TW: Grooming relationship, manipulation, dissociation

Based off a situation I'm going through right now and how I felt in the moment he had me do this. I have no other way to talk about it, hence this blog.

Later on, he calls me. We talked for a few hours. I told him about my day and how I and my friends were biking down to the bay to eat fruits, but it was super windy; our mangoes winded up all sandy. He laughs. I hear him move a little; he grunts and starts coughing. I assume he's smoking a cigar. Earlier, a few months after we first met, he smoked weed. He had been since high school. We’d walk to the town over, me and my buddies, and buy blunts. They were $5 each. He lived in a small town, no dealers, he had told me one night. So he and his friends would have to walk 5 miles whenever they wanted to get high, which seems like it was pretty often tending to the fact he used to be high every moment I’d speak to him. He only stopped smoking weed because he got extremely ill. “CHS,” he cleared his throat, “that’s why I was always getting so sick. I have to stop smoking so much; probably going to quit tobacco too. It is a nasty habit, hun. Don't smoke.” He never quit tobacco.

We talked a bit more until we sat in silence. He started moving again. I expected that he was grabbing another cigar, until I heard over the phone, “What are you wearing?”

I expected this. When we first met and I showed him my body for the first time, he told me he hadn’t been able to come like that in months. You’re my cure. He made me feel special, my teenage curvy body was able to cure a thirty-one-year-old man's inability to come. Part of me felt it was disgusting, but he made me feel like a blessing. 

I already knew what would be coming next, as we were on a video call, I look down, and drag my camera to expose my soft thighs, medium-sized breasts peeking out of my childish pajamas. They were stupid, really. But I thought they were adorable, a polka-dot pink button-up pajama set, and un-matching tan pajama shorts that I had lost the matching top to. The top of the set was slightly unbuttoned, my cleavage showing slightly. I didn’t mean to look sexy, just comfortable, but I knew in his eyes I was trying to show off.

“Take those shorts off.” he’d say, and immediately I would. Sometimes I felt like a dog, having to be obedient to her owner. She has no say, she just does as she is told, and smiles as she feels useful. Part of me gets excited during these moments; he makes me feel beautiful, he makes me feel loved, he makes me feel useful. No guy has ever done that for me, made me feel beautiful and cared for afterward. Most guys just used and touched me when I never wanted it, but he promised to never do that. That’s disgusting. I could never do such a thing to you. Tell me if I ever hurt you, baby, I don’t want to be like those monsters. 

After placing my phone down, I sat, waiting for him to tell me what to do. Normally, I’d show him my ass, he’d talk about how he needs me so bad, then come. But this time was different, he said to take the camera to my face and show him my mouth. He called me beautiful, then told me to start acting like I’m licking his dick, begging for his come. Stunned, I felt confused. I didn’t like that idea, “Go on.”

He was getting impatient, and I was getting nervous. My heart was pounding, so I just did as he said. Part of me thought what the fuck? But the other part said you’re being useful, he loves you so much. It’ll be over soon, do it for him. And so I continued. He continued to grunt, I could tell he was getting close meaning it would be over soon. That’s all I needed, for this to be done, then suddenly he started talking again.

“Say you need Daddy, baby.” My mouth stopped moving, my tongue went back in, and I froze in place, he continued, repeating those words over and over again. Say it, say you need Daddy, was what was being said, yet all I heard was the ringing of my ears. I flashed back to the first time he said he loved me, back to the first time he said he wanted to kiss me, back to the past, all the way to the beginning where it didn’t feel so confusing and we weren’t this deep and I wasn’t so scared. 

I whispered it, fearful somebody would hear it from the other room but I wasn’t there. I was in the start when he first called me adorable, how he said he’d scrub me down in the shower and he would love every moment of it. My body was moving, but my head had shut down. I only came back once he moaned loudly. I wanted to ask what the fuck was that? but I stayed silent, unmoving. “Look at you," he said, feeling my curves, reaching down to my hip dips, "you’re so beautiful; so very beautiful, “ he whispered, “I love you.” I put my tan pajama shorts back on, placed my camera where it had been originally, standing up against my floral pillows, and just stared off. He had barely said a thing to me, I waited for the love he’d normally give, pampering and spoiling me all over, but it never came.