The Gang of Four [GRAPHIC CONTENT - TRIGGERING]
axlr
Registrant
Among the many things my abuser did, or might've done, and all those memories, there's one thing I know for sure happened. One thing that's etched so deep into my soul that it cannot really be denied, only avoided and downplayed.
It's so easy for my brain to get distracted writing this. I have to really work to concentrate, or I'll just jump to something else or zone out or some other mechanism of avoiding it, but it has to be told. It needs to be known.
I remember that my abuser had already been sexually using me for some time, so I must have been 5 or maybe 6. Had gotten better at compartmentalizing between my day self and my night self as Marilyn Van Derbur would put it. I came with him, expecting some form of sex, whether it was watching porn or doing something with him and maybe even another man, but I wasn't expecting to see four other men.
I got really upset, and scared, and I started crying. I don't know if I would have been half as upset if I knew that they were going to take turns, I was young enough to think that all four of them were going to try and fit in at once and tear me apart like vultures, and I didn't want to suffer like that. So I asked them not to, and I backed up towards the door, and one man got impatient with me and came up, grabbed me by the arm, tried to yank me towards wherever they intended to do their thing, and when I tried to pull away, he slapped me. A brief argument ensued between him and my abuser over leaving marks, or something like that, I don't really know, and all I could think about was how it was my fault that things were getting ugly and I decided to give up and resign myself to whatever was going to happen next.
Laid out on my back, head down. It was really hard to breathe. These are warm penises coming into me from both ends. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about it, like I was at the dentists and they were spraying my teeth with the yucky flavored toothpaste they always used, and other details like that which could give me an out from having to think about where I was. I couldn't escape to an inner world though, that wouldn't be my luxury. Hard to overstate the suffocation of it, whatever I could smell was their sweat. If I could I would have probably been expecting the other men to try and stick something in somewhere, with the ensuing dread, but I was so overwhelmed I couldn't really think ahead like that. It's the most depersonalizing thing of all time, you don't feel like a separate person anymore, you feel consumed, devoured. Must have been what being eaten feels like. Oh, and my nose running like crazy. I must have looked like I had the plague with how messy my face was getting.
In some sense, when they finished and I had a moment of respite, just a brief moment before the others came in to get their fix, I felt glad. Glad that they weren't trying to fit in all at the same time. Figured maybe they felt bad for me. So I had to go through all of those sensations again, and I might've passed out. It was really hard to get air. I'm not sure if the second men were more gentle or if I just lost consciousness for a bit and wasn't awake for most of it. I remember my head hurting and my body aching everywhere, and being covered in something warm that sort of itched my skin, but I was so fatigued I didn't even care, just looked around the room and saw my abuser masturbating with a camera, and then he got to finish over me, and then it was over.
When he finished washing me off, I could barely carry myself enough to get back home, find a bed, and take a very long nap. Maybe I wanted to cry, but I wouldn't have had the energy to do anything more than frown. Too tired to really get into it, and by the time I awoke it was all a distant memory.
It's so easy for my brain to get distracted writing this. I have to really work to concentrate, or I'll just jump to something else or zone out or some other mechanism of avoiding it, but it has to be told. It needs to be known.
I remember that my abuser had already been sexually using me for some time, so I must have been 5 or maybe 6. Had gotten better at compartmentalizing between my day self and my night self as Marilyn Van Derbur would put it. I came with him, expecting some form of sex, whether it was watching porn or doing something with him and maybe even another man, but I wasn't expecting to see four other men.
I got really upset, and scared, and I started crying. I don't know if I would have been half as upset if I knew that they were going to take turns, I was young enough to think that all four of them were going to try and fit in at once and tear me apart like vultures, and I didn't want to suffer like that. So I asked them not to, and I backed up towards the door, and one man got impatient with me and came up, grabbed me by the arm, tried to yank me towards wherever they intended to do their thing, and when I tried to pull away, he slapped me. A brief argument ensued between him and my abuser over leaving marks, or something like that, I don't really know, and all I could think about was how it was my fault that things were getting ugly and I decided to give up and resign myself to whatever was going to happen next.
Laid out on my back, head down. It was really hard to breathe. These are warm penises coming into me from both ends. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about it, like I was at the dentists and they were spraying my teeth with the yucky flavored toothpaste they always used, and other details like that which could give me an out from having to think about where I was. I couldn't escape to an inner world though, that wouldn't be my luxury. Hard to overstate the suffocation of it, whatever I could smell was their sweat. If I could I would have probably been expecting the other men to try and stick something in somewhere, with the ensuing dread, but I was so overwhelmed I couldn't really think ahead like that. It's the most depersonalizing thing of all time, you don't feel like a separate person anymore, you feel consumed, devoured. Must have been what being eaten feels like. Oh, and my nose running like crazy. I must have looked like I had the plague with how messy my face was getting.
In some sense, when they finished and I had a moment of respite, just a brief moment before the others came in to get their fix, I felt glad. Glad that they weren't trying to fit in all at the same time. Figured maybe they felt bad for me. So I had to go through all of those sensations again, and I might've passed out. It was really hard to get air. I'm not sure if the second men were more gentle or if I just lost consciousness for a bit and wasn't awake for most of it. I remember my head hurting and my body aching everywhere, and being covered in something warm that sort of itched my skin, but I was so fatigued I didn't even care, just looked around the room and saw my abuser masturbating with a camera, and then he got to finish over me, and then it was over.
When he finished washing me off, I could barely carry myself enough to get back home, find a bed, and take a very long nap. Maybe I wanted to cry, but I wouldn't have had the energy to do anything more than frown. Too tired to really get into it, and by the time I awoke it was all a distant memory.