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Systematic Desensitization (1/2)

2873 words | 0 |3.60

A girl is recovering from childhood sexual abuse. The flashbacks can be harsh. Part 1/2.

Dear diary, I’m Lola, a 22-year-old girl. I have never written diaries – there are so many things in my past that I would rather forget forever than write them down – but the app tells me that the diary is an important part of healing, so I took the fresh new notebook and started writing to you. With all the typing I’ve done over the years, I’ve almost forgotten how to write by hand, but writing with the pen gives me a strange satisfaction.

I guess I need to make a preface about me and the application.

Well, I am an ordinary girl. My friends tell me I’m pretty, and men on the street often whistle at me and offer to exchange contacts, but I think I’m rather ugly. I don’t know what they all see in me. I’m single and have always been single, living on my own since I managed to move out of my parents’ house, which is almost five years now.

I work from home as a technical writer, and I’m finishing my degree in computer science part-time, also remotely.

And no, I’m not a virgin, although I’ve never had normal sex, I was raped when I was ten, then many times forced to all kinds of sex by several people, it lasted several years… And now I’ll tell you why I downloaded this stupid app and decided to test it.

I want to change, but I don’t know where to start and how to do it. I want to be open and available – *shiver* maybe even available to everyone, but I can’t even look at male genitalia. Shit, I can’t even look at my own, that disgusting thing between my legs! The most I can do is spread it out and wash it quickly with the shower jet without looking, and feeling nauseous. I almost faint during my regular gynecological examinations, even though my doctor is a nice, tender and careful woman.

I stumbled upon this app one day while dummy browsing through the app store suggestions. Systematic Desensitization, proven psychotherapy method, no need for other people, blah blah blah… I don’t believe in psychotherapy, I’ve been to several therapists in the past years, and none of them managed to get through my castle walls of shame and fear. But well, I thought, if there’s no other person watching me, just the stupid app guiding me, then maybe…

I installed it (it offered a one-month unlimited trial, then a fairly reasonable subscription fee), launched, skipped the legal bullshit screens, and started filling out my profile. Name, age, gender, fear to treat…

Well, I wrote “Lola”, 22 years old, female, and selected “sexual trauma”. Of course they had that in the list. Let’s see where this shit takes me.


Day 1.

We did not even begin to address my trauma. The first thing the app gave me was a list of relaxation and self-calming techniques. That was easy, I’ve been doing yoga for years, so I know even more than the app suggested. Next it asked me to find at least five readily available pleasurable things I could use to reward myself.

Hmmm. I looked around. A glass of chocolate milkshake? No, too sugary. Chocolate candy? Hmmm, yeah, probably, I love sweets and I have a pack of little candies. Next four… Okay, my favorite plushy to hug, my guilty pleasure casual game… Maybe some music? Well, my favorite band’s playlist. I still needed the fifth. Shit, I never realized how few pleasures I have at home! What do I like to do? Well, finally, cat videos from the Internet! And that’s it.

The first exercise was simply to practice relaxation, breathing and indulging myself. No problem!


Day 2.

The app suggested that I bare my arms and legs as much as it was safe and easy for me to do. It emphasized several times that I should not overdo it; maybe it would be just my hands and feet, maybe a few inches more… I read the instructions in disbelief. Such an easy task? Well, its creators must know what they are doing…

I changed into my yoga clothes – quite long compared to what some other girls in the class were wearing, they exposed my arms to the elbow and my legs to the knee, nothing more. I was totally used to that.

But going barefoot was a surprise to me. It wasn’t until now that I understood that I wear long socks almost all the time, even during yoga and sleep, and only bare my feet in the shower and at the swimming pool. Uncertain, I took off my socks and walked around the room barefoot, then sat and looked at them, wiggling my toes.

How strange. I felt vulnerable, cold. As if I had lost something. Even scary, naked. I was thinking about putting the socks back on when the memory hit me. It was so alive, so vivid, as if I was living this episode again…

It was summer. I was walking barefoot from the lake where we swam with my friends. I was almost at my house when I met my Uncle James. I waved at him and he waved back.

“Hi Lola! You look great! Come here, I wanna show you something.”

I walked over to him, unsuspecting. In retrospect, I know that he had been looking at me in a strange way for the last few months, trying to get close to me and give me a hug, but I hadn’t paid attention at the time. So I was completely surprised when he pulled me to him and hugged me, murmuring: “You have grown so much, Lola! It’s time for you to become a woman…”

I could only gasp: “Wha?..” – when he pulled off my sundress. “Uncle!”

He gagged me with my dress, turned and bent me over, pressing himself against my bottom. I moaned and tried to free myself, but he helped me strongly. He pulled my panties down sharply and I felt something big, thick and hard thrust into my pussy from behind.

Pain stabbed me inside and I squealed loudly into my dress, but he just put his hand over my mouth and squeezed harder. His penis slid inside me inch by inch, spreading my tight insides painfully. When he was completely inside, his hips slammed against my buttocks and he stayed like that for a few seconds, savoring my suffering. Then he slowly pulled out and began to push in again. And again. And again. Faster and deeper each time, causing more pain.

He fucked me fast and hard for a few minutes, grunting and slapping my ass. I did not like it at all! It hurt! And I froze in horror and stopped resisting. He took it as consent and accelerated.

And all I could see for those minutes were my muddy bare feet with curled toes.

Then he moaned louder, thrusting extra deep and hard into me, and suddenly stopped moving. I felt a disgusting hot wetness inside me that made me feel dirty and violated.

When he finished, he slapped my bottom and let me go, leaving me face down on the grass next to his car, crying silently into the fabric of my dress.

“You’re so tight, Lola! I can’t wait to fuck you again,” he laughed.

My pussy was dripping with cum and blood when I finally got up and dragged myself home.

“What happened?” my dad asked when he saw me like this.

Sobbing, I tried to explain. He frowned.

“So James wasn’t kidding when he told those dirty jokes… Oh dear. We’ll sort this out. Hush, hush, my dear. Let’s go into the bathroom and clean you up first…”

And in the bathroom he…

No. Stop. I can’t write any more about it now. Maybe later.

I pulled on my socks and home robe and spent the rest of the day curled up on the bed, hugging my Mr. Plushy Cat, breathing and trying to relax.


Day 3.

Today, the app asked me not to go any further, just to repeat the same thing until I felt completely comfortable, taking my time to relax and feel safe. Shivering, I changed into my yoga clothes and took off my socks again. For a while I walked around my apartment barefoot, doing my usual things. It felt strange, but not bad.

Then I dared to look at my bare feet. Hmm… No flashback this time. When I felt a growing anxiety, I looked away and watched some cat videos. Then I looked back. And more cat videos. And looking at my bare feet again. It got easier and easier each time.

I decided to stop wearing socks. Maybe I’ll try going barefoot all the time at home – and at yoga. By the end of the day I felt tired, like I’d been carrying heavy bags, but at the same time strangely light and relaxed, like I’d lifted some weight off my shoulders that I’d been carrying since that day with Uncle James.


Day 4.

The app congratulated me today, telling me I made progress. It didn’t ask me to do anything new yet, just keep relaxing. I went barefoot all day again. I am completely at ease with it now.


Day 6.

The app suggested that I add the second path of my desensitization and watch some men’s sports – the kind where men wear tight clothes, like gymnastics, swimming, and wrestling. I was reluctant – you can guess that I despise those shows – but I watched some videos.

Well, not much fun, and those bulges in front of their pants looked terrifying, but they were packed tightly into their leotards, and on the small smartphone screen… they looked safe enough so I could watch closer.

Oh my God, they move so gracefully!


Day 7.

Maybe I was moving too fast. I dared to watch sports on my computer screen, and at some point the camera took a close-up of the gymnast’s crotch, and I saw that bulge in front of me…

Another flashback. It was Uncle James again, several months after he first raped me. My parents didn’t stop him – maybe I’ll write about that later, when I get up the nerve – so he kept catching me every few days and fucking me. By that time I had stopped resisting completely, and even felt stronger and stronger pleasure each time, and I hated my body for betraying me.

Today he was in a hurry, so he did not fuck me. Instead, he told me: “It’s time to learn a new trick, Lola!” – and pushed my face into his crotch.

Oh God. I always avoided looking at his dick, it was easy when he was just fucking me, but now it was right in front of me, big, thick and scary, and he did not allow me to turn away.

“Suck it, Lola!” – he ordered, forcing his cock into my mouth. I gagged and choked, he slapped my cheek and said: “Don’t struggle! Suck it gently, as if it were your lollipop. Use your tongue!”

I reluctantly obeyed and sucked his penis as he instructed. It tasted terrible.

“Now faster!”

And I sucked faster, my heart pounding, tears streaming from my eyes.

“Faster, Lola!” – He groaned, grabbing my head with both hands and thrusting deeper into my throat.

I choked and almost vomited, so he pulled out, slapped my face and thrust again. Again and again and again, fucking my face faster and deeper.

Finally he stopped, holding me down so I couldn’t escape. Then his hips jerked and I felt disgusting, salty, bitter cum filling my mouth. Uncle James moaned loudly and pulled away, but did not release me.

Coughing, I tried to crawl away from him, but he would not let me go.

“Don’t spit! Swallow it, bitch! Good girls like to swallow!” he ordered.

I swallowed obediently, fighting nausea. He grinned smugly and patted me on the head.

“Well done, Lola! From now on I will teach you to suck properly…”

The flashback ended. I found myself in my chair, shaking and whimpering, drooling. My yoga pants between my legs were wet from squirting. I covered my face with my hands in disgust. Damn it! It was a long time ago, why can’t I put all this behind me?!

I breathed, changed my clothes and drank a chocolate milkshake. It seemed to wash away the taste of my memories a bit.


Day 10.

No new instructions, I just have to repeat everything until I’m completely comfortable with it. Well, okay… Once the memory was unlocked, men’s crotches gradually stopped looking so scary. I can even pause videos and take a closer look. No nausea, even a slight interest. Hmmm…

I also dared to shorten my sleeves and pant legs – to my shoulders and to the middle of my thighs. I feel freer… and it does not scare me anymore, too. Even once, when I got the pizza delivery, I did not dress up and ran to the courier as I was, barefoot and with my arms and legs exposed! And… it even felt exciting! Wow!


Day 11.

The app gave me a short questionnaire (to clarify details of my trauma, I suppose) and suggested the next exercise. *Gasp* It’s kind of creepy! It suggests that when I’m washing my pussy, try to slow down and look at it. Don’t touch it, just look at it, as long as it’s comfortable for me. Just the thought of it makes me shiver.

But… I tried it today. Getting naked in the shower is easy, directing the water jet between my legs is also familiar, and I can spread my labia with my fingers if I don’t look… But the instructions told me to look, albeit briefly. I looked.

And turned away immediately. I washed myself normally, dried and crawled under the covers. Flashbacks. Another one. Well, I should write it anyway, sooner or later.

The day I came to my father, crying after the first rape… I stopped at the place where he took me to the bathroom to wash me.

Well, he washed me, he was gentle and caring, as usual, he helped my mother wash me for as long as I can remember. But when it came to my pussy, which still had drops of sperm and blood on it… Well, he touched it differently this time, smearing sperm and blood between my labia with his finger, penetrating a little into my vagina… He sighed and said:

“Well, it was a bad thing, but it can’t be undone. Better if I help you overcome the pain with pleasure…”

And he directed the shower jet to my pussy and began to rub it and penetrate my little hole with his fingers, faster and faster. At first I felt only discomfort, but soon I felt the tickling between my legs, as it often happened many times afterwards when Uncle James fucked me… Suddenly my whole body shook and tensed, waves of indescribable pleasure shot through me, and my pussy tightened, squeezing Daddy’s fingers in convulsive spasms. I cried out and squatted down, hiding my burning cheeks with my hands, ashamed…

Daddy smiled. He embraced me, kissed my forehead and said: “All is well, my dear. This place is made for your pleasure, not for your pain. Now try to rub yourself like I just did.”

What?… I felt an even stronger burst of shame. Yes, Daddy was only doing me good, but it was so… sick, so strange, that he touched me there and… ordered me to touch myself while he watched…

But I did not dare to disobey and carefully put my hand between my legs and started to rub… Mmmmmhh!.. Yes, it felt really good… I rubbed faster…

Dad nodded approvingly. “And finger yourself too!”

I did.

After a few minutes I shivered again and gasped from another wave of incredible pleasure. Daddy hugged me and led me out of the shower. He wrapped me in a towel, patted my head and said: “Your body is beautiful, Lola, don’t be ashamed of it. And don’t be ashamed to explore it. Your mother and I will always be happy to help and advise you”.

Flashback over. I was rolling from side to side under my blankets, panting and crying softly, shaking with a strong mixture of shame and arousal. Dad never fucked me. I don’t know what he told Uncle James, but Uncle never stopped fucking me. And Dad just always insisted from now on to help me wash when I came home blushing and with my clothes in disarray, and he always rubbed and fingered me to orgasm, then ordering me to do it myself… He did it even on the days when Uncle did not fuck me. And Mom just acted like nothing was happening! Even when I told her everything, she just patted me on the head and said everything would be okay!

I sobbed. Why? Why did they do this to me?!! They were supposed to protect me! How could I trust anyone after this?!

I drank a milkshake, calmed down, and fell asleep.

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