Quote Originally Posted by stripedangel View Post
1. They had separate men's and women's private forums. Men who have been abused generally don't want to talk about their experiences publicly, and i have noticed that with the exception of ashton (thanks btw hun for sharing), there are no men doing so here...though i understand that this thread is still very new.
I MUST respond to this! Not because I see this as a challenge, because at this point in my life talking about such personal things (especially in this setting) is no longer terribly difficult for me. So here is my story.

I am the eldest child of a total of four siblings of an old school Church of Christ preacher--who was not a very good preacher. We would move to a small town in the mid-west where he landed a preaching job at a congregation with 50 members. He would judge and tell them they were all going to hell, and six months later (when the housing lease was up) we would move again--to another small town preaching job, and the cycle continued for years; therefore I am quite well adapted to being the new guy in town!

My father's judgement didn't stop at the pulpit though! He preached to me at home too. He told me over and over that I was a loser, I would never go anywhere in life, that I would never amount to anything, and I believed it...then (BTW...I have earned a better, more respectable salary than him since I was 16 years old). I fought with my father, a lot, and it was ugly. I used to put my head through the drywall in my room in retalliation until I hit a framing stud once and knocked myself out! He never hit me though. He tried once. He raised his fist and swung towards me, and I caught his hand and said, "don't ever try that again, Jerry." I used his first name a lot, that seemed to infuriate him effectively. (I'm sure that you have heard that preacher's kids are the worst!) My mother always supported the family--she worked full-time and went to college to earn her nursing degree. She was the dominant one and he hated that! He really hated that. My mother would act as the referee between us and she always got the losing end of the stick, but I was glad that someone was trying to stand up for me. Once after a really heated argument between my father and my teen-aged self (you know--the whole "your worthless thing"), my mother took me out for a drive. I thought it was cool that she was taking me out for a drive and having a conversation with me as if I was a grown adult, but didn't realize I was too young to have such a conversation------this isn't going where you think, you bunch of Freudians! lol. She told me that she wanted to take all of us kids (me and my younger sisters and brother) and leave my father. I explained that it was only me and my father that couldn't get along (I felt that it was all my fault--because he repeatedly told me so). I convinced my mother that I would move out of the house at the age of 17, and everything would be OK for my brother and sisters. In hindsight, I realize now that everything was NOT OK for my brother and sisters, and I had created a weakness for my mother in her moment of strength and resolve. I then avoided him for the next year--I rarely came home--I mostly lived at my friend's house, and I allowed myself to feel responsible for the whole family problem.

I was entirely self-concious, and I had zero self-esteem. My friend's stepfather who was clearly homosexual (in a small rural Texas town) said things that made me feel better about myself. Mind you, my self-esteem was so bad that I didn't even look people in the eye at school. I used to count the tiles in the floor between classes. I was not homosexual, and I DO NOT judge those who might be. But, he made me feel good about myself. One day I went by my friend's house, as I always did, and no one was home but his stepfather. He told me that I was a pretty-boy, and that someday all of the girls would want to get to know me. I don't quite remember how we ended up in his bed, but he sucked my cock. He was the first that I had ever been with sexually--male or female. He told me things like "you CAN move you know." I enjoyed it, and I was disgusted at the same time--it felt wrong--and good--and wrong. Someone was paying attention to me though, as no one ever had.

There's more: I remember when I was VERY young, but obviously still old enough to remember (which is what disturbs me most of all) showering with my father and asking him why his "privates" were so much larger than mine. Typing this, I am now recalling his answer that I will not share and is more disturbing to me.

There's more: from about the age of 5, for reasons that I CANNOT understand or recall, I began............................................. .................................................. .................................................. ...........I CANNOT tell the rest, here, or anywhere. There is no good way of explaining it that will help you to understand that I was the victim and the victimizer. I typed it all out once, stripey came in and read it, and correctly said that is was too much. She is the only one that I have told ALL to.

But now: I know who I am. I have worked all of my teen-aged and adult life to prove (to myself and for others' approval) that I am worthy, worthwile, and honorable. There were times in my life that I didn't feel like living. But when I met stripey, I knew she needed me and that I was, indeed, worthy, worthwhile, and could be honorable. (My father still, still, still, does not approve of my life, my decisions, or my stripey, but FUCK him and his little opinions).

My point to this all is: I now understand better who I am, because of where I have been. I am stronger now, for what I have been through. Oh sure, I still seek approval, especialy from stripey even though I am her Master! But our past experiences have made us perfect for suporting each other. And men, even dominant men, can share (most of) their abused experiences!

Thank you stripey, for honoring me by giving yourself to me entirely. I love you peaches! I have made a lot of mistakes, but as long as you will tolerate it, I will be here for you. As our boy once said, "Daddy can fix anything!"