Thou Shall Not Drink From This Cup

This is going to be very difficult for me to write. I might as well put the TRIGGER WARNING on right now and apologize in advance for the intimate details that I will share. I have to write this, or I may hurt myself.

Last night my husband and I were...shall we say...intimate. The fact that we are doing this after such a crashing fall is a topic for another post, so we will ignore that issue...part of the role I play.

Let me share a little history. When my stepfather abused me, part of what he liked to do was oral sex...he on me...so does my husband. Before we married, he was well aware of my sexual abuse. I did not share explicit details, but he knew about my past. I am sorry to say that it took me ten years into our marriage to develop the courage to share with him that this particular type of oral sex was not something that we could engage in anymore. I explained to him that when we were in that position, all I could see and feel was my stepfather. We stopped...but he never stopped asking or insisting. I have always been able to say no.

...until last night. Part of my husband's "transformation" this summer extended into the bedroom. He was gentler and more thoughtful even in bed. This is no longer the case. Last night's interaction felt more to be about him having his way, and "his way" was oral sex.

Suddenly, I was there with my stepfather, pushing him away...the same exact way...it felt just the same. I tried to push my husband off, but he would not stop...just like my stepfather. At one point I went limp and didn't fight him. I felt weak and powerless...like a child. When I was able to find my voice, I asked him to stop...several times...he would not. I felt absolutely used and disregarded...unloved...uncared for...objectified. Once again, I was there for someone else's sexual pleasure.

After a while, it occurred to me that I could sit up on the bed and get up and leave. Nobody was pinning me down. I sat up, finally disengaging my husband, and turned to the side of the bed. I did not make it out of the room. I just sat on the edge utterly broken down, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably into my hands.

He called me. I could hear his voice behind me. He called me softly back into the bed, saying that it was only him there. I appreciated hearing that, because I was having a difficult time returning to the present moment. He put his arms around me and gently pulled me back in bed. He finished then held me for some time, while I shook and cried. He asked if I wanted to talk, but how could I trust him again? Eventually, I left our bedroom and came back to my own room to hide and to sleep.

The shocker came this morning. He said that we will be doing that again. I disagreed. He responded that I was not telling the entire truth and that he thinks that I really did enjoy it...in fact, he could feel me enjoying it.

Did I marry a sadist?

I disagreed once more, and told him that he seems to be having problems understanding the meaning of things. He did not change his position, the kids had to go to school, and there was not enough time to discuss things any further.

I find myself in the incredibly uncomfortable position of having to share with him the explicit details of what exactly happened to me last night while he was down under. I will have to tell him that, while he was drinking from his cup of life, I was God knows what age with the mouth of a grown man all over my tender vagina. I will have to say that I tried not to push on his face, because that is what I used to do to my stepfather...and he never liked it. I will have to tell him that he is just like my stepfather...he would not stop when I pushed him, so I had to push his face. I will have to say that I don't know which part he thought I enjoyed. Perhaps it was the part were I gave up fighting and was simply enduring...just like I used to do. Did I send mixed messages, motherfucker? Because I think my words should suffice. I DID NOT ENJOY THAT!

Some people just need everything spelled out.