I was a foolish girl. A shy, aloof virgin. I’d never been with a man. I didn’t know what to expect or how to respond. If it wasn’t for my medical books, I wouldn’t have even known where all their man parts were located or how they worked.
I didn’t date much in high school, and by the time I met Randy, I guessed I was starting to think that something was wrong with me. My mom bounced from one bad relationship to another. I was determined not to follow her example. When I got married, I’d make it work, no matter what it took.
I was tall for a girl, with big boobs and nice curves. I guessed I was pretty, though at the time I had no idea how to apply makeup without looking like a Dolly Parton impersonator.
So when Randy started coming on to me in his office or in the breakroom, I let it happen. I wouldn’t lie. I encouraged him. I loved the way his hand felt on my breast when he copped a feel. I felt something burning inside me when he stood behind me and let his cock accidentally rub against my ass. Soon, he was asking me to do things that at first frightened me but ultimately turned me on and made me come alive.
He would find me standing in the back of the store when no one was around. He’d slip up behind me and slide his hands under my blouse and grind his cock into my ass. I would giggle and press my ass into him and playfully tell him to behave.
Our playfulness escalated the night I was in the ladies’ restroom and he came in and locked the door.
He pulled out his cock and commanded me to suck it, which I did without hesitation.
It was thick and hairy and tasted like sweat.
It was my first time seeing a cock, much less having one in my hand and in my mouth. He told me what to do and I tried to do it right. I left teeth marks on him, but he didn’t complain. He just closed his eyes and grabbed my hair and forced me to take him all in.
I gagged several times and tried to pull away, but Randy’s fingers were tangled in my hair.
He pulled my head to him and shot his load into my mouth.
I was shocked when it happened and nearly threw up on his shoes. My mouth was full of his warm seed. I was horrified and didn’t know what to do.
He told me to swallow it.
When I shook my head “no,” he gripped my chin in his hand and pushed my head back. He told me to swallow again and this time I did.
I can still taste it to this day.
The memory nauseates me.
“You’ll do better next time,” he said as he stuffed himself back into his pants. I remember nodding. I figured I was in shock because I couldn’t speak. I just stood there watching him comb his hair in the mirror with a hand over my mouth.
Then he gave me a big smile and told me that he loved me.
And in my sad little mind, that made what he’d just done all right.
That was what people in love did, I thought.
He was the man.
I was the woman.
If he wanted me to suck his cock in the FoodMart ladies’ restroom and swallow his seed, that was what I would do, so long as he told me that he loved me.
I was a fool.
I know that now.
I was a stupid girl with ball sweat on her chin and cum on her tongue and stars in her eyes.
Randy knew he could do anything to me and I would gratefully comply.
All he had to say was “I love you.”
We were married within a year. The abuse started the first week.
First, he starting raising his voice and degrading me for how I cooked and cleaned.
I was a moron, he said.
A stupid fucking moron who couldn’t iron a shirt right or boil water in a kettle.
I couldn’t do anything right in his opinion.
I was a lousy wife, he said.
I was lucky he didn’t send me home to mama.
He made me quit college so I could take on more hours at the store and keep his house.
Then he started staying out late at night.
When I’d ask where he’d been, he’d scream in my face until I cried.
I was supposed to submit, he said, not ask questions about where he was and why there was lipstick on the collar of his shirt.
Then he started slapping me around.
Then he started punching me.
Then he started whipping me with his belt.
On our first anniversary, he came home drunk and hit me so hard he broke my jaw. After he passed out, a kindly neighbor took me to the emergency room.
I thank God every day for that punch, because it not only put me in the hospital where I would meet my best friend, Gail, a black ER nurse who would take me under her protective wing, but it also literally knocked some sense into me.
I knew that if I went back to Randy, the abuse would continue until he hurt me badly or even killed me.
Even when he showed up at the hospital full of sorrow and bullshit, I knew I’d never submit to his abuse again.
With Gail at my side, I looked him straight in the eye and told him it was over.
He scoffed and said that wasn’t my decision to make.
I told him that if he ever touched me again, I would kill him in his sleep.
All that did was piss him off and hospital security had to toss him out. I moved back in with my mom, but he wouldn’t leave me alone.
Then Gail’s brother, Deacon Jones, a deputy sheriff in Rosewood, paid Randy a little visit at his house to have a little talk with him.