“How lengthy has Peter Monroe saved you as his private slave?” A stern,
meticulously neat, frigid, frightfully skinny girl checked out me over
horn-rimmed glasses.
“Sexual slave?????”, stifled giggle. Can’t assist that—-always giggle when
I’m nervous. My lawyer, Uncle Invoice, says I must look mature, calm, in
management—persuade the court docket that I’m mature sufficient to make my very own
choices. However I’m uncomfortable, smothering underneath heavy make-up, scorching with
help pantyhose, too large that lie wrinkled at my ankles, massive padded bra,
consistently ridding up reminding me of it’s presence, my ft sliding again
and forth in my Mother’s high-heeled pumps, and I consistently purse my lips,
they really feel so greasy and unaccustomed to lipstick. I look ridiculous! Six
months in the past when the choose gave us our marriage license, there was no
downside. My dad and mom signed the consent, I used to be 15. Now how might issues
change so dramatically? Right here he’s, similar choose, furious, and the remainder of the
jury, darkish offended, and really intent. Nothing I might say would appease them
now. Don’t know what’s improper.
If what we did was so objectionable—–why didn’t they cease us six months
in the past earlier than our marriage was consummated? And even higher with my moms’
marriage—-she was one in every of six wives.
I used to be so uncomfortable there, sweating underneath fixed hearth—-every
inconsiderate phrase I uttered reworked into the headlines of native information, or
broadcasted throughout nationwide CBS—-fueling riots of indignant feminist, and
lastly when our personal Mormon Church excommunicated us, nicely I knew I needed to
get outdoors assist. I wanted to speak confidentially, and oddly the final individuals
I might belief had been psychologist, councilors, and members of the Mormon
Church. So I went to the web——not realizing the place to begin—–that
terrible girl’s phrases nonetheless rung in my mind, “sexual slave”. So I punched it
underneath ‘search’ and now I’m right here, and I’ve an viewers. All I ask is that
you ignore the tabloids, and every thing else that has hit the night information
for the previous few months, and listen to my story out.
MY STORY by Marci Monroe
I believe I had a really completely happy, regular childhood. At all times had household round me.
All over the place I went, motion pictures, procuring, even to scrub the automotive—–Mother would say,
take your half-sisters with you. There have been so many people (Dad had six
wives) plentitudes of kids, we might make up a small city. Once we went
to a church social, half the youngsters had been my brothers and sisters. My mom
would clip human-interest tales out of the paper to drive house some extent,
have a look at that girl, on their lonesome, discovered murdered in her condominium, that might
by no means occur to us. You have got an excessive amount of household that should know your
where-abouts. You’ll by no means be out on their lonesome—–in a metropolis—-frightening
freedom—–nobody realizing the place you might be—–caring what you do. There are
too many people.
When my sister Terri eloped out of highschool, she married a sailor, lazy,
drunk between ships, infamous philanderer. My oldest brother, John went
over and obtained her, had the wedding annulled. And that was it, she by no means left
house once more! So we had been a close-knit household, fun-loving, loads of children to
play with, and every thing was simply good. The Dad came to visit for my fifteenth
birthday (He all the time got here to our home on Wednesdays) and mentioned it was time
for me to get married!!!
I believed it was a joke, began guffawing, and Mother informed me to hush. Peter
Monroe was 45, he had 4 different wives, and kids who had been in my class!
The whole lot moved so quick, I barely keep in mind….wedding ceremony…… reception. I
needed to skip faculty. Peter appeared form and mild. Everybody saved telling me,
how fortunate I used to be to have him. Peter’s 4 different wives kissed my graciously,
and mentioned they all the time wished me as their sister.
I used to be loads scared. Mother helped me pack my trousseau for the honeymoon,
telling me again and again, how she was married to Dad at age 15. However
she was sympathetic, her eyes had been glassy, I noticed tears on the corners. I used to be
offended, able to have an out and out struggle, however the one argument we had was
after I insisted on packing my Barbie dolls. I received. I wasn’t fairly able to
develop up—-and there have been some issues that I simply couldn’t hand over.
I lived with Jessica, Peter’s second spouse. She thought I used to be as cute as a
button. Had two sons, Mike and Alan, age 19 and 17—-so she all the time wished
to have a daughter. Really what she actually wished was assist with the
laundry, piles of soiled denims, dishes, bedding, and many others. Don’t know if there was
something in that home, I didn’t wash not less than twice a day. My complete life
modified—now not went to high school social occasions, motion pictures, I labored in that
home, on a regular basis after faculty…At 10 pm, after I put away the final dish…my
two stepsons(?) Alan and Mike helped me with my homework. The one social
exercise we had time for was church, and we attended every thing! Peter was
one of many elders, and would steadily lead prayers. He was so
authoritative, individuals would come to our home for advise, and ask him to
settle disputes.
There have been so many guidelines—-and I believed that marriage meant freedom and
independence! Initially I wasn’t allowed to drive. And someday, after I
obtained a job and was making good cash, Peter would enable me to purchase a home.
Till then I used to be to dwell with, and take heed to Jessica, who was now my foster
mom. Somewhat than a newly wed, I felt like I had simply been adopted into
one other household, and exchanged sisters who helped with the chores, for
brothers who made messes—then stood round to observe me clear up.
I wished to shout at everyone, if you wish to get indignant about feminine
slavery, print photos of all of the dishes I washed—flooring I scrubbed. My
knuckles rubbed uncooked to the bone. Mountains of countless laundry, stacked so
excessive, after I sorted out garments—I couldn’t even be seen.
No, the papers known as me a ‘sexual slave’ indentured at early puberty. I used to be
Peter’s favourite. He just about ignored all his different wives—–and spent
most of his time with me. So when the press referred to me as a ‘sexual
slave’ I felt that they had been attacking the one a part of the connection
that I loved. Actually after all of the mountains of home work and faculty work
had been accomplished, I needed to admit the perfect a part of married life was “sleeping
with the boss”.
Peter beloved my physique. Humorous, I by no means considered myself as stunning earlier than.
Boyishly skinny, nonetheless ready to blossom, translucent clear white pores and skin,
pulled tightly over a fragile body. My solely declare to magnificence; thick blond
hair to my waist, all the time pulled again in a ponytail, and clear gray eyes. I
might go for twelve! How might anybody wish to marry me! Nonetheless, Peter
informed me I used to be stunning. Was watching me for a very long time, since I used to be 5.
Ready for me to blossom out and attain marriageable age.
I used to be a type of brides, you hear about, who enter their marriage beds
—— completely ignorant. You’ll suppose with my mom, all 5 of my step
moms, and Peter’s 4 maternal older wives——-someone would have
instructed me! However all I had was the naked minimal. Basic
instructions—–this factor of a-ma-doodle……. goes into that factor of
a-ma-doodle. I used to be scared to demise of Peter, his arms so massive and
calloused. His physique furry…..so in contrast to the opposite adolescent boys in my
class. He was totally matured, and I trembled so the mattress shook.