(Silenced Voices ) 

WARNING: This story has graphic obscene Descriptions. Take heart.

The girl who told me this story will be mad when she finds out that I wrote about this. But I want to tell her that this is not about her. That I didn’t do this for her. I wrote this for the silenced voices. The voices that think that it’s okay when a man takes advantage of you. The voices that cower behind closed doors. The voices that’s been striped off their pride, and what once was beautiful to them. Taken away in 3 minutes of pressure. The voices that tried saying no, the ones that tried keeping their thighs crossed together, only to be subdued by strong arms, tearing away their precious panties.

I’m writing this with my sisters in mind, nieces and the daughters of my exes in mind. Don’t judge me yet. Oh no. Don’t say I’m defending the girl child. Please, understand this. I’m no against the boy child either. I’m writing this with my wife’s daughter at heart. My daughter. Having in mind that one day she’ll come of age. She’ll be a teen and soon she’ll be in Highschool. At adolescent, perhaps, the talk of the day will be about boys, sex and arousal. How good it feels. How orgasm feels. This at the time when she’ll be discovering herself as a woman. Her mates, will have everything to say about sex. Except she won’t know anything. She’s never felt it. She only know of sex in books she reads, the stories her father writes, and the movie she watches.

She’ll want to feel all these and quench her utmost desires if not curiosity. And daddy won’t be there to steer her forth. Mommy won’t be there to warn her. So, some boy will come around, give her attention, and she’ll smile back at him. She’ll pour sweet words at her feet like petals of roses. She’ll fall for every word. She’ll grow to like the hound; who at the time, will lace her world with “I love yous” As if she’s never been told. She’ll melt for him. Their conversation will be nothing more of, “I miss you. When will I kiss you. You have an attractive body. Your lips so lustrous. You’re sexy. When will I see you.” She’ll be on the phone, and each text will make her stomach burn in exasperation. She’ll feel some void neath her bones, she’ll be crazy about this new feeling, and this will send her straight to the hound’s doors. He’ll tuck her in. She won’t know any better.

On the couch they’ll sit. The hound will be too broke to even buy a wine. So he’ll give her Cold Water to drink. They won’t have any meaningful convo, but soon the hound will try to kiss her. She’ll refrain and say she’s never done it before. He’ll tell her, “let me teach you.”. He won’t be as romantic, as he won’t know how to take it easy, so he’ll touch her breasts when the clothes are still on. She’ll fell weird. She’ll refrain. But he won’t listen. He’ll kiss her more. Slid his hands on her skirt, she’ll kick them off.

He’ll notice that she’s grown tough. He’ll notice that she’s a virgin and he wouldn’t want to let her go for free. He doesn’t love her more than he envisioned sliding in her tight cunt. That’s what he’s all about. He’ll say while unzipping his trouser, “I want you now. You promised me on the phone.” He’ll try to use words such as, “I love you. Do you love me too?” And whence she says , “Yes I do”, it will be the death of her. Oh no. It will be the end of her. For she’ll try to ease out. But she’s never lay nakedly before anyone. She’ll feel uneasy. She’ll cross her legs, close her thighs. She’ll say, “No, I can’t do it.”. He won’t hear none of it.

He’ll keep going. With all those muscle clenching on his body, his penis will fall at her sight. Eyes wide opened, it will be unlike anything she’s ever seen. Huge, thick, black cock. She’ll imagine it penetrating her small vaginal walls. The walls will break, crack like a nutshell. The thought of it, scary, will make her scream like a frightened child. She’ll cover her mouth. “Shhhh..” He’ll say. Spreadly he’ll open ajar her thighs, she’ll thumb on his chest, begging him to let her go. She’ll scream but no one will hear her. He’ll remove her pants, she’ll feel defeated. Just seconds before disaster strike, he’ll let him have his fun.

Only that she won’t enjoy it. She’ll be sobbing, as he will be trying to force himself inside her. She didn’t wet herself enough. He didn’t ask her if it would be alright. She will lay there defenseless. She’ll lose her innocence except it wouldn’t be like she’d hoped for. Candle lights. Wine. Good music. Pleasure and pain. Not pressure and pain. He’ll struggle. Whence he’ll be done, he’ll fall on the bed and sleep it off. She’ll sob. With the pain and heat between her thighs. She’ll say, she’ll never tell anyone. She’ll never trust anyone. She’ll put back her blood stained panty. She’ll try to remove some stains. She’ll get out of the crib, when the hound is still sleeping. Hoping that she’ll forget, but she never will.

So, somehow I’m writing this, not with my daughter in mind, but with a bullet stuffed in my shot gun. Somehow I’m writing this, and my pen keeps breaking. When it breaks it reminds me of the hound. So yes, I wrote this with you in mind. The hound. I want to reach out to you. Take my blunt pen and stuff it in your eyeballs. I’d want to take my pen knife and cut off your cheeks, and I’ll brag about it, “let’s see how you gonna smile.!” I’ll cut it off. Let’s see what you’ll boast about. Yeah, I’ll cut it off.

She’s been telling me all these things about you. To help her forget of the ordeal. But the therapy sessions doesn’t help. She wants to kill you, but not as much as I’d love to enjoy your demise. Thinking of the ways she trusted you. Thought that you were the one. You screw her. Do you know how it feels to be raped by someone who claims to love you? Only that you can’t talk about it, for they’ll say, you two were in love. She tells me she wants to kill you. But I tell her. “Baby girl, you’ve had enough. He’s not worth your innocence anymore. Let me take care of it.”

Somehow, I’m putting a full stop to his piece. I pick my gun. Wear my jacket on. I’m coming to get you, the hound.

If you know him, tag him. If you see him, tell him to run.

The girl who told me this, will be mad if she finds out I wrote about it. But I want to tell her that I did it for the million girls who have gone through the same. Who have been raped but choose to be silent To give them hope, that their daughters won’t go through the same. And my sons, will be well behaved. They’ll know the difference between no and yes.

*****

As written by Phill Ibsen

( Master Of Descriptions )

A Heart_Art_Poetics productions