My Journey Through Narcissistic Control and Sexual Exploitation

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺, 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭?

This question haunts me whenever I reflect on my past relationship with a narcissist, a man who didn’t want a partner — he wanted a slave. Looking back, I see that the signs were always there, but like so many others trapped in toxic relationships, I chose to believe the facade. Narcissists are master manipulators, charming you into believing they are your dream come true, only to turn your life into a nightmare. My story, like many others, started with love, or so I thought. It was a whirlwind of excitement and passion, and at first, he seemed adventurous, fun, down-to-earth, and compassionate. But it wasn’t long before the mask began to slip, and I was caught in the grip of someone who only wanted control.

This man I became a domestic partner to didn’t want a relationship built on love and respect; he wanted someone to cater to his every whim. He quickly reduced me to roles I never signed up for: maid, cook, sex slave. Any protest, any hesitation, was met with cold indifference or explosive rage. If I dared to say no to one of his increasingly extreme and unhealthy sexual fantasies, he would retract his love completely. He would punish me by withdrawing affection — not just from me but from our children too. The emotional manipulation was relentless. If I wasn’t “pleasing” him, I wasn’t worthy of his attention. His love was a weapon, something to be doled out only when I bent to his will. And when I didn’t, he would make me beg for forgiveness, demanding sexual favors as the price for restoring our fractured relationship.

This is the ugly truth about being with a narcissist: you become a prisoner in your own home, your own body. I became someone I didn’t recognize, doing things I never thought I’d agree to, all to avoid the consequences of his anger. Narcissists don’t take “no” for an answer. They twist it into a challenge, a personal affront, and they will punish you for your defiance in ways that chip away at your soul. With every boundary I set, he pushed harder, and when I refused to indulge his fantasies, he would lash out, emotionally and even physically. He wasn’t just manipulating me; he was creating an environment where my children suffered for my refusals. His anger would spill over to them, and I was blind to the extent of it until years later when they began sharing their own stories of his cruelty.

Now, I carry the weight of knowing that my children paid the price for my boundaries. While I stood firm for my own well-being, they bore the brunt of his rage when I wasn’t there. It breaks my heart to realize that while I was focused on protecting myself, I didn’t realize they were becoming collateral damage. And though I don’t blame myself for his behavior, I mourn for the innocence they lost because of his narcissistic need for control. It is a pain I live with, a reminder that no matter how much you fight to reclaim your life from a narcissist, the damage spreads beyond just you.

What triggered these painful memories recently was a story a close friend shared with me. She told me about a woman who had just discovered that her husband had been sedating her for years, bringing strangers into their home to rape her while she was unconscious. For over a decade, this woman was violated repeatedly without her knowledge. Her husband had been running ads, organizing gang rapes, filming it all while she lay there, completely unaware. It only came to light when he was caught in another sexual crime. As I read her story, my body reacted viscerally. My heart felt as if it were clenched in a metal grip, stabbing with pain. My hands began to sweat, my entire nervous system scattered and hyper-sensitive. It was triggering because it could have been me.

I told my friend exactly that: “That could have been me.” I had already experienced things of this nature. My partner’s fantasies were extreme and unhealthy, and each time I voiced discomfort or gave a hard no, he would completely withdraw his love and affection. He would withhold attention, not just from me but from our children, as if punishing us all for my refusal to indulge his desires. He demanded “adventures” that put me in danger, pushing the boundaries of what was safe and sane. He didn’t care about my well-being; he cared about control, about fulfilling his twisted fantasies at any cost. I feared how he would react when I said no — his anger was explosive and unpredictable, and sometimes I feared for my children in those moments. Now, looking back, I know I should have left sooner. I should have seen the signs earlier.

Hearing stories from my children now, years later, about how he treated them when I wasn’t around is gut-wrenching. I didn’t know how bad it was. He was cruel, emotionally and physically, in ways I didn’t witness. But I see now that they suffered because of my decisions to protect myself. They took hits for me when I stood my ground and said no. The realization that my children were harmed because of his unchecked anger toward me is something I will carry with me forever.

This is the reality of being with a narcissist: it’s not just about you. It spreads like a poison, infecting everyone around you. Narcissists are dangerous in ways that go far beyond emotional manipulation — they strip you of your dignity, your safety, and, in many cases, your autonomy. The constant gaslighting makes you question your own sanity. Am I overreacting? Did I do something to deserve this? Is this my fault? No. It’s not your fault. It was never your fault.

The path to healing from narcissistic abuse is long and winding, and it’s not a straight line. Some days, you feel like you’re finally breaking free, only to be sucked back into the emotional quicksand of memories and trauma. But healing is possible. It starts with understanding the full extent of what you’ve been through and acknowledging that what happened to you was abuse — whether it was emotional, physical, sexual, or all of the above.

It also means forgiving yourself for not seeing the signs earlier, for staying longer than you should have, and for the ways in which your children may have been impacted. You did the best you could with the information and resources you had at the time. But now, with clarity, you have the chance to heal and to help your children heal too.

For anyone reading this, if you’re still in a relationship like this or just getting out of one, I need you to hear me: you are not alone, and it’s not your fault. The shame, the guilt, the fear — they don’t belong to you. They belong to the person who inflicted them on you. You deserve love, respect, and safety. You deserve to be seen, heard, and cherished for who you are — not for what someone else can take from you.

If my story resonates with you, know that there is hope. There is life after narcissistic abuse. There is love after abuse. And while the journey to healing is not easy, it is worth every step. Surround yourself with people who support you, who believe you, and who remind you of your worth. And most importantly, remind yourself every day that you are more than the abuse you endured.

Healing is possible, even when it feels distant. And it begins with reclaiming the narrative of your life, no longer defined by the trauma but by the strength you found to survive it.

If my story resonates with you and you find yourself seeking guidance on healing and recovering from the grip of a narcissistic relationship, I invite you to reach out. For the month of September, I’m offering a FREE discovery call to help you start your journey toward recovery and reclaiming your life. Send me a DM to schedule your call and take the first step toward healing. You don’t have to navigate this path alone — let’s work together to find your way to freedom and empowerment.

As always loving you from here and wishing you healing,

Rene Schooler

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