Family Slut Stories

Family Slut Stories

© 2021 The When You\'re Ready Project
The first time I was raped I was 16 years old. The night exists for me in a series of flash-bulb images that I can neither piece together nor erase from my memory, despite years of trying. I’m still not sure if it was my fault, even though I know it wasn’t.
I don’t think about it very often anymore, but every few years I revisit the spiral of shame, and guilt.
My last clear memory was stumbling away from the crowd, looking for a place to sleep. I was drunk… really drunk. I was being a typical teenager: acting out, rebelling – trying to distance myself from a goody-two-shoes image. Before that night, I had only been to a couple of parties, most of my wild stories were embellishments. My parents were known for being strict, so I didn’t get invited out very often. I w anted desperately to be part of the cool, older crowd who drank and smoked cigarettes. I was thrilled to be at the party, drinking cans of Coors and tossing them in the back yard of the kid whose parents were out of town. I realized m y ride had left without me, I was feeling sick and disoriented and needed to sleep until I could walk home. I found an empty bed, it was a child’s bedroom, I was going to lie down for just a few minutes.
I’m awake and it’s dark. He is inside me. I feel sick. Who is on top of me? “What are you doing?” He grunts. I try to push him away but my arms are weak. “I don’t want to.” I try to pull my underwear up, they’re around my knees. He pins my arm down. “Please.” “Shhh.” “I’m going to be sick.” “Shhh.” He’s getting angry. There’s a crack in the door and I can see wood paneling in the hallway. He finishes on the child’s bed, next to me. He wasn’t wearing a condom. He gets up and walks out. I want to run away, but I’m ashamed and I don’t want anyone to see me. I cry myself to sleep.
I’ve known my rapist since childhood. He was one of the cool kids at my school, a popular jock who was older than me. The next morning, his friend called me a slut and said “don’t worry, I won’t tell his girlfriend.” His girlfriend found out, and soon everyone had heard what a slut I was. Somehow I was more comfortable with being a slut than with being raped, so I accepted it.
And I never told anyone, until now.
I’m afraid to tell my parents. I’m afraid my step-father will read this, figure out who it was, and confront my rapist. I’m nervous about how he’ll feel when he realizes he inadvertently teased me about the events that happened after that night. I forgave him but I’m afraid he won’t forgive himself.
I’m afraid the people in my home town will call me a liar, and judge my parents. I live 3000 miles away now, but my family will have to deal with the backlash.
I’m afraid for my rapist’s wife and children.
But today I’m facing those fears, as much as I can handle at a time. Today, this blog is the beginning of an idea that may or not become big. It’s still anonymous, but that’s okay. It’s all I’m ready for, just yet.
When you’re ready, and want to share, I’m here. We’ll do this together.
When You're Ready.org is a community for survivors of sexual violence to share their stories.
alert(‘HACKING IN PROGRESS!!! ^%$ I HAAZ HAXX (&&* 1337 ‘);
Sounds like a fake story. Sorry, pretty cliche.
I think it sounds pretty fake but even though it might not be fake, nobody has to experience that, but my real question is why would you feel ok if people call you a slut. If I were you I wouldn’t like people calling me a slut, etc.
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.

Tags: crossdressing , feel good | Comments Off on A Family Affair
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In September 2000 my daughter was nearly 13 and had just started secondary school. She had always got on well with other children and worked hard. But after a couple of months things began to change. She started wearing lots of make-up. The school was a stone's throw away, but friends began calling for her as early as 7.30am. Next my older daughter spotted her hanging about in the local park with some lads from school who introduced the girls they befriended to older boys and men. I was very alarmed. Then she started missing certain lessons, sometimes whole days.
When she started disappearing overnight, I trawled the streets looking for her. I had no control over her. Sometimes she would say she was going to have an early night, then she'd turn on the shower and climb out the bathroom window. Once when she disappeared, I went through the park looking for her and asked a teenage boy if he'd seen her. I was horrified when he said, "Yes, all the prostitutes hang out by the bowling green."
I confronted my daughter. "That's not true," she said. "Those boys are my boyfriends."
As far as she was concerned, she was doing what she wanted to do and I was hindering her. Money didn't seem to be changing hands, but the girls were getting drink and drugs and mobile phones. The men flattered them into believing they loved them as part of a process of grooming them to have sex with lots of different men, some in their 30s and 40s. People ask me why I use the word "grooming" rather than referring to them as paedophiles, but most of these men haven't been convicted.
I felt as if my daughter was sliding away from me and I'd never be able to get her back. Every minute of every day became a nightmare. I couldn't eat, sleep or function properly, and I could see no way back. Every time she disappeared, I thought I'd never see her alive again. If a girl is over 13, she has to be the complainant in a case of sexual assault. Because this was happening outside the house, there was nothing I could do. The worst thing, as a mother, was not being able to prevent my daughter from being abused.
At the end of 2001, a year after her first disappearance, I put her into care. She didn't want to go, but I could no longer cope. My lowest point was the first time I visited her. Seeing her and having to walk away was unbearable. Everything exploded while she was in care, and I had a breakdown.
My nephew killed himself unexpectedly during this time. My daughter and I attended the funeral, and were both extremely upset. Afterwards, I took my daughter firmly by the shoulders and said to her, "You'll never know how many times I thought I'd be going to your funeral."
Then I walked away. She seemed to turn some sort of corner that day, and so did I. She started to realise what she was doing to herself and I could see for the first time that she needed me. I think I had to feel as low as it was possible to feel before I found the strength to fight what was happening to her and other girls.
I started campaigning with Ann Cryer, the MP for Keighley, for a change in the law to make hearsay evidence admissible in grooming cases, a change we secured last year. I'm proud of what I achieved and my daughter is proud of me, too.
After two years in care, she came back to live with me, went back to college, got qualifications. At times she feels down about what happened to her, which she now recognises as abuse. Last year Channel 4 made a programme about the grooming issue in this area and, although some white men were involved, the BNP hijacked it as a race issue: Asians exploiting white girls. I was furious because this is not a race issue.
The men live locally and we see them from time to time. They call my daughter names, and me, too, if I'm with her. I say to them, "I'm not frightened of any of you." My daughter calls out, "I've moved on with my life and it's a shame you can't move on with yours." Our relationship is better than it has ever been. We talk to each other and if she goes out with friends, she leaves a note on the fridge telling me where she's gone and when she'll be back. It's fantastic to get those notes.
· Do you have a story to tell? Email: experience@theguardian.com

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Table of contents

22.7K

10

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by T-Romeo90

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The second sequel to A Maid And Butler.
A year had passed when Charlotte disappeared. Nothing was the same, but some were going back to normal. Mari-Anne has been depres...
Eight year old Clarke's mother died when she was very young and it has taken a toll on her father. But when her father come's back from his Las Vegas trip he come's back...
A bunch of story ideas I never published or taken down
Ashley is in a relationship with an older man. She is twenty-three and he is fifty-one and there are times when that is almost unbearable. Ashley loves David with all th...
Author Collaboration - GXG One Shots
The beautiful cover was designed by @illyna16
Welcome to the Author Collaboration book that I and some really amazing and talented authors have been hard at work to bri...
Tracer is just your ordinary teen, with an extraordinary mind. There isn't much she can't do...except deny her feelings for her English teacher of course.
Meet Ms. Cruz...
Two best friends reunite and kindle a passionate love like no other.

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It was the Summer of my 18 birthday. Sarah decided to through a party for me. I was up for it. After all she is my best friend. Her mother was going through a divorce and well Sarah was a bit down about it. She thought the party would take her mind off of it. Sarah decided on a pool party. It was set up for this weekend. My heart raced because secretly I liked her mom and seeing her in a bikini would be the highlight of the party. Well I rustled around for some cash. I worked overtime to get the right bikini I would wear. It was rainbow. Fitted my personality real well. After all being a lesbian I have to represent my colors. I was a bit shy though, all these hot women would surround me, but my eyes were on just one. It was Sarah's Mom Jenny. No one would like that idea so I kept pushing it away. She was 38 years old and her I was 18. Sarah was my best friend I couldn't hurt her feelings. I kept thinking about it. If something were to happen how would Sarah handle it? I pushed aside my thoughts for the time being as I paid for my suit and walked out. That's when I ran straight into Jenny.

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"Oh I'm so sorry. I've should watched were I was going." I said politely.

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"It's no problem AJ. What are you doing up here?" Jenny asked.

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"Picking out a suit for the party you?" I asked.

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"The same. Would you mind helping me? Sarah's working so she couldn't come." Jenny said.

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"Sure!" I said a little bit over excited.

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We headed back into the store. I couldn't help but stare. I was caught red handed by the clerk. He coughed and I looked at him. He was shaking his head. I stared at the floor as I followed Jenny to the bikini rack. She handed me a few.

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"Here hold this for me." Jenny said.

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I looked at each one and noticed that each tied in the back. They were very
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