*** Triggers ***


His hands were now getting closer and closer to my groin, and I was feeling very uncomfortable since no-one had ever touched me like this before and I was starting to “respond”. It was frightening… I thought that my body was betraying me in such an innocent encounter. I was terrified that he would see me responding and turn on me. He asked me if I was ok with what was happening, and in as casual a voice as I could muster I said that I was. Clearly a lie, but he used it to cover his actions. He told me to take off my underwear, as he needed to access the area where my tendons inserted into the torso. I was freaking out on the inside, but tried to play cool. He had told me he did this to all the top students in the school… I must be over-reacting. Silently, I complied. He told me to cup myself as he worked, as I didn’t know what to do with myself and was getting really skittish and uncomfortable. After he continued to work, he started to complain that my shirt that draped down in front of me was in the way. He suggested that I could hold it up for him… giving my hands something less obstructive to do. I complied.

I was getting erect from all of his kneading, and felt embarrassed and ashamed. He laughed it off, reassuring that it was a natural response to the increased blood-flow to the area and to not worry about it. He became more rigorous with his hands, making my hips sway back and forth to prove his power over me.

When his mouth touched me, I lost my mind. I went into a state of deep shock… the kind you get right before you pass out when you’re giving blood or something. My ears began to ring; my body tingled numb like every inch of me was falling asleep due to poor circulation. My head swam. This could not be real. This could not be happening. My breathing came in shallow gasps, like a small animal caught in a trap. I was cold all over.

When he decided he wasn’t getting me to the point he wanted me, he told me to “finish myself off”, that an orgasm was necessary to get enough blood-flow to the area. I complied robotically, desperately willing myself to finish so this could all be over. It was painful and stressful, and the absolute worst orgasm I’ve ever had in my life. I can honestly say a piece of my soul died in that orgasm.

He told me to put my underwear back on and go back down into the splits. I did, and I sank down another 8 inches towards the floor. “The stretch”, as he called it, worked somehow. I put my pants back on, and sat numbly in a chair. He began telling me that this was a technique that his world-famous instructor had showed him, and that it was very effective. He then explained that I should learn how to perform it for the benefit of my future students.

The version of “the stretch” that he instructed me into performing on him had very little to do with stretching, and more to do with his sexual desire. Once he was sure that I wouldn’t be going anywhere, he treated the whole thing like it was the most natural exchange between teacher and student in the world.

And so it began. I was instantly at a cross-road… I couldn’t accept that what he had done to me as abuse until nearly 10 years later.

(to be continued...)



Edited by ModTeam (06/12/10 10:53 PM)
Edit Reason: Added trigger warning