BloodLuna
Posts: 403
Joined: 10/28/2007
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luna came across a post this morning about a Dominant convicted of holding a girl against her will. He claimed it was consensual because they had a contract. Luna didn’t want to hijack this person’s post but she felt that the time has come for her to speak out about things like this. luna has never ever discussed this on the boards before, or with anyone she wasn't with in a commited relationship. She’s going to drop into 1st person to make it easier.
luna has never ever discussed this on the boards before. She’s going to drop into 1st person to make it easier. My reasons for finally telling this story after 7 years are many. This story may upset some tender hearted people – so please be aware of that as you read it. Last night and today have been emotionally challenging and sometimes these memories come up when I am down. Today, I am sick and tired of that and am going to get them out and hope my experience helps even just one person. This post is very long, so please bear with me. Here it goes:
In 2000 I accepted the collar of a man I met online. I'll call him B-. I was just out of my first marriage, living with my parents at 23 trying to get back on my feet and get my ums back. After a few weeks of dating B, I got into a physical confrontation with my dad that left me with a dislocated shoulder. (yes my father was abusive) B rushed in and moved me in with him that day. He lived with his father in a 2-story house.
Warning bells should have gone off for me immediately. I'd been in the lifestyle 5 years at that point. The house was set up with his father living downstairs and B upstairs. A staircase on the inside reached the upstairs; there were two doors - one at the foot of the stairs and one at the top of the stairs and both locked from the outside. There were bars on every window of the entire house, even the second floor. I was told this was because of the neighborhood we were living in and that the locks on the doors were for my safety because his dad was a drunk. Everything started out consensual. Then little things happened - I wasn't allowed any internet time when he wasn't with me, no phone was in the upstairs of the house, I wasn't allowed sharp things like knives - he kept those locked in a cabinet when he wasn't home. 15 minute phone calls to my family once a week, monitored. Cut off from all those I loved, he put me through guilt trips, mental manipulation, food control, he took away all of my clothing. This lasted a month. It was slow and methodical.
Then everything changed - literally almost over night. I wanted to see my family, demanded that he take me to see my mom who was sick. He punched me twice, once in the face and once directly in the chest. I distinctly remember hearing a rib crack. The next three months were nearly the closest I could come to hell. The beatings were severe and for the smallest infraction – one grain too much of sugar in his coffee could leave me with an eye swelled shut, the tone of my voice, tears, one pillow out of place on the bed. He was excellent at bondage and would tie me, gag me and bring men home from work – they were told I had rape fantasies. When he would rape me himself, he would use a pillow to smother me unconscious. I remember towards the end I used to beg the Goddess not to let me wake up this time, the next time. If I moved or seemed “alive” during sex, the beatings were excruciating. His father, the drunk, had a key to the doors and also used me when B wasn’t home.
After three months of this I got pregnant. He began to talk about how much money he could make selling my baby to a desperate couple. I was very lucky when his drunk father used me one morning after B left for work. He forgot to lock the doors when he left to go fishing.
I can remember clear as day sitting on that top step. There were 13 steps to the second door. I had counted them thousands of times when B would come home, his heavy steps always filled me with dread. I can’t say how long it took me to come up with the courage to go down those steps – I was CONVINCED that he was waiting on the other side of the door to see if I tried to leave and that I wouldn’t survive the beating. I opened the door and stepped into the living room. The front and back doors to the outside were reinforced, fireproof steel, hinged on the insides and locking from the outside. All the windows save the front bay window and the two small ones on either side of it were barred. I don’t remember this – I was told by the police that I must have tried to open one of those small windows. B had razor blades imbedded in the wood that sliced my hands open when I tried. I called a friend – hers was the only phone number I could remember. She is the one who called the police.
When they broke the big window I am told I fled and hid behind a couch. I was naked. I had 4 broken ribs, my jaw was fractured on one side, my left kidney was severely bruised, and I was barely coherent from the codeine and xanax he’d been feeding me for months. I faintly remember someone wrapping me in a blanket. My next memory was days later in a hospital, waking up with my jaw wired shut.
B was arrested. He was charged with kidnapping, aggravated sexual assult, mental cruelty, and criminal endangerment. Kidnapping didn’t stick because I moved in with him willingly. It downgraded to illegal detainment. Turns out he was a previous offender – two counts of rape towards minors under 14. There was a belief among the prosecutors and the police that I had not been his first girl – that there was evidence in the house that there had been another. The court psychiatrist found him to be a complete sociopath and believed that eventually B would have killed me. Here’s where many of you may get sick (if you aren’t all ready) He was only sentenced to 6-8 years in prison. For illegal detainment and aggravated sexual assult. That was it. He got out in 6 years, and spent one extra year on the ankle bracelette. We couldn't get him as a repeat sex offender or sexual predator because I was in the wrong age catagory compared to his other known victims.
Why am I coming out with this on the boards after 7 years? Because I want to make it clear to those with any doubts that there is a difference between Consensual and Abusive. Because I want to make it clear that any person can say they are anything or anyone online, or in the beginning of a relationship. There are warning signs that we all – male or female, submissive or dominant – MUST be aware of. We ALL must have a code phrase, a family member or close friend that is aware of our lifestyles and who will seek help immediately if your sudden disappearance becomes suspicious. I am telling this bcause out there somewhere is another sister or brother in the lifestyle who is suffering and doesn’t know that what they suffer is NOT BDSM, and that they are neither alone, nor at fault, even though the courts and others may try to make you believe that. I was very lucky that the people who handled my case cared about me, and about women. I was lucky to find a BDSM friendly psychiatrist who I believe saved me mentally after I escaped.
I am incredibly lucky now. I have a beautiful daughter – my pregnancy with her was my lifeline when I went through court and probably the only reason I stayed alive- I was suicidal for nearly a year. If not for her, I wouldn’t be here. My current Master is the most incredible, wonderful man. It took him a great deal of time to piece back together sections of me that the psychiatrist never found. Flashbacks, nightmares, regressions – I remember the first time I over sugared his coffee I had a panic attack so severe it triggered convulsions. The first time he restrained me, spanked me . . . each step returning to, not submission, but trust was painful. But, as Master always says to me, there are victims and there are survivors.
Responses aren’t truly necessary, all though I know that there are a lot of caring, supportive friends of mine on here who will send me their hugs anyway! But my primary reason for sharing this was so that it was out there, so that others could be aware that this happens and that there are ways to prevent it, and to survive it. I ask that you not pity me, I ask that you not feel sorry for me. I do not regret my experience. It has made me strong, it has given me hope and light in a beautiful child, and the ability to appreciate every day I am granted. I hope everyone who reads this will take a moment and be thankful for what they have, what they do not suffer, and send a thought or positive bit of energy out to anyone out there that is suffering so that they will know they are not alone.
luna
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"Old goths never die, they just need less makeup"
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A survivor's story (long post) - 
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