I too have been abused, beaten, and left broken. This March will be 2 years that I have been free from the abuse.

This is my story. I hope it also helps someone.

I met my (now ex) husband in December of 2003 when I was 16 and he was 17. At the time I was engaged to an 18 year old off in basic/AIT for the Army. Things had been happening between my fiance and I and I started to lose touch with him. My (now ex) husband, I suppose, fell in love with me and asked me twice a day for 2 weeks if I'd just give him a chance. After one last attempt at contact with my fiance and hearing that he had moved on anyways, I gave in.

My relationship with him was fine at first. We lived only 45 minutes away. Over the next few months, our relationship got very rocky and there were several times we broke up. Every time we did, he would act very possessive and call, email, IM constantly until I agreed to speak with him and give him another chance. Now, this should have given me a clue that the worst was yet to come if I continued to see him but being young and in love, love tends to be blind.

Towards the end of my Junior year in 2004 - between having a rocky relationship, problems at school, and problems with my parents - I ended up dropping out of high school. I immediately took the GED test and received my GED. All the while I worked on and off while he continued school. In November 2004 he dropped out his Senior year of high school and we moved into an apartment together.

Our entire relationship up to this point, he had talked about having a Dom/sub relationship full time. We talked about our limits and things we'd like to try along with daily routines we'd like to implement. Before we moved in, anytime I stayed with him or vise versa, we played a bit and together we shared our first experience this way.

Once we moved in, things started out fine. Slowly overtime the acts and scenes got more and more agressive and extreme. I started get afraid of him but I brushed it off. We started to fight constantly and it progressed to punching, bruises, and even mental abuse.

For 4 years straight, each day seemed to get worse and I'd fear for my life more and more. I'd have to wear long sleeves, oversized shirts, etc to cover huge massive bruises from my family. I couldn't dare tell anyone out of fear he'd hurt them and hurt me more than he already was. He'd always threaten to kill me and my family if I ever left him or told anyone what he was doing to me. My only release was if I truly was sick or if I faked being sick, then and only then would he ease up.

I remember one day we decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. It was a beautiful day. Right outside the front door, there were steps to walk UP to get to the road. His ankle was sore so he was using a cane to help him walk. I wanted to stay out of his way so I jogged up to the top of the stairs and waited. He got pissed and yelled at me for it. When he got to the top he swung his cane at me hitting me in the stomach. Boy what a mark that left.

Another time, we were at his grandfather's house. We stepped outside for some reason with one of his friends. He got pissed at me and punch me in my back. Right in front of his friend not to mention in the front yard. His friend, nor any cars that drove by stopped him or said anything.

There are so many memories I have but those are just a couple.

Throughout our time together he'd always build himself to others yet I'd be portrayed as the physchotic wife. No one saw through his act. They'd always praise him and kick me to the side.

The first time he went to jail he caused me to go to jail as well. We got into a fight one night and pushed me down hard. I got my stuff to leave and he ran after me. I got in the car, locked the doors, and refused to talk to him. He got behind the car and wouldn't let me back out. I slowly started to gradually roll back in hopes he'd move. He finally did but he then jumped on the hood of the car. I was too terrified to stop so I drove through our apartment complex with him on the hood. I eventually stopped behind a speed bump and he got off and then acted like his ankle was hurt. Someone saw all this so did a police officer. I was the one being arrested but I told them about the abuse because if I was going down for trying to save my life, I was taken him down with me. They arrested us both that night.

He was arrested a 2nd time for domestic violence sometime after. This particular night I honestly felt an instinct that it was going to be the night he was really going to kill me. He had already knocked me out earlier that night for not making him have an orgasm in his time limit by punching me on the top of my head. Luckily at the time we were staying with his grandmother. Her house was set up where the basement was like a seperate apartment so thats were we stayed. She never had any idea what was going on as she was starting to get dementia and never came down stairs. He would never let me out of his sight so I had no way to escape or call for him. Even when I went to the bathroom and took a shower, he was right there watching me. I was terrified the entire day that I wouldn't be able to make it out alive especially since he had plans to kill me then kill himself that day, or so he said (I honestly felt in my instincts it was true this time). Finally it was dinner time and he had already gotten into a fight with his grandmother that day so I convinced him to let me go smooth things over with her by offering to cook her some dinner myself. He bought the bait so I quickly ran up stairs, went to her bedroom and locked the door. I explained to her the situation and called my parents then the police. My parents were an hour away but rushed over. After about 15 minutes of me not coming back downstairs, he came up started banging on the door. I was terrified he'd break the door down. My parents finally got to the house but still no police. It took the police over 2 hours to get to me. This is where I get my hatred for police. I told them the entire situation and all the things he had done to me that day and that he's done it everyday. Still they took over 2 hours. At any rate, when they finally came, they put him in handcuffs, took pictures, and then asked if I was pressing charges. I was so lost, confused, and heartbroken and still being under his brain washing control, I didn't know what to do. The whole time being handcuffed, he kept running his mouth so the police said it didn't matter if I was going to or not, THEY WERE at that point. So, he went to jail again that night. Being that I was still under his mind control I ended up going to the jail for his hearing the next day to testify and tell the judge I didn't want to press charges and stayed there about 13 hours until they released him to come home.

There was another time that my parents came to my rescue. Dad brought his gun and even had it pointed at him. The police were never called that night as again he convinced me to stay and tell my parents that I was okay and to please go home.

Every time he'd get arrested or my parents got involved, he'd apologize and make me believe he was going to change. After a day or 2 of things being decent, he'd go right back to his old self.

I delt with this until March 2007 when my ex fiance (the one I was engaged to back in 2003 and mention in the beginning of this) came back into my life. We fell in love again (I was always in love with him, to be honest and I knew he had always been the one I wanted to spend forever with). He had divorced his wife and convinced me to leave my (now ex) husband. We put our plan in action and a couple days later with my fiance by my side, kicked him out and told him I wanted a divorce. If it wasn't for my fiance don't think I'd be alive today. I think by now I'd have been killed or even killed myself just to be freed of his abuse.

I owe my life to my fiance. We're getting married September 26th this year and I couldn't be happier. While he never heard of BDSM until he met me, he is willing to learn and has been doing so. We're taking it slow, not only because of what I've been through but to give him time to learn things properly so not to hurt me. He'd never raise a hand towards me in anger or to hurt me outside of BDSM activities. Even when he is pissed beyond belief at me the he's never hit me or brought his hand up to hit me. Never. He had already proposed to me before I kicked my (now ex) husband out but he officially asked my dad for my hand in marriage and proposed on Christmas Day of 2007. While we have our issues and problems we continue to work on, I couldn't be happier with him. He is a true gentleman in every sense of the word. He is very protective of me and so I trust him with my life.


I apologize for my thoughts and words being all jumbled. Its very difficult to talk about but I hope they help someone out there. I've shared my story with several people and I want to continue to share with many more in hopes of preventing this from happening to others and to give hope of survival to those that have/are going through it.