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Nearly every day at 4 p.m., for years, he would summon me to bed. His acts were unthinkable, but now I'm ready to talk.
In Michelle Stevens' powerful, just-published memoir, Scared Selfless , she shares how she overcame horrendous child sexual abuse and mental illness to lead a satisfying and happy life as a successful psychologist, wife and mother. Here, an excerpt from the book:
Since birth, I had been Michelle Brechbill. Daughter of Judy. Granddaughter of Evelyn and Glenn. Now, with the flick of a pen, I was Mooch (a nickname) Lundquist, daughter of Gary, new student at his out-of-state school. In 1976 no one seemed to question any of this. No one seemed to care that my school records displayed a different name or that Gary was not my legal guardian. We weren't even related. He was just my mother's boyfriend. But social norms dictate that we do not insert ourselves into other people's personal lives. Being polite means keeping one's mouth shut.
And so I, the newly minted Mooch Lundquist, became a third grader at Delaware Township School. My classroom was on the first floor of the elementary building — just a staircase away from Gary. Every day at 3 p.m., as soon as the bell rang, I was expected to climb those stairs and report to Gary's desk. Inevitably, a few of his favored 10-year-old students would still be hanging around — joking with him or sitting on his lap.
Some days Gary would oversee an after-school activity. The gifted and talented club was invitation only — Gary's invitation, that is. Trouble was: Gary had no real training or authority to be administering IQ tests. Instead, he gave kids a short multiple-choice test, the Mickey Mouse kind sold in bookstores. Then, based on his findings, he labeled certain kids — the kids he liked and wanted to spend more time with — as "gifted."
I was gifted, according to Gary. This was a real convenience, as he demanded I join his, and only his, after-school clubs. He signed me up for his drama club too and encouraged me to sing in the school talent contest. On the night of the show, various kids performed their acts, and the winner was chosen based on audience response. Gary was among the judges who awarded me first prize. After that, I was given the lead in all the school plays that he directed.
To the other parents, I suppose it seemed that Gary was harmlessly lauding his new daughter. In a certain way, he was. Not because he actually thought I was gifted or talented. Gary was a narcissist, and narcissists view their families as extensions of themselves, as trophies. Gary believed he was superior, so it was imperative that the world see his daughter as superior too.
Behind closed doors it was a different story. Gary treated me with a dizzying blend of over-involvement, neglect, overindulgence and cruelty. With Svengali-like skill, he quickly took over every aspect of my life, dictating what I wore, to whom I talked, even what toys I used.
Gary dictated what I wore, to whom I talked, even what toys I used.
He also strove to monopolize my time — an easy accomplishment since my mother left for work before I awoke and didn't return until evening. During the school year, this meant Gary had me all to himself for an hour each morning and at least three hours every afternoon. Once summer came, he had me all day, every day, all to himself.
Summer was the time when Gary could really play out his S/M (sadomasochism) fantasies and treat me like a full-time sex slave. This meant being subjected to daily "training sessions" — intense periods when I was explicitly instructed on how to behave and think like a slave. Much like a dog must be trained to sit, to stay, to heel, practitioners of sadomasochism believe a sex slave must be trained in how to speak, sit, serve. In short, like a dog, she must be taught total obedience.
Gary's dungeon was in the basement. Because he had to avoid my mother's prying eyes, though, he could not leave it permanently set up like other S/M enthusiasts. Instead, he left a series of nails and hooks attached to the ceiling beams, which could quickly and easily hold a harness, a rope or some other type of bondage device. While much of Gary's paraphernalia had to be kept hidden, I could tell he also had some fun in displaying a few tools of his trade. The dog cage, for instance, was left in plain sight — folded up in a cluttered corner where it appeared to be waiting for the next garage sale. He also kept a wooden paddle hanging on the wall of his home office, which he jokingly told guests was for "errant children." Little did they realize it was no joke. Nor did most people realize that he kept a set of metal handcuffs in his desk drawer, right next to a stun gun and his handgun.
I can't remember being threatened with the gun — although it may have happened. (Due to amnesia, as well as the normal forgetfulness of memory, there are many details about my abuse I can't recall. I know this because, over the years, eyewitnesses have told stories about my abuse that I cannot personally remember.) I do, however, remember Gary threatening me with the stun gun repeatedly. He even used it on me once. Once was all it took. For after experiencing the excruciating, utterly indescribable pain it inflicted, I never, ever wanted to experience it again.
When he wasn't hurting me, he lavished me with parental attention. On the long drives to and from school, he would initiate conversations about history, politics and art. We ate nearly every meal together while he instructed me on things like table manners and ethnic cuisine. He gave me my first typewriter and influenced my decisions to become both a writer and psychologist. He took the time to open up the world for me. He was my first and most significant mentor.
Under my mother's care, I'd been neglected and deprived. She was constantly at work, leaving me alone and lonely. Gary preyed on that loneliness. Like any skilled pedophile, he identified what I needed, and he gave it to me. He made me feel special, talented, smart.
Even sexually, staying on Gary's good side had its advantages. For once he felt I had become sufficiently trained and submissive, most of the torture tapered off. Afternoons in the basement were replaced by the bedroom. And his fervor to cause me pain was replaced with a passion to bring me pleasure. I suspect it made him feel powerful — like more of a man.
Nearly every day at 4 p.m., for years, he would summon me to bed for what can only be described as a lovers' tryst. The weird part, of course, was that his "lover" was just under four feet tall and weighed less than 60 pounds.
Nearly every day at 4 p.m., he would summon me to bed.
There was also the inconvenient fact that his official lover, my mother, refused to vanish. Unable to ditch her physically, he did it emotionally instead. Every evening, he locked himself in his home office. Every weekend, he went to his store. As I was expected to work for him, I followed wherever he went. Very early on, my mother began to notice this pattern, and she didn't like it. Not one bit. Being immature, she didn't handle the situation with grace. She felt excluded, which she was. So she began to yell a lot, mostly at me.
One particular Saturday morning (we had probably been living with Gary for about six weeks), I was in the bathroom getting dressed for the flea market, just as I did every weekend. But my mother wasn't happy, so she stood in the doorway, whining. "What're you gettin' dressed to go there for? Huh? You oughta be staying home with me."
Just then, Gary came into the hall. My mother cornered him. "I want Shell to stay home with me," she demanded. "She's down at that flea market with you way too much!"
Gary, as always, remained calm during my mother's onslaught. Nonchalantly, he remarked, "Why don't you let Mooch decide what she wants to do today? She's perfectly capable of choosing."
With one quick remark, he had abdicated all responsibility for the situation. Instead, all blame was now placed squarely on me. At 8 years old, I was being asked to choose between my mother and Gary. It was not a real decision, of course. Gary knew this. If I chose Gary, he would immediately whisk me away from my mother's ranting — and probably offer some kind of reward. But if I chose my mother, there would be no one to protect me from Gary. Crossing him would mean paying for my sins.
So, I chose Gary, and my mother flew into a jealous rage. "The flea market!" she screamed. "You can't go to the flea market! I'm your mother! You're staying with me!"
But Gary was already whisking me out the door. "You asked her to choose, and she chose, Judy," he said. "Live with it."
It was with this kind of scene that Gary was able to drive a wedge between my mother and me. I am certain that if Gary could've gotten rid of my mother entirely, he would have. He lobbied hard to adopt me, but my mother resisted. Despite being naïve in many ways, she knew that if Gary became my legal parent, he would dump her and seek full custody.
Thankfully, she never fell for the trap. Still, I'm astonished that she chose to stay with a man whose deepest desire was to kick her to the curb and steal her young daughter.
Personally, I know for a fact that Gary considered me his true lover. I know because he told me so. Constantly. "You are my real wife," he would say to me each morning as we drove together in the car. "You are my real wife," he would say to me each day as we worked side by side at the flea market. "You are my real wife," he would say to me each afternoon as we lay naked in the king-size bed he would share with my mother later that night.
He told me, constantly, 'You are my real wife.'
When he said it, I didn't quite know what to think. I knew he meant it as a compliment because he said it so often and with such pointed intensity. But my 8-year-old brain simply could not grasp that this 33-year-old man saw me as his mate. I was just a little girl. He was with my mother. That made us a family. He was my father, and I was his child. Right?
That's how I saw it. That's how I wanted to see it. I just wanted to be normal like other kids. I just wanted to have a normal life.
So when Gary said, "I'm only with her for you. You're the one I really want," it confused me. I felt uneasy. Guilty, I guess. On some level, I knew it was very wrong. The guy was telling me to replace my own mother. This made me feel terrible. Despite her shortcomings, I loved my mother and felt a deep and innate loyalty to her. Gary, on the other hand, scared and repulsed me. The last thing I wanted to do was compete with anyone — let alone my own mother — for his affection.
This excerpt was adapted from Scared Selfless, My Journey from Abuse and Madness to Surviving and Thriving with permission from Putnam. Michelle Stevens, Ph.D., is a psychologist and founder and director of Post-Traumatic Success , a nonprofit dedicated to educating and inspiring those affected by psychological trauma.

Early Prime Day deals & all the facts
Early Prime Day deals & all the facts
Early Prime Day deals & all the facts
Early Prime Day deals & all the facts
February 14, 2020, 2:00 PM · 11 min read
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Think about your fave sex scene from any movie or TV show (cough, Bridgerton ). Instant heat, right?
No doubt, video porn and movie sex scenes are arousal aids. But what if you feel like ditching the screen for more analog options, and swap video for words? The beauty of reading instead of watching sexy scenes — via erotic literature, for example — is that you're able to fully imagine the scene according to your preferences since there aren't any visual cues of what actors look like, the vibe of the setting, and so.much.more.
"Erotica is all about you: What you want, how you want it, where you want it, who you want to do it with (if anyone)," explains Jayne Renault, head of erotica at Bellesa , an online hotspot for all things sexy. The page is your smutty oyster.
You might have a very specific idea of what erotica is, but the erotica for women category is actually quite broad. Erotica is any literary or artistic works that have an erotic theme or quality, according to Merriam-Webster, and can range from subtly sexy to straight-up hardcore.
"Erotica can also be a place to explore, discover, and push the boundaries of your fantasies, at a pace you choose, in the safest way possible," says Renault. For instance, you may learn that reading about choking sex , sex swings , or the Dominant/submissive dynamic really gets you going. Of course, there's a difference between being turned on by an idea versus wanting to do it. But erotic fiction can be your first point of sexual exploration with a particular fantasy, kink, or fetish , she says. (Keep in mind, if you actually want to try the salacious acts you read on the page, know that it's not a replacement for sex education — and it's always important to talk to your partner before experimenting with something new .)
Beyond the sexy perks, enjoying erotic literature and free erotic stories offers you the same stress-relieving benefits of reading a book ( Earth-shattering orgasm or not). "Generally speaking, reading is a meditative way to escape the stress cycle of life," says Renault. Consider erotica's unofficial motto: "Why be stressed when you could get wet?"
Luckily, you don't need to hit up a bookstore or load up your Amazon Prime account to get in on the goods. (Praise be to the internet!) Erotica has even more online hubs than it does nicknames — and much of the best online erotica is totally free. We've saved you the Googling. Scroll down for a well-researched, carefully curated list of the best free erotic stories for women, men, and nonbinary folks alike.
Want to salivate over stone-femmes and/or butches? Do you jerk it to scenes of (consensual) beatings, whippings, and floggings? Or do you prefer strap-on sex and gender play? Sugar Butch Chronicles , an award-winning sex blog from Sinclair Sexsmith , a queer butch Dominant, writer, and editor of Best Lesbian Erotica, is IT. Hands down (heh), it's the best destination for kinky, queer erotic stories on the internet. (Related: 4 ProDomme's Share Exactly What It's Like to Be a Dominatrix IRL )
If you saw erotic potential in Twilight (Vampires! Necking! Blood! Hickeys!) or think public sex is hot (either in theory or practice), Remittance Girl 's work is for you. All of her erotica explores kinky themes like bondage, age play, dominance and submission, caning, and more. Unlike most free erotica archives online, all the work on Remittance Girl is written by the same whip-smart (pun very much intended), provocative, intentional sex-word master. And consistency, as you may well know, is the key to a good climax. (Related: Explore the World of Shibari, Japanese Rope Bondage )
Like Remittance Girl, Girl On the Net is entirely written and run by one person. Though Girl on the Net became popular during the spike in interest and availability of audio porn a few years ago, it originally began as a mecca for all things sex. Think: Quirky sex rants, how-to posts, real-life erotic stories, and dirty fantasies. Don't stress; all of that content is still there! If it's strictly erotica that you're after, check out the " Girls I've Had " and " Boys I've Had " tabs.
The oldest BDSM fiction site, BDSM Cafe is an oldie and a goodie. Over the last 20 years, the free erotica website has garnered quite an archive of kinky content including erotic stories about group sex, anal, female dominance, paddling, and (a lot of) submission. Admittedly, this site is less user-friendly than some. But (!!) the good content is really good. Scroll through the short stories tab for plots that'll have you climaxing in ten minutes or less. Peruse the novels tab for (free!) book-length erotic stories with tons of build-up and multiple sex scenes. Then, after all is read and cum (if you don't have sex-brain), check out their resource tab for awesome intel on how to break into the BDSM scene IRL. (Related: The Beginners Guide to BDSM )
Literotica is a classic and oh-so expansive. You could stop sleeping, eating, and exercising (please don't!) and spend the rest of your life reading Literotica and you'd never work your way through all of the stories they offer. For a sense of scale, there are over 5,000 stories about anal, 16,000 stories about different fetishes, and 11,000 stories about gender-play and cross-dressing. So. Much. Erotica.
That said, because finding a well-written story can be like finding a guy who's not a douche on Tinder (nearly impossible) I recommend sticking to the stories on their " Top " list, where you'll find the most popular erotic stories on the site. Another option: Follow the one-minute rule. If after 60 seconds you're not into the story, search for another. (P.S. You may want to consider starting a sex journal as a way to explore your sexuality as well.)
With the tagline "erotica, updated," Aurore is serving up steamy erotic stories that tease, educate, and help you get turned the eff on. The site divides its content into two types: vanilla, queer, and kink. As of now, there are still only about 20 or so stories in each category — but, trust, what's there is hot. Feeling vanilla? Check out " CEO Good " about a divorcée who gets courted by a much younger man on her business trip or " Paradise Found " about a transgender man reminiscing on his first time. Or, if you're feeling a little kinkier, check out " The Quiet Ones " about sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.
Oh, and do your Instagram feed a freaky favor by giving Aurore a follow . The posts are as empowering and aesthetically pleasing as the stories are. Plus (aspiring authors take note!) Aurore sometimes hosts workshops about how to write erotica, which they post about on the grid. (Related: How to Watch Porn with Your S.O. )
Big on picture porn? You may have already found yourself on Bellesa — they've also got a pretty robust library of "woman-friendly" video porn (and also some cam girl/guy/person offerings). Regardless, if you're into erotica, you need to know about Bellesa's feminist erotica offerings. For starters, their website is super easy to navigate so you can find exactly what you want. Seeking some girl-on-girl action? Or is tonight more of an exploratory kinda night? Scroll through the categories on the homepage and decide between a plethora of feminist erotica. With additional sections like "non-binary" and "bisexual," Bellesa is one of the most inclusive erotica offerings out there. (You didn't ask, but my fave stories so far are " Gym Daddy " and " A Second First Time ." You're welcome.)
If you're a nut about character development — in addition to sexy adventures — hit up Bookrix (a free, self-publishing platfor
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