Torture Stories Most extremely adult pornblog, A collection of personal stories of survivors of wartime torture and rape, to be launched at 2 pm at the Orion conference hall, chronicles the horrors of war. The book is an attempt to record the stories of women who survived torture and sexual violence during the Kosovo war in This excerpt contains descriptions of sexual violence, which may be triggering to survivors and younger audiences.
‘Worse than death’- A Kosovar woman’s story of surviving wartime rapeThey divorced because my mother could not bear any more children. Sex was the only reason. So my father remarried and then a year later he had a son. One year after that he had another son.
I lived with my father historical my step mother, but I grew up with the feeling that she was not my mother.
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The Serbs had beaten him up in the protests. He was spitting blood and then he died. My youngest son joined the Kosova Liberation Army. When the war started they would not let us settle in one place for more than three days. They would drag us from one place to the other. I was with my daughter-in-law, with the neighbor women, with my sisters-in-law. There were many of us.
My Name Is Anneke Lucas and I Was a Sex Slave to Europe's Elite at Age 6And we were on a tractor with our brother-in-law. They took our tractor and made us walk on foot.
My daughter-in-law had a suitcase, I wanted to help her with it. The minute they removed us from the tractor, they set fire to it.
Historical sex and torture stories Read hot and popular stories about #torture on Wattpad. BOOK CONTAINS HIGH SEXUAL CONTENT INCLUDING SEX, KIDNAPPING, ACTUAL TORTURE. May 15, - 22 Victims Of Sex Slavery Tell Their Disturbing Stories .. that was sexually tortured and abused by a group of grown men for years and years. . cafe to arrest one of the men waiting at a table, and, I guess, the rest is history.We would walk between soldiers on both sides. Tanks were moving behind us. Us — in the middle. They took us to a village school. Once they took us there, they kicked out all of the old men and women, as well as the children, and kept us inside.
They had long knives. What could have happened inside there? The worst thing possible. We were alone inside. We had no lights, it was an utter darkness, just like a prison. And they would come in, it lasted one hour or two, and then they left. As soon as they separated us, we knew something was going to happen.
Torture StoriesHistorical sex and torture stories They left all of the elderly and the children outside. They kept the young girls and women.
It lasted for an hour or an hour and a half. They would fear that NATO would see their movements and bomb the school. So they came in at night, did it quickly and got out. They banged my head so hard, they threw me on a toilet and it still aches. We saw all of the other women being raped. We screamed and went crazy. They all wore masks. We cried all night long. I felt so terrible. They let us go one morning. Then we never saw them again. They let us walk away.
We went to a village and stayed there for two nights. Someone suggested that we go home. We entered a house, all together sheltered inside it. All of the houses had been burned down. Come out as we will not let anybody come here anymore. We have burned down everything.
I was so scared; I never spoke a single word. We all went outside. We had baked some bread during our stay there. They were still in the oven so I went and took them out before we left. I put them inside a sack and carried them on my back. They will see it and then kill us. As we walked for awhile they stopped the men and tied their hand behind their backs.
And then they killed the men. They had some weapons and they would use them to burn the houses. It would surprise me to see that you can burn a house with a weapon. The roof tiles would fall in front of us. They killed the men. Children would see their fathers being shot and they started to scream. We did not see the ones who shot the men any more. They took us to another village. They went away, disappeared. There was nothing there. They just wanted to have us in that house and leave us there.
They left us in the yard until dusk. In the evening they decided which ones from us should enter the house. They were selecting the young women and girls. There were three or four rooms in that house. It was a two-story house.
They would point the finger and order you to enter the house. They were policemen in uniforms, but they all wore masks so I could not recognize any of them. But I saw that there was a policeman who knew us all too well. He was from our village. Are you afraid of women? What can they possibly do to you? Why are you fearing them? You are the one who came to our village and collected our weapons?
And then they tore my clothes, they ripped them lengthwise. I started to scream and cry; I cried and screamed. After them the paramilitaries came.
Long greased hair, unwashed, dressed in black clothes. I just cannot describe what we went through. They would not leave us in one place for over three days, moving us from one place to another. That sexual violence was worse than death. They were shouting and screaming from the other rooms too. They took out some syringes in which they had some white liquid. They gave that to us so as to numb us down.
When I got up in the morning, I noticed blood coming out of my stomach. They had cut my stomach with a knife, and I was bleeding. When the war ended we all knew it because we saw the NATO troops enter. When they first came we thought they were Serbian forces. They also came with tanks, trucks and flags. When we saw the flags we were so relieved. The men in the mountains were also aware of the end of war. They were singing while withdrawing.
The bastards were finally withdrawing. They lifted their three fingers, yelled and swore. Why did you enter? The KLA soldiers saw us from the hills. They were following us from the distance. I thought they would cut some limbs so as to leave me disabled my whole life.
They raped us, abused us. I was having such a hard time with him. Such a hard time. With the younger son. He was not supportive of me at all. The other one, as he had his own wife, he would understand. His wife was also raped. But June of my freshman year, he got put on academic probation. Too much time spent enacting his fantasy of creating the perfect whore.
He ended up losing the financial aid that supplemented his income enough to keep him in his apartment, and had to move back in with his family. He was, at that point, wrong. By that November 13 months after that first night , I was talking to the cops. That was eleven years ago and he is still in my life in a big way. He got a plea deal; no jail time.
His probation put him in a no-contact order with me, and I had a restraining order, but he broke it often and every time, I slipped so easily back into his slave, especially after he detailed to me with honestly frightening specificity the ways he would torture me, including flaying me alive, if he ever even thought I was thinking of betraying him again.
When I tried to get help from the cops, it always ended with another broken restraining order and another slap on the wrist. He responded by showing up outside of work one night, forcing me into his car, and raping me in it in a fast food restaurant parking lot during dinner time.
I just move away as soon as I can. My family was distant and I was lonely and had pretty bad mental health. I was having tea at this cafe one day after college sixth form when one of the waitresses started to talk to me about the book I was reading.
All the waitresses were young, , and very pretty. I was really surprised that girls that cool would want to talk to me. I started coming more often that time had been the first time and they only ever had a couple of other customers, always men.
They kept talking to me. About girl stuff, most times. One of the waitresses took me shopping at one point and bought me really nice dresses and lingerie and make up. They gave me a makeover and they all talked about how pretty I was and took pictures of me.
One day I came in and they mentioned there was a man sat across from us who said he liked me. I was shocked and incredibly pleased. He was about 35 and had a nice shirt and he was handsome. So the man and I left at the end of the day and went around town and then to his hotel room. I said I felt sick because he started to take off his clothes, and he was very patient at first, but I was still shaking and froze up after an hour, so he just held me down as he raped me.
I came back to the cafe. The waitresses were all so pleased with me. They bought me more stuff. They said I was so pretty and so many men wanted to date me. So I carried on coming. We prepared to leave the next week. But before we could go, armed police came into the cafe to arrest one of the men waiting at a table, and, I guess, the rest is history.
I was saved by a guy who had CP on his phone. They just say she was brought over as a child and was kept in a small box for a lot of her childhood. Somehow despite being really slow she has a good job with the county courthouse as a clerk or something. They blame my mother and my sister. What makes it even more shitty is the abuser fled back to Mexico after it came out. Just turned his back on not only her but all of us. The worst part, nothing ever came about from the investigation.
Almost immediately after he began to stay over, my uncle came into my room at night and had sex with me. I would fight back in the first few months but soon enough it became routine, and I figured it was something most kids had to deal with, like doing chores. One day, when I was nine, my dad walked in on us. We were always quiet, but my dad came in anyway. He looked at us, and we both froze, and he just left and went back to bed. A road trip to Georgia.
So I was very excited. A few months afterwards, while my uncle was out buying drugs or whatever, we got in his car and drove. I cried with happiness. My dad had rescued me. We had to stop and stayed at a hotel. He said he knew the owner. I was so upset to see my dad cry. He said he could only think of one thing, and said it was like what me and my uncle did. I wanted to protest, but it was scary seeing my dad so sad. So men and sometimes women would come into our room and have sex with me.
They were allowed to be rough, but the price dictated the roughness. If they hit me too hard or whatever my dad would stop it. Most of them were old men. Some of them cried and some of them said they were sorry. We moved around for another three years to different hotel rooms before my dad went out one day then never came back and the police came in and took me away.
I was so sad to learn my dad was going to go to prison, and then that he had killed himself. I had just wanted us to have our house. There was construction going on in neighboring house. I kept going for a few days and then one day one of the guys at construction asked me to stay for a while. I stayed until other workers started to go home. Then he removed his cloths and handed me his penis and asked to see mine.
Then his sperm was on my hand. Now I am Still feel those moments because next day somehow my father got to know about this and shot two bullets in his both legs. A few years later I understood what he made me participate into. And with time I completely lost appetite for sex with a partner. Have been actively masturbating but not enjoying with a partner. I was molested by a female cousin who was ten years older than me. I had no idea it was wrong. A few years later, an older male cousin also abused me.
It started out with fallacio, and escalated pretty badly. It happened until I was about It was terrible, painful, shameful, and it affected every aspect of my life. He used to hurt animals when he was younger, and stole from stores occasionally.
My memory is terrible. I have zero memory of that. Probably for the best. When I was 16, I told a teacher I needed help, and I ended up commited in a psych hospital. When I told the teacher, dean, and psychologist at the school they were shocked. I will never forget the look on their faces.
I feel bad that I burdened them with that. The hospital did nothing for me. The only good thing it did was get me away from my parents. I was a complete, and total mess. I cried over every small thing. I dropped a plate of spaghetti, and cried. When I was about 15, I told my dad what happened. Not the extent of it. He took me to mental health, and after my first appointment with my psychiatrist he yelled at me in the car on the way home.
It was the most hurtful thing anyone has ever said to me. Makes me cry to this day. I used to cut myself a lot. Like, over 20 cuts on my arms at times. Lots of lots of times, but I always end up relapsing. It was tempting sometimes, and whenever I think of what happened, I feel like doing it. I was depressed for literally most of my life.
Wanting to kill myself always, but was too much of a puss to actually do it. No one was real. Then I would be depressed again, and again. A never ending cycle. Also for the depression. I recently got better mental health people, and my psychiatrist seems way better than other I have ever seen.
He said he thinks PTSD, major depressive disorder, insomnia, and possibly generalized anxiety. I used to have nightmares every single night about rape in general. Not necessarily him, but demons, or other people. It made it hard for me to want to sleep, but I needed every bit of sleep I could get due to my insomnia. I worry constantly about almost everything. It actually became a joke between us.
I used to want to kill myself almost constantly. I was scared shitless for years to have sex. I worked a fast food job for over a year. The manager was a dick. I hate people literally that much. I cannot stand people. Frankly, if I had the choice, I would never work again. I apologize for it. It was great until the dad decided I was there for his sexual pleasure. He ended up getting me pregnant twice and forcing two late term abortions on me.
I was able to get out before he started loaning me to his friends. She ran away when she was 16 or so and lived with friends until she could graduate. She was so ashamed about her abuse that she refused to get help for it but she has a number of weird behaviors because of it.
She used to read horrific stories of child abuse from the newspaper. It got really bad after Polly Klas got murdered. I never got molested or raped by my mom, but her words were pretty awful for my overactive imagination.
I never told anyone for a number of reasons. When I was 12, he took me on a trip to France where I found out that he was planning to rent me out for free use at a party type thing and I ran away. I hid out in Belgium for two weeks until it was time for us to fly back to the states. I begged my mom to let me stop going to his house after that, though I still never told her why.
She was angry because she thought he would take her to court again but it just never happened. I saw him again when I was finishing high school. He was moving across the country and my mom insisted I go see him one last time. A new Thought Catalog series exploring our connection to each other, our food, and where it comes from. Sign up for the Thought Catalog Weekly and get the best stories from the week to your inbox every Friday.
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Torture & Sex
Historical sex and torture stories At first, things seemed amazing, I had a loving family that were really looking out for me and loved me, but in the end, it was anything but that. So after this happened, they would both perform sexually acts on me, taking pictures, videos and stuff like this, really terrible stuff. I felt very insecure and was constantly comparing myself to her. I was in a foster home until I was 6, when I was finally adopted. It began as him just taking my pictures, he would buy me underwear that a nine year old should not be wearing, he would make me do various poses, with different types of underwear. So this began their process of preforming sexual acts in front of me, it was like she was teaching me what to do with penis, I just remember being so jealous of her, how stupid is that? The rape of men: the darkest secret of war | Society | The Guardian