Being raped represents the ultimate fantasy of mine because it would involve me getting harmed both physically and emotionally, and, while I understand that rape is really about power at the end of the day, a sick part of my brain doesn't understand this and wants to believe that it would be a sign of me being desirable. For most of my life, I only viewed myself as a piece of no good trash that no one truly likes. My own likeability hinges on the image that others project on to me and over time this belief caused my thoughts to become distorted and made me believe that me being raped would mean having someone who desires me for me, even if its only my physical form they desire. I viewed it as a rarest and purest form of desire, one not tainted by the projection and biases we tend to have when viewing others. The rational part of me knows this isn't true, but this unrational part of me refuses to understand this.
I viewed sex and sex-appeal as the ultimiate sign of desirabilitly, a view only worsened by my gender. To be a woman is to be sexualized from birth till death and even after. It is to have all of your value placed on how good of a sex toy you are. I still remember the happiness I felt when I got catcalled for the first time last year.
It also probably doesn't help that I'm a slightly sexually repressed virgin. I've been fantasizing about the sex acts I saw on television since I was in kindergarten, I masturbated and humped on things all my life, and I would get incredibly invested in conversations about sex in elementary school, yet I wasn't that knowledgeable about sex and it scared me a bit. Even as an adult the topic of sex makes me feel like a child. I want to have sex but the idea of having to be vulnerable enough to do that still scares me. I've always felt repressed sexually, which only feeds into this sick desire.
When I was 19 I started sharing explicit images of myself to older men online. It became a way for me to feed into my desires of being desired by others. Even though I had men fawning over me and telling me how surprised they were that I was a virgin and constantly encouraging and complimenting me whenever I did what they wanted, it never felt like enough. Even when I put myself into even more uncomfortable situations for this one dude, like watching him masturbate while I was at school or having to join some video group call and have a bunch of random men (most of whom were naked) look at me while messaging in the chat trying to get my attention (I also had to masturbate while on it), it wasn't enough. For reference, I was the one who forced myself to do all of this, he didn't do anything wrong.
I actually met that old dude who I reference sometimes back then. When I started messaging him again he immediately started to try and get me to be his girlfriend. He was a bit forceful at times to be honest, lol. Still, that love didn't feel like enough and I was in denial of it. I've come to accept it now, but before I had a hard time with doing that.
I went on to try doing more things with random men online and putting myself through more uncomfortable situations in order to fill that void inside of me. I put clothespins on nipples despite how painful it was, I fucked my in the ass and the vagina with a hairbrush despite it being incredibly uncomfortable, I did other things that I don't want to admit, but it was never enough. I would do nearly everything they wanted me to. I only very rarely would I end up refusing to do anything and that was only when it started to get way too far (like when I was asked to drink my piss). Otherwise, I didn't care if what they were asking of me left me feeling drained, disgusted, or even violated. I even got called a "freaky virgin girl" at one point, lol. Still, none of it was enough. Even those times where some of them would occasionally talk about wanting me to move to their country or come down to my country so that they could have sex with me wasn't enough. There was one dude who lived around my area and we kept on trying to make plans to meet up and have sex, though our schedules usually got in the way so I was only able to meet up with him once irl (honestly, it was horrible that I was even doing that with him in the first place, but I dont want to get into that). None of it ever satisfied me. I wanted to be raped because I thought that it would be the only way to satisfy this part of me.
Rape also means having something valid to complain about. I felt like my issues weren't valid, so I viewed that as another plus, thus further contributing to my fantasies and desires surrounding it. My life isn't that bad and I don't have any past trauma nor am I mentally ill, so why I always felt the way I did confused me. It never made any sense. I wanted worse things to happen to me to validate the pain I was in. I wanted to feel like I was allowed to feel this way because people only allow you to feel bad when you've had something they consider to be bad happen to you. I can't say that I've had that, so I felt like I wasn't allowed to feel the way I did. This led to my desire to be raped to worsen and become something I constantly fantasize about.
I'm trying to learn to let go of those desires though. Not just rape one, but all of them. It doesn't do you any good to constantly fantasize about yourself getting harmed. I don't care if I find myself having a rape fantasy while horny or something, especially with how common those fantasies are in a sexual context. I just don't want to fantasize about those things outside of that context anymore.
