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“So then get it out in the open and maybe it won’t be so embarrassing anymore,” he suggests.
I don’t think he’s ever been embarrassed before because that is definitelynothow that works, but I don’t have the time to explain humiliation to him when I have so many other things to get through. The sick fantasies haven’t stopped for a second. I haven’t had a moment’s peace since it first went through my head.
I’ve imagined it a thousand different ways. Sometimes, in my fantasies, he’s got me running outside, and when he catches me, with his groin against my back, he decides he can’t wait. He’ll yank my shorts and undies down and be inside me before I even think to fight back. The sand and patches of little weeds will scratch my knees and I’ll cry, begging him to stop, but he won’t, because I don’t mean it.
Or maybe it’s when I’m sleeping. He wakes me up by undressing me, flips me over onto my belly, and fits his thick cock into my pussy before I have a chance to get wet and ready for him. I know that it should be… repulsive to have these thoughts, but all the websites say it can be really useful for trauma survivors.
Just say it. “Have you ever heard of consensual non-consent?”
His hands tighten around the arm rests and I look up at the ceiling for strength so I won’t give up. He knows, but I’m going to go ahead and describe it to him again so he knows exactly what I’m asking for and how much I know about it. How much I want it.
“I’ve done a lot of research, and it’s when… you would kind of, pretend to force me to have sex?”Fuck, I don’t even sound like I know what I’m saying. I’m not going to be able to convince him. “I would fight, and I’d say no but you wouldn’t stop, because I wouldn’t actually want you to. But then… there’s another word that would actually mean stop.” I pause and spare a look up at him when he stands.
My shoulders tense and I shake my head. “It’s just… this stupid thing I keep thinking- I- It’s stupid. Never mind.” I take a step back, turning my head away so he won’t see the hot tears of shame brimming in my eyes as he stands from his seat.
Josiah’s hand wraps around my wrist and he pulls me into his chest, looking down at me with a softness I’ve never seen before. “You want that?”
“I want to try. I don’t know if I could handle it, but I want…”
He nods his head, hands rubbing soothing patterns on my back. “Tell me what you imagine. Tell me how it goes in your mind.”
For all the differences in my many imagined scenes, it always has similar facets. I’m going to ask him to push his limits to be able to push mine. “Um, it starts with you sneaking up behind me, and putting your hand over my mouth.”
Josiah turns me away from him and puts one of his arms around my waist and the other hand over my mouth. “Like this?”
I nod and he removes his hand so I can speak. “Like that but it would be harder, like you mean it. And… I fight, maybe even get away from you, but you always catch me. You take me down- to the floor or the bed- wherever we are and you… you say ‘don’t scream’, and you cover my mouth and…” Butterflies go wild in my belly, but fear won’t let me say anything else.
Josiah kisses my ear and hugs me against his chest. “What would your word be? What word do you want me to listen for?”
“Red.” It’s short and simple and operating on a stoplight system seems universal. It’s an easy word to avoid saying unless I need him to stop.
“And you know I would stop any time you said that to me, right? If you say it, it’s over, and I won’t be mad. Do you understand that?” His calm in this discussion is so soothing. I appreciate his ability to stay even-keeled despite what I’m asking him for. I’m asking him to scare me, to hurt me, and make it feel real so I can heal from something I’ve been afraid of for years.
It’s going to be just as hard for him as it will be for me, maybe even harder. He doesn’t want to hurt me, and who knows if I’ll be okay when it’s over. It might break me more, but I have to try. I know it will bug me forever if I don’t at least give it a shot.
“Yes,” I answer, breaking the silence. I know Josiah would never do anything to purposefully hurt me. He’s too good, too pure.
“You’re sure you want me to say that to you? You want me to say the same things he said?” This might traumatize him, and I’m aware of that. I would never want him to hurt for me, but that’s why I’m asking, why we’re going through the details so we both know whether we’re on board for this plan or not.
“Yes, that’s the most important part.” I have to take the power back from a dead man. If I hear those words and feel the fear again and survive it, then I can convince myself everything will be okay. If I can survive Josiah, a bigger, stronger man, doing and saying the same things Tony would say to me, then I can make it through anything the universe might throw my way.
Josiah’s hands rub circles against my belly and he tugs me closer again. I appreciate the extra softness he’s showing me while we talk about something so emotionally charged and terrifying. “And when we’re done, how do you want me to take care of you?”
“I don’t know. I never thought about that.” I’m not sure if I’ll want him to be away from me or close to me then. When it’s over, if it goes badly, which I hope it won’t, I might not want him anywhere near me. Hopefully though, when we’re done, I won’t feel anything butbetter. I don’t know what to expect from this experience, except that I need it.
He kisses over my cheek again. “If you want me to be rough on you, if this is what you want, you have to tell me how to fix what I break after we’re done, kitten. I can’t leave you shattered afterwards. You’re probably going to have a lot of emotions come out during something like that, and I need you to think about what you want me to do when the scene is over.”
I nod my head, rocking back on my heels so I’m closer to him. “I will. I’ll think about it.”
“You really trust me that much?” he asks, sounding awed by the idea.
“Yes. I trust you completely.” He’s shown me over the last couple months that I can trust him with everything, and I believe in that. He doesn’t want to hurt me. There’s no reason not to trust him.
“Good.” He trails his hands down my arms until he gets to my palms and uses his fingers to trace his regular circles there. “Do you have a time in mind for when you’d like to do this?”
“Would you really do this for me?” I wasn’t expecting it to be so easy to get him to agree. I had planned a much longer speech to explain to him why I need it and how it will help, but he took to it relatively easy.
“I’ll do anything you want, baby girl,” he tells me. “Do you want it to be sudden or planned?”
