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The other reason it's so tough is the way that it was triggered.
:trigger:/> Graphic content, please stay safe.
We arrived. A green door. No windows. He knocked, and the door opened on a chain. Little piggy eyes peered out. The door shut and opened again - no chain. We went in
Nothing inside, just stairs. I can hear music and lots of noise. And smell...that smell. It smells just like him, but a hundred time stronger.
We went inside upstairs. He was known here, people welcome him by name. They compliment me, but it doesn't feel nice to hear. I hear someone say "X has a new toy". They start chatting amongst themselves, surrounding me and him, and I feel myself being jostled by the crowd.
We end up in another room. It has a bed. Please, no, I don't want to. I don't have a choice. He strips me as I struggle against it. The other people crowd in, watching. Some of them encourage me to struggle, to put up a fight. Some of them...they have cameras. Please, stop, I don't want this. The cameras click and whirr. Flashes fire. They are almost blinding as he...as he forces himself into my mouth. I want to cry, to scream, to bite him, but I've already learned that such things make it worse.
He finishes. I gag and throw up. They laugh. One of them shouts at me for getting sick. He stops them...hits them. God help me, I was grateful. :tear:/>
He bundles me up into the car. He has to clean me up. He has everything in the car he needs to do it. He's gentle with me now...and that makes it worse :bawling:/>
This has explained so much to me. Why I don't 'do' parties, or clubs. Why I don't have my picture taken. Why I have issues with being undressed, and things in my mouth. And now I know, I can work past these things...I hope.