"OUR Little Secret" **TRIGGER WARNING**

I probably will never learn what it was that marked me as prey to a monster.

I was an extremely naive eight-year-old boy. I never (literally NEVER) received THE TALK from my evangelical single mother (father was a major piece of shit who was never really in the picture) - any mention of sex or genitals made her uncomfortable, and over time I understood that to mean they should remain a secret.

I was completely ignorant of any and all matters relating to sex.

An easy mark.

I cannot remember precisely where at school it was that Mrs. S. first molested me.

I can recall her asking me questions about my body, questions about my "privates" that made me uncomfortable. But she was my teacher, an adult I was supposed to trust, so I answered what I could.

She led me where we wouldn't be disturbed, so that she could perform an "examination" to be sure I was growing correctly. She said it was something she had to do for little boys.

She took off my shirt, ran her hands over my body; they felt so large on my naked chest and back.

She unbuttoned, then unzipped my jeans, but left me in my underwear.

She complimented my body...a "nice body," she said.

She told me she needed to see my privates, too.

I was a little embarrassed for her to be looking at a part of my body that I knew should always be covered - kept secret - but she was an adult, and I trusted her.

It's repulsive to me now to remember how she hesitated before pulling down my underwear. She was a goddamn pedophile and was savoring the moment.

She began fondling me. She didn't ask; she just took what she wanted. She forced herself on the most private, most intimate parts of my body.

She commented on my penis as she stroked my erection, telling me - an eight-year-old child - things a grown man might want to hear.

I know I shouldn't feel shame about what I felt, but it's there. I didn't understand what she was doing (I had never masturbated before, didn't know how, probably didn't even understand the concept), but for a moment it felt good.

As I'm typing it out, I feel ashamed to admit that - I know I shouldn't, the shame belongs to that fucking pedophile bitch and my body was doing what it's supposed to do - but I feel it.


When she stopped, she told me that she also needed to taste my penis. I thought that was odd, but again, she was my teacher. I suppose I just assumed that was part of the exam.

She raped me with her mouth.

I didn't understand what I was feeling, and I didn't like it.

It didn't matter what I wanted or needed, though. For her, I was just a cock that happened to have a child attached to it.

She kept going, violating my little body, raping me.

I felt a building sensation in my groin, but I didn't understand what it was. I told Mrs. S. that I thought I had to pee. She said not to worry. She knew what was happening to my body; but I didn't.

And she didn't stop until I felt my body...react.

It was my first orgasm.

I had my first orgasm while being raped.


I was so incredibly confused! I really had no idea what had just happened.

She helped me get dressed, but before leaving told me that I should never tell anyone about what I had just done.

"You could get in trouble."

She seemed so concerned about what people would think if they found out what I had done.

I had no idea that I had done anything!

I did know that whatever it was, it had involved me doing something with my penis.

And she was so convincing, I had no reason to doubt what she told me: I had done something "bad" with my penis, this strange, secret body part.

Each time Mrs. S. raped me, I was convinced that my penis was responsible for making me do these "bad" things.

In my kid brain, these were "bad" things I was doing while, I guess Mrs. S. was just innocently doing her job?

Mrs. S., though...well, she was a real fucking class act; she promised to keep MY secret.

"It will be OUR little secret."

So long as she held MY secret - MY immense shame, MY terrible sins - I was safe.

Because if people knew what a monster I was, if mom knew - if Mrs. S. told my mom about these terrible, horrific things I did with my penis - she wouldn't be able to love me anymore.

I would lose everything.

It was okay, though...Mrs. S. kept OUR little secret.

I hope she burns in hell.
I hear you, and I hear your pain. My story is different of course but my abuser was female and it adds somehow a different layer of shame that we as men today were victimized by women. You know, but I'm going to say it again. You did nothing wrong. You have nothing to be ashamed of.
She was so wrong. I agree with Manipulated. You are not at fault. You are so worthy of good in your life.
This is not your fault SE. I question whether eight-year-olds should have ANY knowledge of sex, so I wouldn't call you naive or ignorant at all - I'd call you a typical eight-year-old. The blame rests completely on HER for raping an eight-year-old!
Thank you for sharing all of this. What comes across is your profound innocence in all of it. That was the truth for all of us, but we need to be reminded. Our minds keep telling us it was somehow our fault, or we should have been able to stop it. But you had no capacity to understand OR respond to what was happening. Our perpetrators were always in control... they know how to get what they wanted. The man who raped me slapped my face and hit me hard in the stomach. He pulled my pants down as I doubled over. I was seven years old... the photo on the left shows me at that age, holding a kitten to my chest with two cap guns in my pockets.

You were a child and your rage is justified. There was no way you could be ready for this horror. Now you're unpacking it... telling the truth about what happened and how it makes you feel. Thank you. We will listen. We will support you as you continue this painful process. This is the healing journey and we do it together.