This is the rework of a self-published auto-biographical story (2008), rewritten for this blog. Names of characters have been changed.
Content warning: mental and physical abuse, misogyny.
Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in getting up every time we do.
Continued from… Joy (3)
Fran was lobbying for a trio. Annie suspected that the main reason for this was because Fran had to sleep with Annie the night before.
Once in bed, the two women began their game. Fran hoped Fred would soon join them and Annie hoped that it would soon be over. Fred, however, just as Annie, was not in the mood for sex. To Fran’s disappointment, she had to leave to sleep alone in Annie’s room.
Yet again, Annie and Fran were playing their game, while Fred didn’t make any move to join them. The woman stopped, and Annie kissed them both good night before she went to her room.
A while later she heard Fran’s panting and moans. The woman didn’t even attempt muffling the sounds of passion. To Annie it was clear: Fred only waited until she left for her own room and then suddenly he was interested in sex. It was happening more frequently now. Annie felt disappointment, pain, jealousy. She felt rejected.
An intense feeling of hatred dawned on her when she heard the sounds of Fran walking in the hallway towards the kitchen, and then the sound of chinking ice in a glass when she came back. Annie instantly knew what this meant. Earlier that evening she told Fran how nice it was to use ice while having sex. The woman agreed to try it out in the weekend. Now, at that very moment, Fran was spoiling Fred with ice — something that Annie would have loved to do. And, Fran knew this. She knew it!
I hate her! I hate her! I hate her! Annie kept on repeating this refrain in her thoughts — a pounding refrain with which she finally fell into a restless sleep.
Annie and Fred sat in the small living room. Annie was still angry and upset about Fran using ice the night before. Fred noticed something was bothering her, but he wasn’t in the mood to ask what it was about.
“Fred, do you still love me?” Annie suddenly asked.
“What kind of question is that? You know that I love you. If I didn’t, you wouldn’t have been living here anymore.”
“Then why don’t you show me that you love me anymore?”
“I do. What utter nonsense is this?”
It was quiet for a while as Annie mustered up the courage to tell him what was bothering her. A month ago, it might have been easier for her just to say it. However, since the night he battered her, she carefully paid attention to what she said and what she did, twenty-four hours a day.
“Fred,” she said cautiously, “it doesn’t feel like you still love me. I feel as if I have to be satisfied with the crumbs. Both you and Fran treat me like I am only good enough to get both of you sexually excited and then I have to leave your bedroom. I also want to feel as if you care about me. But I am being treated as an object and not as a human being.”
Annie wasn’t looking at Fred anymore. The moment she had said the words, she was afraid of his reaction. The only reaction from his side was Fred standing up and leaving.
However, during the day, Annie noticed he was warming up to her again.
After dinner on what was her second day back at work after her vacation, Annie sat outside with Fred and Fran, enjoying the crisp evening air.
“I spoke to Joy today,” Fred said casually.
The women looked at him in surprise. Both thought he would never want to speak to ‘the slut’ again.
“Did she call here?” Fran asked.
“No. I called her to see what the chick has to say for herself.”
Yeah right, Annie thought, he most probably tried to get her into his bed today. Did he succeed?
“… she was in the bath,” Fred was busy telling, “I could hear the water running and asked her if she was in a foam bath. She started telling me about the warm water, the foam, and how she was shaving her legs. Boy,” Fred laughed, “my pants started to feel a size too small. Joy made it clear she would love to have sex with me, but it has to be under her conditions.”
Fred was quiet for a while. Fran urged him to continue.
“Oh, I suggested she should put the razor aside and slip her hand between her legs. Then she had to let her fantasies run wild and tell me exactly what she was doing. And she did. Oh boy, she did! It ended when she screamed in my ears ‘I’m coming, I’m coming.’ It was really hot.”
When he stopped talking, even Fran had no questions. Maybe she too realized Fred would jump into bed with Joy, if he had half a chance.
“Annie, why don’t you and I join them one evening for partner swapping?” Fred suggested. Annie was flabbergasted when she saw he was dead serious.
“No, Fred. No.”
“Why not? I will be there too. Come on sweetie, then Joy and I can…”
“Fred, I won’t engage in partner swapping. You and Fran can do it.” Annie’s outrage could be heard in her voice.
“No!” Fred snapped. “Fran’s not allowed. I’m the only man that she ever had sex with. That will never change. But you… you’ve had so many men, you little whore. Another one won’t make any difference.”
His voice had such venom in it that even Fran was frightened. His harsh words left Annie with a bad taste in her mouth. She knew it was Fred’s hurt ego speaking, but even this understanding didn’t excuse his harsh words.
To be continued… Sylvia (1)
© Rebel’s Notes