Talk 2 Stegral

[leeroy jenkins]

And I do trust you, although I try to read what those ladies have to say also

I am only here because of Stegral otherwise I would contain myself to the bdsm section as that is where my heart lies as you can see by my AV.

 

[Stegral]

Think you are warm and wonderful!! But you already know that.

(((AZUL!!!!))) whatcha doing away from the playground????
Thanks sweetie..

 

[Cadoras]

Hello Stegral

I just thought that I would wander over here and talk to you, just to try to get to know you better....

How are things going in your part of the world today?

 

[Stegral]

Hello Stegral

I just thought that I would wander over here and talk to you, just to try to get to know you better....

How are things going in your part of the world today?

Sun is shining, my place is getting cleaned up ... bit by bit..lol... how is it on your side of the world?

 

[Cadoras]

Sun is shining, my place is getting cleaned up ... bit by bit..lol... how is it on your side of the world?

Well, it's just after Midnight, so it's a little dark over here.... Rather cool as well... Thinking about going to bed sometime soon, but I probably won't...

What's been going on with you lately? If you don't mind my asking

 

[gypsywitch]

Love the av.


Do you practice Stregheria like I do?

 

[Cadoras]

Love the av.


Do you practice Stregheria like I do?

If that was directed at me.... No witchcraft for me, not that I'm not open to the idea

 

[Stegral]

Love the av.


Do you practice Stregheria like I do?

Sorry Gypsy...I love your AVI...
I am ecclectic... I am studying many different paths right now before I travel a defenite one...
How long have you been practicing?

 

[gypsywitch]

Why is your name Stregal?


As a Pagan I rarely use the term witch actually. I've been an herbalist/midwife assistant type since the early 80's.

 

[Stegral]

Why is your name Stregal?


As a Pagan I rarely use the term witch actually. I've been an herbalist/midwife assistant type since the early 80's.

I agree... I am rarely called witch... Herbalist... there a few in my group of friends that use Herbs & grow alot of thier own... I have only just started finding the pagan paths so I haven't really settled on one in particular...

actually the R is in the right spot for my name... stegral...
it is letters from my children's names... from the one I see the most to the one I see the least... STE, GR, AL ...

I have had a few question the placement of the R in my name... considering it is what I have taken as my pagan name also.

Bless'd be

 

[gypsywitch]

We have a rather pale skinned bunch of mixed types of Pagans out here and I'm a good portion Sicilian so the Celtic/Strega combo works well for my family.

There are few here that share my southern European background where anyone called Pagan is a Earth-worshipper ancestorally. To me Native Americans, real Native South Americans, Aboriginies, and so on are Pagans.

Interesting name choice with the family letters.

thanks

 

[Stegral]

Interesting name choice with the family letters.

thanks

best thing about it is that I had no clue about the word Strega until about 2 years after I had made it...
I needed a "unique" name & that is what came to mind...
I was actually a practicing Christian when I made it..
I was raised catholic, had a hiatius for a while & went back to christianity but always felt something missing...
I am a believer of equality & paganism allows & embraces that balance...
I am much happier now than I ever have been in the past... honestly I can say that.

 

[Stegral]

Not a nice read.. be warned.

For all that knew I submitted a story to lit... it was rejected...
Lit allows incest, rape (If over 18) & an array of other stuff but not this one:

I hear my Mother on the phone, “Don’t worry, I will leave as soon as the sitter gets here, she can’t be left alone if I am going out, you know!”

Sitting in the shadows, I hide at the top of the stairs. I listen to my mother, wishing I had taken the babysitters course, to prove I could be on my own.

I wish the sitter wasn’t Him again, the one who looks at me and smiles in such an evil way, the one that touches me more than I thinks is ok, the one my mother tells me to stop making up such nonsense about. Curling my legs up close I gently rock at the top of the stairs, hoping and praying it isn’t Him coming to sit with me.

Hearing my mother near the stairs, I scoot back to my room and silently sit on my bed, book in hand. My mother comes up to let me know that “Uncle John” will be coming over for the day so she can go shopping, undisturbed and I can do my homework.

“But mom, I won’t be a bother, please let me come. I don’t want to be near him, please let me come shopping with you?” I ask her, a pleading tone in my voice.

“No more such nonsense out of you! I am still upset about the last batch of lies from your mouth about your uncle. Uncle John is a good man. He would never think or do the things you said and if I hear anymore of it I will take everything you hold dear away, as punishment for the lies.”

The doorbell rings almost on cue and I hear the voice come up the stairs. “I’m here, anyone home?”

My mother replies, “Yes. I’ll be right there.” She gives me one final stern look then leaves.

I hear them downstairs talking, she is telling Him about me up in my room doing homework for the day and that I am not to go outside or have any TV, as she feels it is causing a lot of the recent problems.

I hear Him chuckle, “Yea, they do make up some wild things at that age, don’t they?”

“Thanks for coming over, I feel safer with someone here with her, I should only be a few hours, is that ok?” I hear my mom ask.

A few hours ? I am terrified as to what may happen. I try to get back into my book as I hear my mother leave and hear Him down in the kitchen, unsure of what He is doing. Fine, just stay down there I think to myself, hoping He will.

I remember the first time He was here “watching me” it was all right, but He watched me so close it creeped me out and He just touched me a bit too much. The next time, I was in the shower when He arrived. My mom had left without telling me, so when I got out of the shower He was standing there with my towel in His hands, watching me again.

I tried to talk to my mom about this and got a backhand across the jaw, “for my lies.” I was so scared I just went further into the shell I was already in, so none of my teachers thought it odd for me to be quiet.

Just as I think I am safe for the day I hear the stairs creak, I jump from my bed and look for a place to hide, somewhere safe from Him. I crawl under my bed, squeezing up to the headboard, hoping the end tables will offer enough cover for me. I hold my breath.

I hear Him go into the bathroom, run some water, use the towel, and go back out. I wait a few moments before I come out from under my bed Maybe He is going to leave me alone today I think to myself, so deep in thought I don’t realize He is standing in my door waiting for me.

As I turn to sit back on my bed, I see Him and I freeze in place, a cold feeling covers me from head to toe. I can’t even scream or yell for help as He walks over to me grinning.

“So you told mommy did ya? Blabbermouth, she won’t take your word over mine. I have plans for you today you little bitch, the last time was nothing.”

I am frozen in fear, the words making my brain panic. How could it get any worse? I see Him undoing His pants after removing His shirt and throwing it at the door.

Please dear God, don’t let Him touch me again please, is all I can think of as the gap closes. At the last second I realize I HAVE to RUN and try to jump across the bed to the doorway.

He grabs one leg and I land on the bed, the other hand comes up across my back, to the waist of my jeans. He forces me down onto the bed, I struggle and kick, but He keeps me pinned as He works His way over my legs and shuts them together. He sits on the back of my legs, hindering most of my struggle.

I hear Him snickering the whole time telling me, He “likes ‘em feisty, makes it all the more fun.”

The hand that was on my pant-leg comes up to my head and forces me into the pillow. He pins both my top and bottom half. He reaches under and undoes my jeans, working them off the barely-there-hips. Deftly, with one hand, he takes the panties and the jeans down, almost to my knees. He is easily avoiding the hands trying to stop Him. I feel Him slide down a bit and I try to escape again, by bucking up onto all fours, but with my pants at my knees I don’t even get off the bed.

He grabs an arm and I am yanked back and wrestled down, forced to lay to on the bed with Him sitting on top of me. I realize as I struggle that I am hanging off the bed and have no leverage for my feet. He tears my t-shirt down the front and forcefully offers His cock to me telling me to “lick it and & suck it” as I valiantly try to gain something for my feet to rest on my head going from side to side. My mouth is clamped shut as I struggle to get my arms free of being pinned by his knees at my sides.
Laughing at my inability to gain a foothold, He brings His hands up to my small yet developing breasts and squeezes them around His cock. The pain of His knees driving into my arms is almost unbearable now as I begin to fade out. I feel Him release one side of me to tap my face, bringing me back. He sees my eyes open back up and He smiles at me saying, “Much better. I prefer a struggle, even if it is a hopeless one, until I want it to end.”

He repositions his legs so His knees are not on my arms, but His shins still have them pinned. I feel the tears streaming, I want to cry out, but I am terrified to open my mouth. He clamps my nose closed with one of His hands, the other moves across my small breasts, trying to hold them together around his cock. I struggle not to open my mouth to breathe, keeping as much of my last breath in as I can.

I am unable to hold it any longer and I gasp for air to find Him ready for this. He grabs my head with both hands and pulls it to Him as He rams His cock into my mouth. I hear Him give a grunt of pleasure as He gags me just before He screams in pain as I bite down as hard as I can. That bite got me a fist to the side of my head that made stars appear. My brain starts to shut down and my jaw relaxes and opens.

He checks Himself after pulling out as quickly as He can. “No blood, you’re lucky,” is all I hear in the distant fog of reality. I feel Him edge off the bed, but I am too dazed to try to escape.

Everything is hazy as I feel him prod my legs open and He runs His hands along my private parts. I don’t even jump when He rams His fingers inside me, turning and twisting them, causing a fiery pain, but still I don’t move. I am numb. Dead. I feel nothing, not even when He enters me semi-hard, frustrated at the lack of fight now.

I feel Him pull away but then feel the movement of Him against me, quick movements, before He tries again to enter, with very little success. He tries to get some reaction out of me as He puts pressure on different places, hoping to get a reaction, but I am dead inside. I feel nothing as I block out the world, putting up the walls to keep it all out.

May as well. Mom will NEVER believe this and will take away everything, you know she will is the thought that runs through my head. . .the head of a little girl as her trusted “uncle” takes what He wants and leaves her laying on her bed, to curl up in a fetal position under the covers, losing herself in the fortress being built inside her mind.

Never saying a world ...Trying to forget this day …

 

[BlackWolf65]

We have a rather pale skinned bunch of mixed types of Pagans out here and I'm a good portion Sicilian so the Celtic/Strega combo works well for my family.

There are few here that share my southern European background where anyone called Pagan is a Earth-worshipper ancestorally. To me Native Americans, real Native South Americans, Aboriginies, and so on are Pagans.

Interesting name choice with the family letters.

thanks

I *just* found this thread...

Thank you for your comment about Native Americans. My username is a form of my actual name. And you would be correct. In mainstream thought about what a pagan is, native people would be just that - pagans. We worship Mother Earth second only to the Creator.

 

[BlackWolf65]

For all that knew I submitted a story to lit... it was rejected...
Lit allows incest, rape (If over 18) & an array of other stuff but not this one:

I hear my Mother on the phone, “Don’t worry, I will leave as soon as the sitter gets here, she can’t be left alone if I am going out, you know!”

Sitting in the shadows, I hide at the top of the stairs. I listen to my mother, wishing I had taken the babysitters course, to prove I could be on my own.

I wish the sitter wasn’t Him again, the one who looks at me and smiles in such an evil way, the one that touches me more than I thinks is ok, the one my mother tells me to stop making up such nonsense about. Curling my legs up close I gently rock at the top of the stairs, hoping and praying it isn’t Him coming to sit with me.

Hearing my mother near the stairs, I scoot back to my room and silently sit on my bed, book in hand. My mother comes up to let me know that “Uncle John” will be coming over for the day so she can go shopping, undisturbed and I can do my homework.

“But mom, I won’t be a bother, please let me come. I don’t want to be near him, please let me come shopping with you?” I ask her, a pleading tone in my voice.

“No more such nonsense out of you! I am still upset about the last batch of lies from your mouth about your uncle. Uncle John is a good man. He would never think or do the things you said and if I hear anymore of it I will take everything you hold dear away, as punishment for the lies.”

The doorbell rings almost on cue and I hear the voice come up the stairs. “I’m here, anyone home?”

My mother replies, “Yes. I’ll be right there.” She gives me one final stern look then leaves.

I hear them downstairs talking, she is telling Him about me up in my room doing homework for the day and that I am not to go outside or have any TV, as she feels it is causing a lot of the recent problems.

I hear Him chuckle, “Yea, they do make up some wild things at that age, don’t they?”

“Thanks for coming over, I feel safer with someone here with her, I should only be a few hours, is that ok?” I hear my mom ask.

A few hours ? I am terrified as to what may happen. I try to get back into my book as I hear my mother leave and hear Him down in the kitchen, unsure of what He is doing. Fine, just stay down there I think to myself, hoping He will.

I remember the first time He was here “watching me” it was all right, but He watched me so close it creeped me out and He just touched me a bit too much. The next time, I was in the shower when He arrived. My mom had left without telling me, so when I got out of the shower He was standing there with my towel in His hands, watching me again.

I tried to talk to my mom about this and got a backhand across the jaw, “for my lies.” I was so scared I just went further into the shell I was already in, so none of my teachers thought it odd for me to be quiet.

Just as I think I am safe for the day I hear the stairs creak, I jump from my bed and look for a place to hide, somewhere safe from Him. I crawl under my bed, squeezing up to the headboard, hoping the end tables will offer enough cover for me. I hold my breath.

I hear Him go into the bathroom, run some water, use the towel, and go back out. I wait a few moments before I come out from under my bed Maybe He is going to leave me alone today I think to myself, so deep in thought I don’t realize He is standing in my door waiting for me.

As I turn to sit back on my bed, I see Him and I freeze in place, a cold feeling covers me from head to toe. I can’t even scream or yell for help as He walks over to me grinning.

“So you told mommy did ya? Blabbermouth, she won’t take your word over mine. I have plans for you today you little bitch, the last time was nothing.”

I am frozen in fear, the words making my brain panic. How could it get any worse? I see Him undoing His pants after removing His shirt and throwing it at the door.

Please dear God, don’t let Him touch me again please, is all I can think of as the gap closes. At the last second I realize I HAVE to RUN and try to jump across the bed to the doorway.

He grabs one leg and I land on the bed, the other hand comes up across my back, to the waist of my jeans. He forces me down onto the bed, I struggle and kick, but He keeps me pinned as He works His way over my legs and shuts them together. He sits on the back of my legs, hindering most of my struggle.

I hear Him snickering the whole time telling me, He “likes ‘em feisty, makes it all the more fun.”

The hand that was on my pant-leg comes up to my head and forces me into the pillow. He pins both my top and bottom half. He reaches under and undoes my jeans, working them off the barely-there-hips. Deftly, with one hand, he takes the panties and the jeans down, almost to my knees. He is easily avoiding the hands trying to stop Him. I feel Him slide down a bit and I try to escape again, by bucking up onto all fours, but with my pants at my knees I don’t even get off the bed.

He grabs an arm and I am yanked back and wrestled down, forced to lay to on the bed with Him sitting on top of me. I realize as I struggle that I am hanging off the bed and have no leverage for my feet. He tears my t-shirt down the front and forcefully offers His cock to me telling me to “lick it and & suck it” as I valiantly try to gain something for my feet to rest on my head going from side to side. My mouth is clamped shut as I struggle to get my arms free of being pinned by his knees at my sides.
Laughing at my inability to gain a foothold, He brings His hands up to my small yet developing breasts and squeezes them around His cock. The pain of His knees driving into my arms is almost unbearable now as I begin to fade out. I feel Him release one side of me to tap my face, bringing me back. He sees my eyes open back up and He smiles at me saying, “Much better. I prefer a struggle, even if it is a hopeless one, until I want it to end.”

He repositions his legs so His knees are not on my arms, but His shins still have them pinned. I feel the tears streaming, I want to cry out, but I am terrified to open my mouth. He clamps my nose closed with one of His hands, the other moves across my small breasts, trying to hold them together around his cock. I struggle not to open my mouth to breathe, keeping as much of my last breath in as I can.

I am unable to hold it any longer and I gasp for air to find Him ready for this. He grabs my head with both hands and pulls it to Him as He rams His cock into my mouth. I hear Him give a grunt of pleasure as He gags me just before He screams in pain as I bite down as hard as I can. That bite got me a fist to the side of my head that made stars appear. My brain starts to shut down and my jaw relaxes and opens.

He checks Himself after pulling out as quickly as He can. “No blood, you’re lucky,” is all I hear in the distant fog of reality. I feel Him edge off the bed, but I am too dazed to try to escape.

Everything is hazy as I feel him prod my legs open and He runs His hands along my private parts. I don’t even jump when He rams His fingers inside me, turning and twisting them, causing a fiery pain, but still I don’t move. I am numb. Dead. I feel nothing, not even when He enters me semi-hard, frustrated at the lack of fight now.

I feel Him pull away but then feel the movement of Him against me, quick movements, before He tries again to enter, with very little success. He tries to get some reaction out of me as He puts pressure on different places, hoping to get a reaction, but I am dead inside. I feel nothing as I block out the world, putting up the walls to keep it all out.

May as well. Mom will NEVER believe this and will take away everything, you know she will is the thought that runs through my head. . .the head of a little girl as her trusted “uncle” takes what He wants and leaves her laying on her bed, to curl up in a fetal position under the covers, losing herself in the fortress being built inside her mind.

Never saying a world ...Trying to forget this day …

Having had the honor of reading this before it was posted, and also having the *dubious* honor of having had a similar story rejected, I can only guess that the powers that be in Lit are playing a CYOA game. This is sensitive material, in that while it deals honestly and maturely with a horrendous subject, it also may leave them open to scrutiny that they wish to avoid. It does bother me though, since the only people who could find this to be even remotely erotic would be people who enjoy abusing children...

 

[BlackWolf65]

I would like to follow Stegral's example, and post a story about a very sensitive subject that was rejected by Lit. I fear that it may be pulled rather quickly, but that is not the point. Lit has guidleines that they need to follow. *I* have a need inside that I simply have to follow: To make this public, and to let people see what child abuse does to the victims. Be warned: This is *not* a pretty thing to read...
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Author’s Note:

The sexual abuse of a child is, in my opinion, the worst crime that any human being can perpetrate on another. Admittedly, I’m biased on this topic. What you are about to read is not easy to look at. It is a first-person account of a child being sexually abused. Yes, it is autobiographical, and yes, it really did happen. Too many times, we hear about this kind of thing, and we all shake our collective heads at the monsters who commit these acts. But we almost never understand what it’s like from the perspective of the child, not really. This was written many years ago, as an exercise while I was in therapy learning how to cope with what was done to me when I was a little boy. It served its purpose well, and I am a much stronger person now for having written it, and for confronting my past.

I ask one thing of you as a reader: If you choose to continue and read this account through, please remember that there are uncounted numbers of children who live with this every day of their lives. They ask only to be loved. Too often, what you are going to read is the price that they pay for seeking that love.

As for myself, I’d like to offer this: I am quoting some lines from a favorite book of mine. This is a dialogue between two people about a very badly injured horse, but I find it to be very significant to this topic and to me in particular:

“‘How is he?’

‘Oh, I reckon he’ll make it.’

‘You do?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘No, but you see, where there’s pain, there’s still feeling and where there’s feeling, there’s hope.’

‘…The darkest hour comes before the dawn. Do you understand? It’s real, real important that you understand this. Sometimes what seems like surrender isn’t really surrender at all. It’s about what’s going on in our hearts. About seeing clearly the way life is and accepting it and being true to it, whatever the pain, because the pain of not being true to it is far, far greater. I know you understand this.’ “

~ Nicholas Evans ~
“The Horse Whisperer”


Bedtime Stories

It’s my bedtime. I’m lying in bed, listening to my Uncle tell me a bedtime story. He stays with me and my sister at night until my Mom comes home from work, and every night he tells me a different story. They aren’t stories from a book, either, or ones that he just remembers from somewhere, they’re all stories that he makes up just for me. I used to really like the stories, but I don’t anymore. Now, I never know for sure what’s going to happen when he finishes.

For as long as I can remember, my Uncle would tell me a story every night when he was watching me and my sister while Mom worked. He made up a whole bunch of them about The Purple Goose With The Pink Nose, and those are my favorites. I never fall asleep before the stories are finished, either. That used to be because I liked the stories so much, and I wanted to know how they would end. But now, I stay awake because I can’t fall asleep, because I’m afraid of what’s going to happen when the story is over. Mostly, I don’t even really hear the stories anymore, because I have to watch my Uncle so closely to see how he is. I always hope that he’ll be okay, and that I can listen to the stories. But I really can’t ever listen to them anymore, because I’m too afraid. Tonight I can tell the bad stuff is going to happen again.

There’s something about my Uncle’s voice, and the way he’s sitting on my bed. I know what’s going to happen. It’s hard to really explain what’s different about him, but I always know. I’m really scared now, and I feel all stiff and tight. I don’t really hear what my Uncle is saying; I can just hear his voice, like a humming noise in the background. All I can do is just lay here and wait for what’s going to happen. If I’m lucky, he’ll only do stuff that kind of feels good, even though it’s scary, too. I don’t want to think about what’ll happen if I’m not lucky.

My Uncle’s voice stops and the story is over. He stands up and tucks my blankets in around me, and then he leaves my room. This used to be the really good part, because I could go to sleep thinking about the story that I just heard. For a second, I think maybe I was wrong, maybe nothing will happen tonight. But I know he’s just going to make sure my little sister is asleep, and that my Mom isn’t home from work yet. I know he’s going to come back. I can always tell.

Just when I feel like I’ve been laying there forever, my Uncle comes back into my room and sits down on my bed again. He doesn’t say anything; he just sits there looking at me. After a couple of minutes, he reaches down and starts to rub my chest. Then he pulls down my blankets and unbuttons my pajama top, and starts rubbing me again.

My Uncle’s hand starts to move lower on my belly, and then he starts to rub my thing. Pretty soon, it gets stiff. I don’t move, I’m just hoping that this is all that’s going to happen. It’s really scary, but it feels kind of nice, too, and the times when this is all he does, I don’t mind it too much. I don’t really like it, but it’s not too bad, and at least it doesn’t hurt.

Now my Uncle is leaning down, and he’s putting my thing in his mouth. I kind of jump, and then I make myself lie really still. I keep telling myself, in my head, “This is okay, I can do this, it’s not too bad; this is okay, I can do this, it’s not too bad,” over and over and over. I can feel my Uncle’s hands and mouth on me down there, and I try not to think about it. After a little while, that stuff comes out of me. The first time it happened, I thought it was pee, but my Uncle says it’s something else. I feel ashamed of myself, even though my Uncle says it’s okay, and it’s supposed to happen.

My Uncle is sitting back up again, and he tells me to take off my pajamas for him. I’m starting to cry, but I don’t make any noise, I just do what he tells me to do. I try not to make any noise whenever this happens. Now he’s turning me over so I’m lying on my belly, and he’s rubbing my butt. I want to scream, or yell at him, or beg him to stop, but I can’t. My Uncle has told me that if I do anything to make us get caught, then I’ll never get to see him again, ever. If we get caught, my Mom won’t be able to work, because she won’t have anybody to watch me and my sister, and he might even have to go to jail, because people wouldn’t understand about what we do at night. They might even put me in jail for letting him do it. Everyone would say that we’re really bad for doing this. So all I can do is just lay there and close my eyes, and try not to let him see that I’m crying. He doesn’t like it when I cry. I want him to be happy, and I want him to be proud of me. I don’t want to let him down.

Now I can hear my Uncle taking off his clothes. I just lay here, really still, and I wait for what comes next. I can feel the bed sag when he gets in with me. It’s like there’s a giant in bed with me, and I can’t move; it’s like I couldn’t move even if the house was burning down. My whole body feels like it’s made of wood. I push my face down into my pillow, so I don’t have to see anything that’s happening. All I can feel is my breath, and my pillowcase against my face. My breath feels hot, and my pillow feels damp. I think about that: I think about how warm my pillowcase feels, and how warm my breath is.

I can’t see anything, but I can feel my Uncle’s hand press the pillow down when he puts it next to my head. Now I can feel him on top of me, and he’s pushing me down into the mattress. I’m getting really scared now. I still get so scared every time this happens, even though it’s happened a lot, and I think I should be used to it by now. But I never get used to it. It feels like I can’t breathe anymore, but I can’t turn my head to the side, because if I do then I’ll be able to see, and I don’t want to see. More than anything, I don’t want to see. So I just keep my face pushed into the pillow, and I push really hard to make my breath go in and out, and I make myself be really, really quiet so that my Uncle won’t be upset with me. I hate it when he’s upset with me. He would never spank me or hit me, but I don’t like to make upset, or to disappoint him. So I have to make myself be really quiet.

I try really hard to go away from here in my head. Sometimes, if I try really, really hard, I can do that. I can just go away and be someplace else, while all the bad stuff is happening back here. It’s almost like I’m here, but I’m not here; like I can still feel everything that’s happening and I know about it, but somehow it doesn’t really matter anymore. Sometimes my mind can fix it so I can do that. But it’s not working this time, so all I can do is just stay here and try to be good until it’s over.

Now I can feel my Uncle’s thing pressing against my butt. It’s huge, and all of a sudden I get really scared again, because I already know what’s going to happen next. I hate this part the most, because it really hurts so much. But my Uncle has already done things to try and make me feel good, so now it’s my turn to try and make him feel good, too. So I have to relax as much as I can. If I can just relax, maybe it won’t hurt so much. That’s what my Uncle says. But I can’t relax, I’m too afraid to relax.

I can feel my Uncle’s fingers smearing that greasy stuff on my butt. Now I can feel his thing starting to push up inside of me. I’m holding my breath, because I’m trying so hard not scream or let my Uncle know how much this is hurting me. I feel like I’m being split in two, like I’m on fire back there, like someone is sticking a knife up inside of me. It feels like all those things at the same time. It hurts so much, and even though I’m trying not to, I start to squirm, even though I promised myself that this time I’d stay really quiet and not move at all. It hurts so much!! All of a sudden, I feel my Uncle’s hand on the back of my neck; he’s trying to make me hold still, but it hurts too much, and I can’t stay still. But I won’t yell or scream. I stay quiet, and I don’t make a sound. I just stay silent and keep my face pushed into the pillow so my Uncle can’t see that I’m crying.

I can feel him starting to move in and out of me now, and every time he moves it feels horrible, like someone is splitting me apart back there. I feel like my butt is on fire inside, all I can feel is this awful burning. He’s done this to me before, and all of a sudden, I’m just hoping that I don’t have to go to the bathroom tomorrow, because if I do I know how much it’s going to hurt. But I always have to go after he does this to me, and it always hurts. It hurts for days afterward.

I can feel him moving back and forth faster now, and I can hear him, grunting above me. All of a sudden, he freezes, and I know it’s almost over now. The worst of it is done. So I still keep my face pressed into the pillow, and keep trying to relax, but I can’t. I’m so scared, and I just can’t relax at all.

I can feel my Uncle lifting himself up, and then he pulls his thing back out of me. Even though it hurts, I feel like I can breathe again, because it doesn’t hurt the same way anymore. Now it feels kind of like a really bad headache. I still don’t move, and I hear my Uncle leave my room for a minute. Then he comes back, and I can feel a warm washcloth pressed against my butt, and he cleans me up down there. Then I hear him tell me that I should get my pajamas and put them back on now.

I turn over, and I pick up my pajamas from the foot of the bed where my Uncle threw them. First I pull on the bottoms, then the top. I can’t look at my Uncle; all I can do is look at what I’m doing, getting dressed again. My hands are shaking, but I finally get my pajamas back on again. When I do, I lie back down and pull my blankets back up over myself. My Uncle leans over and tucks my blankets around me again, and then he kisses me on the forehead.

Finally, I feel like I can look at him again. When I do, his eyes look kind of funny, kind of blank, and his face looks like he’s far away, or daydreaming, or something. My face is still wet from crying, but it’s like he can’t see me, can’t see I’m crying or that my lips are shaking. It’s kind of like my Uncle isn’t even here, not really, or like he doesn’t really know that I’m here. He just kind of looks *through* me for a minute, then he turns around and leaves my room. He leaves my door open just a little, because he knows that I’m afraid of the dark. But I don’t think he knows why.

For a few minutes, I just lay there in bed, staring up towards the ceiling. Then I start to cry again, but I don’t make any noise. When I cry now, it’s just tears – I never make any noise anymore. Finally, I cry enough that I fall asleep.

When I get up in the morning, I’m glad that I didn’t have any dreams. I try not to think about what happened last night, but I can’t help it. I had to go to the bathroom this morning, and it hurt so much. It was almost like it was happening again. But this morning, when my Uncle comes to visit, he looks like everything is normal again. He’s my Uncle. He’s smiling, and talks to me about school and stuff. He leaves to go to work, and I leave to walk to school. My Mom kisses me goodbye and gives me my lunch before I go.

While I walk to school, I’m thinking about what my Uncle does. I hate it when he does those things to me. I hate it when he makes me put his thing in my mouth. I hate everything that he does in my room at night. But I don’t know what to do. I’m scared of him when he’s like that. I can’t tell my Mom, because then he’d go to jail, and maybe I would, too. And if that happens, it’ll be my fault. I just wish that it would stop. I wish my Uncle would stop doing those things, and just be my Uncle again. Right now, it’s like he’s two different people. I don’t like the one who comes in my room at night anymore. I hate him.

But I love my Uncle.

Sometimes, I just wish I could die.

 

[Stegral]

NEW LEATHER !!!

just got in from working at a show for "Screaming Eagle" leather wear... they do alot of biker wear but I did pick up a nice vest... matched with my "bitch boots" & suede skirt from Danier Leather I look ok I think...

you tell me...

(I know the quality is poor, my cam sucks.if you take them & edit to a better pic out of sympathy, please repost them)

 

[BlackWolf65]

NEW LEATHER !!!

just got in from working at a show for "Screaming Eagle" leather wear... they do alot of biker wear but I did pick up a nice vest... matched with my "bitch boots" & suede skirt from Danier Leather I look ok I think...

you tell me...

(I know the quality is poor, my cam sucks.if you take them & edit to a better pic out of sympathy, please repost them)

OK?????

Stegral, you look fuckin' HOTT!!!!

Gonna try ta play with the pic quality for ya...

 

[BlackWolf65]

Okay...

Tough pics to work with, so they aren't as good as I'd like. Also, one was nearly impossible, so I'm still working on it. However, here are the two that I do have.

 

[Stegral]

Okay...
Tough pics to work with, so they aren't as good as I'd like. Also, one was nearly impossible, so I'm still working on it. However, here are the two that I do have.

Thanks BW I appreciate all you did with them. even got one downsized so I have an AV !!!

((((BW))))) ty s m...

 

[luxey313]

Did anyone really doubt that avatar is you?
Cause if you were gonna use a faux one, it would have had toned arms.

 

[Stegral]

Did anyone really doubt that avatar is you?
Cause if you were gonna use a faux one, it would have had toned arms.

considering the questions about my last one, that wasn't me & looked like a regular person, yes I will post that this one is actually me...

 

[BlackWolf65]

Thanks BW I appreciate all you did with them. even got one downsized so I have an AV !!!

((((BW))))) ty s m...

~~Blushing~~

Awwww...

Anything for you Stegral, you know that...

 

[Sloppykitten]

For all that knew I submitted a story to lit... it was rejected...
Lit allows incest, rape (If over 18) & an array of other stuff but not this one:

I hear my Mother on the phone, “Don’t worry, I will leave as soon as the sitter gets here, she can’t be left alone if I am going out, you know!”

Sitting in the shadows, I hide at the top of the stairs. I listen to my mother, wishing I had taken the babysitters course, to prove I could be on my own.

I wish the sitter wasn’t Him again, the one who looks at me and smiles in such an evil way, the one that touches me more than I thinks is ok, the one my mother tells me to stop making up such nonsense about. Curling my legs up close I gently rock at the top of the stairs, hoping and praying it isn’t Him coming to sit with me...

I'm not putting the whole quote in because it is long...I have to say Steg...I knew you had a hard life, but I didn't realize the full scale of what you went through. Girl...you are so strong. All I can say is "wow". I don't know that I would have survived such a thing myself.

It's a honor to know you and to be able to call you my Friend. I love ya honey.

 

[Sloppykitten]

I would like to follow Stegral's example, and post a story about a very sensitive subject that was rejected by Lit. I fear that it may be pulled rather quickly, but that is not the point. Lit has guidleines that they need to follow. *I* have a need inside that I simply have to follow: To make this public, and to let people see what child abuse does to the victims. Be warned: This is *not* a pretty thing to read...
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Author’s Note:

The sexual abuse of a child is, in my opinion, the worst crime that any human being can perpetrate on another. Admittedly, I’m biased on this topic. What you are about to read is not easy to look at. It is a first-person account of a child being sexually abused. Yes, it is autobiographical, and yes, it really did happen. Too many times, we hear about this kind of thing, and we all shake our collective heads at the monsters who commit these acts. But we almost never understand what it’s like from the perspective of the child, not really. This was written many years ago, as an exercise while I was in therapy learning how to cope with what was done to me when I was a little boy. It served its purpose well, and I am a much stronger person now for having written it, and for confronting my past...

Again...wow...the heartbreak I felt reading your story...you've reduced me to tears. To think that children go through such heart-wrenching, horrific ordeals (which happens waaay too much) is so frightening.

I applaud you and Stegral both for being able to confront your pain and share with us such private moments in your lives.