Call me Master...

[blessmeplease]

WARNING! 18+ older please! If you are easily offended please do not read. Pass this on to anyone you know that may need help so they know they are not alone!
These are just a few things I'm working on. 

They are not in any particular order and come from my memories. The names have been changed resemblance of the characters are coincedental and they have inspired this tale.
*CM is Crazy Man as his name has not yet evolved*

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I curled up in my hiding spot, on the floor behind the big recliner, peeking out to see if he was close to discovering where I was. I squeezed my eyes and silently prayed he would not find me. I curled into a tighter ball for fear and warmth. I shivered, my teeth chattered, the towel I had wrapped around me hurriedly was soaking wet, I dashed out to hide so fast I hadn’t had time to dry. The shower I took mins before the water was cold. He had turned off the hot water as punishment for my disobedience. I hoped he wouldn’t hear my teeth clanking together as if they were cymbals, the noise seemed so loud that I swore he could hear them! My heart was racing! He was yelling for me, "Come out stupid *itch!".

What I did not matter, it was trivial. If he had a terrible day at work he would take it out on me. The sky could have fallen and it would have been my fault. Someone could have looked at him too long and it would have been my fault. There were times I took the blame for things he did or things he forgot to do. I was the fall girl. I learned to be accountable for not only my actions but his as well.

I peered out again, straining to see where he was without giving away my spot. We had two cats and they were also nowhere to be found. I prayed for God to do something to save me! I was crying silently and just waited. It’s a small house not even 1,300 sq. ft! I’m surprised he hasn’t found me yet!

He was yelling for me! "Melinda! I love you come on!, stop playing! I’m sorry Babe, I just don’t know why I did that. I promise I won’t do anything just come out.". I knew in my heart this was a lie! I didn’t want to come out, I wanted to run out of the house and not look back. But where would I go?

I slowly raised myself up, I was hurting, as I had been hiding there for over an hour. As I stood up he was in front of me in an instant! He looked at me tenderly, he touched my face so softly and he asked me, "Why are you so cold?". I blinked surprised and told him because of the shower being so cold, that I was cold because I had nothing but a wet towel on. He shrugged asked,"Why did you take a cold shower?", I couldn’t believe it! "CM, you turned the hot water off, I heard you go into the wall and turn the faucet.". He said, "No, I didn’t Mel. I must have just used too much hot water, sorry Babe, now come to bed."

He walked away and I just stared at him, fully aware of the events that transpired. And knowing now I would have to lay with this man. Hating myself for giving myself to him. Hating the actions I did to please him. Knowing in my heart I was there just as a bed warmer, despite anything he said. Despite any syrupy sounding words of endearment he would spew from his mouth.

This event is not rare! Countless times throughout our marriage I lay curled up on the floor, naked, cold, crying and hurting. I tried to keep the facade together, I tried to be the perfect mate, the perfect wife and lover. I could never attain high enough status in his eyes to fill that position. He would find something I lacked no matter what I did or no matter how hard I tried.

High school
We met in high school. I had just turned 17 years old. We had gym together and he was almost always on my team for different activities. I had always had a soft spot for a man with blue eyes and dark hair.

I wasn’t very good at gym and volleyball was a weak spot for me. So he would cover for me. He seemed like a shy guy. Turning beet red whenever I came near him, and he would look down when I tried talking with him. He later asked me if I wanted a ride home. I had just broken up with a boy a month or so before, so I had nothing to worry about. It started innocently enough. The more I knew him to more I fell head over heels in no time.

He was kind enough. I met his parents immediately! His family welcomed me with open arms. I never felt awkward and we fell into a routine of me going to his house after school or vice versa. Our blossoming friendship soon gave way to a marriage proposal which I shot him down with. I did not want to get married! I had plans, plans that included singing or acting. I was unsure about that.

I told him my dreams, of which he began to get jealous about the thought or possibility of other men. I remained faithful. I didn’t fool around. He started to call me more. Looking back I just thought that was normal. I only dated one other person. I had a string of hand holding with a few others from school but nothing serious.

He would drive by my house all the time! At the time I thought that was sweet! Now I think back and think to myself he was stalking me. I would find him peaking in my windows. I thought nothing of it before...

 

Cheater!
He changed my appearance more times then I could count throughout my life. I was never thin enough. My teeth weren’t straight. I hair wasn’t nice enough, my clothes weren’t tight enough. And the list went on and on. I grew tired of hearing about my imperfections on a constant basis. After sometime I stopped smiling. I was embarrassed of my smile, he said it crooked, and my teeth were a mess. I needed braces. So I stopped smiling!

More often then not, my smiling at others would give him cause to say I was flirting with other men. Or I would make eye contact too long with men. So I stopped smiling at men, I stopped looking at men in the eye when I talked to them. I would look down when a man looked my way. I lost confidence in myself. I began to feel like a troll. Like a fat, ugly troll. He told me on more then one occasion that I would be only good for one thing, spreading my legs. And that I couldn’t even get that right.

I feel as though I set up a chain of events that I can sever and will take a lot of work to repair. The links have rusted and corroded in many places. Many parts can never be fixed and they must be taken to have new links replaced.

I came to regret having a cell phone the instant I had one. Oh I was tickled pink in the beginning. Soon after a string of phone calls and 2 way chirps caused me to want to throw the dang thing in the garbage. The conversations started innocently enough. His idea was that if I needed a phone in emergency or something like that I was accessible. Sounds like a credible excuse!

I don’t know exactly when the phrases started, "Who you with, where are you at, whatcha doing?".

I would give him a play by play of incidents of the hour or day. He would get ticked off if I had nothing to report and hell’s bell’s if he heard someone or something I couldn’t account for! Late by the train? No way! I must be out screwing around! Not an good excuse! I would firmly but yet not too firmly as that was disobedience and would cause ramifications that could be pretty severe. I dreaded that phone ringing! Maybe 5 to 10 calls either by phone (if he wanted to be private) or 2 way calls. He would check my calls to see who called me and vice versa. Text messages were a NO-NO! Any text messages on my phone or the bill were closely scrutinized for who the person was texting me. I had a few friends that would send me messages much to my chagrin. I would be drilled at what was being implied in the text. Who was the person texting me and why?

I was operating the shop and had given my number to countless people, all of which I had to physically describe the person in detail, especially if they were married to CM. Anyone that called was immediately trying to hit on me. Or I was trying to hide a relationship I was having with them. I had given a gentleman, that had consigned items at the shop, nice fellow. He came in often, sometimes with his brother or sister, he came by so often that CM had concocted some elaborate idea this man and I were an item.

During our marriage I hadn’t stepped out on him, despite a longing to get away, I didn’t. The guy was just a charming and friendly guy. I recall having to take Mike to karate practice down the street, of which CM had me timed! I received a text from this man, he and his brother were having a drink in my honor. I quickly informed him that I really couldn’t text as my husband, which I explained the situations after breaking down in front of him and his brother a few hours before at the shop. He said no problem and good night.

I quickly gunned it home and CM proceeded to grill me about my phone. It had chirped prior to me leaving out of the house and he took notice of that. In my haste I didn’t erase the messages from the man. CM was livid! He wanted me to get this guy on the phone so he could as why he was trying to *uck his wife! Didn’t he know I was married? He went off on a tangent! If I was texting to this man who else was I texting or *ucking? I stood in front of him as though I was a child that had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. I felt guilty, I did have an attraction to the fellow, but I’ll be damned if I was going to say anything to CM about that!

Anytime this man came into the shop and CM was there I was immediately accused quietly of having an affair. 

Leaving again...
I tried to leave many times over the past 2 years. Garbage bags packed and kids in tow. I knew I couldn’t keep doing that to them, the yelling and screaming. His constant bellowing that I was cheating, a whore, dumb*ss, fat and worthless. I must not care about him because he kept gaining weight! I must not care about him because his clothes were not always ironed, the collars on his shirts would turn up in the corners. I must not care because I never tell him about festivals in the area that come to pass and we miss out on them.

I dreaded him giving me a hand around the house, I would have to throughly clean the house top to bottom! The first few things I did when we left CM this last time was to not dust or clean! I didn’t touch the fans or anything! A protest of which I still haven’t done too much housework! We also stayed out late! Something that was frowned against. We hardly ever went out after dark. We hardly went out at all. Though in the months leading up to our escape we did stay out late a quite a few times. I went to a women’s bible study and he seemed to relax somewhat. But I did make sure to get home fast as not to cause any questions about this or that. I didn’t need the hassle.

It was nothing for CM to make me go out to get something we were out of, such as bread or milk. I would rush out quickly per his request. Heaven help the man if he didn’t have his midnight snack of cookies or cereal! Or if there was no sweets in the house I would have to go get something. I knew better then to run out! If I loved him I would keep the pantry and refrigerator stocked!

I envied those doting husbands and couple’s that seemed to work as a team! I saw them at school or even at church. I knew nothing was perfect and there are up’s and down’s. I knew my husband was not my Helpmate. He was not the person I was to be with. I knew Mr. Right was somewhere and CM was not it.

I had an image of the perfect or kind of perfect person in my mind’s eye as many girls/women fantasize about that gallant knight on his steed! CM fulfilled a handful and the rest he will never be able to fulfill.

I lost so much love for this man that he no longer mattered to me. I did not want to see him hurt or injured but I lost the spark, I lost the emotion to feel any love for him. It was taken from me slowly, like sand in a timer. I lost it grain by grain. Something would cause my disdain and repulsion.

Sex
Sex should have been something we both enjoyed, countless times it was for his pleasure and not mine. He ran a bath for me a few times. I thought about that lately, recalling incidents of time and memories from the recesses of my brain. Some so deep into the darkness that they squirm in the light.  He wasn't always so bad. But the good times never outweighed the bad.

I felt demeaned. I felt so ugly and worthless. I know now none of those things are true and all are far from the truth. A slow repair to the children. As they still have to see him on weekends. Though I’m sure perhaps that will have to stop because he is not doing any good seeing them.

I remember not giving him sex. Not on purpose, either due to illness or womanly issues. He is a sex addict. Several times a day is not unheard of. Pleasing him was big part of sex. At some point it just became something to do. Just praying he would be satisfied enough to leave me alone. I could have had a fever, throwing up, or back pain, it didn’t matter. He would get ticked off at me if I didn’t perform. If I didn’t perform it was because I had to be fooling around with someone else. I didn’t stray.

Punishments for being unwilling to perform would be to lay in the frontroom without blankets, pillows on the floor. I was undeserving of being on the bed or couch. On a few occassions I would have to lay nude, cold because he would turn down the heat. I’d lay there for hours at times curled up on the floor. Better not be crying! He would either call for me to come to him. Come to him to make love. If he didn’t call me up he would drag me to him. I needed to come to bed! I was keeping him up by being such a *itch. I know I was supposed to do my duties. I was a *uck or a *lut that needed to know her place. I hated myself. A lot of times I daydreamed and tried to float away. On rare occassions I let myself enjoy sex, I felt I needed a release just as much as anyone else. I would get in trouble for being too noisy or faking it. I would get accused of fooling around with someone else because I was not wet enough. I was never lubricated enough and that must mean I’m sleeping with someone else.

Who was I thinking of? Was he good? Did he have a big d*ck? It was all in his head. This phantom person he made up that I was having an affair with. More then a few times he would just take me, he would cover my mouth with his hand during my protests and just take me. I could close my legs shut and he would just take me. He would take me in certain positions and he would choke me or pull my hair so hard my head would go back and I would cry, which would make him do so harder. He would pull or hurt me harder. He would get off more by my tears or whimpering. He’d call me a whore and *itch. I was his whore. I felt like a whore. He dressed me like a whore, I felt used, and unworthy of any real love. I figured this was it. This is what I’m used for. This is my partner, my helpmate.

I longed someone to give me a soft touch to my face, to gently caress me, a person just to hold me. Someone that would look at me and I would melt, knowing that my love was just as important to him as is to me. I longed for someone to hold my hand and stroke my hair. To breath and drink me in.

I was praying for him to meet someone else. I wanted out for a long time ago. I wanted to be able to leave many moons ago. I desired to be set free and to find my own piece of happiness. I never thought of finding another, I was led to believe all men were bad, as bad as he was. No man could love me like he did. Love, a funny word. It had lost a lot of it’s meaning while I was married to him. It became just a word, like Hello and Goodbye! I stopped saying the word a long time ago. He noticed and would get infuriated with me! Oh that would make him mad! I didn’t want him to think I felt anything for him.

If I got up from bed in the middle of night he would accuse me of keeping him up at night. I would end up scratching his back until he fell asleep. If I didn’t I would get in trouble. Scratching his back is fine but it does lull me to sleep so if this happened I would be shook or yelled at. This would go on for hours or until he was satisfied I had done a good job. I would have to scratch his hole in his rear end until he said I could stop or drew blood, whichever came first. I hated bedtime. Very rarely did he ask me why I was getting out of bed. Very rarely did he ask if there was a problem or what could he do for help.

I began to see him as he is. I began to see bits of his warped views. I was constantly accused of having affairs. He had me with a string of men and women. Many I never knew. I was not allowed to listen to certain artists, never allowed to watch any movies that showed a woman breaking up with her husband/boyfriend, any woman having an affair. Those woman are whore’s even if the man in the movie is an abuser or cheater. He would get mad at me while watching those things! A movie wouldn’t finish because he was so insecure. Songs that played "angered up my blood". So I was not allowed to listen to certain songs or artists. He was so insecure. He was so unreachable. I tried, I tried to keep it together, always thinking of the kids. Thinking of God and how He hates divorce.

Safe words

I wanted to explore the more rougher side of sex. I did so hesitantly though as in the back of my mind I worried about how he would react during the act itself. I worried that he would take it too far. Most times he would ignore the safe word. If he was angry at me he would take it too the extreme. Pulling my hair or smacking me so hard, or chocking me. He seemed to get off better the more he hurt me. The more I would cry the angrier he would get causing him to get rougher.

I never felt safe doing these acts with him. He would insist I call him "Master" and would get mad because I could never do so with a straight face. I would always just giggle. I just couldn’t do it. I called him "Sir" because I knew he didn’t like it. Not sure why exactly but it bothered him.  

 

 **The events are inspired by many events that I have experienced in my marriage. Any resemblance to any of the characters in the story are coincedential...**