I Was Triggered Sexually

Coming to face with my sexual trauma

I’m in a mono/poly relationship, and over the past months, I have opened up to the idea of sleeping with other people. Thinking about it is exciting, but also fills me with worry.

What if I struggle to give good sex to a new partner?

What if having sex with someone else just feels too weird?

But mostly, I worry that someone who isn’t extremely familiar with me will do something that makes me feel emotionally violated.

That fear recently came true. A few days ago, I was triggered sexually. I would have never guessed, though, that my husband would be the one to trigger me.

Being Thrown into Another Emotional Space

My sex life has changed a lot over the last few years. I’ve been growing, experimenting, and feeling things out.

There are things that used to actively turn me off but that I now find incredibly arousing.

There are sex acts I never dreamed of doing but that I now fantasize about regularly.

A lot of these things have to do with light domination and control play. My husband has been helping me explore some of these things, tentatively.

He’s learned how I like my hair pulled and how I don’t. When being pinned down feels great and when it feels compromising. What kind of dirty talk works for me and what kind makes me uncomfortable.

A few days ago, we were having a discussion that turned to the subject of pushing ourselves out of our comfort zones. Specifically, we were talking about him being more assertive in the bedroom and what I might be comfortable with him trying.

Blowjobs have always been a sore spot for me. I love giving them, but I need clear boundaries around them. I really hate feeling pressured to give them. I don’t ever want to be told to give me one, even if it’s supposed to just be dirty talk. I don’t even want to be asked and I definitely do not want to be “asked” with a head push.

Mr. Austin told me that when we were fooling around the day before, he briefly considered taking more initiative and testing those waters a little bit by saying something like “Do you want to suck my cock?”

As soon as he said those words, I felt like my emotions had been turned upside-down. We were having a casual discussion and all of a sudden I was flooded with terrible feelings.

The tone of the conversation shifted. I got really defensive and said some pointed things to Mr. Austin. What I said, exactly, I can’t remember. We’ve both tried to piece the conversation back together, but I was too upset and confused to register most of it.

What I do know is that I started making some accusations toward him. I felt really hurt, really upset, and I knew that it somehow had to do with him. He asked why I was so angry with him all of a sudden and I just reached for whatever I could to explain it.

We almost never argue or fight, but I could still tell that something felt different about this time. Mr. Austin seemed like he was mostly trying to figure me out and he spent quite a bit of time defending himself over my accusations.

I got more and more upset as the argument progressed, even though I kept losing track of why I was upset.

Eventually, Mr. Austin sat on the bed, by my feet, and said, “I don’t even know what this is about. I’m just trying to figure out why you’re even mad at me.” I looked away from him and just seethed. “Was it something specific I said that’s upsetting you? I don’t understand…”

That question brought everything into focus. It was something he said. It was the words “Do you want to suck my cock?” With that thought, I knew exactly what was happening to me.

“I think I’m being triggered,” I whispered, and midway through those words my eyes filled with tears. More tears followed, along with crying, sobbing, and curling up into myself while my husband held me and tried to make me feel safe.

Like Time Traveling to the Worst Moments of My Life

Three men have sexually assaulted me over the course of my life. And all three made me feel pressured to give them a blowjob.

The first time, I was 16 at a small party. I met an older guy there who gave me attention and gave me weed. I was no stranger to getting high, but I realized after smoking it that it couldn’t just be weed. It was laced with something.

I felt confused, dazed, and totally numb. I was too out of it to really pull back when he took me to his bedroom.

He laid me on his bed and stuck his hand down my pants. I stared at the ceiling while he fingered me, completely confused.

His next words broke through my daze: “Wanna suck me off?”

I didn’t know what to do. I had never given a blowjob before and didn’t know how to deal with that request. I didn’t even know him — I met him an hour before. I couldn’t even figure out how I got in that situation, let alone how to get out of it. I said, “I don’t know” because I couldn’t even begin to piece my thoughts together.

He whined and pleaded a bit for me to give him head, but I wouldn’t comply — I don’t even know how I could have in that kind of state. Then he gave up on it and said “Okay, then let’s just have sex” and raped me.

The next time I was in a bad situation, I at least managed to get out of it.

It was another party, an outdoor one this time. I brought a guy back to my tent after flirting with him during the evening.

I was looking to get laid, but he was looking for something a little more specific.

While we were fooling around, he tried to push my head down on his cock.

I pushed away and my mouth never touched his dick, but I felt violated by what he had done. I completely lost interest in having sex with him. I decided to give him a handjob, make him come, and hopefully that would be enough for him to leave me alone.

It wasn’t. While I was jerking him, he tried to push my head down again.

That brought me to a complete stop. I had to kick him to get him off me, but I kicked as hard as I could and I got out of there.

These experiences were bad, but it’s the third guy who was the worst.

He was the worst because I loved him.

Looking back now, it’s clear to me that he was sexually abusive in a lot of ways. But I was 17 and convinced that he was my world. Being his girlfriend felt like my reason for existing, even though he treated me like shit.

Blowjobs were an ongoing complaint of his. He requested them constantly.

For weeks, I didn’t give in. I was so nervous about doing it because I had never given a blowjob before. I didn’t even really know how. I was terrified I’d be bad at it — I didn’t want him comparing me unfavorably to his exes.

He kept telling me it didn’t matter. He would teach me. If I would just put his cock in my mouth, he’d show me what to do with it.

Mostly, though, he just repeated “Come on, just do it.”

But he didn’t have to say anything to make me feel pressured.

If I didn’t give him what he wanted, he would just shrug and move away from me. He’d spend the entire time I was in his room ignoring me. I learned very quickly that unless I sucked his cock, he would just spend all night on the computer.

I kind of thought this is what a relationship was. Guys beg for sex. Girls give it so they can keep the guy happy. I felt like a bad girlfriend. My one job was keeping him interested and satisfied. I couldn’t do either.

It weighed on me so much that I eventually just made myself do it. I knew I’d lose my boyfriend if I didn’t, and that seemed like the worst thing that could happen to me at the time — even worse than giving head under pressure.

He got what he wanted and I got the attention that came from it. But it didn’t last. Soon, blowjobs weren’t enough. He wanted to come in my mouth, and he wanted me to swallow.

That one I wasn’t ready for. This time, I wasn’t worried I’d be bad at it — I just didn’t want to do it.

It didn’t matter. When he talked me into giving him head at the outskirts of a party, he made me do it. Without warning me, he came in my mouth and ordered me to swallow.

I was disgusted. I felt extremely violated.

And somehow, I thought all of this was part of love.

That was the last time I swallowed. He dumped me soon after.

I felt devastated.

Now, looking back, I can only feel grateful.

My Heart Was Left Behind

I didn’t picture any of those events when I got triggered.

I didn’t picture the guy who raped me begging for a blowjob.

I didn’t remember my head getting pushed down.

I didn’t think of all the times I sat on my boyfriend’s bed, watching him stare at his computer, thinking that I needed to give a blowjob to be deserving of love.

None of those thoughts crossed my mind. But I went to those events emotionally. It’s like my heart was still in those exact moments, even if my brain was in the present.

I always thought flashbacks were a very visual thing. I thought a trigger made you remember those events in all their vivid details, and that those memories were debilitatingly upsetting.

In fact, when I was feeling hurt, I tried to pull up a memory of those events. I tried to remember just one time my boyfriend was pressuring me, so I could see if that was why I felt so upset. But I couldn’t. My mind was completely blank.

It wasn’t fleeting, either. Hours later, I had stopped shaking and crying, but I still felt emotionally drained and exhausted. My whole body hurt.

That night, I tried to take my mind off it with my usual routine. There’s no way I was going to do anything sexual, but I figured I could cuddle and watch YouTube videos.

It was comforting to have Mr. Austin hold me, but I couldn’t pay attention to the vlogs. I was too distracted by everything. Entire videos played without me registering any of it. I asked Mr. Austin if we could just go to bed early, and he put away my laptop and shifted the pillows back into their spots while I got ready.

I still felt weird the following day. My medication has been giving me anxiety and my life is full of little stressors, but I could tell that some of it was the lingering effect of having been emotionally triggered.

I was worried about having sex, though. I had never been emotionally triggered before, so I didn’t know what to expect.

I had really been looking forward to having sex with my husband, so I thought that was my own little green light to go ahead and have fun. But I decided to play it safe. I wouldn’t give him a blowjob, in case it would bring back a flood of bad emotions.

Having sex again was comforting. It was great to just feel good and be able to forget all those terrible feelings boiling somewhere under the surface.

I decided to follow my instincts. Even though I planned not to do it, I felt the urge to give my husband head and so I did. I took him in my mouth and felt great. It wasn’t my first time feeling triumphant while giving a blowjob, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt that much relief from one.

I’m upset by everything I went through and I’m still piecing everything together. I’m doing my best to rebuild the memory and trace back the emotions, to fully understand what happened.

Knowing I can be triggered like that makes me feel vulnerable, and in a strange way, it makes me feel a bit silly. Being asked for a blowjob in the context of sex is such a trivial thing. It can be meant as sexy or playful. It’s such an innocent thing to get so bothered about. But it has nothing to do with the request itself and everything to do with my own personal history with it.

Knowing about my trigger will also keep me safe. I can trust my husband never to say those words to me again — even outside of a sexual context — and I’ll never let myself get in a situation with someone unless they understand exactly how I feel about requests of that sort.

I’m not happy I went through that overwhelming experience, and I’m certainly not grateful for the trauma that created it. But knowing that I was able to come back from it, to come back to my life, to keep having sex the way I want to — that make me feel strong.

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