My History
I think it needs to be expressed the history of my life. You see I have a lot email me, and ask daunting questions....such as:
Why do a lot of girl's in the lifestyle have histories of abuse in the their past?
Don't you think you are placing yourself in a position to be abused, simply because that is all you know?
Don't you think it would help to get some counseling instead of countinuing the cycle of abuse under the lifestyle umbrella?
All these questions and more have come at me lately....
So, I think a background...from beginning to end...will help the others understand my place right now in life. Also, the reasons I CHOOSE to live the way I do.
I have no memory of myself before the age of four. The first thing I remember is peeing in the bed because I was told that if I got out of bed without asking a monster would eat me. My father called me a baby and I cried. I lived in apartments most of my life, the friends I identify with are boys over girls. Needless to say, when the first group of boys..at 5...told me how "I could be friends with them"...I jumped at it. Still to this day, I am unsure why I was surrendering to that. But it was what I felt was right. The more controlling of the boys snuck me into the a clubhouse off the pool, while his buddies came with him. He told me that I had to play spin the bottle, and explained to me what it was, and when I refused they got up and started to leave me there alone. I hated being alone, and the dark terrified me for years even into adulthood. So, what is a little girl to do but give in. This struggle went on for weeks, me showing them things and they showing me, one day one of the boy's mother came to pick him up early. The controlling boy, he had locked his bedroom door, and his mom was on the other side screaming to open the door. We all hurried to get our clothes on, but the little boy told. That sent calls to my parents, and my father confronted me in the bath tube. He told me how dirty I was, and how I was going to be called a whore if I did things like that. I am not sure what clicked on in my brain that day, but from that day on I masturbated. It started innocent at first....I'd touch here of there. But as the years continued it became more in depth. I remember tidbits of things in my family: my mother being slapped with a box of frozen peas so hard it knocked her to the floor, and once when my mom went to visit her sick mother my dad created this system of spanking. He would slap me the fist time, than send me to my room the second time, and would have bend over and be hit with a belt the last time. The abuse became more and more extreme as I grew older, as it did my brain started trying to cope by digging into the fantasy world. I created a whole new family, who had money and wealth, I even told people I wasn't really my parents child. That I was abandoned as a baby. These dreams of a family turn from innocent to abuse in what seemed like overnight. The "father" would rape me as punishment, tie me under his desk, make me pee in a diaper, bend me over things and whip me with a belt until I was bruised. The "brothers" also feeled these roles from time to time. So, as I entered my teenage years and my father became so controlling I couldn't even leave the house. I sought was to escape. Though I never sought drugs, I did become sexually active at 12, though not cock in pussy, more foreplay related. Though it wasn't the "normal" foreplay. My boyfriends would spank me, suck my nipples til they fell asleep, have me pee on them, etc. On my 13th birthday, I was officaially raped by a man pretending to be a police officier. I never once struggled, he took his time, removed my clothing slowing, touch my skin.....I never once was scared. I did tell my parents afterwards, which was probably my biggest mistake. Girls from my school lived in our apartment, and they found out what happened to me and would taunt me with it everyday. The police dismissed the charges because I could never truly identify the man who did it me. The only thing I remember is his shoes, feet, and hair. I guess this was the straw that broke the camlas back for my mother, because she left my father a "dear John" letter and disappeared for 6 years. My father than had me "step" up as wife. Making me cook and clean, study, and make repairs to clothes..and anything a mother would do besides sex. My fanatasys increased the the point that the boys I dated never satified me, I then started dating older men. One night my father came home, and dinner wasn't ready. He told me that he was going to ship me off to CPS and all the things that would happen to me there. He raised a hot pan off the stove, he always choose things immediately in his reach, and while yelling at me threatened to beat my head in with it. I was cutting onion at the time, and that was the first time the darkness consumed me. I was so beyond comprehension that I turned slowly and told him I would kill him if he even tried. That must of scared him, because he told me that I couldn't do it because I would end up in jail. Since, I or my mother had never reported the abuse no one would believe me. That is the only reason I didn't kill that day. I told myself that if I could just make it through these few years, I could live on my own.
I did just that, at 17, I moved out with my boyfriend. Who , surprise surprise, was abuse but more physical than mental. He broke my wrist, nose, and ankle once. I continued to stay in the house with him, his mother (who was a manipulator), and my daughter for a good four years. Til the night he almost killed me. I than made a choice to leave, but I knew I would never get out the door with the baby. I regret that decision everyday....for when I left without her his mother filled suit for custody. After a long, back and forth, through the courts I gave in to her having the child. I just couldn't put my baby on the stand...which is where it was leading. She was 4 at the time, and her grandmother took off with her out of country before I could think twice. They have been missing for years. I am in the process of using a private investigator to track them down. My fear is that the son she created will end up creating a very lonely daughter. This moment sticks with me, and haunts my dreams.
Once they were gone, I had no reason to not become what my father always said I would be. I started stripping. It was the worst experience of my life, but the money was so good I couldn't leave on my own. Besides I could manipulated these men just as easily as having a child love you because you offer them candy. It was easy, but hard on my inner self. I was still do this, and drowning myself in alcohol, when I met Master. We were friends for a good year, before we started dating.
About that time I found BDSM, I thought it was my answer to my prayers. A way to feel safe, in a abusive...uncaring world. But that wasn't true. Being naive and young, I disillusioned myself by trusting men and talking precautions. When I wanted to go met a man from online, I got in the car and went. Even if it was 8 states away. I ended up with a man, who wipped me reapeatly for an infraction at my first party that I bleed for days. But I never gave up hope. When Master and I started dating, he became interested in what peeked my interest. We exlpored it together. Through all the first year of our marriage, I tried to conquer the demons inside me alone. I so loved this man, that I new from the beginning I was not the ideal "good thing" for him. After, being told lie after lie from a good friend of mine...I made up my mind that it was Master's fault I wasn't happy and I had to move out. I did, and terribly hurt him. But he was patienet. He called me every night and let me cry on his shoulder even when I had broken his heart. One day after a very bad arguement with my friend, who told me I need to move into this swingers house and become one of "their lovers", my Master said the words I had been waiting to hear. "I am getting in my car, and coming to get you." And he did. He drove 6 hours one way, to come help me pack and drive me home. Once home, he told me a few things he would no longer stand for. They were simple things, not stripping for one, and how what his ending goal for our relationship was. He told me how much he loved me, and that he would help me see that I can trust and let the demons of my past not overcome me. I fear that if I would not have gotten this extended hand from him, I would have become a person I would not want to met anywhere. I have had glimpses of myself in the darkness. No concious, uncaring, angry little girl. But thankfully that never was a issue once Master brought me home. He cuddle me, loved me, and slowly taught me things I never new. Both sexually and emotionally. He opened windows that were filled with light, and I shrieked back in fear. He took my hand slowly, and showed me it was safe. By the end of that year I had begun to be able to sleep without light or sound in the house. For the first time in my life, I felt loved. Than we found out he was sick, with brain cancer, it hit us like a ton of bricks. Master went through surgery, and came out a changed man. His personality was not so forgiving, and sometimes he startled me into tears. But he never once laid a hand on me...ever. Slowly over this last year, some of his tenderhearted ways have returned. The man is now more in control, more motivated to the end goal than before, but is also patient, kind, loving.
I have slowly been able to express my hidden secrets to him, and he has taken them and made them into something beautiful. He built my self esteem with love and trust. He told me each morning how much he loved me, and how beautiful I was. He changed my life. As I look at our daughter, I pray each day that I will truly overcome my past and be a good nurturing mother to her.
So to the answer the questions...why are 95% of the girls in the lifestyle abused as a child in some way. Because their are predators out there who pray on children...some are friends, some are strangers, and some are their own family. Once abused, your life changes...your thoughts and mind become different. You either become a no feeling beast...or you give into the "giving" "submitting" nature that the abuse made you into. This is the way we, as women in this lifestyle, feel safe. This is the way that we change our views, through the men that care enough to mold us into better people. These are the moments I sit in his warm arms, rubbing his chest, and feeling completely safe......
SAFE...how sweet it is...
I hope this answers some questions...
I wish all a wonderful day,
Hana
~Robert's little flower~
Why do a lot of girl's in the lifestyle have histories of abuse in the their past?
Don't you think you are placing yourself in a position to be abused, simply because that is all you know?
Don't you think it would help to get some counseling instead of countinuing the cycle of abuse under the lifestyle umbrella?
All these questions and more have come at me lately....
So, I think a background...from beginning to end...will help the others understand my place right now in life. Also, the reasons I CHOOSE to live the way I do.
I have no memory of myself before the age of four. The first thing I remember is peeing in the bed because I was told that if I got out of bed without asking a monster would eat me. My father called me a baby and I cried. I lived in apartments most of my life, the friends I identify with are boys over girls. Needless to say, when the first group of boys..at 5...told me how "I could be friends with them"...I jumped at it. Still to this day, I am unsure why I was surrendering to that. But it was what I felt was right. The more controlling of the boys snuck me into the a clubhouse off the pool, while his buddies came with him. He told me that I had to play spin the bottle, and explained to me what it was, and when I refused they got up and started to leave me there alone. I hated being alone, and the dark terrified me for years even into adulthood. So, what is a little girl to do but give in. This struggle went on for weeks, me showing them things and they showing me, one day one of the boy's mother came to pick him up early. The controlling boy, he had locked his bedroom door, and his mom was on the other side screaming to open the door. We all hurried to get our clothes on, but the little boy told. That sent calls to my parents, and my father confronted me in the bath tube. He told me how dirty I was, and how I was going to be called a whore if I did things like that. I am not sure what clicked on in my brain that day, but from that day on I masturbated. It started innocent at first....I'd touch here of there. But as the years continued it became more in depth. I remember tidbits of things in my family: my mother being slapped with a box of frozen peas so hard it knocked her to the floor, and once when my mom went to visit her sick mother my dad created this system of spanking. He would slap me the fist time, than send me to my room the second time, and would have bend over and be hit with a belt the last time. The abuse became more and more extreme as I grew older, as it did my brain started trying to cope by digging into the fantasy world. I created a whole new family, who had money and wealth, I even told people I wasn't really my parents child. That I was abandoned as a baby. These dreams of a family turn from innocent to abuse in what seemed like overnight. The "father" would rape me as punishment, tie me under his desk, make me pee in a diaper, bend me over things and whip me with a belt until I was bruised. The "brothers" also feeled these roles from time to time. So, as I entered my teenage years and my father became so controlling I couldn't even leave the house. I sought was to escape. Though I never sought drugs, I did become sexually active at 12, though not cock in pussy, more foreplay related. Though it wasn't the "normal" foreplay. My boyfriends would spank me, suck my nipples til they fell asleep, have me pee on them, etc. On my 13th birthday, I was officaially raped by a man pretending to be a police officier. I never once struggled, he took his time, removed my clothing slowing, touch my skin.....I never once was scared. I did tell my parents afterwards, which was probably my biggest mistake. Girls from my school lived in our apartment, and they found out what happened to me and would taunt me with it everyday. The police dismissed the charges because I could never truly identify the man who did it me. The only thing I remember is his shoes, feet, and hair. I guess this was the straw that broke the camlas back for my mother, because she left my father a "dear John" letter and disappeared for 6 years. My father than had me "step" up as wife. Making me cook and clean, study, and make repairs to clothes..and anything a mother would do besides sex. My fanatasys increased the the point that the boys I dated never satified me, I then started dating older men. One night my father came home, and dinner wasn't ready. He told me that he was going to ship me off to CPS and all the things that would happen to me there. He raised a hot pan off the stove, he always choose things immediately in his reach, and while yelling at me threatened to beat my head in with it. I was cutting onion at the time, and that was the first time the darkness consumed me. I was so beyond comprehension that I turned slowly and told him I would kill him if he even tried. That must of scared him, because he told me that I couldn't do it because I would end up in jail. Since, I or my mother had never reported the abuse no one would believe me. That is the only reason I didn't kill that day. I told myself that if I could just make it through these few years, I could live on my own.
I did just that, at 17, I moved out with my boyfriend. Who , surprise surprise, was abuse but more physical than mental. He broke my wrist, nose, and ankle once. I continued to stay in the house with him, his mother (who was a manipulator), and my daughter for a good four years. Til the night he almost killed me. I than made a choice to leave, but I knew I would never get out the door with the baby. I regret that decision everyday....for when I left without her his mother filled suit for custody. After a long, back and forth, through the courts I gave in to her having the child. I just couldn't put my baby on the stand...which is where it was leading. She was 4 at the time, and her grandmother took off with her out of country before I could think twice. They have been missing for years. I am in the process of using a private investigator to track them down. My fear is that the son she created will end up creating a very lonely daughter. This moment sticks with me, and haunts my dreams.
Once they were gone, I had no reason to not become what my father always said I would be. I started stripping. It was the worst experience of my life, but the money was so good I couldn't leave on my own. Besides I could manipulated these men just as easily as having a child love you because you offer them candy. It was easy, but hard on my inner self. I was still do this, and drowning myself in alcohol, when I met Master. We were friends for a good year, before we started dating.
About that time I found BDSM, I thought it was my answer to my prayers. A way to feel safe, in a abusive...uncaring world. But that wasn't true. Being naive and young, I disillusioned myself by trusting men and talking precautions. When I wanted to go met a man from online, I got in the car and went. Even if it was 8 states away. I ended up with a man, who wipped me reapeatly for an infraction at my first party that I bleed for days. But I never gave up hope. When Master and I started dating, he became interested in what peeked my interest. We exlpored it together. Through all the first year of our marriage, I tried to conquer the demons inside me alone. I so loved this man, that I new from the beginning I was not the ideal "good thing" for him. After, being told lie after lie from a good friend of mine...I made up my mind that it was Master's fault I wasn't happy and I had to move out. I did, and terribly hurt him. But he was patienet. He called me every night and let me cry on his shoulder even when I had broken his heart. One day after a very bad arguement with my friend, who told me I need to move into this swingers house and become one of "their lovers", my Master said the words I had been waiting to hear. "I am getting in my car, and coming to get you." And he did. He drove 6 hours one way, to come help me pack and drive me home. Once home, he told me a few things he would no longer stand for. They were simple things, not stripping for one, and how what his ending goal for our relationship was. He told me how much he loved me, and that he would help me see that I can trust and let the demons of my past not overcome me. I fear that if I would not have gotten this extended hand from him, I would have become a person I would not want to met anywhere. I have had glimpses of myself in the darkness. No concious, uncaring, angry little girl. But thankfully that never was a issue once Master brought me home. He cuddle me, loved me, and slowly taught me things I never new. Both sexually and emotionally. He opened windows that were filled with light, and I shrieked back in fear. He took my hand slowly, and showed me it was safe. By the end of that year I had begun to be able to sleep without light or sound in the house. For the first time in my life, I felt loved. Than we found out he was sick, with brain cancer, it hit us like a ton of bricks. Master went through surgery, and came out a changed man. His personality was not so forgiving, and sometimes he startled me into tears. But he never once laid a hand on me...ever. Slowly over this last year, some of his tenderhearted ways have returned. The man is now more in control, more motivated to the end goal than before, but is also patient, kind, loving.
I have slowly been able to express my hidden secrets to him, and he has taken them and made them into something beautiful. He built my self esteem with love and trust. He told me each morning how much he loved me, and how beautiful I was. He changed my life. As I look at our daughter, I pray each day that I will truly overcome my past and be a good nurturing mother to her.
So to the answer the questions...why are 95% of the girls in the lifestyle abused as a child in some way. Because their are predators out there who pray on children...some are friends, some are strangers, and some are their own family. Once abused, your life changes...your thoughts and mind become different. You either become a no feeling beast...or you give into the "giving" "submitting" nature that the abuse made you into. This is the way we, as women in this lifestyle, feel safe. This is the way that we change our views, through the men that care enough to mold us into better people. These are the moments I sit in his warm arms, rubbing his chest, and feeling completely safe......
SAFE...how sweet it is...
I hope this answers some questions...
I wish all a wonderful day,
Hana
~Robert's little flower~
posted by floweringhana at 1:17 PM
3 Comments:
a different path down the same road... thank you for visitng me and leaving me some words so i could find you.
hana, i thought i was alone, that the things which happened and the things i willingly did, happened to no one else. i thought no one else knew so many of the feelings as well as those which lead to D/s or BDSM. but in this place i learned i wasn't alone. in this place i found i had sisters. you are not alone here. many understand and many do not judge. say what you feel, teach what you can... and welcome.
Hey Watcher,
Thanks so much for your thoughts. I don't say much but when I saw and read lili's site and than linked back to yours. I knew I had to say something.
Thank you, through your words, I have found my strength to express myself without fear or regret!
Hana
Gosh, Hana. Thank you so much for opening up like that for us. That must have taken more courage than what you thought you had.
I just wanted to jump through the screen and hug you.
*loves*
Meika
Post a Comment
<< Home