The Legacy


Author: Adina Shebeen
Publishers: Svirorist!
Copyright Protected 2013.
Based on a true story

Yep ,I had been there.In my little life as a child I had done it all had been to the bottom of the pit and back up . Poverty knew me by name, “her ” and I addressed each other on a first name basis. I knew the inside, underside and downside of strife . Suffering was my middle name .

It takes guts a warm heart and a big pussy to see rape as an escape from poverty . Yes it takes a hard knock to accept your oppressor as your liberator.He came to me in the dark in the one room we rented me and my mum in Mbare National .I was alone as usual on a Friday night mum would not be back until the following day . She had gone to work she worked in the streets she said she was a Cock Driver.Dont know what she really did though.Maybe she drove cocks .
At times her job paid her really well but at times we would have nothing to eat and she would beat me for causing her pain.She said if I hadn’t been born she wouldn’t be suffering .

He opened the door and he whispered in the dark I knew it was him when he spoke …his unmistakable hoarse voice . He ripped my knickers and tore them from me as he promised he would take care of me and my mother…..he also said he was showing me the delights of heaven .He climbed on top of me crushing me under him .He took out his thing from his pants it felt like a big snake and it was hard and he plundered and plunged it into my depth down below he tore me bore and drilled in as I cried out in agony he writhed in ecstasy as he enjoyed and ravaged the fruit of my innocence and tore my bridal -Shrine .I felt him enter me violate me I did not cry I whimpered lest I anger him .It did not feel like heaven it felt like hell God it hurt!! The pain was excruciating it was as if a red hot iron bar was being poked into my down below or as if 1000 needles were pricking me all at once.I did not protest .lest I anger him .i did not fight I did not know how to .I cried…. He stifled my cries with his hand .

He groaned and moaned and his face turned into a contorted version as he stole and plundered the sweetness of my youth….I asked him to stop he did not or maybe he did not hear me ….he seemed to be in a trance like state .I silently prayed for the ordeal to end. Lord I just wanted this pain to stop I thought I was being punished for something I had done wrong .My insides were being shredded and churning that thing was tearing me apart oh God !…Let it stop !!The pain was horrendously unbearable .
I never knew then the true value of what he took away from me or that he was violating me or that he was wrong …or was he really ??

Final grunt …groan ..with a roar !!he deposited his load of fresh semen into me and rolled off my little body and went off he seemed happy and said I had been a good girl.threatened me with death to my mother if i told a soul.He went quietly as he had come …nobody heard him come nobody heard him go . It’s like it never happened .

My whole body was sore for a week .Noone noticed or knew.Mum was always drunk or stoned anyway .
After a week he came again and again then it was daily thereafter it became our little secret then i suddenly developed a warmth when he was on top of me and his thing inside me.I sort of liked it now ..expected it !!sort of missed it ….?

I came to like our landlord he was the man with the sweet lollipop who relieved the ache I felt down below .This ache that wouldn’t be relieved by food or drink . He would come with food or money and offer his joystick …(yes thats the name i gave it )
…for me to suck until my mouth was sore or until it vomited this sticky stuff he called fertilizer and he always asked me to swallow and gladly I would … then he would insert his joy stick into my down below and fight the ache inside me whilst he rubbed my nipples and touched me and kissed me which was exciting and tingly and i got this lovely feeling all over until the ache went then I would go to sleep it always left me happy and fulfilled.And he always gave me money for sweets and bread and fanta and sanitary pads .

His wife was always away in the village so he was lonely and needed someone to suck his joystick he said it hurt him if noone sucked it coz it would burst and the fertilizer would kill him .
He said my mum used to do it but was now too old for him he preferred me because I was young tender and juicy .
He always called me beautiful and said i was his angel and that made me smile.
Even when he took me to this doctor he said it was to remove some of the fertilizer from my womb before it grew too big and became poisonous .
It hurt but he assured me that it was for my own good .
Then the doctor put a coil in me down below he said I would be safe for years until I was ready to conceive …don’t know what that is but sounds like something big and scary .

The one who defines your perception of love is not inherently different than anyone else, and they’re often the person you happen to meet the first time you really, really, want to love someone. But that person still takes over .They win, and you lose
. Because for the rest of your life, they will control how you feel about everyone else.” Our Landlord was my answer for joy ,love..companionship ..hunger and salvation.He taught me to understand that my mother like me needed love and loved me but had a drug problem and needed help.

I was twelve then merely a child. That’s how I was introduced to the world of pussy delights .My oppressor became my liberator he taught me to suck his joystick and to swallow he taught me to cum he taught me to ride him like a horse and to moan and whisper his name and move when he was on top of me .Shake my hips and squeeze my bum .Ooohhh how he loved it !he taught me to please myself until i climaxed and to pleasure men to exist for the joys of men and their big black cocks and Lord how I loved his joystick in my mouth for I know he loved to be sucked and inside me down below for it always gave me this nice feeling of a summer day or a heavenly feel.Thats the warmest feeling I had ever had and the closest to any living person I had been.I felt safe under him.

I began helping my mother with money the money I earned from sucking joysticks and when they inserted their joysticks in me .He introduced me to his rich friends but he always watched the clock and controlled what happened when I was with them because he said he was jealousy and wanted me just to himself I did not really understand that because I would always be his and I could eat bread and drink milk and buy sweets and fanta.That day he tore me open -opened a whole new world a new way of life for me.To a poor person rape does not exist …its just a word with a lot of noise but no meaning.A poor persons body belongs to the liberator
Who protects the street kids ? Who fights for street people ? Who sees that they have been raped and if they reported it would they win the case?
.Life is my rapist .

Life put me in this place .

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