Not sure if this counts in comparison to some of the stuff I'm reading here and I don't talk about it because of the stigmas associated with the story but here it goes.
A few years ago I was engaged. My fiancee and I barely had a sexual relationship in the years leading up to the wedding day because she was a rape victim, had vaginismus, and I was supportive.
In the past, any time i tried to engage in sexy time, she would need a lot cuddling and foreplay for the better part of an hour. Sometimes there was so much prep work required the moment would pass for me and I'd lose interest. It was something we were working through in couples therapy, over a course of a 9 year relationship.
A few months before the wedding I had a medication interaction with some migraine meds and ended up being hospitalized for a mental break down. It felt like everything about my life was wrong, that I was marrying the wrong person, and I literally forgot who I was and what my name was. Then everything fell apart.
The night before I was hospitalized, we had a really bad fight, I wanted to call everything off, and I wanted her out of my life.
After a week of being in the hospital, I was told I would be released because it was obviously a chemical induced event. I was held for another week because according to family, she was telling the doctors I was suicidal even though I had no previous indications of self terminating behavior. She was actively trying to keep me in there.
At first I was ok with the continued monitoring (and I didn't know about the suicide stuff) because humans are human and I am understanding when things slip. After 5 days of "release tomorrow" I decided to do something about it and caught them on a technicality of violating patients rights. I asked my brother to get an independent patient advocate and that changed things, they had me the f out of there asap.
My release was really haphazard and I hadn't seen anyone else released in this fashion. They pumped me full of some kind of sedative, rushed to pack me up, and had me put out an S.O.S. to have any known associate pick me up. Thankfully my sister answered or I would have been locked in there for the weekend. As part of the terms of my release, my fiancee was to be my guardian for the next few months and could re-hospitalize me if she wanted.
When I got home everything felt really weird and tense. My sister urged me to be careful and bought me a new burner phone so I could record anything I felt uncomfortable with, or call if I needed to get out of there and sleep somewhere else. I had to use it a few times to record conversations because of how fucked things were at home.
Well fast forward a few hours and because of the sedatives I'm having trouble standing or speaking intelligibly so I laid down in my bed. I'm guessing her seeing me helpless really got her wet because she pulled down my underwear, manually got me hard (not a difficult task since I was in a place where I couldn't even masturbate for a few weeks) and mounted.
I tried to push her off me / resist by crossing my legs but I was sedated. So she rode me for a few minutes, and for the first time, she had a full body orgasm after years of barely getting near there. Then she got off of me, walked away, and I passed out erect. Who knew I just needed to be close to catatonic and without gratification for her to feel sexually free.
I expressed a constant desire to end things after that but the mental health professionals said that "for the first year after what I went through, it's a really bad idea to make major life decisions like that and would be a red flag for being re-admitted to the hospital" and she said that me wanting to break up after we came do far was abusive.
So I had to live with her for another year. She became more sexually assertive and I would silently tear up but didn't feel like I could reject her because of the readmission to the hospital dynamic.
I stopped saying "I love you" to everyone and I'm not sure if l believe in it anymore, nor do I feel it. The fucked part is that as a Christian, love is supposed to be the core of my faith, so that's fun.
She claimed that me being physically withholding and cursing at her because I was so pissed at her was a form of abuse in our couples counseling sessions. I found out after the fact that she was trying to further her victim narrative because she was going to sue me.
She's a very talented story teller. She worked as an editor in a prestigious fiction and non-fiction publishing house and specialized in historical fiction. After the year was up, I broke up with her. She's ended up writing articles and posting all over social media how she is an abuse survivor. To the point that some of my family were like "what the fuck, is this shit true?" - even though they know the full story it's tinged the relaxation. The ones who love drama just accepted it and don't talk to me or talk shit behind my back at family gatherings when the don't think I can hear them.
So now I'm extremely socially isolated because most of my friends were "our friends" and she was the one that maintained our social relationships. My depressive mindset doesn't make it any better and to some degree I think it's better to be isolated to protect people from my shityness.
I also had a few old friends tell me she has contacted them to slander me, the ones that contacted me said they didn't believe her and she was saying some fucked up shit, but I'm sure there are others who just accepted it.
The bees knees is that now I have medication resistant major depressive disorder, a side effect of that is a constant suicidal narrative playing in my head. Lucky me, cute how that came full circle.
Due to a few things that happened in the hospital and with my x, I internally freakout when people touch me and have trust issues. This makes establishing new friendships a rather shitty process.
If I get physical with someone, it's usually because that's what's expected and I have a people pleaser nature due to the isolation. Engaging with a partner while not inebriated is really difficult... and afterwards I get obliterated on a combination of psychotropics to try to erase it from my mind, resulting in a form of psychological suicide. It's a sin to kill the body, they never said anything about the mind. Hopefully I won't have to be here much longer.
Iv been roofied and other shit has happened to me, I know worse has happened to others, but this is just the one that fucked me up the most. Waking up in the hospital, out of context, was always a nightmare of mine, almost like a personalized hell... the feeling of betrayal knowing she was trying to keep me in there, all while she was saying it was coming from a place of love. Icing on the shit cake.
TL;DR: my x-fiancee actively tried to keep me in the hospital and when I got home she rode me while I was sedated. I was conscious but couldn't physicay respond. I'm not sure if it counts as rape but it was unwanted sexual encounter. Then I had to live with her for another year because she was my "legal guardian" and had the power to re-hospitalize me. Now I'm not so sure about love anymore.