10-26-06: I'm Confused About My Response To This Man And Physical Pain

October 26, 2006




 




Now a few months into my Nicky-experience, I’m beginning to feel differently….much like a fish out of water.  After that Sunday morning when he came over here and gave me really good sex (a month ago,) he just disappeared.  He stopped answering the phone or returning my calls.  A day or two into it, I got worried…What happened to him?  Was he alright?  I left a couple messages for him.  It took him about a day to call me back.  He said he was in Mississippi.  That stung a little because he’d been telling me he was gonna take me somewhere.  He said he went alone.  He was gone from Sunday to Thursday and called at least once a day to say hello and let me know he was cool…to see how I was.  On the day that he came home, he called and wanted me to come over.  I went.  He was unpacking and, finally told me he was in Vegas; that he drove himself to the airport and flew there by himself.  I didn’t believe him.  He showed me his plane ticket.  I still don’t know if he actually went by himself but….Even though I was a little hurt that he didn’t invite me to go, I was glad that he got away.  He’d said he needed the time and space to rest, relax and press the reset button.  He needed to get back on track and couldn’t keep living the way he had been.  He let me know that the antics we’d been up to had to stop (drinking too much, drinking and driving, getting wild, etc.) and that he couldn’t really allow himself to get side-tracked by me and all my rippin and runnin and my not being able to “sit still.”  I wasn’t entirely sure what all of that meant but, that night…the night he came home, was a really, really nice night for me with him.  He made me feel desired and special and important to him….he made me feel loved.




 




Since then, it’s been a bit of a whirlwind until, now, I’m beginning to wonder exactly what I’ve gotten myself into.  About two weeks ago, I started getting bothered and feeling a little vulnerable & unsure about whether or not I was “wanted.”  I started getting self-conscious about him saying he’d call and then not calling (something he’s done since the beginning of time.)  He’d led me to believe that we were to be looking after one another…had given me a considerable amount of money and made it known that he wanted that to be part of his “job.”  My electricity had gotten turned off one day a few weeks ago and I let him know about it.  He made himself available to help me with it but, I let him know that I may have handled it on my own and was on my way out the door to find out for sure.  He said he’d call me back. I FULLY expected to hear from him before the day was over…if for nothing more than to make sure I wasn’t sitting here alone in the dark.  I called him around 7 and a girl answered the phone.  I asked if Nicky was around. He got on the phone and, immediately said, “Lemme call you back. I’m in a meeting right now.”  I was hurt.  He never called back.  I let it go but called him the next morning.  I was upset with him and made it known to him (for not even CALLING to make sure that I was okay.  I never mentioned anything about the girl answering the phone.)  He was semi-apologetic.  He wanted me to come to his house to go to work with him that day.  He was standing around in a towel, ready to take a shower and he had ******* scratch-marks on his left shoulder…really deep ones.  I never let him know that I saw that ****.  He actually told me he was sorry and did a lot of kissing my *** (sort of.)  I ended up leaving the house before he had given me permission to but, he managed to get me back over there later on in the afternoon.  He got aggressive with me as soon as I got in the door…let me know he was “in-charge.”  But, I was still mad.  I started asking questions and trying to talk to him about how I was feeling…basically, something like whining.  He’d told me there was nothing he could do for me when I “get like that” and it made him feel really bad.  He put a little space between us and I felt a bit like I was on some mild punishment for leaving that day (by him denying me his presence/attention.)  I knew I’d have to just wait and I think I did a pretty good job of it.  Sunday evening, he called.  He wanted me to give him a ride.  I didn’t ask any questions.  I knew that I had to get there as soon as possible because I was being “tested.”  I showed up at his house and he was all showered, dressed and wearing cologne.  Clearly, he was going to see a woman.  I told him he looked nice and smelled good and made some off-hand, light-hearted remark about him having a date.  I talked to him on the way about how I’d pressed the reset button, myself, and really didn’t think I’d be trippin anymore.  I dropped him off at a company truck at the office and left, not knowing when I’d hear from him again.  I went to bed that night (after having drank gin and falling out with a friend of mine), crying my eyeballs out.  A couple (short) hours after I’d dropped Nicky off, he called, clearly inebriated.  He wanted me to come to his house.  So, I got out of bed and went.  Our sex was different that night.  He allowed me to do many things for the first time…like **** him.  We didn’t use a condom and I was only mildly worried about it.  Mostly, I just felt privileged that I could be so much closer to him.  While we were *******, he told me he wanted me to suck his ****.  He told me he wanted me to “suck the *** out of it.”  I was afraid to do that because I always gag when someone comes in my throat and he comes A LOT.  He did let me give him some head for a while, and I enjoyed it but, he didn’t *** in my mouth.  He wanted me to be aggressive with him; kept telling me to bite him and grab him and spread my legs really wide (this, he usually always tells me to do) and, at one point, he actually put my hand on his throat, like he wanted me to choke him.  I couldn’t bring myself to do that.  It was too confusing.  But, he was making WAY too much noise and it was distracting me so, I told him to “shut the **** up” a few times, and held my hand over his mouth.  He liked it.  He came inside of me and we both went to sleep.  The next morning, he woke up, let me know he wanted me to stay in bed then did a few things around the house before he left to go drop his timesheets off (he said.)  He said he was going to cook us some breakfast when he got back.  I got out of bed to clean myself and cook potatoes and, even though I was really hungry, I only tasted them while I cooked.  I wanted to wait for him to eat.  He likes that.  So, I stayed in bed.  When he returned, I heard him come in the house and say, “That’s my girl,” when he saw that I had cooked.  He came in the room and had sex with me again.  He was rougher than he had been the night before.  He demanded that I keep my legs high and fully spread but, this time, he wanted to see my toes pointed, too.  It turned me on.  I was surprised when he said, “You said you’d suck the *** out of my ****.  I want you to do it.  Now.”  I was afraid.  I thought he’d probably forgotten about it.  I felt funny.  This may have been the first sign of my “feeling funny.”  But, I did it.  He didn’t *** a lot (thank GOD) but, he came relatively quickly.  Afterward, he kept me in bed while he took a (really) long time to cook.  He was very loving, then.  He made a single plate with two forks on it for both of us to eat from.  He added eggs, sausage, kielbasa and pancakes to the potatoes and brought the plate to me in bed.  He turned on the light on the nightstand on my side of the bed, poured some more diet Coke in my glass then sat with me in bed to eat with me.  He fed me.  We watched T.V. together, never leaving the bed.  He held me and laid on my chest.  He was a lot more affectionate than he normally is.  In fact, it was one of the most intimate times I feel I’ve had with him.  We talked and bullshitted; laughed together watching Sanford and Son (and all the other old shows he likes to watch.)  He turned the light on the headboard on to look into my face and eyes…told me how beautiful I was and how much he enjoyed me, played with my hair and told me how pretty it was…how it was all over his house.  He fell asleep on my chest during All in the Family and I let him take a little nap.  It was nice.  But, I hadn’t been home since the day before and it was about time for “my daughter” to be getting home from school.  My car battery was dead so he charged it for me.  We wrestled around a little in the backyard on my way out and I left feeling generally content.




 




The following Wednesday, he wanted me to clean.  I LOVE doing this.  I just LOVE being in his house when he’s not there, feeling like I’m doing something really warm and loving for him…taking care of him.  He’d led me to believe that he wanted me to be there when he returned, initially.  He kept telling me to be ready for sex.  But, then he had someplace to go and it was a little later than normal for his return.  I’d pretty much finished cleaning, had drank some gin and wasn’t sure if I should stay or go.  He told me to “stay, if you want to.”  I stayed.  We spent a little time together.  He cooked us some steaks on the grill and, together, we cooked mushrooms with onions and green beans.  He made my plate and served me.  The steak was too spicy, but delicious.  I had to go to bed without him because he passed out in his chair a few hours after he’d gotten home.  He didn’t come to bed until really late…like two in the morning.  But, he showered before he got in there with me, and held me a lot. But, neither one of us got much sleep for the rest of the night.  In fact, after he took a shower, we were up (in bed) until, at least 4.  I don’t think he slept at all.  I swear, he really wanted to hold onto me but only would when he thought I was asleep.  I felt funny again, for some reason.  Well, mainly, I really needed to sit on the toilet and, since the bathroom is connected to his bedroom, there was no way I could do it with privacy and….he would’ve smelled it….and it would’ve been bad.  So, I left by 6 or 7….feeling unexplainably weird.




 




Well, on Thursday (the same day I left at 6 or 7), since we had both been waiting for my period to end and it had been sort-of understood that we would have sex while I was there the night before, I figured I was entitled to some sex the next day.  I was pretty horny. So, I went out on a limb and called him around lunchtime on Thursday.  “Do you think you could come over here and have sex with me today?” I asked.  “I don’t see why that would be a problem.  Let me finish what I’m doing.  I’ll try to be there in an hour.”  He never came.  I called him the next day on Friday.  He swore he’d be over there that night and I believed him.  But, when I talked to him (way later than I was supposed to) on Friday night and he wanted me to wait for him to shower and run (actually, physically, run..he does that alot) over here, I wasn’t having it.  I told him I was coming to get him.  I was excited because of my first real print sale and getting my business cards that day.  I wanted to share all that with him and give him the prints I’d had made for him…the ones he’d said he wanted 5 x 7’s of.  But, I didn’t bring anything with me when I went to his house.  I really believed he was gonna leave with me.  I spent about an hour with him there.  He insisted that he would be over and wanted me to go home and wait for him so he could get his **** together.  I left but didn’t believe for one minute that he was coming.  I turned around and went right back to his house.  The ****** wouldn’t answer the phone or the door. I’d just left not even fifteen minutes before so I knew he was in there, alone.  The music was blaring loudly.  I got REALLY pissed.  “Who the **** does he think he is to keep doing this **** to me?!?”  So, I made the mistake of getting his key out from under the mat.  I was going in.  Part of me figured he probably expected me to do some **** like that…I almost felt like he wanted me to.  The key wouldn’t work.  He’d locked the top lock.  So, I banged on the back door a little before I went to try the key on the front door.  Same ****.  So, I banged on that door, too.  Part of me felt like a little girl, just dying for his attention…so much so, that I was willing to take even negative attention…like a child “acting-out.”    Part of me felt like some type of drug-fiend…like he was keeping something from me that I needed and I was so ******* pissed at him for that.  I felt stupid and small and I was mad at him for that, too.  He never answered the door or the phone.  I left him a few messages before I fell asleep.  I was up by 6 a.m. and left him a couple more messages.  He never responded……until late that afternoon; when he let me know just how deeply disappointed and upset he was with me for the whole key/door thing.  I told him that I knew better and that I was really upset with myself but, that I would not apologize.  He said I didn’t have to apologize but that I needed to understand that he could do whatever he wanted to and that he didn’t take kindly (at all) to anyone trying to make him do anything; that he didn’t blame me for not believing that he was coming over here but that he’d had every intention of honoring his word to me because I’d made it known that it was important to me.  But, once I came over there acting like a crazy person, there was no way he was giving into me and that I’d shown him a side of myself that he really just did not like…..that he loves me dearly and I’m a beautiful, intelligent, talented girl, he was just gonna have to use a spoon with a longer handle to feed me with.  He said he’d get back to me that day to let me know what to do with his key.  He got off the phone quickly by saying he’d call me right back.  The last thing he said to me before he hung up was, “Just remember:  Daddy loves you.”  Somehow, I took this as some kind of communication that he was about to take me through some kind of changes but that I shouldn’t forget during it that he really does “love” me.  I knew I was going to be “punished.”  I figured he’d probably deny me his presence/attention for an extended period of time and that there’d probably be a bruise or two left on my body before it was all said and done.  I wasn’t completely looking forward to it but, somehow realized that I would’ve been SEVERELY disappointed in him if the punishment didn’t seem to fit the crime.  It would’ve made me feel like he was a *****-boy.  I talked to him later that night.  He told me (again) that he was coming over and to make sure I was bathed before his arrival.  He never called back.  He never came.  I had company cuz I felt like a loser but, I think it only made me feel like more of one.




 




Sunday, Monday and Tuesday passed with no Nicky.  He barely answered my calls (maybe once a day) and only talked to me very briefly when he did.  Tuesday night, my final message to him was that I should just get a clue because it was clear that he wasn’t interested in hearing from me.




 




First thing Wednesday morning, he called:  “I need you here.  We’re having Bible study.  Come now.  We’ll wait for you.”  Three calls more and a half an hour later, I showed up on his door step.  Some ******* “study.”  That man he’s been studying with (for five years) is full of ****.  Nicky’d already been drinking.  Soon as the man (we were calling him Elmer Fudd, cuz that’s who he really does look like) left, Nicky offered me some gin.  I accepted.  It was 9:30 in the morning.  But, I knew I was in for some **** and thought I’d be better able to handle it if I took a little of the edge off, first.  I expected him to be aggressive with me.  He was in one of those “moods,” I could tell. 




 




It began with him telling me he’d had a date the night before…with his WIFE (I didn’t know he’d ever gotten married, let alone that he was still married to Pat.)  He started out saying some dumb **** like, “I had a date last night but, I couldn’t ‘do’ it.  I was thinking about you the whole time and how you could have been filling that space and I wanted it to be you.”  He told me how he’d had to defend me all night because someone was calling me a freak and who knows what the **** else he was talking about. But, it was bullshit.  I felt like it was part of my punishment so, I just took it.  He was hot and cold, affectionate and a bit aggressive until, at one point, he said, “Lemme ask you something:  Where’s my key?”  I hung my head in shame at the mention of the whole thing, told him I’d left it at home because he was rushing me so hard, I didn’t have time to think about grabbing it.  He leaned in the kitchen doorway, all sweet and calm until, abruptly, he threw the empty water-bottle he was holding across the living room and straight into the center of my chest.  “You shouldn’t have ever had the damn thing in the first ******* place!”  He looked like he was really angry, for a split second.  He approached me where I was sitting on the couch and, I don’t know…just got rough with me. I can’t remember exactly what he did…grabbed me, play-hit me in the chest, bent my wrists, ankles, chopped me in the kidneys.  I welcomed it, at that point.  I knew it would be coming.  He talked a lot about how he struggled with a violent temper and that he really needed me NOT to lead him down that road by doing the type of “crazy,” out-of-of pocket **** that I did the night I was screaming outside of his door.  Again, (like he'd done once before) in between his aggressions, he would get, almost child-like and hold onto me.  He’d look deep into my eyes like he just was so confused and pained and sad and searching….like he couldn’t figure out who I really was or why I was there; like he needed me, or….needed….something.  At one point, when he was bending my wrists backwards, I slowly and lovingly slid down to my knees and bent my head down.  I told him that I knew I deserved punishment and I was glad he was giving it to me.  I asked him to let me fix his socks, which were sliding off his feet.  He seemed semi-touched to see me in that position and his hold on me became a lot softer.  He wouldn’t let me fix his socks but, he lifted me up to hold me…really nicely….and tell me that he loved me…and how beautiful I was….and I held onto him…until he forced me to let go.




 




All day, this is pretty much how it went.  He was drinking a lot more gin than I normally see him drink.  And, it was still early.  He told me that Jay was in the hospital having surgery.  He let me know that he was afraid of losing him...that he loves him so much and Dixiea just died and that he wasn’t equipped to deal with all those fears and emotions (he didn’t say it in these words…it was an indirect communication) and, I was empathetic and really wanted to go see Jay in the hospital.  We were supposed to try and be there by the time he came out of surgery.  But, Nicky was on somewhat of a rampage…whatever you wanna call it.  He was having a Nicky day and, I was just gonna have to be there with him through it.




 




After a couple hours, he’d worn himself out enough to sit in his chair and start to doze off.  I took advantage of the free time to finish some of the cleaning I hadn’t finished the week before (I was glad to see that no one had cleaned the stove knobs or replaced them…I want this cleaning **** to be my job…like that’s the only thing I can really claim so I want it to be all mine. But, I was HIGHLY insulted to find another wine glass had been used…this time, there was lipstick on it.  I cleaned it, in silent protest, and let him know later that I would never do some **** like that again.)  I thought he’d probably sleep for a few hours and, I was gonna do some more cleaning once I’d finished the dishes and wiped down the counters in the kitchen. I walked into the living room for – something – and, to my surprise, he was opening his eyes.  “I wanna see your *****.  Show it to me.  Stand in front of me and pull your pants down.”  I was put-off by this….because he was drunk, half-sleep, being aggressive….saying that he knew I’d ****** someone during the week…I wasn’t sure if he was serious or what to expect.  “Are you sure?” I asked.  “Do it.  Now.”  “Okay.  I’ll show you my *****.  It’s nice and wet, too, wanna feel it?”  I pulled down my jeans and thong and offered it to him while he sat there.  I guided his hand between my legs and his fingers between my lips.  The minute he felt all that wetness, he told me he was ******* me.  I resisted (mildly).  He moved me into the kitchen, pushing my jeans further down my legs and grabbing my ***…and took me into the bedroom.  His **** was already hard before he pulled his pants down.  He put me in the position (on my knees, *** high, face and shoulders down) and, through my legs, I watched him lubricate his **** with that damn k-y jelly before he put the condom on….and then watched him put the condom on.  He was really rough.  He put his thumb deep in my ***.  I don’t know how he was able to ****, as drunk as he was.  He didn’t maintain an erection the whole time but, he ****** the **** outta me, nonetheless.  I don’t even think he came.  But, he dug his ******* fingers so deep into my *** cheeks and smacked them until they were hot and stinging.  I yelped and moaned in pain and pleasure.  I was a good girl.  He smacked me in the face a few times and pulled my hair way harder than he ever has…I think he pulled a portion of it out.  I was feeling a little overwhelmed…a little unsafe.  It was so obvious to me that he wasn’t completely in control of himself….he’d likely been drinking since he dropped Jay off at the hospital at 6 a.m.  I was afraid that some accident may happen.  But, it wasn’t just that.  It’s that my comfort with him comes from knowing that he’s in charge.  How can he be “in charge” of anything when he’s so out-of-control?  But, I went with it.  I did everything he told me to…bit him as hard as ******* possible, spread my legs, pointed my toes, put my *** high in the air, sucked his ****, wrapped my legs tight around him, held him close to me, kissed him on the mouth….everything.  Until he told me he wanted me to come.  “Come, baby. I want you to come….Are you gonna come?  Are you gonna come?”  Finally, I said, “Are you gonna make me come??”   “Yes. Yes.  I wanna make you come.  Tell me how to make you ***.  Tell me what to do…please…tell me how, “Abby”.”  This was really weird for me.  I can’t handle how he changes roles like that.  It’s too inconsistent and I’m too inexperienced with all this ****.  But, we ****** hard and long until we both collapsed in a heap, out of breath and covered in sweat.




 




He started snoring right away….completely naked and exposed.  I admired his body.  It’s still in good shape.  He has nice legs and a beautiful back but, he was laying on it at the time so, I paid special attention to his thighs and hips…the way his stomach sunk down and his ribs stuck out.  I watched his breathing and looked at his stomach….I love his skin so much.  I had enough time, then, to clean myself and bring a hot, soaped-up wash cloth to clean him off with.  I like his ****.  I felt funny touching him like that, though…without his really knowing…without his permission.  I’d barely gotten him wiped down when there was a knock at the door.  He’s so ******* conditioned himself to watch his back because of all the BULLshit he’s always into (or he was expecting Ron and didn’t want to miss him), that when that knock came, his eyes were instantly wide open.  He was too spent to move, though, and told me to “very carefully” check to see who was there.  It was Ron.  I had to help Nicky get dressed, but, god damned if he wasn’t making every effort possible to get “right” once he heard that Ron’s little blue truck was the one in the driveway!




 




I was glad to see Ron.  I like him and haven’t seen him in a while.  I guess Nicky had called him as support for the whole Jay-day.  And, Ron came running.  I can’t ******* tell if they’re just really good friends like that or if they’re ******* each other.  Seriously.  Anyway, Ron was talking about how he’d been sick with the stomach flu all week and didn’t want any gin but Nicky poured a round for all of us.  (He made Ron’s drink REALLY weak and I took note of it.  It was the first real clue that Nicky was taking care of him….like, in a way that only a woman should be taking care of a man.)  We had our drinks…Ron had some weed and he and I smoked it.  We all hung out in the kitchen for a while and they ****** around for a while with a van in the back, it was cool.  Soon, they had some place they had to go and we all piled into my car.  Ron drove & Nicky rode in the back.  We stopped at a store on the way (we wound up going to some junk yard.)  Nicky bought me a pack of cigarettes, someone filled my gas tank up, and he came in the car with a sub sandwich that he fed to me from the back seat on the way to the junk yard.  Food is so important when you drink. 




 




I tried to sleep in the car.  The gin and weed had gotten to me and I wasn’t feeling too hot.  Plus, I hated the music Ron left playing while they got out (to do whatever the **** it is they did) and it was making me nauseous.  I did the best I could to get myself together before they came back to the car.




 




Back at Nicky’s, all of us were famished and wolfed down the spicy-*** chicken soup Nicky had made especially for Ron because he was sick.  I was offended as **** that Ron came in there just RUNning ****!  And, Nicky LET him!  It was like Nicky was Ron’s *****.  I was so angry and offended by that.  I mean, how the **** am I gonna serve you (with all of your strong, manliness) when I’m watching you serve someone else…another man, no less?  It was really confusing and seriously got under my skin.  But, I didn’t really realize how much or exactly why until later.  Ron just leaned ******* back in Nicky’s chair, took the remote and did whatever he wanted with it.  Nicky and I wound up getting into a wrestling match on the living room floor, while Ron just leaned back in the chair and watched T.V. over all our rolling around on the floor.  I was really rough with Nicky…it was, like pay-back for me, or something….like, “Okay, ******!  You like this ****?  Take it then.”  We were laughing and having a good time ******* each other up.  I got a hold of his foot, at one point, and sunk my teeth really hard and deep into whatever toe got between them first.  He laughed and screamed and jerked it away and my ******* cap came out with it.  We were laughing hysterically and he was whining about his toe and I was saying, “My tooth!  My tooth!”  Both of us were crawling around on the floor cracking up, trying to recover from the wrestling match and looking for my tooth.  Nicky found it for me and we both fell OUT laughing about it.  My chain got broken during the escapade…and the ******* zipper on my favorite pair of blue jeans.  I found a zip-lock bag for my tooth and put it up right away…along with the chain…for fear of losing both of them.  Soon afterward, Nicky was again snoring…this time, all out-of-place on the living room floor.




 




It was disturbing to me, watching the whole exchange unfold between the two of them.  And, Ron actually had the ******* nerve to try and check me on some ****….like about how loud I was being…that I needed to “settle down,” and how my smoking was offensive to him (like I was actually gonna honor him! HE ain’t my ******* Daddy!)  At one point, back at the house, I had a cigarette lit and burning (for a few seconds) in the ashtray and Ron actually put that **** out….while he was sitting there all kicked-back in Nicky’s chair, like it was his chair.  I was too ****** up, at that point to care about finishing the cigarette, though.  But, once Nicky fell asleep, it was just me and Ron.  And, I found myself sitting there…in my seat…the one I’m always in while Nicky ignores me.  And, now it was Ron ignoring me!  He just kept flippin through the channels, totally oblivious to whether or not I was watching it with him….and Nicky lay, snoring, at our feet.  I lit another cigarette and Ron actually got UP and OPENED the front door!!  And LEFT it open!!!  Some “Peanut” guy that Nicky had been avoiding all day came to the door and walked right in. I was PISSED!  No one needed to see Nicky passed out on the floor the way he was.  That was no one’s business.  And, I was embarrassed for Nicky..and, really, really offended that ANYone was subjecting Nicky to ANYthing that he hadn’t personally chosen to be subjected to, himself.  After Peanut left and I was completely enflamed with a protective-type embarrassment for Nicky, Ron closed the front door.  But, not after I’d said something to him about it….bout how leaving the front door wide open like that was just inviting all the riff-raff to try and get in.  Nicky never leaves his door open unless he’s ready to be bothered.  But, here was Ron, making the decisions….what the ****?




 




Ron and I watched some forensic files show about a kid who liked to break the bones of little boys and then watch them suffer.  Nicky was still sleeping and stinking up the house with his HORRIBLE gas.  And, ******* Ron got up and opened the god-damned door, again!  This time, I made more of an objection.  “You can’t just leave that door open like that, Ron!  Everyone will try to get in here.”  Ron’s ******* response to me:  “Oh, like, sort-of how you were trying to get in here the other nite, at one o’clock in the morning?  Yeah…Nicky told me about how you were bangin on the door.  So?  What?    If you can’t get in, no one else should be able to?”  ******* creep.  That wasn’t it at all.  I felt he was disrespecting my Daddy.  And, my Daddy seemed to feel completely fine with it so, that just made it all ******* worse.  But, it got worse, still.




 




Visiting hours at the hospital were about to end…and MR. ******* RON was getting tired of waiting.  He encouraged me to try to get Nicky up and moving (like, he was the boss of both of us, or something.)  I started talking to Nicky and trying to stir him a little.  He’d been wearing these holey-*** socks and I started trying to rouse him by telling him I had some clean socks for him to put on.  He responded but not much.  I ended up laying beside him on the floor and touching him, kissing him, whispering to him.  He’d smile and acknowledge my voice but he wasn’t getting up.  I started wishing I could just go to sleep with him and rested my head on the cushion next to his face.  Pretty soon, a knock came on the door again and I hear this girl’s voice as the screen door opened!  I immediately looked at Nicky’s face.  He heard it.  We laid there (I really wasn’t feeling well, myself) and, I just let Ron do all the talking.  “Is Nicky around?” the girl-voice asked.  Ron: “Well, yeah but, he’s down for the count.”  Now  INSIDE OF THE ******* HOUSE, “Oh…is that his girlfriend?”  Ron:  “No.  Nicky doesn’t have any girlfriend.  It’s a gin thing.”  “Oh.  Is that what type of thing it is.  Well, I’ve been trying to get a hold of him to find out if he wants me to work tomorrow and he hasn’t been answering….” Then, I hear her coming closer to us and saying, directly to me, as she LEANED over to try and see my face, “Do I know you?”  I turned around to look at her and said, “Probably not.”  “Oh.  Well, I’m Melanie,” she said, like she actually expected me to explain who I was.  I just said, “Oh.  Hello,” then turned back on my side to face Nicky.  Then she started talking to Nicky, “Nicky, do you have a beer?”  “Unh uh,” he responded, without opening his mouth or eyes.  “Oh….” She replied….” You don’t?  You don’t have any beer down in the basement?”  (like this ******* ***** was trying to make it known to me that she’s been in the house and is familiar enough with **** to know he keeps beer downstairs.)  “unh uh,” he responded again, the same way.  “Okay.  Well, you want me to work with you still tomorrow, right?”  “Mmm hmmm,” still through closed eyes and mouth.  Now (finally) on her way out the ******* door, “Then I’ll be ready by about 7?”  “mmm hmm, mmm hmmm,”  “Okay, Nicky….bye baby.”  ******* sorry *****.




 




Soon afterward, Nicky finally got up…but, it seemed, only because Ron was now up and moving around, saying he was about to leave.  Nicky was in the same condition as when he passed out…and, the first thing he did was reach for the near-empty gin bottle (after he chastised me for getting WHITE SOCKS for him to wear…like I’m supposed to KNOW that he “doesn’t wear white socks in the winter.”)  I refused to speak very much, or smile, because of the hole in my mouth from the missing cap and repeatedly asked Nicky to get me some super glue.  He kept insisting that he just bought some and that it was in his truck.  But, I ended up having to go to the ******* hospital with the cap still out cuz he never got the glue out of the truck for me.  They both rode in the back seat on the way to the hospital.  And, while we were there, Nicky was still dishing out his humiliation and aggression toward me.  By this time, though, I was already feeling like I had been in a car crash, or something and couldn’t take one bit more.  I begged him to stop, told him it was too much.




 




Back at the house, again, we were all hungry.  Nicky kept telling me all day that he was gonna cook something good for “my daughter” but, then decided that he and her would just have tacos and I was gonna make the trip to Taco Bell.  Nobody ******* asked me what I wanted to eat.  Ron mentioned that he wanted one of those mashed potato bowls from KFC and I got really excited about it…told Nicky how good they were and that he should consider getting one, too.  Nicky said, “**** it.  I’m not even getting any tacos,” then put his money back in his pocket and called me a *****.  But, me and Ron still wanted those bowls and, when Ron asked me why I still couldn’t go, I said that I didn’t have any money.  And, I was ******* starving.  So, Ron says, “Well, I have a twenty.”  And, this was the ******* twenty-dollar-bill that Nicky had offered me shortly before Ron got there….”Do you need some money?” he had said, as he tried to hand it to me.  But, I refused to take it, right then….I don’t know why.  So, now, I’m going hungry because RON has my $20 and Nicky’s hollering about how he doesn’t have any money.  I couldn’t even get two ******* dollars from him to buy some pop for myself on the way home.




 




The rest of my time there was more difficult and painful than all the physical pounding he had done to me all damn day long.  Ron made some comment to me about how cool I was…how I was a real “trooper” and, anyone that could hang out with the two of them and hold it down the way I had was alright by him.  Nicky started (not for the first time since we’ve known each other) telling Ron about how “good” and “clean” my ***** was and about all my piercings…I denied it all.  I was severely humiliated but trying not to show it.  Ron started talking about some girl he’d ****** the other night….as he sat up on the counter with me…like I really wanted to hear about that ****.  Then, he started telling me some story about some Indian chick that he knew and had introduced to Nicky…and that Nicky “fell for her, pretty hard.”  Nicky was comparing her appearance and skin-tone to mine and, I don’t know…they just started acting like boys.  But, at some point, both of them got on some kind of ******* sick, crazy kick where they were IGNORING my existence!!!  ******* OUTRIGHT IGNORING ME.  Me and Ron had smoked another fat blunt (and, the two of them were already into the new gallon of gin they’d bought on our way to the hospital) and, from all the jostling and gin throughout the day, the weed went straight to my head.  I just sat in my little corner of the counter (on an *** that was really starting to feel sore) and smoked my cigarette, drinking that NASTY-*** tap water (because Nicky wouldn’t let me know if he had any ******* pop in the house) and observing the two of them.  It was so awful.  They started talking about chicks….as if I really weren’t there and I sensed that they were doing it to get under my skin…or maybe to make me leave…but, I wasn’t leaving without food for my daughter and I wasn’t ABOUT to let either of them know that I was being fazed by any of the ****** up **** they were saying so, I just chilled.  ******* Nicky was all excited, showing Ron some picture in a pamphlet of where he wanted them to stay when they make this trip to Hawaii….talking about a trip to Vegas and “I don’t have Dixie anymore” and, “I want you to spend Thanksgiving with me.”  It was all so cruel and hurtful.  I couldn’t help it.  I started feeling small and bothered and unwanted….and dizzy.  I went to lay down on the couch.  Nicky continued to talk about other women…and me but, I acted like I couldn’t hear what they were saying.  ******* creep.  I knew, by this time that he wanted me to leave…that he was done with me for the day.  All day, he’d been telling me how he was gonna eat my ***** and **** me some more…how, when Ron left, he wanted me to run a bath for him and bathe him, etc., etc.  But, after all their conversating in the kitchen while Nicky cooked the shrimp I’d (finally) asked him to make for “my daughter”, after Ron got a phone call from some Kenny-***** (a girl) and Nicky had asked him if he could “have” some Jennifer girl, Nicky suddenly seemed to remember that I was there and yelled into the living room, “Baby, I’m coming to stay at your house with you tonight.”  That was his way of letting me know it was time to leave.  So, as SOON as that ******* food was ready, I left…Nicky offered me a cheek to kiss good-bye and I tried really hard not to feel TWO INCHES HIGH.  On my way out the door, Nicky yelled, “Hey!  Make sure, when you get home, you check to see if there’s any bruises on that *****, too.”




 




I left that house feeling more weird than ever but, still not really sure why.  I couldn’t wait to get my clothes off and look at all the marks he’d left on me. But, I waited…I waited a while.  “my daughter” was mad at me for bringing her shrimp and offended that I didn’t know she doesn’t like it.  I cooked a whole dinner, then (pork chops, on the grill, macaroni & cheese, corn.)  “my daughter” didn’t eat any of it but, I did.  I felt so pitiful, sitting there, eating all by myself…not really knowing exactly what I had been through all day and/or what it meant to me.  I resisted the urge to examine my body as long as possible…like I was relishing it; anticipating it like it was to be some kind of ritual…like I wanted to be sure “my daughter” was in bed and I was completely alone.  I just sat still on the couch, smoking cigarettes and looking at the T. V. for a while after “dinner.”




 




Finally, I started my bath water, found some pajamas & got my towels together before I got naked in front of the mirror in my bedroom.  I was shocked.  There are bruises EVERYwhere…on every part of my body…my neck, arms, wrists, calves, chest, hips, ***…all different kinds of bruises….bruises from finger nails digging into my skin…from vessels that had been broken between his fingertips pinching my skin…deep bite-marks…big, dark, purple bruises from his knuckles poking me…and really tender soreness where you can’t even see any bruises….I’m covered, nearly.  And, a day later, I’m still so confused about why all of this turns me on.  I don’t mind the physical **** so much but, the humiliation has to go.  He wound up making me feel so cheap.  He’d told me, at one point that he was “going back to his wife.”  This could have been just Nicky-talk but, it’s one of the things that keeps sticking out the most in my mind about the day’s events.  Also, I listened to him talking to Ron about me when he thought I couldn’t hear him.  He was saying how “real” I am and how he likes hanging out with me cuz he doesn’t have to worry about dumb **** like getting dressed up or farting….that he can just be himself and that I’m extra cool…at one point, I think I heard him say, “That’s my baby….”  But, I don’t believe anymore that I’m special to him.  I don’t know what I’m believing about this whole situation or exactly what I am to him.  When he was talking about all these other girls and, sort of comparing me to them, I couldn’t hear everything that was being said but, at the end of the whole soliloquy, he said, “But, you know what, Ron?  They can all kiss my *** cuz, when they all stop liking me, guess who’ll still like me?”  Ron tried to tell Nicky that he would be the only one left “liking him” but, Nicky said, “Nope…I’LL still be liking me!”  At one point, before I had left the kitchen, Nicky said something like, “I’m about to just leave everyone alone that I’ve been dealing with. They all gotta go.”  And, I said to Ron, “And, I’m sure I’ll probably be first on the list to go.”  Nicky ACTED like he was offended by that remark and raised his voice at me, “YOU’RE not going anywhere!”  But, who the **** can tell what the **** he does and doesn’t mean.  I called him after my bath last night.  I didn’t expect him to answer the phone. I thought he’d be going somewhere with Ron to get someone else’s ***** or attention.  I left a message telling him that I really wanted him to see my body…so he could see what he’d done to it. Surprisingly, he called me back…. “Tell “my daughter” I’m sorry about the dinner I made for her.  Tell her, I’m gonna make her something better.”  He was really, really drunk and probably about to pass out again.  I don’t know what the **** he’s got going on with Ron but, it’s really made me feel creepy.  I seriously wonder if the two of them aren’t *******, for real….I guess that would explain the pecking order that seemed to present itself between the three of us all day long.  But, that **** really turns me off.  I mean, that’s supposed to be a MAN…a man’s-man…not someone else’s *****-boy.  That just ruins the whole thing for me.




 




He wanted me to come and clean today.  He called me this morning to confirm…wanted me to pick up some steaks and meet him at the house at noon.  But, I don’t have any money. So, he said, fine, he’d get the food and then he had to go right away and ONCE AGAIN, would “call me right back.”  I let two hours pass before I called him.  He didn’t answer the phone.  He called me back, two hours later and said I should just wait until tomorrow to do the cleaning and that I can go over there right after I drop “my daughter” off at school in the morning, if I don’t have anything else to do.  I asked “what about the steaks?” he said we’d have to forget about it cuz he doesn’t have any money.  HE’S FULL OF ******* BULLSHIT.  I feel like I’ve suddenly become less valuable to him….like, until recently, regardless of WHOever else he was dealing with, that I was set apart and above it/them all, somehow.  Now, I’m not even worthy of $2??  And, he’d said he’d already changed his locks but, when I asked him how I was supposed to get in the house tomorrow morning, he said, “I’ll put the locks back on.”




 




During one of our brief conversations today, I reiterated to him that I really want to share with him these marks he’s left on my body before they go away.  I told him about my confusion….that I feel like something’s wrong with me…like I’m sick, or something.  At first, he said, “Okay.  When I get home from work, I’ll call you and you can come over.  I’ll check it out…I’ll look under the hood.”  He told me about the chunks of his skin I’d removed with my bites (like I’d actually done something wrong) and I defended myself by saying I only did it cuz he told me to.  I told him that I’m afraid he’ll think that this is how I want to always be treated because I really don’t.  He said, “Okay.  I’ll call you on Tuesday.”  And hung up.  I mean, this **** has just gotten so ******* WEIRD!!!  And, I just wish SO bad, he would hold me and help me to nurse the wounds he’s inflicted upon me.  I feel like, I need his reassurance….that I’ve paid with sufficient atonement for my sin of disrespect against his privacy and trust…that I have redeemed myself….that I am, once again, acceptable to him.  But, sitting here by myself, in all of my inexperience with all this physical pain; after enduring a full day of his humiliation and having a body-full of proof that I allowed him to hurt me, I feel more awful than ever!  And, I don’t know what the **** is going on anymore.  I feel like I’m getting in over my head and that I may really be in danger of becoming further entangled in this man’s mess.  He’s too chaotic for me to trust.  I need to stop.  He’s not gonna look at my bruises.  He’s not gonna finish this job.  He’s gonna leave me a lone in it and I can’t bear that.  He’s NOT  a practicing Dom.  I don’t think I believe at all anymore that he knows what he’s doing.  I feel like, seriously, an object to him.  I can’t handle that.  It’s not what I want.  Before, when I still kind of believed that all his **** was controlled and intentional, I felt safe and loved and special.  Now I feel almost worthless to him…like he’s forgotten that I’ve GIVEN him all of this power….like he’s forgotten how smart and strong and capable I am….like I’m no better than all the other BOTTOM-DWELLING, ugly-*** girls he deals with…like he really may not deserve a prize like me.  I’m a good girl.  I’m trying to learn how to become a good woman…..he can’t make me better by making me feel like I’m nothing.  That’s exactly how I feel.  If he comes to me tonight…or if I see him tomorrow and he’s loving, I may feel differently.  And, I have to be honest and say that I hope I won’t see him.  I hope all the marks get smaller until their power diminishes and I will no longer be able to share that with him.  I hope he will leave me alone in it.  Then, maybe I’ll be ready to start backing away from him.  If he comes through while I can still share the marks, if he shows me some love and appreciation for understanding that punishment is something he needed to dish out; for taking it like such a good girl, then I may be too deeply sucked into this whole affair…more than I already have been.




 




I wish I had someone to talk to about all of this.

 

I did end up going to his house the next day to clean.  He came home extra early (for lunch, but, honestly I think he wanted to get home to see me.)  Our interaction with each other was warm and pleasing to me.  Finally, after eating, and being affectionate with me in between the stuff he was running around the house doing, he addressed the bruises.  I was in the bathroom, on my knees, scrubbing the bath tub.  He came and gently lifted me up by my arm, "Lemme see."  I stood up (feeling the most incredible feeling of love and security) and said, "They're already beginning to fade."  I showed him my arms and neck, first.  "Aww.  That ain't nothin.  You're fine.  Lemme see..." he said, as he reached for the waist of my low-rise blue jeans and unbuttoned them.  I had the most enormous dark bruise on my right ***-cheek.  But, he said the same thing and pulled my pants back up.  Later, I'd made it to dusting in his bedroom.  I was standing in front of his big dresser mirror, polishing all his little cologne bottles when he came and sat on the bed, facing me and the mirror.  "C'mere," he said, as he grabbed my hips and pulled me toward him.  My waist was just a little higher than his mouth and he lifted my shirt to put his mouth on one of my nipples.  He unbuttoned my jeans again and peeled them down over my hips a little, lifted my shirt up and admired my body in the mirror, while he wrapped his arms round and held me by the ***.  "Mmmmnh.  You are so gorgeous, Abby.  Mmmm."  He began to pull my jeans down again, just past my *** and looked at it in the mirror.  He saw the bruise then and that seemed to just send him right over the top.  He had his hands ALL over my ***, gently kneading, massaging, carressing.  He was particularly passionate, his **** was particularly erect and the sex was particularly good.  I was satisfied.  He finished the job.  He didn't allow me to sit and feel alone in the whole experience.  The way he responded to me made me feel like he recognized me and what the whole experience meant for me.  It was a symbol of his appreciation for my understanding.  It was an act of love; a reward.

 

Sometimes, I listen to what I'm writing and I think, if I were reading someone else's words, I'd think all kinds of crazy things...like, "This chick needs help."  But, as crazy as the whole situation sounds, it's working so good for me....even the pain is helping me (physical and emotional.....although it's a lot harder to recover from the emotional pain.) 

MysticWriter MysticWriter
36-40, F
1 Response Dec 14, 2006

I read most all of this but stopped pretty near the end. You're right, he's not a practicing dom- he doesn't know what the **** he's doing. And by virtue of the psychology behind it, you can't teach him. I guess this was written a couple years ago I just noticed... I hope by now you've found one who knows what they're doing- and you're too smart for most of them too. It'll be a wonderful intense journey if you've got the right two people together... Sounds like this guy is an idiot.