Rules of the Road   5 comments

The hissing of air breaks jolts me into the world of my new life. I look around in a panic, not knowing for a moment where I am. He slips into the sleeper and sits by me on the bed. He looks at me in the darkness and softly asks me my name. I tell him and his hand lashes out, striking me across the face, hard. I cry out with the pain and scramble away from him, into the corner of the small space. I taste the blood from my lip and hear his voice, a growl of anger “you are who I SAY you are. You HAVE no name till I give you one, slut” I sat there in shock, sobbing as he continued “You will call me Master at all times. You are my property, mine to do as I please with. You are NOTHING, do you understand?” I sobbed an affirmative and he struck me again, I yelped “yes Master!” and he nodded, satisfied. He ordered me to undress, telling me the only time I’d be allowed clothes is when I left the truck. He reached behind me and pulled a thick chain from behind the bed, attaching it to my collar. Then, after I undressed, he raped me viciously.


I lay awake for hours, listening to his snores, his arm draped over me as my aching body throbbed with the pain of his assault. I thought of the gun back at the house and sighed softly. He murmurs in his sleep and rolls over. I move, thankful the bed is so hard it doesn’t move and disturbe him. I look at the chain he’s attached to me and follow it to the opposite end. It’s attached to the wall with a padlock. I wonder if he’s done this before and if he has, what happened to the girls before me. I shudder and look out the front windshield into the darkness of night. I can see blurry lights out there but nothing else. God I wished I had my glasses. My foot brushes something cold and I pick it up. A bottle of Pepsi in my hand, I feel the thirst like a desert in my throat. I open it and take a big swallow, the sugar screaming nto my veins like a freight train. GOD that was good! It’s been WEEKS since my last soda and I’m smiling, painfully, as his voice growls from behind me “did you ask for that, slut?” I go rigid and whisper “no Master” as I put the lid on quickly. He grabs my hair and pulls me to him, biting my arm roughly. I scream and try to hit him to get away but he’s too strong and suddenly I’m on my back, his hands around my throat. “NEVER try that again bitch or I’ll kill you and dump your ass over a bridge” he growls, his face close to mine. I choke out a “yes Master” and he releases me, gasping and crying, from his strong grip. He pulls me to him and begins his assault afresh. He is relentless and vicious till the sun creeps in through the windshield.

I am laying by the back wall on the bed, looking at him as he dresses. He’s laying out the “rules” that I have to follow but I’m so exhausted that I’m drifting off to his words. He slaps my face to rouse me and continues. I can’t go out of the sleeper without permission, can’t pee without permission, can only eat if I beg ect.. I ask him if I can go to the bathroom and he says no before getting out of the truck and heading into the truck stop. I lay there and cry while he’s gone, so exhausted, so worn to my very core that I can’t move. I feel the truck shake with the howling winds and feel so alone in my misery that I just want to die. He returns and starts the engine without a word to me. I feel the wheels beneath us start to turn and sigh softly, finally able to go to sleep because I know, as long as he’s driving, I’m safe. I fall asleep to the song “16 Wheels and a Dozen Roses”

Posted February 25, 2012 by I'm taking a nap in Memoirs

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5 responses to “Rules of the Road

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  1. I’m anxiously waiting for this to come to an end.


  2. One minute, one second was much too long. I am so sorry. I am assuming (which is a risk) that you are doing better today. At least in respects to that evil being.

    I will in time read your entire blog but its so painful to even read I cannot imagine living it.


    • Welcome, it’s definately not a story for jumping into. Take it as you can but please, do come back. Know that I am, indeed, in a better place. 20 years it’s taken to write this story. For me, it’s time.


      • Thank you for such a kind welcome. I believe the first I have been gifted like this. Its nice.

        I will be taking your blog posts from the begining because I see that its important for me to learn it all that way.

        20 yrs is a lifetime and I can only say how blessed this world is because you survived it all.

        Keep telling your story as long as its good for you. Your history is one that shared could possibly save someone from the same kind of hell.
        God bless you for sharing~


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