Love That Talks Straight

By Gloria Tasha

Ingrid decided to become a nun because her parents’ divorce made her lose Trust in marriage. But the treatment she received at the monastery made her lose Trust in religion too. After quitting the vocation, she now wanted new experiences that would bury the haunting past beyond the reach of her consciousness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gloria Tasha
• Release date: Oct 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311909473

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Love That Talks Straight

Published by Gloria Tasha at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Gloria Tasha

ISBN: 9781311909473

All rights reserved

This ebook is only licensed for your use only. It may not be distributed, re-sold or repackaged in any other form without an express permission from the publisher. If you are reading this book without having purchased it (unless offered for free download) you are violating the publisher’s rights. Kindly purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, institutions, establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Warning: For Adults Only

Contents

Chapter 1: My Life In A Convent

Chapter 2: Dropping Their Chimerical God

Chapter 3: The Woman My Protectors Created Out Of Me

Chapter 4: Meeting Daisy And Her Husband

Chapter 5: My First Threesome Experience

Chapter 6: The Invasive Tests

Chapter 7: The Treatment

Chapter 8: Testing My Stamina With A Robot

Chapter 9: The Rite Of Initiation

Chapter 10: My Last Vestiges Of Innocence

Chapter 11: My Obligation As A Goddess

Chapter 12: The Orgasm Of The Spirit

Chapter 13: Nudity Has Its Place

Chapter 14: My Love For Ozzie

Chapter 1: My Life In A Convent

When you start listening to people without hearing what they are saying, reading things without comprehending, looking without seeing, promising yourself to do this or that and ending up in doing nothing, then you know it is time to be honest with yourself and to think things over your life.

I made my decision to be a nun on the day Mom and Dad decided to tear down their matrimonial white picket fence. Dad had told Mom that he was leaving her for another woman. Interestingly, this other woman was a well know club dancer. Her name was Carla.

I had never seen such an angry woman before that day. We were all in the living room of our house one Sunday morning - my two younger brothers and I, when Dad dropped the bombshell.

Of course it seemed to be a bombshell only to Mom and us children, because he said it with the same tone he would say, I’m going for a walk.

I first thought he was just joking. But my thinking changed when I saw Mom stand up trembling with rage. She grabbed everything around her that was within her strength and hurled them at him.

I’m sorry, Dad said. You keep the house. I’m walking out.

Mom tried to look directly into his eyes, probably to try and finger out if this was kind of a joke, but her vision was apparently blurred by the tears that now streamed down her cheeks. For sometime they had already known nothing was working between them. They were no longer intimate and Dad no longer needed to explain his growing absences at home. Even the brawls that used to be the order of the day had died. They had just become two strange houseguests.

Dad looked so composed that it was obvious that he didn’t care how she felt. Mom had several times before told Dad to leave, but now her reaction had clearly shown that she didn’t mean it. Probably she thought he couldn’t leave her. But now she was so mad that every visible vein of her body was throbbing. Suddenly she stood there, quiet, her chest heaving with emotion, looking like she would collapse the next minute.

You yourself have told me several times to leave, Dad said. Now what’s all the drama for?

This incident terribly shocked me. So this is what happens after more than a decade of marriage, I thought. This is how it can all end to be replaced by seething hatred. I thought marriages were supposed to last forever, but that opinion was shattered that morning. Although they still slept in one bedroom, it was clear that their intimacy had vanished.

There had never been a moment as horrible as this one in my entire childhood. And on this particular day, all my fantasies about beautiful moments of sensational weddings disappeared from my mind. Only to be replaced by a dark shadow of uncertainty. I never stopped to wonder why a decent man like Dad would leave a decent woman like Mom for a morally deprived being like Carla. The ways of human beings are strange, I thought. Dad was a soft spoken teetotaler, and I even couldn’t understand what drove him to go to a nightclub in the first place or wherever he met Carla.

But it was a choice he made. Maybe Mom somehow forced him to make this choice. That I might never know.

I’ll never get married, I quietly said to myself and that was the reason I opted for the convent life. I had never before then thought of becoming a nun. So this became a forced choice that had nothing to do with my innermost desires.

Dad and Mon’s divorce was processed in record time and each one went their own way after dividing whatever property they had between themselves. As it happens most times, the wife was left with the children to raise them virtually alone. After the divorce, Mom took a job with a private law firm with a paltry annual salary of $15,000.

*****

The quiet brownstone buildings of St Marion Convent were hidden by tall trees in the middle of a spacious park near the seaside city of Nosidam in Oze Island, far from anything else. My continued stay at the convent had become a drag that robbed me countless nights of sleep. Among other things, the place had failed to evoke any desire in me to stake all my tomorrows of this world on their god. A year after I had taken my first vows as a nun, I felt time had come for me to make another choice - another forced choice because after being in one vocation for six years you don’t just choose to drop out without knowing what your next move would be.

It was no longer clear to me who I was or why I was even there because my trust in religion had been shattered and now the unforgiving past was quickly catching up with me. I no longer pretended to pray. I could only feel myself being pulled into a dark vortex, not aware of what lay ahead of me as I drifted away from the world I knew.

My life there had become a dreadful, surreal dream that I watched from above, powerless to do anything about it. For a long time I did not want to admit to myself that I had made the wrong choice. But hiding my struggles to remain sane, which was now about the only thing I did there, was practically driving me crazy.

The things eating at me had more to do with my initial years in the monastery than anything else. During those years, my seniors abused me in all possible ways. This was after I consistently refused consensual sex with them. My seniors subjected me to physical and psychological cruelty by ruthlessly beating me and telling me that I was worthless; an incarnation of the devil, and that no one loved me.

They told me they were doing this to me because of letting Jesus down by refusing to be his bride. And they threatened me with all sorts of terrors, including having God kill me if I told anyone what they were doing to me.

They took pleasure in forcefully inserting fingers and other objects in my genitals and passing me on to their male counterparts who brazenly assaulted me sexually. This abuse continued for several years before they left me alone. But before they stopped bothering me, my way of thinking had already been gravely compromised, though I somehow managed to lock the grief into my unconscious mind. Now the woes had started leaking into my consciousness and the agony they caused me was more than my little brain could bear. Throughout my stay there, I never shared my thoughts with anyone.

I can neither write down anything negative about myself that they hadn’t called me nor can I think of any sexual act they hadn’t thought of to abuse me with. In those initial years, nothing I did seemed right to them. They were unkind souls who knew how to make you feel less human and laughable.

Now my journey in this institution had become too blurry. When you start listening to people without hearing what they are saying, reading things without comprehending, looking without seeing, promising yourself to do this or that and ending up in doing nothing, then you know it is time to be honest with yourself and to think things over your life. But then, I didn’t want to keep on thinking because it meant resurrecting the painful memories locked deep in my psyche.

It was no wonder that I ended up losing all my friends at the convent. It was a gaffe on my part because when I had them I behaved like I really didn’t need them - kind of shutting them off. But after they left me, they began behaving like I didn’t exist in their world. In spite of everything this annoyed me. But I had only myself to blame though I knew it wasn’t my fault. Circumstances had forced me to lose interest in the simple things that keep the fire of friendship burning. So the flames of comradeship that I had once lit in their hearts were now extinguished.

They even didn’t want to see me around them and every time I passed near them they would suddenly go silent and just keep staring at me like I was wearing a sign that said ‘The plague’. Then I knew they would start talking about me as soon as I turned a corner or was far enough not to hear what they were saying. But I had never failed to wonder what they always said about me, despite the fact that it didn’t worry me much.

Maybe they thought I was a selfish attention seeker, and maybe they were partly right because I badly needed attention – but I wasn’t just going to admit this to anyone. I knew they had their own problems but this knowledge didn’t make me feel better. Maybe that was why they cared less about my feelings or I was just too inconsequential to bother anyone.

My soul was screaming for help but no one seemed to notice anything wrong with me. Some even thought I was proud. I had turned into an introvert and I only talked when I was talked to, my smiles never reaching my eyes, something nobody seemed to notice. And if at all anyone happened to smile at me, it would be that spurious smile even a simpleton could see through.

I tried as much as possible to avoided looking into people’s eyes for fear that they would look back into mine and see the pain that always lurked there, as evidence of my wounded soul. I also noticed that there were those who were afraid of looking me in the eye, because by doing so they would betray the nasty things they had said about me. But every time they were behind me I could feel their intense gazes following me.

Many were the days I walked around pretending I was dead, devoid of any emotions. It was at such times I wished my brain had a switch that I could use to put it on and off at will – just like a light bulb.

Then I would go and live in a place where nobody knew me, do nothing but sleep, with my brain switched off. Yet my brain was so full that the day seemed too short for me to handle all that seemed to demand my immediate attention. This was probably because my mind could no longer settle on one constructive thing for long.

I no longer wanted to be anybody or anything. I just wanted to live because I was tired of being something. I could not be myself either. For ‘my self’ was stolen in those initial years in this place. Every time I reflected on what happened to me back then I got a sinking feeling mingled with the urge to scream. I let the tears flow instead. It was even easier for me to believe I was someone else or I had nothing to do with this establishment.

Unlike their world, my world was now in black and white, because it was