Dawn’s Case

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Growing up had been very different for me than what, I realised later, was normal for most children. My only sister, Kay, was twelve years older than me and I had hardly known her as she left home when I was only seven and I did not meet up with her again until I was twenty-five. I was therefore the only acknowledged child of elderly parents. There had been a family rift between my father and her and, because of what he considered she had done wrong, (Quite incorrectly as it turned out) she was never spoken of in our house again. I know my mother did try and keep in touch and very occasionally she spoke to me of her, but mum died when I was 10 and my father would not even directly acknowledge to me that Kay ever existed.

My life had been one of total control by my father. If he said I was not permitted to do something it would not be done. After mum died he appeared to become even stricter and his answer for not letting me do any of the things “all the other kids of my age did” was that he did not want me going astray as most of the other kids do. This was an indirect way of saying to me that he did not want me to be like my sister – although it was not too clear exactly what she had done. I got the impression he had not consented to her being married and she had just gone and done it – with mum’s permission I think – and had therefore become some sort of fallen woman in his eyes. Anyway that was not going to happen to me!

When I finished secondary school I went to work and studied part-time at the poly. Tech to get an accounting qualification. This caused some concern as I was out at night, but there was the fact that I was getting a qualification and there was a close check kept on the time I arrived home. I had no real friends and no social life. I was permitted to go to the local tennis club to play and I think that this was only because he had been a keen player in his earlier years and he still had friends to “spy on me” when I was there.

At work I kept very much to myself but was aware that I was a much-valued employee – perhaps because of this fact. I travelled back and forth on the same bus each day and kept house for my father, who was getting alder and frailer.

When I was twenty-two, a chance event changed many things in my life. One evening, after a beautiful fine day, and with no warning, there was a torrential downpour just about knock off time at work. Nobody had coats or umbrellas and I got quite wet just getting to the bus stop. While I was standing there waiting for the bus, a car stoped and the driver beckoned for me to get in. I recognised the driver as a colleague from the same company that I worked for – also an accountant – and another quiet and rather shy person. I hesitated but thought what a nice treat it would be to be drive home on such a night.

I scrambled into his car, pleased to get out of the wet, and he asked where I was going. I gave him the address and we drove of – in an awkward silence for a time – until we introduced ourselves, rather formally, (David was his name), and just started to chat about nothing in particular. When we arrived at my home he pushed aside my thanks and my protests that I could run inside with out his getting out and getting wet, and leapt out to open my door and, holding his umbrella over me, took me right up to my door. My father opened the door and, to my surprise, immediately invited David I to have a cup of tea and stand by the fire to get dry. I went to my room to change and when I came out again I found the two of them chatting away like great friends.

When David left father commented on how nice David was and how he had been immediately impressed by his manners and how he had helped me out of his car and up to the door. He also noted what a sensible car he had and what a pleasure it was to meet such a nice person “in this day and age” etc etc etc. He was really taken with David and he also played tennis and many other little matters that he had picked up in just a few minutes conversation and which I had not found out in the drive home.

It turned out that David did not live too far from me and when he suggested that I might travel to and from work with him (a big saving in bus fares and time I might add) I agreed – and father had no objections either!

Gradually we started playing tennis together and sort of dating – pictures and so on – until about a year later David asked me, a little to my surprise, if I would mind if he were ask my father if we could marry. I was sort of old fashion in the way he expressed it, and very proper. I think he wondered if I wanted that, as we had never done anything extraordinarily passionate – just walked hand in hand (or more often arm in arm) with little more than a polite kiss (peck) when we met or parted. I think he somehow understood father’s attitude (he had heard a little about Kay) and also realised that I was not likely to make any sexual overtures and would not expect him to. I had to stop and think a bit because I had not been aware of the developing relationship Eskort Kız – rather I had seen David as a nice person who had been very pleasant company and enabled me to get out a bit with my father’s full agreement. Marriage, and, as I thought about later, all its other attendant features, had not been on my mind. All rather odd when I look back – just goes to show what effect your environment can play in your own attitudes to life.

I agreed to David “talking to father” but with some doubts, as I was worried that it might effect out friendship and that father would start sounding off about my being “just like my sister and all those other hussies out there.

I sat in my room, pretending to read, while David spoke to him and when father called me out I was fearful of what might have happened. They were both still in the room when I came out and father looked quite stern as he said, “David tells me he wishes to marry you. Is it your wish to marry him?” I wanted to say “Yes” but was still worried about the possible reaction. Both of them stared at me in silence and I plucked up courage and muttered, “Yes”. With that they both grinned and father came and hugged me – for the first time since my mother died – and stood back shaking David’s hand and then putting my in his. David gave me a quick kiss and father patted him on the back and all was fine. Except!!

I started to have deep fears about the sexual implications that marriage would bring. My father’s influence had not gone to the extent of bringing any sort of assurance that sex in marriage was any more acceptable the outside of marriage and although my own logic told me not to be stupid there was still a nagging – and stupidly growing – fear. I could not talk to anyone (it seemed to silly for words) and I just reassured myself that everything would be fine and fall into place when we were actually married. David clearly thought the world of me and I KNEW I loved him, despite my other fears, so we would be able to work through the silly problem I had!

Father provided us with a beautiful wedding and the only cloud, apart from my other doubts, was the fact that Kay could not be invited. I should have loved to meet her after all the years, but the was not to be. She had sent an engagement gift and a short note to me through my work address (saw the notice in the paper and obviously knew more about me than I did about her). Also, a lovely wedding gift through the same channels. I never actually found out where they lived though and thought that perhaps they did not want me to know.

Our wedding night was, hindsight, a real disaster. David was very nice and understanding and thought the day, the excitement and strain had all been too much and quite appreciated that sex was out of the question. He undressed and got into bed while I changed, in the bathroom, into my sensible (not sexy) nightdress and, after delaying for as long as I could, slipped into bed beside him. I was glad to find that he was not naked as I had half expected (but who really knows what I expected). He drew close to me and held me to him, kissing my hair and ears and trying to get me to relax. I then literally froze up and rolled with my back to him. He persisted in cuddling me and started fondling my breasts through my nightdress. I sort of felt my nipples respond and grow hard but tried to put the “unhealthy” feeling from my mind and feigned sleep.

Things did not improve and I could not bring myself to have him touch me anywhere “private” and I certainly could not touch him as he tried to get me to do. He tried to fondle my breasts and between my legs. He caught me dressing or changing and I hid behind a garment or something. By the end of our honeymoon the most he had actually seen of me was when I was wearing a one-piece bathing suit. Sex in any for was not in the equation.

We did not discuss it other than to agree to let things take their course and see what time brought. Perhaps David was too caring. Perhaps, if he had played tough and demanded or just took his rights I may have responded. Who knows? I think, however I may have just gone away – although I have no idea where.

In our home things did not improve. On the outside we were a happy couple and, for the most part, I was very happy. I just could not break away from my past.

Things started to change when, six months after we married my father died. The change could have gone any way but it started a chain of events that ultimately brought sanity to life.

Looking back, the single most important thing was that Kay and her husband and their three children (11, 8 and 3), came to the funeral. I would not have recognised them and there was a fair crowd of people there, but Eric, Kay’s husband spoke to David and asked if I would meet them. They were not too sure just how I might receive them and did not wish to upset me any more than I was. I was overjoyed to see them. And we agreed to meet for dinner at their house, which was; it turned out, only about half an hour away from us. Our friendship grew and Eric and David became great friends with many common interests. Kay was a cross between a long lost sister and a mother to me as well as a good friend and over the months, partly as a result of her asking if we planned to have children yet (we could well afford to) I confided some of our problems to her. She asked a little about father and his influence and we talked in very general terms. She too was understanding but commented that I didn’t know what I was missing out on in life. She made several low-key suggestions for me to try but in the end nothing really worked.

David continued to be patient but I was not confident it would last for too much longer. I had taken to waring sleeping bra’s and pants to bed under my nightdress to discourage him and, to enable us to both get some sleep and not be jumping up wide awake if one or the other rolled over too close during the night, he had move into the spare room to sleep. I could see we could well separate completely if something did not change, and several times tried to initiate something, but always chickened out in the end.

Kay and Eric invited us out for a dinner treat on out first wedding anniversary and it was a magical evening. Great company, lovely meal, good show, and a generally relaxed time. We all thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. We went back to their place for a final coffee and arrived home around 11-30 happily holding hands and kissed before going tour separate bedrooms. I heard David running the shower as I undressed for bed. Still, out of habit, I was wearing the sleeping bra and pants under the lawn nightdress! As I slipped the nightdress over my head I felt a movement behind me and I was grabbed around my up stretched arms and my torso so that I could not see who was there and could not move. My nightdress must have muffled any sound because I could not make David hear my yells for help. I guessed that someone had broken into the house while we were out and he or she was attacking me. I was thrown onto my bed and my arms pulled up through the cane bed head and tied with what felt like my stockings. My Nightdress was still up over my head and they tied another sticking around my head across my mouth so that I could not yell loudly and could not see. I lashed about with my legs and the person grabbed my feet and lay across my legs until they were able to tie them to the ends of the bed. Not before I had got a couple of good kicks in though as I heard him yelp in pain.

In the background I could still hear the shower and mentally cursed David for being such a clean guy!

So, there I was, tied to the bed, more exposed than anyone had ever seen me in 25 years, totally helpless and scared out of my wits.

I felt someone start to run their hand over my body and knew at once it was a man. He explored up and down my legs and all over my stomach and chest in a soft enquiring way that both revolted and frightened me. I wriggled but could not move enough to do anything. Next I felt him reach under my back and remove the bra fastening, exposing my breasts. He fondled the breasts and gently rubbed the nipples between his fingers until they became hard. Then he started to kiss me all over my exposed torso. Being tied to the bed he could not remove my pants and so he started to untie one leg. I immediately started to kick out in the direction I thought he was and rolled to one side to try and cover my nakedness. He soundly smacked my backside, pulled me back over and retied my leg.

Next thing I knew there was a feeling of cold steel against my skin and I thought he was about to stab me, or something. I froze, and he proceeded to use, what were obviously my scissors, to cut my pants off. I was then totally naked except for my face and arms, which were still covered by my nightdress. The silence was awful and I noticed that the shower stopped running. Curse my stupidity for having caused David to sleep in another room. He would have been here to save me otherwise. It was terrible and I had no one to blame but my silly self!

Suddenly I knew he was close again and the soft stroking, exploring, kissing and licking (Yuk!) continued all over my body including around and between my legs. Again I felt the scissors and he started clipping my pubic hair. He brushed aside the hair and continued to kiss and fondle all the sexual parts of my body until I was flooded with wide range of conflicting emotions from loathing and hate to a wet, almost unbearable desire.

Next he started to insert one finger into my vagina and slowly move it in and out and around the lips – kissing them and lubricating the finger and the entrance – until I felt a strange ache in my stomach that I knew was wrong but almost did not want to stop. Again he started to untie my legs and when I started to kick again he slapped me hard on the thighs and held the scissors against my breasts in a way that indicated I had better not fight back!

Taking my Feet and lifting them over his shoulders as he knelt on the be between my legs, I felt him position his penis at the entrance of my vagina and start to push, gently against the lips that I was desperately trying to keep shut tight. Again he let go of a leg for a moment and slapped my backside – hard enough to bring tears to my eyes, and then started to again force, a bit harder, to enter me. I resisted through several more slaps until he forced my knees back and across to almost my shoulders, positioning my open sex almost straight up, and forced himself harder down in to me. Relax and withdraw a bit and then down again. He kept this up for some time until I felt hem come to a stop against my hymen. He pulled right out and put my legs back down. Moved and he laid a warning hand on them. I lay still. I was conscious of him gentling rubbing some cream of some sort around the lips and up into my vagina and the putting a quantity in a lump at the entrance, at which stage, with a warning but gentle slap on my thighs placed himself in position again and continued prodding further into me until reaching my unbroken barrier.

This continued until I felt the stirring again in my stomach. He must have also noticed the change and immediately withdrew a little and then lunged in deep, ripping my maidenhood with a stabbing raw pain, and laying still, deep inside of me. I cried out and tried to buck him off of me – which only had the effect of keeping him in – and finally lay still, sobbing, sore and frightened, wondering if he would kill me now to keep me quiet. I was ruined, raped in my own bed with my patient and constant husband only a couple of walls away.

After a long time he moved again and I felt another painful motion inside as he slowly inched himself from me and then, much to my surprise (as I thought he had had his way with me and would now go or something) he started to again kiss me all over and gently wipe the moisture from around my vagina and apparently try and calm me right down. My arms were aching, by stomach was sore, my vagina was raw and I was exhausted and I felt totally wrung out. I must have just dropped of to sleep as that next thing I knew I awoke covered with a blanket, still naked and still tied by the hands.

I don’t know how long I slept or how long a lay there awake, but later on I felt my hands being untied. I was too stiff to use them and the next thing I knew I had my arms by my side, My nightdress had been ripped so that it still acted as a blindfold and I was wrapped in the blanket and slung over the mans shoulder being carried off. I was stood down and could see there was a light on in the room. Water started to run and I realised I was in the bathroom by the shower. He held his finger to my mouth through the gag and blindfold and cut the bindings from around my head. When I could adjust my eyes to the light I realised it was David there with my, and, from the odd bruise he had I figured it had been him all along molesting me. I tried to lash out but he just grabbed my arms and shook his head – not saying a word but looking like he meant business.

He ran the shower nice and warm and gestured me to get in. He was also naked and got in as well and carefully and gently soaped and washed me all over and I noticed that there was dry blood on my upper legs that he softly sponged off. He stepped out of the shower and dried himself then beckoned me to turn off the water and get out as well. He very carefully died me and led me to his room gestured me lay face down on the bed and proceeded to give me a long and deep massage with scented oil. He went all over my back, legs and deeply around my neck, shoulder and arms. I was the rolled on to my back and the process repeated there. Finally he moved my to my side, covered me with a sheet and quilt, kissed me lightly on the eyelids and forehead and left. All without a word being spoken. I noticed that it was after 3 am and guessed my ordeal – or what ever it might be called – had lasted something like four hours.

I desperately needed to use the loo about an hour later – that was rather painful with my raw lips – and, having no clothes to cover me, just moved as quickly and quietly as I could to get back to the bed. I had no idea where David was at that time.

I slept for hours because when I awoke it was broad daylight and I could hear and smell cooking in the kitchen. I pondered what to do. Should I go and get some clothes and get dressed? Should I stay where I was? What would happen when David came in? Would he speak? Would I? What would we do now, after this episode? Should I leave him? Would he leave me? Had he proved I was just a slut like father had tried not to make me? Stupid and totally irrational and unrelated thoughts, almost ramblings of a mixed up mind in some sort of shock.

David came in with breakfast. A beautifully served tray and absolutely delicious bacon and eggs, toast, fruit juice and exactly what I liked. I knew he was a good cook and he had done proud. I was gestured to sit up and we sat, again in total silence, and ate. Me still naked and, of course, largely uncovered. When we had finished I was gestured to lie back down and he cleared away the tray.

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