Anally Destroyed
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Anally Destroyed
It felt as if that night wouldn't pass. I had a throbbing headache and couldn't stop crying. I don't remember when I slept off. I woke up to find my husband standing in front of my bed with last night's question: "So, what have you decided? Is your answer yes or no?"
I didn't know what to say. I gathered some courage to speak up and mumbled: "Please go to the office, I'll call you by evening and let you know my answer, I promise."
He threatened: "I will call you myself at 4pm. I want the answer and it should be 'yes'. Otherwise be ready to get punished."
By punishment, he meant anal sex. He knew that it was extremely painful for me and he used it as a tool to torture me.
He and his elder sister left for the office. I was now alone and struggling with my thoughts.
After a few hours I gathered the courage to dial my father's number and told him that I couldn't live with my husband anymore.
#HerChoice is a series of true life-stories of 12 Indian women. These accounts challenge and broaden the idea of the "modern Indian woman" - her life choices, aspirations, priorities and desires.
I was afraid that my father would be angry but his response amazed me. "Pack your bags and get out of there," he said.
I took a book, gathered my educational certificates and rushed towards the bus station.
After boarding the bus, I sent a message to my husband. "My answer is 'no' and I am going back home," it said. After that I switched off my mobile phone.
After a few hours, I was home, surrounded by my family. I had left my husband's house after only two months of marriage.
I met my husband, Sahil, when I was in the final year of graduation. He was a jovial man. I liked being around him and with time we fell in love.
We used to go on dates, talk for countless hours on phone. It seemed as if life was almost too kind to me.
But this rosy romance did not continue for long. Gradually I started realising that our relationship lacked equality. It wasn't what I had been looking for.
Our relationship was becoming like my parents' relationship. The only difference; my mother kept silent while I could not stop myself from speaking up.
My father used to scream at my mother for petty things. He would even hit her and the only thing she responded with was tears.
When Sahil and I had an argument, it would often turn into a scuffle. He would use force to get intimate with me and scream at me if I refused.
I remember him once asking me: "Suppose I hit you someday, then what would you do?"
The question stunned me. I controlled my anger with great difficulty and replied, "I would break up with you that very day."
What he said next shocked me even more. He said, "It means you don't love me. Love should be unconditional."
After this, we didn't talk for almost a month.
Our fights became more frequent. Many times I'd try to end our relationship but he would apologise every time. I wanted to get rid of him forever and don't know why I wasn't able to do it.
Meanwhile, I was being pressured into marriage.
I was a teacher now. I'd be in class, teaching children and my parents would call me.
The same conversation would be repeated. "What have you thought about marriage? Why don't you marry Sahil? If not him then let us find a suitable match for you. At least think about your younger sisters…"
If anything went wrong at home, it would be blamed on my staying single.
Mother fell sick because I wasn't getting married. My father's business suffered losses because I wasn't getting married.
I was so frustrated that I finally said yes to marriage. I was still not ready for it and didn't believe Sahil's promise that he would change his attitude.
My fears came true after our wedding. Sahil made me a puppet, dancing to his tunes.
I was fond of poetry and used to my write my poems on Facebook. He forbade me from doing it. He even started dictating what I should wear.
One day he told me that I should finish all my reading and writing work by night. "If you leave me dissatisfied in bed, I will have to go to someone else."
He'd say that I wasn't making him happy and would advise me to watch pornography so I could learn some techniques.
And then he got this obsession with seeking work in Mumbai.
He said: "You stay here, do your job and send me money to support me there, and then you take out a loan so I can buy a house."
This is what he wanted me to say yes to. That night he had pushed me on the bed and forced me into anal sex just for that yes.
A line had been crossed. I left him the morning after.
I was a well-educated woman who could earn and live on her own. Yet, my heart was sinking when I left Sahil's home.
There was a fear of being judged by my own family and society. But even bigger than that was the pain in my heart.
When I reached home, my hair was dishevelled and eyes swollen as I had cried all night.
Newly married women look ravishing when they visit home for the first time after marriage. But my face was pale and the keen eyes of my neighbours guessed why.
People started pouring in. Some would say: "Such a terrible thing has happened to you." Others consoled me that Sahil would come to apologise and take me back.
Then there were a few who thought that a woman should not make such a harsh choice over petty issues.
Everyone had something to say but their opinions could not change my decision.
It has been seven months since I left Sahil's home and now I am choosing my own path. I have received a fellowship; I am doing a job and studying as well.
We have been going to police stations and courts as the legal procedure of divorce is not over yet.
I still wake up with a start at night. I still have nightmares.
I haven't been able to forget what I had to face but I am trying to move on in earnest.
My trust in love and relationships is definitely shaken, but not broken yet. I have decided to take some time for myself. I am proud that I didn't stay silent and got out of this abusive relationship before it was too late.
That is why I believe that my future will be better than my past and present.
This is a true life-story of a woman who lives in western India as told to BBC reporter Sindhuvasini Tripathi, produced by Divya Arya. The woman's identity has been kept anonymous on request.
BBC 100 Women names 100 influential and inspirational women around the world every year and shares their stories. Find us on Facebook , Instagram and Twitter and use #100Women
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Marlys’ Story: He Was So Much Older
Illstraightenyouup
July 01, at 07:11
© 2021 The When You\'re Ready Project
He was my boyfriend. We had a lot of sex—but usually at his parents’ because mine forbade us to in their house. I’d invited him over and since we weren’t allowed in my bedroom, we decided to watch a movie in the family room. Our ritual was to snuggle up a the couch under a blanket, usually with him spooning me. It was one of my favorite things to do.
On that day, I had my period, so even if we ended up alone, we couldn’t have sex. It was too messy, not my favorite thing. As the movie progressed, I felt him press hard against me. There was nothing I could do for him. My mom and sister were in other rooms on the same floor. I felt bad though and knew he’d most likely end up in the bathroom, taking care of himself. Then he suggested we try anal sex.
We’d discussed this before. I’d said no. I wasn’t comfortable with it. I was afraid it would hurt. So once again I told him no, I didn’t want to. He persisted. He was petulant and coaxing, rubbing himself against me. He wouldn’t drop it.
I should’ve gotten up. I should’ve told him to get out. But he was my boyfriend, my first love. I wanted to please him.
I relented and he pulled my bottoms down. He forced himself inside me without lubrication. It was incredibly painful. At first I tried to just go along with it, but I couldn’t bear it any longer. I told him to stop. He did not.
I should’ve hit him. I should’ve screamed for help. But I was embarrassed that I’d let him do it to me. I didn’t want to get in trouble.
Numbly, I lay there until he finished.
I limped to the bathroom, where his semen streamed out of me. I felt disgusted. I felt ashamed.
I continued the relationship for another year or so, until he cheated on me with another girl.
I’ve only ever told a couple people. It’s been well over a decade, and part of me still blames myself. I have flashbacks occasionally. Recently I saw in the news that a teenage boy was raped by his basketball teammates. I am distraught for him. My own wounds have reopened.
To this day I have GI issues that I occasionally wonder are a result of the rape. I’m too ashamed to tell any doctor, though.
I trusted my attacker. At the time, I was so in shock, I wasn’t sure that what’d happened was rape. But now I know better. If I could turn back time, I would’ve yelled for my parents. They love me and would have protected me.
Most of the time, I’m okay. But it’s something I will always carry with me.
When You're Ready.org is a community for survivors of sexual violence to share their stories.
Girl you should come to me, I’ll give you a better anal destruction
Yeah your mistake for not even saying no, now you say you were after consenting for the act. It’s because of disgusting excuse of females that other females suffer, gtfo!
I limped to the bathroom, where his semen streamed out of me. I felt disgusted. I felt ashamed.
This line is so- and why are the comments against the rules allowed?
How is that rape ? You gave consent, just because you feel dirty and disgusted after does not make it rape.
Tyler Thompson does that to his dog in Ft. Smith.
Yo, you motherfuckers saying “it isn’t R*** clearly” didn’t read the part where she tolf him to stop. The second she told dhim to stop, ut he kept going, it was rape. Woman, go talk to a proffesional. Because if you’ve been holding it in this entire time, then it’ll only get worse.
Whenever I ass-rape a teenage girl, I cum buckets. Not surprised that semen was pouring out of you. He probably still fantasizes about it.
The When You're Ready Project is a community for survivors of sexual violence to share their stories and have their voices heard, finding strength in one another. When you're ready to share your story, we'll be here.
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