Chapter 3
The next day I woke up in the afternoon. I had a very deep sleep and slowly came out of it. It was past 3pm and I was thirsty, still had a bad taste in my mouth… Before rolling out of bed I felt my sheets were wet, so I got up and there were a few wet spots under my butt and when I reached and touched them I realized that all that semen from my anal cavity had leaked out during the night. I put my hand between my butt cheeks from behind and could feel the leak trail lead up to my abused sphincter. Disgusted, I put on a robe and walked down the hall to the bathroom and washed myself with some wet wipes and then washed my hands really well. My stomach was grumbling and I decided to make my way down to the kitchen. Half way down the stairs I could hear my mother and father talking, I stopped and listened…
“This is bad Sarah, they need to send us the results from that pregnancy test, I mean this could go from bad to worse.” My dad said.
-“Well, they said that they will call within the next two days, but it is unlikely that there will be a pregnancy, I’m more worried about STDs to be honest.”
“What do you mean, there’s always a chance of a pregnancy”
-“OK, look, in the examination room the doctor asked her some more detailed questions about what happened and how… it seems that they raped her all over… I mean she was penetrated all over…”
“What?!” exclaimed dad
-“She was sodomized Bill, they ejaculated in her… bum, and he mouth. Not in her vagina. OK ? Its sick, I know, they must have done all kinds of unimaginable things to her body and made her perform all kinds of sick perversions…” my mom just burst into tears, I could hear her sobbing. I was just sitting there on the steps mortified of what was being said. All true, and there was more that happened and I swore to myself that they should never know about. My dad sounded so disgusted and appalled even with what was said just so far.
I started walking down the rest of the stairs and seated myself at the table. My mom wiped one last tear from her cheek and tried to smile at me and asked how I was feeling.
“I’m OK, I guess.”
-“Are you hungry sweetie, would you like me to make you something, maybe some waffles the way you like them?” “Let me pour you same orange juice while you think about it…”
She was extra nice and pampering, mi dad came over to me and gave me a hug and asked if I felt OK, if anything hurt. I just shrug my shoulders… I ate and then went up to my room to lie back in bed. The wet spots had dried off but left three big stains on the bed sheet, so I pulled it off the bed and took it to the laundry. I asked my mom for a new one and she brought it up for me and helped me dress the bed. When she went down to the laundry she picked up the one I threw off and looked at the stains, they smelled bad and she came up to ask me about it. She wasn’t trying to embarrass me or anything, just wanted to know if I was physically OK and what or where it was from…
-“Where did this come from honey ?”
“It just leaked last night while I was asleep…” She still looked at me puzzled. “Mom, its sperm, it leaked from my… from my butt. OK ?!” And I started crying.
-“Oh honey, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, I was just worried, its just that it smelled and I it was so……much…of it.”
I was still crying and getting quite upset: “Yes, I know, my butt was filled with it, they abused me so much in there, I mean in my anus, they ejaculated so much in there…” I just stormed out and ran up to my room.
A few more days passed and my parents just tried to be really nice and pampering with me. They had explained to my younger brother what had happened, no details but just that I was attacked and raped. At 14 he was old enough to understand and actually, he was the one that acted the most normal around me. He just gave me a long sweet hug and told me that I could talk to him whenever I needed to and that he was there for me.
The doctor at the hospital which examined me had personally called a few days back and informed my folks that the STD tests came back negative and just as expected so did the pregnancy test. We were all just a bit more relived. He also wanted to recommend a good therapist that he knew and that had experience with trauma and especially rape victims. He suggested that this would be good for the entire family. My mom took down the information and promised she would call. She waited another week, for all my sores and bruises to heal and she scheduled an appointment. She also scheduled a separate appointment for her and my dad since they had an awful time coping with this and it was making us all miserable. She told me about the counseling and I agreed, in fact I was happy that maybe things could somewhat go back to normal.
The next morning I got up and went to take a shower and then get ready for my 3pm appointment. I went to the bathroom and took my pajama off and stepped into the shower. The bruises and welts were gone, just had one more small bite mark on my nipple which I was usually treating with the ointment that was prescribed by the doctor. It seemed to work, I just didn’t like applying it because that meant I had to rub my nipple for a few minutes before bed every night and although it didn’t hurt, it still bothered me that it was sending these uncontrollable signals through my body for the entire time I was touching and massaging it. My hand ventured towards it now just to see if it would feel the same without the ointment. I lightly brushed it and it stayed soft and a bit puffy. So I touched it with my fingers more and then I felt the same sensations through my whole body. I tried on the other nipple and the same thing happened. There was just no way to get rid of this hypersensitivity that they had. Now they were both hard and standing out and upward a bit. I just sighed and continued my shower. I washed my shoulders, arms, large breasts, flat tummy, silky vagina, round butt, firm legs and my small feet with cure little toes. I stepped out and dried off with a large towel which I then wrapped around myself and walked out and to my room. I dropped it on the floor and went to my dresser to put something on. I picked a pair of panties and bra, slipped on a nicer black skirt and a white sweater. I put on a pair of 2” heels that would match my outfit and made everything look appropriately elegant but also conservative. I was definitely not trying to attract any attention, but couldn’t show up wearing a sweatshirt and jeans…
My mom drove me there and we both went up to the office. The receptionist offered us a seat and some tea, and the doctor came in after a couple minutes. He seemed to be in his mid-forties and was wearing a regular jacket and tie which made him seem more approachable and less intimidating than I imagined. He introduced himself as Dr. Carter and we shook hands and he invited me in. He assured my mother that I was in good hands and that we should be done in an hour. We stepped into his office; it was cozy, with some nice old bookshelves, a leather chair and a leather couch close to it, a big wooden desk by the window and some old paintings around the classic looking room.
-“Please sit on the couch and make yourself comfortable. I want you to feel free to express yourself here and that means you should be free to lay back and relax. The way I work is similar to other psychologists, but I think we each have our own quirks, if you will. My big thing is truth and openness. By that I mean you should be able to tell me anything and everything without any problem, after all that’s why this is confidential. Only then can we make progress. Now, do you have any questions?”
“No, not really.”
-“I will ask you questions when I need more information about something, but please feel free to give me details about things on your own so that I wouldn’t have to constantly interrupt you. Ok ?”
I nodded and then he asked to start with the day that the trauma occurred and to include details about how the events made me feel and how they had impact on me. That seemed normal, and so I slowly started…..
I told him about the party and playing a bit of dress up with the girls, about changing shoes with Ashley and then walking down the street….
-“How did wearing the high heels make you feel”?
“A bit unsure, I wasn’t used to them. But I thought it would be fun to try to walk home on them”
-“Did you feel more grown up, on some level…?”
“I haven’t thought about that…”
-‘Please go on”
I then continued telling how the van pulled over and I was abducted and taken to that isolated place. How they tied my hands and how helpless I felt on the floor, kneeling, being groped and undressed. Feeling ashamed and embarrassed, horrified that this was happening to me.
-“You said that they made comments about your body, about your breasts not being real…”
I was clearly embarrassed by his question, he noticed this but urged me to explain. “ They were saying that my breasts were too…… perfect.”
-“You should not be embarrassed by your body. What about the nipples, why was this such a big torment to you. Were they just a bit more sensitive?”
“They are always very sensitive, even when I just wash, or wear something that rubs on them. But I had never been touched in a sexual way and my body just horrified me with the way it reacted. I still can’t explain it.”
-“Your body is genetically programed to react a certain way. There is little we can do about that, especially when one is as inexperienced as you. In many cases rapists use the victim’s own body against them and this makes it even harder for the victim to cope with the aftermath or even understand what happened. I will help clarify many things during our sessions but you have to be extremely open.”
I just nodded. What he was saying made perfect sense. They did use my own body against me.
-“They were probably just using your breasts for their own enjoyment but also to help lubricate your vaginal entrance to aid in penetrating you.”
He understood so well that I started opening up more, and before I knew it I was telling him about the first orgasm, and then all of them. About the sodomy, the oral molestation, how they stuck all their fingers in all my holes and all their pricks too. About how much they ejaculated in my butt and how much cum I had to swallow, how disgusting it was and how it made me sick. About all the sick things they said to me, about me and whispered in my ear while doing unspeakable things to my innocent body. It actually felt like a relief to let this out and finally tell someone what I had been carrying around since it happened and the secrets that I swore myself to keep from my parents. He did ask some specific questions about how each thing made me feel but also some specific details about what exactly was done to me. This seemed a bit strange, but in all fairness I had never been to any therapy before and didn’t want to question his methods.
By the end of the session I had told him everything, more than I had planned before coming here, more than I could even admit to myself; and he still had more questions that we were going to go over next time. We agreed that we should meet twice per week, Mondays and Fridays at the same time. I then stepped out and he spoke briefly with my mother, mostly about bringing my dad in for a session with them and said that he sees good progress to come in the future from my treatment. We both smiled and she thanked him again and then we left.
That night I slept a bit better, didn’t have as many nightmares as the previous nights since the attack. So far, every night I would have vivid images of what happened and even remembered some things that I didn’t realize happened. But the worst thing was that my body was reacting to what my brain was dreaming and remembering. The difference about this night was that I could sleep through the one nightmare I had and woke up more rested in the morning. For me this was a plus.