You worshiped him. It was not love at first sight; it was lust that transformed into something beyond your control. You tried to dissuade yourself from falling hopelessly, but as always you were the hopeless romantic at heart. He was everything you desired, or more than you felt you deserved in a lifetime. You did every of his bidding. You thought pleasing him would keep him completely within your grasp. It worked. You did have him, for a time, until he started making outrageous demands.
You stormed out of his house the day he tried using his ring finger, in the middle of a lovemaking session, to penetrate your anal canal. It was a mistake, you told yourself, until the consistency at which he probed became glaring. Your body went numb, like something had been turned off inside you. Your mind went blank, every sexual fantasy leaving your body. You raised your head and stared at him deeply, with that probing but yet naive eyes.
“What are you doing,” you asked, as he stared right back at you, with that air of confidence that had endeared him to your heart. With his rusty voice, he told you that he wanted to penetrate you anally.
You didn’t say a thing; you just stood up, briskly dressed up and stormed out. He didn’t make any attempt to stop you or even show any remorse. He never did. You cursed his guts and swore that was the last time you were ever getting in touch with him.
By the time you got home, the anger had faded away and you convinced yourself that you had overreacted. You stared at your phone for a long time, wishing he would call to apologize, but he didn’t. You knew he wouldn’t, but something within you was hoping this time, it would be different. Your will held out for a week. But like a dog that goes back to its vomit, you finally sent a text that went ignored. You called him severally and he didn’t pick, neither did he return the calls. You finally decided to try your luck and visit him one Saturday morning. You met him at home, engrossed with his laptop, barely sparing you a glance. You sat down beside him and begged. It has always been that way, he never begged when he was wrong. You hated yourself, but you couldn’t help it. He had that effect on you.
After what seemed like eternity, he looked at you for the first time since you entered and said having you anally was the only way he would have you back. He had you that Saturday night; he used the Vaseline petroleum jelly that he kept in his toilet to spread in between you buttocks. He used his right ring finger to slowly penetrate you. He did it in a slow rhythm, until it forcefully slipped inside. You wanted to stop him because the pain was unbearable, but he had your two hands tied behind your back. You silently squeezed your face, wishing the assault would be over in no time. He removed the finger and positioned you squatting; he brought his manhood close to your buttocks and you could feel his manhood close to your anal opening. You started feeling a slow penetration and without any warning he went all inside, the pain was piercing and you felt like your head would divide into two. You wailed as he went in without any pity, tears dripped down and every part of your body felt like it was on fire. Your body went through a sequence of countless pain and you couldn’t stop him. You bit hard on the mattress but even that could not distract your pain. You felt him slip out after you had heard him let out a satisfying moan. You lay down on the mattress, your face down and your buttocks looking up, your hands finally untied. You could feel your anus opening and closing in a very funny way. You imagined feaces coming out and not stopping at all.
You imagined your life as one of those girls, those girls whose stories were told in whispers. Girls that had to wear pampers for the rest of their lives because they were taken anally by rich older men. He woke you up and told you that he was going out, and you should come so that he would drop you off at your house. You didn’t even know when you succumbed to sleep. You forced yourself up, piercing pain starting in-between your legs and shooting through every fibre of your body. You struggled into your cloths, pain in every step as you walked to the car.
“We are here,” he said.
You looked to your right and realized you were home. The drive had been a blur. You slowly got out of his car. There were no goodbyes. You were mad. You wanted to say “Good riddance” but as always, you knew you would go back.