21-03-2019, 12:46 PM
"I am so sorry. But.....I need to go to Mumbai for some visa stuff right away anyway."
"Shikha.....this is so sudden."
"I know. I am very sorry."
I was jumpy on my way home. I kept expecting Lallan to jump out from somewhere and force himself on me again. But he was probably on his way to Jaipur.
I got home and started cleaning the mess that Lallan had made last night. I threw out all the bed sheets and pillows that he had come in contact with. I threw out the glasses and plates he had used.
And then I started mopping the floor. With a cloth in my hand. At one spot in the corner, where there was a sticky splotch of what was clearly semen, I suddenly had a random flash back. To sometime in the middle of the night that I had blanked out on til now. Lallan was fucking my mouth in that corner, with me on my knees. And then he started cumming. And he told me to swallow. Which I did. But some cum dripped out the side of my lips. And dropped on the floor. That's what I was looking at now.
I started scrubbing it. Hard. Somehow it seemed stickier than the others. I scrubbed and scrubbed. And then I just curled up there and cried again.
The next few days, I was displaying all the signs of what I myself recognized as post-traumatic bang syndrome. I had seen it from the other side, as a psychologist and therapist. Now I was living it. There was a perpetual sense of self-loathing for a variety of reasons. First was the hypocrisy of my staying silent and betraying Parvati after years and years of telling women to stand up to abusers. I knew the theory, I understood the logic, and I had sanctimoniously lectured lots of women to do the right thing.
And here I was, a privileged, connected, resourceful woman, who was better equipped than any of them to punish Lallan and hold him accountable, put him away for the rest of his life. And I was unable to go through with it. All under the threat of some naked pics being made public.
Another reason for self-loathing was succinctly summed up by one Lallan line that kept replaying in my head. When he had said in a very matter-of-fact way, "you came twice" after the first time he fucked me. It was true. All those dozens of pics and videos he sent me, I finally managed to make myself look at all of them. They told the story of the night in a sequential way that was difficult to ignore. That as the night progressed, I became a lot more willing participant in the activities, and by the end, there was no real threat or force being applied. I watched myself have orgasm after orgasm, in various rooms, in various positions, many times kissing Lallan passionately like a lover.
The mystery of why I ended up on the roof was solved in one particularly humiliating video.
It started to the sound of Lallan chuckling and the camera focused on my naked ass, with the flesh slowly jiggling. Then it zoomed out and I was visible crawling on all four up the stairs, having trouble getting the order of knees and hands right, very clearly drunk.
"Hahaha.....memsaab.....say it again what you said. About your fantasy."
"Want.....fuck......roof." I slurred.
A shiver ran through my body as I watched the video. I had never even come close to acting on this, but it was indeed a secret fantasy of mine for many years, to have sex on the roof. Over the years, Anup and I had taken a couple of calculated risks of outdoor sex, like on a deserted beach and once hiking in the empty wilderness. The peak of that would have been to have sex on our own roof. But obviously, it was such an idiotic risk, surrounded by neighbors who might hear or see and worse, videotape. So we had never taken that idiotic risk.
"Hahahaha....this rich slut told me she has the fantasy of being fucked on her own roof. It is about to get bright soon. And we have been fucking like animals all night. And yet she wants more. In the open."
This commentary continued as I crawled up and up the stairs, negotiating the bend in the stairs with great difficulty, and finally reaching the door of the roof.
That video ended. The next one had the sex on the roof in progress, although it was mostly dark. The phone was in Lallan's hand and you could make out from the moving outlines that I was on top of him and moving without any duress. And from the sounds I was making, clearly having a good time.
The PTSD manifested itself in other ways too. I was continuously paranoid, looking around, expecting Lallan or someone else to jump me at any moment. My heart was always racing. Every hour or so, I would measure my own heart rate and it was always about 40% above my resting heart rate. There was a continuous sense of fear and nervousness. It took a lot of effort to sound normal when talking with Anup over the phone or skype.
"Shikha.....this is so sudden."
"I know. I am very sorry."
I was jumpy on my way home. I kept expecting Lallan to jump out from somewhere and force himself on me again. But he was probably on his way to Jaipur.
I got home and started cleaning the mess that Lallan had made last night. I threw out all the bed sheets and pillows that he had come in contact with. I threw out the glasses and plates he had used.
And then I started mopping the floor. With a cloth in my hand. At one spot in the corner, where there was a sticky splotch of what was clearly semen, I suddenly had a random flash back. To sometime in the middle of the night that I had blanked out on til now. Lallan was fucking my mouth in that corner, with me on my knees. And then he started cumming. And he told me to swallow. Which I did. But some cum dripped out the side of my lips. And dropped on the floor. That's what I was looking at now.
I started scrubbing it. Hard. Somehow it seemed stickier than the others. I scrubbed and scrubbed. And then I just curled up there and cried again.
The next few days, I was displaying all the signs of what I myself recognized as post-traumatic bang syndrome. I had seen it from the other side, as a psychologist and therapist. Now I was living it. There was a perpetual sense of self-loathing for a variety of reasons. First was the hypocrisy of my staying silent and betraying Parvati after years and years of telling women to stand up to abusers. I knew the theory, I understood the logic, and I had sanctimoniously lectured lots of women to do the right thing.
And here I was, a privileged, connected, resourceful woman, who was better equipped than any of them to punish Lallan and hold him accountable, put him away for the rest of his life. And I was unable to go through with it. All under the threat of some naked pics being made public.
Another reason for self-loathing was succinctly summed up by one Lallan line that kept replaying in my head. When he had said in a very matter-of-fact way, "you came twice" after the first time he fucked me. It was true. All those dozens of pics and videos he sent me, I finally managed to make myself look at all of them. They told the story of the night in a sequential way that was difficult to ignore. That as the night progressed, I became a lot more willing participant in the activities, and by the end, there was no real threat or force being applied. I watched myself have orgasm after orgasm, in various rooms, in various positions, many times kissing Lallan passionately like a lover.
The mystery of why I ended up on the roof was solved in one particularly humiliating video.
It started to the sound of Lallan chuckling and the camera focused on my naked ass, with the flesh slowly jiggling. Then it zoomed out and I was visible crawling on all four up the stairs, having trouble getting the order of knees and hands right, very clearly drunk.
"Hahaha.....memsaab.....say it again what you said. About your fantasy."
"Want.....fuck......roof." I slurred.
A shiver ran through my body as I watched the video. I had never even come close to acting on this, but it was indeed a secret fantasy of mine for many years, to have sex on the roof. Over the years, Anup and I had taken a couple of calculated risks of outdoor sex, like on a deserted beach and once hiking in the empty wilderness. The peak of that would have been to have sex on our own roof. But obviously, it was such an idiotic risk, surrounded by neighbors who might hear or see and worse, videotape. So we had never taken that idiotic risk.
"Hahahaha....this rich slut told me she has the fantasy of being fucked on her own roof. It is about to get bright soon. And we have been fucking like animals all night. And yet she wants more. In the open."
This commentary continued as I crawled up and up the stairs, negotiating the bend in the stairs with great difficulty, and finally reaching the door of the roof.
That video ended. The next one had the sex on the roof in progress, although it was mostly dark. The phone was in Lallan's hand and you could make out from the moving outlines that I was on top of him and moving without any duress. And from the sounds I was making, clearly having a good time.
The PTSD manifested itself in other ways too. I was continuously paranoid, looking around, expecting Lallan or someone else to jump me at any moment. My heart was always racing. Every hour or so, I would measure my own heart rate and it was always about 40% above my resting heart rate. There was a continuous sense of fear and nervousness. It took a lot of effort to sound normal when talking with Anup over the phone or skype.
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