The Second Time It Happened
At work one afternoon, the watch officer called me to the bridge. She was sitting with him and another chief. It had been three weeks since he’d raped me the first time.
My heart raced as I walked to the bridge. He just sat there staring at me.
She asked me if I could drop a packet of papers off at the quarterdeck after my shift ended. Lots of times the officers had one of us do that. The quarterdeck was on the upper part of the base, in a building with all of the administrative offices.
After the shift I grabbed my coat, took the packet and drove to the upper part of the base. I knew the guy working there, so we talked for a few minutes. Then I left to go home.
As soon as I stepped out the door, he grabbed me from behind. He pulled me back behind the building. It was dark, but I knew it was him.
I tried to scream, but he shoved me against the back of the building, knocking the wind out of me. Then he grabbed my neck, and pinned me against the building. I tried to scream again, but he squeezed my neck hard. Then I felt him undo my belt and pants.
He let up on my neck, and I tried to say no. He squeezed again, and said, shut up, slut. I fought at him as he pulled my pants down. Every time I tried to speak, he squeezed my neck. He said, spread your legs, slut, but I wouldn’t. He forced them apart. Then he forced his fingers inside me.
It hurt so bad. I had tears. He stared into my face while he kept using his fingers. He joked about how much I loved it. I kept trying to get his hand out of me. I kept trying to speak. He just squeezed my neck and laughed. Then he squeezed really hard, and shoved me down on the ground.
I was dazed. I could feel him yanking my pants down to my ankles, but I couldn't move. He pried my legs apart. I was coughing and trying to breathe. Then he was inside me. It hurt. I fought him, but then he was on top of me. When I caught my breath, I begged him to stop. He just told me to shut up. I begged him again. I was punching at him, trying to get him off me. Then he put his hand over my mouth.
He grabbed my hair with his other hand. He kept pushing into me, hurting me. All I could smell was his musk and his sweat and his breath on my neck. I kept trying to scream, but he kept his hand over my mouth. I couldn’t breathe.
I remember being so scared that he was going to kill me. He was pulling my hair. My head and body hurt. I couldn’t move my legs, and I couldn’t breathe. I thought I was going to suffocate. Fighting him made it all worse. So I just stopped fighting.
When I stopped fighting, he started talking. It was so humiliating. He told me how much I liked it. He said I loved getting fucked in the dirt, and told me how disgusting and filthy I was. He kept telling me I was such a dirty slut, and asked me how I liked getting fucked. He said that was all I was good for.
I tried to disappear, to make myself go somewhere else. But every word he spoke kept me there. All I could do was feel him on top of me, inside me, hurting me. In my mind it was like I was watching him on top of me, while I lay just there in the dirt. Not fighting him. Just laying there with my legs spread.
Then he said that he knew I wanted him. That I wanted him inside me. That all I wanted was for him to fuck me and fill me full of his ***. I can't even write that word, it's so nasty. He said I was getting exactly what I deserved. That I needed a good hard fuck to remind me of what I was and would always be.
I’m sorry to be so graphic, but I’ve never been able to get his words out of my head. He just kept saying them to me, over and over, and that’s what I keep hearing, over and over.
I didn’t think he’d ever stop. I wanted to die. By the time he was done, it was like there was nothing left of me. He got up and stood over me. He stared at me while he fixed his pants. I couldn’t move. I felt dead. I just lay there with my legs spread. I wanted to disappear into the dirt below me. I don't think I even cared what happened to me anymore.
Then he said, get up, slut. I didn’t move, and he kicked at me. He told me again. Then he kicked at me again. I moved as fast as I could. I stood in front of him. I was crying, but I couldn’t really feel it.
He told me to fix my clothes. He said I was so disgusting, standing in front of him with my pants down. Then he said maybe I needed another fucking. I pulled my pants up fast and fixed myself the best I could. My heart was pounding as I stared at the ground. Then he put his hand around my neck and made me look at him.
He reminded me what would happen if I spoke. No one would believe me. He would make my life hell. Everyone on the base would know what kind of slut I was, and he would make sure my husband knew. He said he’d ruin my career, and that he could get me again if he wanted to.
He asked me if I understood, and he made me say yes. Then he walked away from me.
That's all I can write now.