Broken Angel

Ladies, Don’t Give Abusive Men Power over Your Life


An Open Letter to a Sister in Marital Distress

Keyshia Cole – I Remember

The First Person to Forgive is You.

We are sisters separated by continents but united in our hearts.

You have been on my heart all weekend. I hate to see you sad and upset. I believe with all my heart and soul that you did your best in your marriage and with your child.

Sometimes when spouses are at odds with each other one person manipulates the other through the child. As much as you Love your husband and knowing you have been faithful and loyal to him for 30+ years he has not held up his end of the bargain. The contract is now null and void.

Despite his supposed mental illness and having had a minor stroke he still has the ability to take care of his personal business, his mother and your son. I don’t like saying this but I firmly believe he poisoned your son’s mind against you. That is calculated, thought out and planned. The cruel painful things he says to you, the way he neglects you yet expects you to obey his every wish and desire is evil.

It has gotten to the point where you feel shame and guilt when you should not. After all you did the best you could. You lay yourself on the marriage altar sacrificing your name, homeland, family, faith to unite with him in marriage. Obviously his reasons for getting married were not the same as yours.

Yes there were mistakes but we are all human and no relationship is without errors. But true Love overlooks mistakes and sees the good in the person. As you already know he no longer loves you. No man would treat a woman he is married to that way. He must take responsibility for his actions.  Marriage is a partnership not a master/slave thing.

It’s time for you to shine. I know that it is difficult to let go of any relationship that you have invested time and effort but if he is not willing to support you or care for you then it is time for him to hit the road. It is like you are carrying dead weight and you should not have to do that. Why continue to punish yourself?  Why live with self-doubt. You have made time for everyone else in this world now it is time to take care of you and your needs. The only other people in this world that you should devote yourself to are your parents. Stop giving your husband permission to hurt you emotionally and psychologically.

I’ve walked down a similar road with a 7 year common-law marriage to an abusive man. As much as it hurt the day he left me was probably the best day of my life and the beginning of focusing on me, myself & I and of course my brother Stephen.

I stepped out on faith and have not looked back but to bless the day I began to regain my sanity and sense of self. The relationship ended in 2007 but the hurt and pain went on for a while but with God’s help I made it through. Last year 2014 was the first time I felt free inside from the ugly way he made me feel about myself. You too can be free but you must be willing to take that first difficult step but trust I will be right there with you. I am a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. You can make it. We can make it.

Love,

From a Woman who has been there and back.

Rape of Tamar

Memoirs of a Cubist Odalisque


Memoirs of a Cubist Odalisque

Sophie’s Story

Odalisque in Grisaille Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres  (French, Montauban 1780–1867 Paris) and Workshop
Odalisque in Grisaille
Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres
(French, Montauban 1780–1867 Paris) and Workshop

Gumby Lovers

 

“I Know that I’m not much to look at but I used to be the Crown Prince of Manhood, the Courtier of Cum among Royal Lovers.”

This laughable boast came on an exultation of foul and fetid breath akin to human waste lying in the bottom of a sewer emitting from this wizened and emaciated corpse like figure with a red bulging knobby doorknob on the end of a shriveled pecker. How it managed to stand at attention was a miracle from the saints or gods of nonstop porn.  His face was a veritable road-map of lines, wrinkles, valleys, pitted scars with a bird beak blue veined appendage masquerading as a nose jutting forth from sunken cheeks.  Above the beak nose were two rheumy eyes topped by beetle brows which looked more like two warring caterpillars wrangling for domination of an egg shaped skull sprouting tufts of errant hairs growing from the beak nose, elongated ears and the various moles on his scrofulous person.

Then it began. I closed my eyes and did my best to disengage all my senses as this old bag of bones began his pitiful assault upon my body.  I tried to drown out the sound of the Click-Clacking of false teeth in rhythm with hurried asthmatic prods that gradually became more pathetic and feebler though he put his hairy back best with his pecker pushing.  Thankfully he was done in under four minutes.  The way he panted and gasped for air I thought he was having a heart attack and about to cum and go at the same time!

Four minutes of torture and hell. Because I have Scoliosis I had to deal with the runts of the litter. Yup I get all the Gumbys and Pokeys.  Though we are fed, housed, clothed and housed like Renaissance Odalisques there is still a pecking order of beauty.  My face, my sun-kissed umber skin, my small perfectly round breasts and long curly wavy chestnut locks got me a reprieve from just being another filthy dirty street urchin but this curvature of the spine has relegated me to servicing the worst of the many Geezer patrons who pass through these palatial doors.  The soldiers, sailors, traveling merchants or other Spew head Jimmy’s as many of the Ladies were want to call them rarely came my way unless they too suffered from a disfigurement of the mind and/or body which they saw reflected in me.

Stepping from the filthy foul smelling streets men were ushered into exotic elaborately decorated quarters decorated with expensive Persian rugs, medieval tapestries, silk draperies hung upon windowless walls, tables adorned with Tiffany lamps. A subtle scent of incense permeated the airways. The decorations seemed incongruous yet harmonized together in an irregular yet pleasing manner. Palatial taste a bit ostentatious like a Renaissance bordello. The furnishings were highly articulated and faceted Baroque/Rococo objects, many with deep gouges and gashes suggesting transparency and interior penetration. This room and much of the house as well as the street urchins who passed through seemed to us an Orientalist fantasy. At the far end of the living room hung a painting of a Minotaur coupling with a Centauride.

I saved my favorite costume for my only true Lover, Semper Fi.  It was a beautiful blood red silk satin with lace trimming with velvet calf length skirts. However as joyful as I was when I donned the frock what pleased me even more were the Bordello Shoes—Red Velveteen Victorian button-up Boots with a two inch heel. My long thick Chestnut hair was caught up in a chignon ala Gibson Girl but I captured the Bohemian spirit of the Flapper.

Few and far in between are opportunities to be with my Beloved Semper Fi a robust man in his late 40s. Mattered not to him my twisted spine as he guided me gently onto his massive bull staff. Skillfully bringing me to numerous orgasms complimenting me on my long curly chestnut hair, my perfect A Cup breasts gifted with large sensitive raisins that grew even larger as he sucked and licked me into ecstasy. What gave me even more pleasure than his substantial endowment was that he chose me. Semper would call at least two or three days in advance specifically requesting my services.  I felt honored to be chosen by this man among men……………………………………………………………………..

 

 

Rape of Tamar
The Rape of Tamar

 

 

Sophie’s Origins

My Name is Zipporah Sophia.  I am from the once favored issue and Kingdom of Jephthah whose bad choices and decisions cursed my clan

 

I came to this Bordello from a rural backwater village that held onto the 19th Century in custom, culture and values long after its demise, after a disastrous arranged marriage. From my birth I was considered “Damaged goods”. Upon seeing me after I was born my father was ready to throw me to hyenas and rabid dogs that fed on discarded garbage in the town dump.  My mother, grandmother and aunts stayed his hand. So ashamed of me was him I called father that he kept me within the compound as much as possible and I was only allowed outside on infrequent shopping excursions with my female relatives for food, house supplies and to buy enough fabric to make clothing which would covered the misshaped hump that dominated my form.  Around the ages of 14 and 15 when most young women were making suitable marriages I had no suitors. Every young man in the village knew of my deformity though I rarely made an appearance in town.  Bad news travels fast.  My family was fairly well off and we lived quite comfortably so I had a somewhat considerably dowry, yet I still had no takers.  No man wanted to love me.  Eventually as I approached my 18th birthday having resigned myself to being an Old Maid my father finally found a match in a far flung outpost where no man knew my embarrassing truth.  Negotiations began. A Wedding date was set and I was delivered to my betrothed.  The Festivities nearly two days and my future husband was eager to retire to our luxurious tent to consummate our union.

But there was no consummation because once my betrothed removed my clothes, he screamed in disgust that he had been saddled with a hunchback for a wife.  He refused to do his husbandly duties and angrily return me to my father’s tent.  My father ashamed and now disgraced in not one but two villages sent me packing out from our tribal home into what I perceived as an unknown and dangerous wasteland.  So great was his fury and so hurried his dismissal that I hurriedly left with only the clothes on my twisted back and what few personal possessions I could carry, rushing to escape his stormy anger.

Good Fortune did smile on me as I traversed pock marked, poorly lit, rubble strewn road leading away from the only home I had ever known.  Angels in the form of my mother, aunts and sisters had extinguished my father’s fiery rage through liberal applications of wine spiked with sleeping potions. They then saddled horses from his stables and intercepted my wilderness journey.  We hugged, cried, and mourned the passing of me, Jephthah’s daughter cast out like Hagar from those she loved traveling who knows where.

They had also bargained with the disgruntled groom and his family to win back half my dowry which gifted me along with one strong but sway back donkey, an animal who mirrored my disability and fortitude.  I a prodigal daughter who had committed no sin in my youth and innocence only to be rescued by the House of Sin…………………………………

 

Semper Fidelis

Semper Fi never removed his spectacles even in the heat of desire. His pince-nez caught, captured and dispensed salty yearning drops of sweat upon whichever passion princess he had chosen for his evenings of lust.

His bull powered thrusts accompanied by violent shakes and heaves of the Brass headboard threatened to crash through the plaster thin wall and into the adjoining room. Fellow patrons and madams nicknamed him the Bull in the China Shop for his furious jackhammer prick pounding he gave to Ladies of the Evening with his equine sized crimson member.  His broad face with flaring nostrils and rather full lips rendered him some animistic qualities which he gladly played out in the boudoir.

His sonorous speeches gave way to primal grunts, groans, and growls that increased with intensity of each hammer G-Spot driven plunge. At the crescendo when he could no longer hold back the volcanic force surging inside he withdrew to spew his semen eruption over his mistress rounded abdomen, full firm breasts and thick thighs.

During the week he was a respectable Antique Bookshop Owner dealing with annoying customers and fickle publishers and shady book collectors. By the weekend it’s like all that ferocity wrapped up inside he was ready to be released in the Ultimate Weekend Fuck Fest. Sometimes he was able to release building tension with whichever out of town female research bookseller/collector was in town for a convention or a project.  He was usually able to win them over with his humor, charm and dinners at the finest restaurants in town.  Fortunately for Semper Fi his begetter though rich in seminal fluids was totally devoid of sperm otherwise he would have sired legions offspring with the many young fertile women he serviced on a regular basis. On first glance his dangling appendage had ample girth but seemed to lack length but that assumption was quickly falsified during arousal.

Such was his reputation that every Friday when he made his grand entrance into the Pussy Palace Bordello all the Ladies in Waiting vied for his attention by wearing their most entrancing scintillating garb so that they would be the chosen mare to be rode hard and put out wet.

Semper Fi with his musician fingers explored every nook, cranny, crevice and grotto of the selected woman’s body blessing her with multiple orgasms before entering her moist dark chambers with his elephantine rod of steel.

The aromatic oils that he liberally anointed his body daily provided powerful pheromones when mixed with his natural man musk scent.  Sometimes his spurting semen cascaded over the woman like golden glistening raindrops against a window pane.  Other times he ejaculated copious white cream which sprayed over flaming hips and thighs like a profuse foggy mist mixing with her fragrant perspiration musky internal womb perfumes.

His favorite of the entire harem was Zipporah or Sophie as she was generally called whose twisted back gave him a thousand pleasures in mind and body while away from her or when tracing his fingers along the S-shaped curve that she desperately tried to hide with elaborate costumes……………………

(To Be Continued)

 

 

Freedom from the Drone/Hive Mentality


Freedom from Drone/Hive Mentality

Spiritual Spring Cleaning: “Purge items and photos that remind you of destructive people or forces, which perpetuate negative life-story patterns. Spring is a great season to begin a new chapter, but you’ll need a blank page to get started.” — Bajay Pitter

Strategies for Deliverance

I love seeing formerly battered and abused women go from victims to Victory. Being a survivor of domestic & sexual violence I can relate to the pain and sufferings of women trying to escape abusive relationships. Even after being delivered from my abuser physically it still took a long time to be delivered mentally and emotionally. I’m still on the road to complete deliverance but at least I’m further down the road than 6 years ago.

The pain is there. It’s real. I’ve learned I must speak my pain but not to dwell within the pain. I must not make a home inside the pain. One of the ways to move past that pain is to destroy any reminders from that time period. I kind of had a waiting to exhale moment. No, I didn’t burn up his clothing but whatever he left inside my house went into the garbage that included clothing, computer junk, his old business cards, anything related to his pigeon hobby, and any photographs of him.

I especially found destroying the pictures to be a type of Cleansing Ritual. It was therapeutic because I was symbolically as well as physically removing my abuser from my life. It was the first step towards healing.  I can remember during the time I was with my abuser I went to a Women’s Retreat with my church. One of the things our Pastor’s Wife had us do was to write our fears or challenges down on little strips of paper and throw them into a fireplace. Fire represents a form of purging and casting photos of the abuser along with the bitter memories into the flames is cathartic. Think of it as conducting our own personal “Burning Man” ritual. Of course depending on where you live and if you live in a house or an apartment it may not be practical to build a bonfire in the backyard or sacrifice our kitchen stoves at the risk of violating our city’s ordinances or creating pyrotechnics worthy of Mrs. O’Leary’s bovine arsonist.

A safer and less risky ceremony would be to take every picture of your abuser and run them through the shredder.  This would accomplish the same fulfillment which is to banish this person as much as possible from your life. Now for me it was easier because we only had a common-in-law marriage and did not have children together. For those ladies who have property and children in common with the abuser this might become more difficult but still doable. If there are children involved I’d save two or three photos for the children to have once they become adults but I’d place those pictures in a safe deposit box or a strong box located in the basement, attic or a close family member or friend’s home to give the kids an opportunity to decide what they feel and make their own personal decisions upon reaching adulthood.

The objective is to begin the process of purification. Wash away the slime, filth and dirt off our bodies and out of our lives. To arise from the ashes like the Phoenix reborn, renewed, and ready to rebuild our lives. Today take up the shattered pieces of your life and build something brand new. A new beginning. A new identity created and defined by you not your abuser or outside detractors and naysayers.

Phoenix arising from the Ashes
Phoenix Arising from the Ashes

Graduate from the School of Hard Knocks don’t take up residence there. Resistance is not futile. Do not be assimilated into the Hive. Our identities and self-worth do not reside within another person but within us. The power to become free resides within us.

There is a Reset button to life. Not to move us back to before our relationship with the abuser but now knowing the signs, how not to be so needy to return to those destructive relationships. How can I Love myself and build up myself so I can attract healthy romantic relationships. Of course none of this freedom is won overnight.

There will still be days of doubt, fear, and frustration but those are the days when we reach out to our support group, our inner circles for help and reassurance that in time everything will work out.

Today I release myself from the Island of Lost Souls back into the solace of self and community.

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