This chapter is the last for just a bit, I want to take a break from it. I have a poll in my thread in the Blogging forum (
http://ravishu.com/forums/index.php?topic=35310.msg242955#new ) for suggestions. Also, I know alot is time jumped, and I might write separate short story stand alone bits if people want me to. As always, enjoy.
“The New Normal”I didn’t know it, but from that night, everything in my life had changed. I did have immediate clues that any semblance or normalcy was gone. I slept fitfully that night and when I woke up early in the morning, I walked stiffly into the living room. The front room was still a wreck, and I could see the dents by the front door. I wanted to break down and weep with almost every step, having not been beaten that bad since my initial rape. I had to walk a bit hunched as any attempt to straighten my back sent jolts of pain through my gut. Putting my hand on it, it felt lumpy and swollen. My chest, however, was so tight and swollen I felt like I was about to burst. I looked like my left breast had gone up a full cup size from the swelling. My right was larger as well but nowhere as much. Nothing bothered me more than my ear however, any time I moved my jaw it burned in my head.
I made it to the kitchen table, searching for a pop tart to eat. I nibbled at it slowly, as I still felt very dizzy and chewing irritated my ear. Mom came in, she was already dressed but her eye was black as fuck. Oh, It’d been makeup’d to death to try to hide it, but it was clear some point after I left the party something had gone down. I tried to tug at a memory, lost in the haze of last night but I couldn’t remember if it had been me yelling and screaming or someone else. Had it been mom? As she sat down I reached for her but she jerked away.
“Let go of me you damn slut” and I just pulled back, in shock. She’d rarely spoken to me like that before. Her voice was muddy and off as well, but I figured that was my busted ear. She looked at me with such loathing that I just wilted. She’d neglected me, but she’d never rejected me. Till now. No one wanted me. Teddy was straightening up behind us and I started to get up to help when Mom spoke up again.
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough,”
I just walked to my room and curled up in a ball.
Things got confusing after that. Yes, I still lived there but I was now a stranger. Mom and Teddy both barely spoke to me. Dinner wasn’t served for me. While I wasn’t yelled at for taking some food or fixing my own meal, or stealing some vodka, any attempt to go near them was met with glares of hate.
The next day, late in the morning after mom had left, Teddy visited me again. That same anger, that same tremble as he jerked me around on the bed and fucked me. I didn’t fight. I was still too weak. I just cried as he hit my chest again, then fucked me doggie and beat my back. I was nothing more that punching bag to him that he could fuck. Later that afternoon, Glenn called. He wanted to know if I wanted to party. The last thing I wanted to do was fuck. But I so wanted to feel “right” again. So I told him to pick me up.
The car ride to his place felt strange as he kept touching my bruised cheek and busted lip. Once there, I was desperate for the coke but he wasn’t having any of it.
“Strip first. I want to see. Teddy?”
I nodded meekly and he smiled, stepping back. My body was heavily bruised. My nose had recovered but my lip and cheek and ear were still a mess. My body though, was a mess of black and blue. Glenn walked around me slowly, touching every swollen bit of skin, inspecting me. I felt like a cow. I wanted a line so fucking bad. Just one fucking line, but he was having his fun first.
“You really are broken aren’t you Ally?”
I shrugged and looked down, but my chin was pulled back up as he sneered at me.
“Say it. Say you’re broken cause your daddy beat you”
I wanted to tell him Teddy wasn’t my daddy. I wanted to tell him to fuck off. I wanted to run away and cry. I wanted to die. But most of all, I wanted the coke. I wanted to reclaim that feeling again, even if for a short while. So instead, I heard my muffled voice say what it was told.
“I’m broken cause my daddy beat me”
He smiled as he walked closer, playing with a small vial of cocaine in his fingers. Whispering in my ear.
“Say, Glenn, I want you to fuck my ass”
I nod, shaking as I obey.
“Glenn, I want you to fuck my ass” I finished, as I started to head to the bathroom to prep. He grabbed my arm and shoot his head no.
“Now say, Glenn, I want to suck my shit off your dirty cock”
I quivered at that, as I realized what the cost was going to be. Not just a fuck. I should have said fuck you. I should have bolted out. I wanted that coke, so I was a good girl instead.
“Glenn, I want to suck my shit off your dirty cock”. At that, he grabbed my wrist and took me to his living room, and bent me over the edge of the couch. He was stone hard and fucked into my ass with little challenge. It hurt but my mind was on what he had planned. I still hadn’t had any coke and I just wanted it so bad. It wasn’t long before I felt him shudder, filling my bowels with cum.
He pulled out and jerked me to the floor and waved his cock in my face. It was in much better shape than before, but there were clearly flecks of shit on his cock. Desperate, I sucked him, nice and slow. The earthy taste and smell made my stomach churn but I didn’t stop. Glenn for his part jabbed my mouth, stroking my hair.
“Eat your shit and my cum broken ally.”
I did and when I tried to pull back, done, he grabbed my head and held me, almost whispering.
“Not done yet” he said and I suddenly felt why. Hot, bitter, salty piss filled my mouth as he held me. I choked hard, trying my best not to drown in the flood of his pee. Finally it ended and he let go. I slipped running the the bathroom and hit the floor, and just whimpering as I got back up, barely making it before my stomach emptied. Slowly as I puked, I felt my hair being stroked, shaking a bit as he rubbed me.
“Let it out, it’s ok. You did good my broken girl. I’ve got shit to do but here’s something for the trouble.” He reached down and put the small vial in my hand. The second I felt up to it, I sat up, tipped out a line, and snorted it. And I was right again. And that’s all that mattered.
After that, the next few months consisted mostly of that. Mom acting as if I didn’t exist. Me acting as if school didn’t exist. Teddy, when mom was gone, giving me a beating and often a rape, for the crime of existing. Glenn, using me in exchange for drugs.
You, dear reader may want to know why I put up with it. Why I didn’t try to commit suicide again. Or to reach out to my mom. It’s a sick thing to admit but its the truth. Even though I wouldn’t have given a fuck if I died. I mean that fully. I didn’t care about myself in any way anymore. I was just a fucking piece of trash. Trash eventually gets tossed out. I knew that. I fully believed it. Teddy, he hated me so much and I would have done anything to make him love me for a second. But if I got wet, he got mad and beat me worse. If I was limp it made him mad. The only thing that eased it was cumming in me. So every day or two, that's what we did. We fucked, he’d beat me, and tell me what a piece of shit I was, or how stupid I was. And I’d cry, and I’d cum. I hated him so fucking much. I wanted him to love me. It was a fucking mental illness. Abusive relationships are just that. Need to be classified in the DSM. It’s why women get in them, why they make excuses, why they keep going back. You go literally crazy and I was that with Teddy. It was never love when he raped or beat me, but he cared enough to hurt me. And somehow, that was enough.
Glenn on the other hand, played with my mind. I didn’t care, I got my coke and that made it all better. He obsessed at finding and feeling all my bruises or scratches. He’d ask about my ear, which still felt muffled most of the time. He started taking photographs and some kind of toilet play became the norm in my life. He would have me dye my hair regularly every couple weeks, have me play with makeup, always on the more whorish side, and even started having me service his friends. Once I learned I got more coke for doing that, I didn’t even hesitate. He’d tell me how much he enjoyed his broken toy, as he took pictures. Pictures of my bruises, pictures of me with shit on my lips, pictures of me covered in piss. Pictures of me with my new hair, which he’d cum in.
Then I’d come home, cum in my new pink or blue or black hair, and look at the dead eyed cunt in the mirror. Sometimes she’d look enough different to make it easier, as I took another line and got ready for another day. As long as I had Teddy, any way I could have him, and my coke, I could go on. And I did.
