And that little part of me felt betrayed by the rest of me. And if that isn�t confusing enough for you... *smiles weakly* I felt betrayed by myself. Because now, even I wasn�t protecting me. Even I was accepting and even encouraging this man to kiss me.

I learned about sexual power then. I learned that by granting kisses, ocassional touches, certain whispered words and hand holding, that I could get special gifts in exchange. I made myself into a whore. I hated myself for it. But I kept doing it because no one else was around to give me the things I wanted.

I got simple little things. Meals and movies out. Tapes. (didn�t have CDs yet, folks. Yes, I was raped and went through serial rape before the popularity of Compact Discs) Little trinkets/knick knacks. The bigger my gift to him, the better the present.

Then came about mid May. I was going to be going to Seattle and didn�t really want to see Jonny anymore. I was tired of the kissing and the trinkets were just... trinkets. I just didn�t want to play the game anymore. I was bored. That wasn�t really the reason it stopped though.

The reason it stopped is because Jonny wanted more than just kissing and a few brushed feels of my chest. I still can�t seem to say that and use the word breasts in the same sentence. I don�t know exactly why. But... I remember one day specifically, we were planning on going to a movie. We stopped at a park first and walked around a little. We stopped at a picnic table, no one else was around, and I let him kiss me some, I kissed him back. He had his hands on my waist and I didn�t really like that much, but... it went with the territory.

I pulled away, making a game out of it, winking at him as I sauntered away. He would give chase, not really running, but just playing a sort of pseudo-tag at a slow pace. We stopped at a sort of jungle gym type thing. A little kid�s playground. And I leaned back against it. He came up to me and started kissing me some more. I kissed him back and he started pushing against me a little, as if he were trying to push me back, to lay back. I didn�t want to.

Then I heard a child�s laughter. I don�t know if it really happened. I don�t remember seeing a child. But I heard a child�s laughter as I was leaning against this children�s playground climbing toy and I suddenly felt sick. I pulled away from him, holding a hand up to him and holding a hand over my mouth. I guess he thought I was playing. He grabbed my hand and tried play/wrestling. I shook my head at him and croaked out, �no�. He didn�t listen. I said �no� again, then shook my head saying that I didn�t feel good.

I looked at that child�s play toy and again I felt sick, like I was going to purge my belly of all its contents. And still he didn�t understand. Finally I told him loudly that I didn�t feel well, that I was about to throw up. And I ran, I ran to a corner of a building, away from the child�s play toy and threw up. I felt tears starting at the corners of my eyes.

Because: When I heard that child�s laughter, the part of me that had been hiding, came out in full force and assailed my brain with nasty pictures of children, little children, laughing, enjoying themselves, playing and having fun on that play toy... running around and laughing, while Jonny and I were kissing right there. That picture absolutely sickened me. The picture in my mind shifted then to that of me dressed as a whore, slutty skirt, slutty shirt, slutty make up, hair mussed, shirt exposing a breast, and Jonny oblivious as the children played on around us.

I felt so completely and totally disgusting. I felt sick and evil and wrong and bad and so so so so depraved. Here I was, not liking this guy, not liking what he was doing, or what I was doing with him/allowing him to do, but doing it anyway, and where innocent, naive, precious little children play. I felt like such a complete whore. Like some evil, vile, disgusting piece of trash. And Jonny didn�t see it and he didn�t care and I felt sick to my stomach and it wasn�t until I told him I was going to spew, and then ran to throw up, that he stopped.

And I was shaking and scared and lost and alone and terrified of what I had become and what I was becoming and what I liked about it was that there was so much power. With a little wiggle of my ass I could have Jonny following me like a little puppy, even though I didn�t like him, didn�t want him, didn�t care about him, hated him even, but I let him kiss on me and touch on me and my god, I encouraged it because I wanted the dinners, the movies, the trips away from the house, the time away from parents and family and I didn�t listen to myself.

And the thing that pissed me off and made me the most ill, was the fact that the innocent child I was fucking over the most... was me.

I stood up, wiped my mouth, brushed the tears from my face. I�m sure Jonny thought the tears were because I had thrown up. But no, they were tears of shame. White hot. So filled with shame and humiliation and betrayal and rage and.... and.... and emptiness.

I looked around for a water fountain. There wasn�t one. I looked back at Jonny when I turned the corner again and he was standing back by the children�s toy, looking at me as if I had just grown another head. As if I were some kind of... of vile creature. And the tears sprung to my eyes again. I couldn�t handle it... I couldn�t allow myself to cry, but I was so, so, so filled with shame.

And Jonny turned away from me, walking back to the car. Slowly, almost like a puppy with its tail between its legs, I walked after him, followed him in silence to the car. I got inside and turned my head toward my side window and murmured, very softly, �Please take me home.�

I don�t remember him saying a single word all the way home. I remember feeling tension in the air. Very thick, very... angry but controled. And I felt so lost and alone and stupid and foolish and embarrassed and I kept seeing that image of me as a prostitute with Jonny, while the little, innocent, tender and gentle children played on the children�s toy I was selling myself on.

He took me home. I just got out of the car and closed the door. I don�t think he even waited until the echo of the closing door faded before he drove off. I felt so used, abused, abandoned and so very, very, very disgusting inside. Shame was washing over me in wave after wave after wave and I couldn�t breathe.

I went into the house in silence, closed the door and went up to my room. I laid down on the bed and didn�t come out until the next day. My Mom asked me how the date went and this time, she looked into my eyes. This time she saw the fear and disgust and pain and shame so heavy and thick in my eyes. She saw how destroyed I was inside.

She hadn�t noticed it before.

She asked me to tell her what happened. I said that Jonny and I had been kissing and I didn�t like it and I didn�t want to do it again. But I was very quiet. I didn�t say very much. IN fact, I think that the above is what I said in entirity. I may have given more detail, but I really don�t think so. I did NOT tell her that I felt like a whore. I did not tell her that I had gotten sick because of how I was using the kissing to get things I wanted. I did not tell her that I was evil and depraved and disgusting and should be thrown away. I did not tell her that all I wanted was for her to pull me into her arms, hold me and never, ever, ever, ever let me go. I did not tell her that I was terrified of what I felt inside and that I didn�t know if I could ever, ever again trust myself.

But I felt it. And I thought it. And I replayed that vile, disgusting scene over and over again in my mind. I tortured myself with it. I humiliated myself with it. I debased myself with it. And I sank farther and farther down into a spiral of disgust, anguish, shame, vile repulsion and need.

Need? Yes, need. I needed the power. I finally had someone I could control. I finally had someone I could make do whatever I wanted. I had a slave. I could dictate to him and he would do as I wanted as long as I�d give him the reward he saught. My kisses and touches.

Remember. To this point, he had never actually felt me up. A couple times he�d brushed my breast with his fingers, but he hadn�t actually grabbed. He hadn�t done ANYTHING below the waist and I hadn�t touched anything more than his arms, shoulders, neck, hair and lips.

And I still needed the control. And I wanted the choice taken out of my hands. I wanted to be told I was grounded. I wanted to be restricted from ever seeing Jonny again.

Dad had a meeting with Jonny. They went out to a local bar, each of them had a beer, and Dad talked to Jonny. I don�t know what was said. I have never known. I asked Dad a few weeks back, when I was writing about this before. And Dad said he couldn�t remember what he�d said. I don�t know if Dad truly didn�t remember, or if he just figures it�s not my concern.

Either way, when they were through, I was upstairs in my room. Jonny burst into the room, glared at me and had this look of absolute and sheer rage upon his face. He told me never, ever, ever to tell my parents what we did again. He told me I had no right to tell them what was going on.

I remember him telling me that if I ever told again, he would kill me. But I don�t think he used those words. Again, I don�t know if that is a memory I made up, something which was implied, or something he said which I misinterpreted. he could have said those exact words. I just don�t remember it clearly enough.

I wasn�t paying attention to his words anyway, I was paying attention to his eyes. He was so very angry. He was furious. Pissed off doesn�t even cover it. He was enraged. And he glared at me. And I was terrified of him. And I begged, I literally begged, tears running down my face, I begged him to forgive me for telling.

Yeah, you read that right. I begged Jonny to forgive me. I told him I never meant to tell them. I told him that I didn�t realize what I was saying until it was out, and that I didn�t know what else to do and I was scared and I would never, ever, ever, ever do it again and please, oh god please, forgive me, I�m sorry, I�m so sorry, I�ll never, ever do it again, not ever, not in a million years. just please, please forgive me.

I felt so terrified. I believed, I really and truly believed that he would kill me if I ever opened my mouth again. I was so completely and totally terrified. And scared, and confused. That little part of me which had come out and was purging the feelings, left and right, was again cowed back into her tiny little corner.

There's more to come of this tale, but right now, I'm too tired and... involved to tell any more of it. I'll get through it, I promise.

Until next time, Peace unto thy hearts.