This Is My One Minute Rape Story

Carrie Cutforth
May 16, 2016 · 8 min read

My body started to leave the room, to other times I had been raped, in the same manner. All those other one-minute-egg rapes.

II was raped again last night. Again. It was a small rape. Un petite râpé (it sounds so much softer, less threatening, in my mangled French). A rape with a soft small limp dick, no bigger than three inches at its height, that felt barely even there. There was no tearing, bruises, or visible scars to prove it had even been there afterwards (or at least until an STD test result says otherwise). It was like being violated by a mushy intrusion of Play-Doh. Turn the crank and the Play-Doh extrudes like a sick soft grayish tongue.

I ignored my inner voice to get the hell out of dodge.

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