My cousin and I were horseplaying around one night when he began rubbing my b*** inappropriately. I was a bit surprised by it, but I didn’t stop him. I had been under so much family-related stress and pressure, that his touch, although inappropriate, felt relaxing. That said, I honestly didn’t want, or expect anything to progress from there …. but it did. We went into his room “to watch tv” and touch inappropriately without getting caught. Initially, that’s all that was happening, a little touching, not even kissing. Next thing happening, was him trying to convince/persuade me into letting him give me oral. Obviously I said no and told him that we weren’t going to be doing anything underneath the clothes. Maybe I was naive to believe he’d respect that, but after all we are cousins, so I thought that fact would keep things from turning into anything seriously inappropriate. It didn’t, he became forceful the more I said no, the more he held me down. I didn’t want to get too loud because I was scared we’d get caught and I’d end up taking the fall/blame. So I tried to keep cool and talk him out of it, but he wasn’t having it, he remained aggressive until he forced himself inside me. Even after I couldn’t take anymore (climax) he kept going. I admit that it felt amazing, which created the confusion. There I was quietly moaning in pleasure even though I was being raped by my cousin. How could something so wrong, horrible, and traumatic feel so heavenly? It took an emotional and mental toll on me, I began blaming myself … “had I not been horseplaying,” “had I not gone into his room,” “had I not been so naive,” all the self-blaming thoughts that I entertained. I honestly didn’t believe it would’ve ever escalated to full on r***/s**, but how could I have been so damn solly? So I started telling myself that I wanted it, and that it wasn’t r***, although I knew I was lying to myself. I guess if I could convince myself that I wanted it, then that would mean he didn’t r*** me, and that I wasn’t naive and that I was in control instead of him. Not only that, but I began craving it. The way that he raped me was like he was deliberately trying to get me addicted to the way he felt inside of me. I felt ashamed and confused, that I would dare crave him after what had happened. I just couldn’t help it, I felt so powerless, weak and confused. I found myself zoning out and just staring into space thinking about the entire ordeal, having vivid flashbacks. It became a little much for me emotionally and mentally. I began to shut the trauma out and focus on telling myself I wanted, I told myself that until we had s** again. Only this time, it wasn’t r***. I thought it would make me feel better, taking my power back, I didn’t wanna walk around feeling like some silent r***/i***** victim. But insted of getting my power back, I feel just as sick in the head and twisted as he is. The more it happens, the more addicted I become, he’s really amazing in bed, and it grosses me tf out that I even know that. I struggle with feelings of self-directed shame, disgust, confusion, pain, and trauma. Why I don’t direct all theae feelings toward him, I don’t even know, I guess I just blame myself. I still feel so weak, and I f****** hate it. I feel like there’s this dark, twisted trauma bond going on and I don’t know how to break it.

• Share on Facebook