Disclaimer: This post contains issues relating to sexual assault. If you feel that you will be triggered by this post, please close the page.


I was sitting at the table in the restaurant. My date has gone to the bathroom for the third time that evening. We had agreed together that there would be themes of D/S that we could explore. It was also agreed that dinner would be paid for by him and we would see how things felt when we were together.

I sat alone, eating my meal, waiting for him to return. Something inside me didn’t feel right. I told myself that the fear causing my tribal beating heart was nerves or stress since it was my first date with a man in a long while. In truth it was a red flag and several of them caught my attention. Many times I had the urge to pay for my own meal, and head home. Being the forgiving person that I am even after experiencing many abusive connections before, I thought it down and told myself it was anxiety at a new experience and I gave this person the benefit of the doubt. I ignored my intuition.

The voice continued to grow, steeped in warnings. He was a nerdy guy, a studying teacher; he was someone I wanted to like. He could hold a conversation. Looked decent, and wasn’t overtly creepy. I just knew I didn’t like him sexually. I thought we could salvage a friendship, I was fascinated in his life and his choice to teach so he came back, sat down and asked me multiple times if I was done eating, because he was and he was ready to go. The voice was screaming yes, let’s go. Only for other reasons, my survival skills were kicking in. I was getting ready to obey to save face.

He paid for the bill, and we left to go to my house. I asked him to come over, I made a choice and I decided that if we were in a different environment maybe he would loosen up a bit and we could sit still long enough to enjoy a conversation.


“Consenting to being in your room doesn't constitute consent to any of these things. You can only know if someone consents to something by asking if they want to do that thing.”

Ten minutes later we were in my bedroom. I asked him if he wanted to just lie down and chat for a while, and he agreed. I lay down and he attempted to hold me. I thought we could sit up and chat about what had brought us together. He continued to move around me, kissing me, touching me, even though I told him to stop. He did after a while and I got of the bed. I took a breather and told him that I would be happy to watch him pleasure himself, but that I was not interested in being sexual with him at all. He said he was fine with that, and I lay back down on my bed. He didn’t listen, he got handsy, told me everything was fine. He towered over me and positioned himself so that he was on top and began to grope me.

I lay there, not speaking, disassociating from my body. My body began to feel again after a few minutes and I asked him to stop, then again, then again and then finally when I said NO REALLY STOP. He stopped. He gave me this look, and for the first time I face him head on and saw that his eyes were glossy, and he was panting. He looked out of it. More than that, he looked dangerous.

Alarm bells sounded. I turned over and pressed my face into the pillow as my breathing became laboured. When he tried to come near me I told him i was having a panic attack and that it wasn’t a good idea for him to come closer, to move, to give me some breathing room. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer, rubbed himself against me. Telling me I was OKAY.

I should have told him to leave. I should have yelled out to my housemate. I should have called the police. I was scared. I had asked him to stop and he hadn’t. That only meant one thing. He was choosing not to listen and from experience I knew that when someone doesn’t want to listen there is rarely a chance to get them to stop and do so. Instead I lay there as he finished himself off, put his clothes on then left. I couldn’t move, didn’t want to. I thought if he got off and left then it would be over and I wanted it to be over.

Sadly, this wasn’t the first time I have experienced sexual assault, and yet it didn’t even register what was happening to me. It’s like someone took my choice, and voice cord out of my body and it was running out of battery the further he pushed my no buttons.

What made me continue onwards when I knew that I was being assaulted? Why did my mind separate from my body? Why did I give in when inside the voice was screaming for me to stop? Why did I remain silent?

“Many sexual assault victims don't say anything during their assault because they're in shock or don't want to further provoke their perpetrators or don't feel like they have a choice.


When he left the house my housemate alert to my worry came in to see how I was feeling. I had the tears, they were streaming, and the words were there in my throat. I tried to find them. I let them roll around in my mind. RapeAbuseControlDehumanizedObjectifiedNon-Consent they wouldn’t come out.

 Later I would come to justify it by reminding myself that I had engaged in kinky dynamics. That he was a submissive and I had controlled some aspects of our play as negotiated; Negotiated being the operative and pivotal word. What we had discussed, what I would do had largely been negotiated. He had asked me numerous times to employ the kinky techniques we had discussed. I consented to that because I knew he enjoyed it, he had asked specifically for it, and after talking about it he had agreed to them. I did not agree to being touched. I did not agree to being abused. I did not agree to being disrespected and yet it took me a few more days of thinking, and reading and journaling to realise my reaction to the sexual assault.  I could dress it up anyway I wanted to deny it. That is how powerful the mind is. The reality was I had been sexually assaulted; again.

It had happened and my reaction needed to be understood, not suppressed. The fact that I have experienced it so many times in my life, sexual and non-sexual abuse was a red warning flag that something was not right in my shadow lands. I treated it as common. I brushed it off and let him walk free. I let whatever secrets I told him or the fact that I engaged in kink be the thing he ‘had over me’ even though he has nothing over me. 

Why did I do that, and where did I go in my mind to find that acceptable?

When I confronted him, he felt he had done nothing wrong.

 I wanted to call the police, or talk to someone about it. I want someone to call him out on his assault and get him to admit he needs to take responsibility and I would feel justified and happy, but I don’t imagine it would make a difference, because just like his conversation, his tell tale comment throughout the night “everything’s fine” “ don’t worry about it” I don’t feel in this instance it would change a damn thing. Which is sad, and it makes me wonder where does that leave me?

It leaves me aware. I never knew that it ran this deep. How I disconnected and held this belief that I was weaker, lesser than a man/woman who felt they could abuse me, using their control and false entitlement to gain what they needed sexually and emotionally.

I always step into the world with strength, and assertiveness and yet time and time again when confronted with the same energy I have fed this horrid community of men who think it is okay to degrade, and abuse women/men. I realised that although IT WAS NOT MY FAULT, it is my responsibility now to decide what I am feeding, and what container I am living inside that would allow this to occur.

It is time that I confront the shadows of Abuse. Both the abusive tendencies that I may hold in myself and those inflicted upon me by the experiences that I have had. It is time for me to have a voice, stand strong and learn to be proud of myself as a woman, to speak up for my rights, to say no with the safety that it will be respected and to not feed, nor tolerate rape culture.

Some may think that I let him get away with it.That I am weak for not going to the police or for wanting to let it be, heal, and recover from it. I thank you for your witnessing. I thank you for being here to share with this post. I thank you for hearing my voice, because even though I chose not to report, I am reporting now. I am giving myself a voice. I am speaking to all the women who have been abused. I am not hiding. I am not suppressing this. It is real and it did happen and I am not letting it happen again.


If you feel like you have been abused speak to someone. Write to someone. Give yourself a voice. Even if it is painful, don’t lock it away. Don’t justify what has happened no matter what situation brought you to it.  If you do nothing else, open your mouth and share your experience. Be part of the change, the shift. I know it will feel like someone is ripping you into shreds – face that shadow. Face what choices you made and know that sexual assault is not a choice that you made.


Blair Mirth

Blair is a Pagan Loving, Earth magic maverick with a love for Tarot, poetry, Herbs, Creative Writing and Learning. Here you will find all manner of magical tips, techniques, interviews and sharings

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