Ancilla L
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The Perfectly Broken Girl.
🕑 Added 2024-02-23 05:11:46 +0000 UTCThere was something broken about me around him.
I never raised my voice at him. I never forgot what he had told me to do. I never failed at conforming to the ideals of behaviour that he had set for me. Whether it related to what he wanted me to wear or who he wanted me to fuck, I never said no. I remember one summer afternoon, I went over to his place after school. I was in my school uniform; I always disliked the powder blue colour of the shirts and the grey skirts that we had to wear in the summer. Inside his apartment, he undid my tie and removed my panties. The previous night I had told him how much it terrified me to have my ass fucked, so naturally, he went immediately for my ass.
As he pushed inside, replacing skill with force, I began to object. I hadn't even uttered the complete syllable when he froze inside me.
"Are you sure you want to say no to me?" He asked.
By then I already knew how strong his feelings about the word no were but it was too late. I had already incensed him. So he pulled me on top of him and told me he was going to make me fuck myself in the ass against him.
"You won't be able to go back home if you don't," he told me, "I will wreck your face."
As terrible as it felt, I fucked myself in the ass with his cock. I didn't scream, I didn't cry, I didn't expect that he would show me any mercy. It felt horrible. At every step I wished I could disappear. I wished he would see how terrible he was making me feel. I wished it would make him feel something to watch me suffer. He wasn't that guy.
After he came, I put on my clothes and apologized for misbehaving. When I went home, I touched myself thinking about how it felt to have him violate me like that. I told him about how good it felt to be forced by him. He reminded me never to say no again; he reminded me that I had given up the right to no by falling in love with him.
That was very early on in our relationship, but eight years later I still hadn't gotten that right. There was never a moment when he budged; never an instance when he was malleable. He wasn't the sort of person who softened or changed his mind. He didn't ever forget the extent of the obeisance he expected from me. I got better and better at being perfect for him. Which is not to say our relationship got healthier or less intense, but I adjusted to perfection within it. The means by which he drew out unfailing subversion weren't right but they were extremely effective. I never said no. I never disobeyed. I never asked for anything. It might appear as of I existed as a shell but that wasn't true either. I laughed, I made jokes, I expressed my love and passion. I even spoke frequently about things that I felt strongly about, I just spoke in the way that I had been taught to speak to him. I constructed for his ears, a language that suited him. His methods to check me were often barbaric, but they were always effective. I didn't ever get used to them.
I didn't ever get used to him withdrawing his love whenever I strayed from the path he laid before me. I didn't get used to the terror that followed when the red rage flashed in his eyes. I didn't get used to being reminded of the things he had done that proved that he could stop caring about me if he needed to. I avoided those things by being exactly who he allowed me to be. An object that pleased him. An object that never forget that it was dented enough to be discarded.
There was something broken about me around him.
I wish I could be that way for you. I don't wish that you would treat me as he did. I couldn't bear that kind of cruelty from you; I couldn't bear the thought of your anger unleashed upon me. I couldn't bear the thought that you could stop loving me in the interest of ensuring compliance. I still wish I could give you the version of me that he had. I wish you could shatter me the way he did. I wish I feared my own freedom the way I did with him. I wish the urgency to watch my behaviour was as fearful as it was with him.
It makes me feel beautiful to be a little broken. When I looked at him and saw my helplessness reflected back to me through his eyes, I saw the version of myself that sang sad songs in the rain. I wish you could see that girl: I wish you could fuck that sad, broken girl in the ass and have her make amends for being so difficult. I wish I never felt safe enough to raise my voice even a little. I wish I walked on broken shards of glass in my attempts to please you. I wish the word no never came out of my mouth.
I wish you could have that perfectly broken girl.
You deserve her.
