1. Abandoned
I can't believe I'm actually writing this down.
I sit here in my torn, tight neon pink miniskirt and tube top stained with cum and piss... Digesting a bellyful of jizz from 20 different black men... And a great big black buttplug my wife shoved up my ass to keep the copious loads from countless other black men stewing in my ass until I "absorb them" as she says... My little, white penis restrained in its pink cage and flattened against my belly by Spanx... And, worst of all, a mouthful of my wife's foul shit that I've been commanded to devour while I relate my travails in exacting, humiliating detail.
Even as I sit here in my apartment writing this confession, I can scarcely believe it.
The whole ordeal has been so incredibly emasculating and confidence-destroying, it seems unreal... like a dream. It feels perversely wrong to be writing it down. Somehow, that feels as if, by writing it down, I'm acknowledging what has happened to me, what has become of me. It makes it real, and I'm not sure I want it to be real. Part of me wants to just wake up from this nightmare. But my wife thinks it will be good for me... It will help me work out my conflicting, confusing feelings on the whole... situation. I guess she's right. I'm not really in any position to question her, I guess.
It all started six months ago (I can't believe it's only been that long... It feels like a lifetime since my life was "normal"!). My wife had been wanting some time "for her", feeling like we had gotten into a rut. It was true, we had established a routine. We had only been married three years, and had no kids yet. But with us both working, we settled into a very familiar pattern within months of moving in together after the wedding.
We'd get up in the morning (she always got up first even though she started work later... she had always been an early riser), have some breakfast in front of the news on TV (always Fox and Friends), talk about what we might do for dinner, say "I love you" (out of reflex, it seemed, more than genuine feeling) and head out to our separate jobs.
I sold insurance for a local group, not a big name national corporation you would know by name. My wife, Brittany, was a social worker for The Righteous Way, a local Christian organization whose purpose was to help reintegrate people into society after serving prison terms. Usually this took the form of enrolling them in a church and getting them to do volunteer work until they could find a job. Anything to keep them off the streets and going back to a life of crime. They also wanted to make sure that any prisoners exposed to Islam in jail would come back to Christianity. In our area, practically every single one of the ex-cons she worked with were black, and for some reason a lot of them found Islam appealing.
In our town of Florissant, Missouri (a very white, very Evangelical Christian community), Muslims are considered a bigger threat than crime. Florissant is a suburb of St. Louis, rated one of the most segregated cities in America. St. Louis was mostly white until the integration of the 60's, then most of the whites moved out to the suburbs (what they call "white flight"). Even in our town, there's the nicer, white areas and the bad part of town where all the black people live. Our town is mostly white, but just a 10 minute drive to the south towards St. Louis lands you in the mostly black towns of Berkeley and Ferguson (where that black boy was just shot that got all the news attention last summer).
Anyway, neither of us particularly enjoyed our jobs, so after work, we generally didn't talk about our days. I realize now that this probably contributed to the distance growing in our relationship. We started to just take each other for granted, as if each other's presence was just a fact of our daily lives. I think I was especially guilty of this. That's why she did what she did. She even told me so. I understand that now... This is more my fault than hers. I cannot blame her.
Dinner was usually something out of a box or brought home from some drive-through, and eaten in front of the TV for the evening news (again, always Fox News - we didn't trust the liberal media). After that, we'd usually do our own thing for a while. Read, check Facebook, waste time on our iPhones/iPads, etc. Before long, it would be bed time.
So... about the sex. We'd never been a particularly amorous couple. Early on in our relationship, Brittany had informed me that she had a very low sex drive and wasn't really interested in it. I told her I understood and I loved her anyway, that wasn't the most important thing to me. She is a beautiful woman, in her prime and has a great body. I am definitely attracted to her. But I was not going to force myself on her. We would make love once a month at first. Then once every few months by the time we got married. Then it was once or twice a year. But neither of us seemed bothered by this, and we never spoke of it.
Even our weekends were essentially wasted on routine. Saturdays were chore days. Laundry, cleaning, shopping, errands, etc. While other couples our age might go out and socialize and drink and have fun on a Saturday night, the most we might do is stop by a restaurant and have a glass of wine with our chicken. We'd be so exhausted from the chores of the day that we'd go to sleep even earlier than most nights.
On Sunday, we'd get up early to shower and dress in our Sunday best for church. We'd go to the service, smile and be the perfect white, Christian, conservative couple everyone expected us to be. Our pastor was particularly concerned with sex in our community. He would deliver sermons warning of sin, of the dangers of sex for pleasure, of the dark, depraved road to Hell that led to. He particularly was concerned about the young women in our community.
His wife, Whitney, even led an abstinence education class for teenage girls and their daughter was the president of the Purity Pledge Group for our town. She was just a freshman in the high school, yet she'd managed to sign up the entire cheerleading squad to her Purity Pledge Group (to the frustration of all the jocks, I'd presume). All of the girls in the group take the Purity Pledge ("I pledge to myself, my family and the Lord Jesus Christ that I will abstain from sex and sinful activities until the day I marry my white, Christian husband in a Biblical marriage before God."). They wear silver Purity rings with a cross and a heart on them as a symbol of being married to the Lord until they are given to a man.
Whitney and my wife got along great, and sometimes we'd go to brunch with the Pastor and Whitney after church. The rest of the day was often spent napping or in Bible study, then dinner, TV and sleep again.
And so there you have it. Now you know how every day of my life was spent for my entire marriage... until recently.
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