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The only thing I thought as he clamped down on my mouth was, “this room is disgusting”. It smelled like day old sex, cigarettes and fried food. I’ve been to this motel several times. It was meant for one thing only-fucking. I had no delusions and no great expectations but damn, can I at least get a clean room. The bed was unmade and stained probably with semen, the wall paper was peeling, and the color of the rug was not recognizable. Shit. I was scared to put my bag down, let alone my body. But what can I expect from the profession I chose?
And this nasty ass nigga’s breath was rotten. His mouth smelled like stale beer and unwashed twat. His body was thick and bulky and he used it to press me against the door. His mouth on mine, aggressively attempting to shove his tongue down my throat and his hands squeezing my breasts painfully. I attempted to squirm out of his grasp but he refused to give me space.
I pushed against his chest and broke away from his overbearing kiss. I looked up into his face and said, “You’re hurting me. You don’t have to be so rough baby. I’m not going anywhere. But we need to handle business before pleasure. We agreed to $200.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know what the fuck I said bitch. Just do what I’m paying you to do-take this dick.”
He proceeded to lift me off my feet and carry me towards the bed. I was screaming in my head, “No! Please don’t lay me on that semen stained sheet.” But I didn’t utter those words. He frightened me. He was rough and mean. I could see not leaving this room in one piece so I shut my damned mouth and let him lay me on those nasty sheets.
Jesus. I question everyday how my life came to this? Why didn’t I go home and ask my parents for help? They would have helped without question. But my pride, my stubborn ass pride had me in this seedy hotel with a stranger attempting to shove his penis in my mouth. It too smelled old and sick. How the hell can a dick smell sick? Did he have a STD? And was he going to give it to me! Oh hell no! I started to push against him and I screamed, “Stop! I want to leave. Get off of me.”
He grabbed my hands in one of his and pulled them over my head. He had his knee in my chest keeping me in place, while he took his other hand and placed it around my neck and began to squeeze. I was gasping for air and trying to lift my body off the bed to shake him off. The fear was building in me and my breathing was shallow, to the point where I felt I was going to pass out.
As I fought back, he became increasingly angry. He started breathing heavily as he spouted, “Keep still bitch and take this dick before I break your fucking neck. You asked for it so I’m going to give you just what you asked for. And maybe, just maybe I’ll let you walk out of here.”
I saw it in his vacant eyes. Hatred for me. I didn’t know this man from Adam but I saw the hatred behind the vacant stare. I also saw he meant his words. He was going to hurt me and I was not leaving this room the same way I came in. I just had to decide which pain I would rather suffer-the sexual abuse I knew he was going to inflict or the physical abuse because of my refusal to take his sexual abuse. I think I knew the physical abuse would be worst and irreparable. So I stopped resisting, lay prone, closed my eyes, and relinquished my body to him.
As this man grunted and rutted in me, as he bit and pierced my flesh, and used his penis as a weapon to rip my vagina open, I drifted to a safe place in my mind. I dreamed about walking on the beach along side the ocean, visiting my mother and father, and eating a double-scoop of butter pecan ice cream. I hadn’t thought to pray in many years but in that moment, I prayed to God and promised if I was allowed to leave this motel room alive, I would leave this all behind, finish school and pursue my dream of becoming a singer. I closed my eyes and prayed for God’s mercy.
Tabitha 💋: 6/29/21: 11:05pm