Juliette loves her husband and she believes he will never do anything to hurt her. She trusts him a lot, never once questioning what is happening when she is blindfolded and tied up on the bed.
After all, who else can be in the bedroom besides her husband right?
I come from an abusive family. My stepfather was a drunkard, and he would come home in a state of extreme rage. I lived my childhood under his constant harassment.
He would start hitting my mother and me for no apparent reasons at all. You can imagine the fear the I live with everyday since young. I could not wait to grow up.
I could not wait to move out.
I took on my first job at 15 years old, working part time at a fast food joint. I wanted to save enough money to get me and my mother out from that hell hole which we call home.
When my father got drunk, he could not tell me from one of the girls from the KTV he goes to regularly.
He would demand that I pour his beer or liquor for him.
It didn’t matter that I just stepped back from school at 3pm in my school uniforms.
He would grab me and, on many occasions, grab my breast while I shout at him.
He thinks I’m one of those girls at the horrible places he goes to. My stepfather would touch me on my leg, he would caress my back and I lost count of the times I caught him sniffing my worn bra and panties.
I hate going home and the only reason I went home is because of my mother. I knew I’m the only one she has. I don’t know why but my mother refused to divorce him, choosing to endure the physical and verbal abuses.
I cried in my room. I would spend long periods of time in the shower trying to wash myself clean because I felt I’m dirty.
I did a lot of things to try and erect a physical barrier between my step father and me but end of the day, there was nothing I could do to stop his abuse.
I started to feel that if I did nothing, it will be over soon.
He touched me, just let him touch.
He rubbed my on my vagina, just let him rub.
Close my eyes and it will be over soon.
I told myself that my clothes were still on.
I’m still wearing my clothes.
He’s only rubbing me outside my clothes.
I can put up with that.
I could not be more wrong.
Doing nothing only emboldened him.
Then one evening, he tried to rape me.
I fought with my life and my mum tried to stop him too.
He was dead drunk and he kept hitting us.
My mum with ended up with a swollen eye and 2 fractured ribs while trying to protect me.
That was it. I snapped.
That was the last night he is going to hurt me and my mother.
He left because I threatened him. I brandished a knife and tried to stab him a few times while driving him towards the exit. He wanted to report me for attempted murder.
The t-shirt I was wearing was torn and ripped from the fight we had earlier. My bra was hanging loose from my body and he tried to suck on my 16 year old tits while shouting at me.
Couple with the multiple bruises on my face and arms, I told my dad that the moment the police arrive, I’m going to tell them that he attempted to rape me.
“You just be prepared to see the inside of a jail cell for a long time ! “ I screamed at him.
“ I did not, I only touched you, you fucking bitch!“ He shouted and tried to grab the knife from my hand.
I tried to stab him again as I screamed.
“ Who do you think the police will believe ! “ I yelled back at him.
I tore off the rest of my clothes, exposing my bare body and started hitting and bruising myself to make it appear as if he tried to rape me that night.
I told him I’m going to lie through my teeth and cook up any story that I can think of to make sure he dies inside the prison.He tried to rape me and that is a fact, my mum will be my witness. At the very most, we will all die together.
On top of that, I’m going tell the police what he did to me previously. I don’t care if he was only touching me outside my clothes, I’m going to say he penetrated me. I’m going to lie that he penetrated me.
Enraged and still in the midst of sobering up from his stupor, my dad called me a slut.
He called me a bitch.
He called me names so vile that I wished I had it inside me to kill him that night.
He called me a whore.
Someone that is destined to spread my legs for money and for men’s pleasure.
He even cursed me that I would get raped and cast into sea.
That’s how poison his tongue is. I charged at him with the knife, driving him outside the door and he spat at me.
“ You fucking slut. You will get rape one day I tell you. You will surely get raped like a whore ! “ He cursed.
My stepfather left home that day and he never returned.
No one know where he went.
He just disappeared.
This however, did not solve the trauma that my mother and I suffered.
Every night, we would bolt the door and lock the gate. We would live in fear of him suddenly returning. Even when it was just us along walking along the street we would keep turning around to see if he would suddenly make an entrance.
Finally, after 7 long years after that faithful incident, we decided to move out
I was a 23 year old adult by then and I got a stable job after polytechnic.
My mother and I sold the place and moved to a new neighbourhood.
I thought my life would get better but I was wrong.
I met my boyfriend Jason.
Jason is the kind of badboy that girls like and perhaps due to my traumatic childhood, I somehow gravitate towards men like him. I can’t explain it. I think it’s partly because I’m broken. I don’t have a father figure in my life to look up to. The only man in my growing up years was one asshole who abuses me regularly.
Jason is abusive and violent but he is good looking. He’s suave and really handsome. I’m a sucker for looks. My mum did not approve of Jason but I knew I love him.
And love is a strange thing.
Love can make women do strange things that transcend reasons.
I literally let him do whatever he wants to me. To my body.
Jason wanted to post pictures and videos of us having sex in public on sex forums, I disagreed and he lost his temper. In the end I relented. Although our faces are not shown, I felt sick reading the comments.
Comments of what other men in cyberspace want to do to a horny slut like me.
The man in pictures like these are labelled as heroes, players, people who dare to push the limits, however, for women, there is only one label for us.
It didn’t matter that sometimes Jason hit me when we quarrel. Not exactly raining blows over and over but a punch, a slap.
It didn’t matter that sometimes he gets a bit abusive verbally when he’s drunk.
I put up with it all.
It’s nothing compared to what I went through as a child.
I even put up with Jason when he came back drunk one night and forced himself on me when I said I don’t want to have sex.
My menses just came and I was getting a bad case of cramp but it didn’t stopped him. It didn’t bother Jason I was bleeding.
As he held me down and thrust his tool inside me, he kept asking me if I’m a virgin. If he was the one that broke my hymen. I sobbed and cried in pain but I did nothing.
I have been conditioned that if I did nothing, it will all be over soon.
That’s how screwed up my life was
After dating Jason for 3 years, we got married when I’m 26.
I moved into Jason’s place where he shared with his mother who was already severely ill.
Aside from having to work in the day, I need to help take care of my mother in law in the evening when I’m back. Jason, on the other hand, spends his time playing games and taking on small gig jobs like singing in a band or helping out at events.
Money is tight but we somehow managed to make do.
When my mother in law passed on, she left him a tidy sum of money. Money which he splurged and spent it all within 6 months.
When the pandemic hit us, I suffered a 50% paycut, Jason is unemployed, and we were saddled with bills to pay. From utilities to credit card to instalment plans we signed up for the appliances and furniture.
It was a stressful period and with our finances being tight, Jason lost his temper more often. I try to stay out of his way but sometimes I knew he needed me to help relief his stress.
Or rather, he needed my body.
Jason likes to fuck me in a rough manner, like he was forcing himself on me. He likes it when I resist or when I cry during sex because it was too painful.
I hate to admit it but Jason seemed to get aroused more when he sees me helpless and in pain.
It’s sick but this is the man I married.
With me bringing home only 1200 a month after my paycut, it was barely enough.
Hardly a day goes by without us quarrelling over some small matter.
I would ask Jason to go find a proper job, or do food delivery or something, but he would snap back at me, asking me that I should be earning more with my poly diploma.
He even commented that I should probably consider selling my body or go become a hooker to bring back more for the family.
“ I don’t mind if you sleep around if the money is good. “ my husband said.
I was so upset with him that I refused to speak with him for a few days.
How could he say something like that ?
I almost fainted when Jason broached the subject to me one day over dinner. He was surfing a sex forum and realises that local Singaporean girls command a premium.
“Some charges up to 800 per hour ! “ He said.
“what are you trying to say ! “ I screamed at him
“ So angry for what ? Just saying only. You look at yourself. You think you can get 800 ? I think if someone offers 350 you should be happy already. “ My husband said in a sarcastic manner.
We quarrelled over that of course and as much as I hate to do it, he was too strong for me to resist and he still forced himself on me that evening. While having intercourse with me, he kept humiliating me, calling me a whore and asking me to admit it until he reached his orgasm.
After he came, he took a shower before coming back to apologise.
He said he didn’t mean it.
It was just the dick doing the talking earlier.
I forgive him like I always did.
I thought this was over.
A closure to the many quarrels we have over different subjects and topics.
I was wrong.
I really thought my husband said it on the spur of the moment.
Then one day, he did something despicable.
He was extra nice that morning.
Then he coaxed me into the bedroom.
And then he blindfolded me.
I was tied up on the bed.