When I was 15 I met my first husband. He was 3 years older than me and I would have done anything for him. I thought that he could make me feel alive ...nd loved but instead he was nothing more than a bump in the road. He taught me how to fight and always hit me out of anger and rage. Even though I sometimes would provoke the anger secretly enjoying the pain he would inflict upon me, I couldn’t subject the c***dren that we had to his abuse. I broke free of him.During the first year of my freedom. I was helpless against his pushing and pulling. I sobbed as he continued humping onto me. I struggled against him, hitting and slapping at him as he thrust into me deeper and deeper. I felt my body being filled delightfully, despite the fact that he was taking me against my will. He seemed to laugh in the moans he breathed as he pumped my cunt... Tears streamed down my cheek as his breath burned my soft skin. The sensation of being used in such a wild manner scared me and for some reason I. More

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