodded. How could I truly hurt a man that I loved so deeply and desperately?