Hurting Little Sluts...

I was about 4 years old when it all began. My father was seeking every opportunity to assault me whilst my mother was at work. While this was going on at home I experienced 3 further assaults. About 5 or 6 years old a neighbour I knew as Jack took me to his house offering me a doll. After taking me upstairs to his house he assaulted me on his bed before giving me a knitted rag doll and sending me home. My father was circling the street in his car searching for me, and when I told him where I was and what the man did to me he phoned the police. The second assault happened during a caravan club when I was about 7 or 8. A teen followed me into a nearby forest where I was collecting conkers whilst my parents set up the caravan. He asked me to sit down with him on a tree stump and began fondling me, asking me “is that nice?” I froze and couldn’t answer. He made me promise to meet him the next day, but when I got back my parents were already packing up. According to them my mother was ill. To me I was breaking a promise, and I had been taught to never break a promise, so I spent 2 hours of the journey home crying. The third assault also happened during a caravan club, some time when I was about 9. My parents let me go down the road to feed some ducks. An old man approached me and told me to follow him. I was afraid that if I didn’t follow him I’d be in even more danger. He took me to some woods and turned me away from him. He then pulled on of my hands behind my back and had me jacking him off. He then left and I raced back to the caravan as fast as I could, calling for my mother. She wrapped my hands in freezer bags and called the police. I don’t know if they caught him or not. When I was 12 my mother approached me in the night in my room, she asked me was my father doing something to me. I started to cry realising he was in big trouble and slowly nodded. My father came into the room and my mother attacked him. Next morning my mother asked me if she wanted me to send him away or not. I still loved him as he was my father, so I said to stay. She made him swear on the bible to never touch me again, but a year later it started again despite my protests. She asked me if my dad was still touching me. I looked down and nodded. My dad burst into the room and I started to sob and asked him “daddy, why do you do this to me?” My mother went livid and attacked him until he left the house, the next morning she phoned the police and I never saw him again. A year later I was at a friends’ house and we were playing computer games in his bedroom. He tried touching my breasts but I slapped his hand away. After 2 attempts he got rough and forced me onto his bed and began unbuttoning my blouse. His older brother burst into the room, pointed at me shouting “you, out now!” and to his younger brother he said “I could hear you two from downstairs.” As I was running out buttoning up my blouse he shouted after me “you better not tell anyone he tried to rape you!” I didn’t, a few days later my best friend said he tried to do the same to her. When I was about 23 I went to a night club with a friend. It was a fairly quiet one, we were the only people there except for an old man. After a couple of drinks I decided to dance on the floor. Whilst dancing I felt someone grab me at the hips and trying to do dirty dancing with me. I didn’t feel comfy with it, but I tried to play along. He was breathing heavily down the back of my neck, and then he started rapidly thrusting his pelvis against my backside. I pushed him off me and walked back to the table angry and upset. I told my friend what he just did so we called a taxi and went back home.

So you didn't enjoy it... But now you love the idea of getting raped again?

Remembering what's important