The priest made me climb onto his knees.
It was our little secret
He caressed me this very soft
Throw a nice girl
Throw like a girl for him
The one he would never have
He loved me.
When I came back from Africa Jacques said the same words
I'm his adopted daughter he loves me I'm a nice girl
Except that he went much further.
First felations with the knife
Then sodomy
I had to stay a virgin.
When I went to see the doctor with daddy I think that is what he wanted to check because I remember that the doctor looked if I was throwing puberty I remember that he slipped his hand in my panties to see if I had hair. I didn't have a bra, I threw my breasts in the air and I remember my father's look on my body from my embarrassment.
For Jacques it's my fault.
He just had to say that he loved me and that I was his heart girl
I was the one who wanted who sought
The priest had made a trigger.
Was throwing a very naughty girl for wanting this. I turned her on
I was the one who asked him to do this to me
I wanted it.
From my 8 to 17 years old Jacques played on giving me important "roles" in all shows and "privileges" to participate in all camps and music or other formations against "good and loyal service"
He showered me with praise in front of everyone put me on the front line ...
He flattered me.
I was under control.
No one saw me except him. He knew how to see my potential.
It all makes sense. The information they give me is logical everything fits together ...
But then the veil is replaced and everything seems timeless unreal to me.
And I don't have any pictures. Nothing to hang on to. And I feel like I'm crazy.
It's like they knew now and explained their intellectual conclusions to me.
I feel exhausted sad emptied without dead strength
I'm only able to hear their voices for now maybe they think having the pictures will kill me?
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