Chapter 11: Love

As she later told me, Rachael was fast asleep when at nearly 3.00am her phone, laying on the bedside table, suddenly burst into life, rapidly dragging her from her dreams. Not recognising the number but knowing instinctively that a call at that time of night was bad news, she grabbed her phone and in a questioning tone simply said “Laura?”

Her heart nearly broke when she heard my whimpering, weeping voice, asking her to come and get me, and simply asked where I was, scribbling down the address on a pad she kept next to her bed, when, between sobs, I told her where I was.

She knew I had gone out somewhere in London that night as part of my plans to sort my life out, so an awful premonition told her that things had not gone well for me. She leapt from her bed and pulled on a tracksuit, not even bothering with her usual expensive underwear, and ran from her apartment grabbing the keys to home and car as she dived through the door.

From Chelsea Harbour to Wandsworth at that time of night was not a long journey, her satnav telling her where to go once she got into the back streets of an area she did not know well. Finding the address, with cars parked nose to tail along the street, she simply stopped, left the engine running and door open, and rushed to the crumpled shivering figure that she could see slumped against the front door of the non-descript town house – the scene of rape and debauchery looked so benign and innocent in the dull glow of the street lights.

Lifting me gently, she planted a kiss on my tearstained face, ignoring the dried stains on it, and helped me to stumble to her car. She carefully lowered me into her small sporty Mercedes, reached across to strap me in, and then ran around to the open driver’s door. Within minutes of her arrival, we were on our way back to Chelsea Harbour.

Very slowly she helped me hobble to the elevator in the carpark and silently we rode up to her penthouse apartment. Taking me to her bedroom, she removed my raincoat, gasping as she saw the state of my body, and lowered me into the still warm bed. She quickly removed her tracksuit and climbed into bed with me, pulling the duvet up around us and spooning against me, her arms wrapped around my soiled and shivering little body to warm me up.

I fell asleep, or perhaps just passed out, almost immediately, and slept until about 8.00am when I heard Rachael in the kitchen making coffee. We had not spoken since the phone call – just her silent unquestioning attention being all I needed to know I was with the woman I loved most in the world. Still naked herself, she came into the bedroom, carrying a tray with two mugs of coffee and a couple of tubs of fruity yoghurt which she set down beside the bed, before helping me to sit up a bit and handing me a mug.

While I sipped the hot coffee Rachael picked up her phone and called her secretary, who she knew would be in the office early as she always is. Her words sent a tingle of joy through me, as she said “Hi Elizabeth, my (MY!) Laura had an accident last night and I need to be with her. Can you share my work out to the team – I do not think I am going to be in this week but they can call me, although not too often please – Laura is my priority at the moment.”

If ever there was sign of her love for me, it was hearing this successful business woman telling the world that I was her first priority. Finishing her call, she climbed back into bed with me, wrapping her arm around my shoulders and pulling me to her.

As I snuggled against her soft breast, she told me “The first thing we are going to do is get you clean and then I can patch up all those scratches and bruises. Do you think I should give you an enema?” An embarrassed nod from me confirmed that I needed cleaning internally as well as externally.

She continued with the plan for the day “When you are ready, we will talk about what happened to you last night, but only if you want to and are up to it. I am not going to judge you, even if I am upset for you. I love you so much Laura so let me help you.”

I cried once more but this time with relief and happiness, not pain and disgust. In a moment of mental clarity, I replied “I love you too Rachael, so much my heart aches when I am not with you. I will tell you what happened last night but there is a much bigger story to tell. if we are going to be together and have a future, I know I must tell you everything. It may mean you will not want to be with me but it is the only way I can recover from the last year.”

When we had drunk our coffee and eaten our yoghurts, she helped me to stand up and walk slowly to the en-suite bathroom. She helped me step into the big shower where numerous jets of hot water hit all my body, cleaning and relaxing me, as she washed my hair and body. Without making a big deal of it, she then did her best to clean inside my vagina, before pushing the enema nozzle into my sore anus and washing out all traces of the men. She had not heard my story yet, but sensed that my vagina and bottom needed special attention. Once done with the shower, she dressed my wounds, rubbing ointment into my cuts and bruises, before once more helping me hobble back to bed.

As I snuggled in her arms, my head again resting on her soft breast, I began to tell her the whole terrible story, from that first night in Manchester through to the last night in Wandsworth. I told her about Cheryl, about my descent into exhibitionism, my need for humiliation and degradation; about pervert Ronald and nasty Patsy; about Bristol and George; and finally, about Angela and her gang of rapists and abusers.

I was calm all the way through my story, just the occasional tear trickling from my eyes, and the need to take a deep breath when I started the next terrible episode in my life as SLUT. All the way through Rachael simply stroked my head and held me gently in her arms. Never interrupting and never questioning anything, even when I explained that I had loved Cheryl but was now afraid of her.

“Is that everything?” she whispered when I stopped talking. Nearly two hours had passed and neither of us had moved at all.

“Yes, that is every dirty, sordid detail. Do you hate me now? Can you ever love me knowing all that?”

For the first time, we both sat up and, taking my chin in her hand, she turned my lips to hers and gave me the most wonderful and meaningful kiss of my life. “I love you and will never hate you. You need to heal, mentally and physically, and I want to be there with you to help and love you – for ever.”