I put my hands on his as he started kissing my shoulders and he grabbed my hands and put them behind his neck. ‘Don’t move’ he told me. My heart...started racing as he moved his hands all over my body. One hand slipped across my breasts as the other went south. He made me feel better than I could imagine as his left hand rubbed my nipples and his right hand rubbed my thighs. His hands were so light and all I wanted was more. For what seemed like eternity, his hands didn’t slip into my panties and. I felt that I now knew what a rape victim felt. That was what this feltlike, total dehumanization, total devaluation, complete objectification.No one talked to me, no one communicated with me, I could not see thedaylight, I could not see anything but these four walls. Even when theyworked with me, they manipulated me, and talked over and about me, notto me. I was 'The Subject' I was moved around, worked with, used, andexperimented on. To them I was never a human being.What did they want with. But this woman was no more than mid thirties. 36, tops.She was 18 when she ran off to become a whore."I'm looking for someone," I said, offering her a drink."Everyone is, honey," she said, sipping the liquor. "We're always looking for some love and attention once in a while. And for a price, you've got my love and attention for an hour." No, I'm looking for someone I lost many years ago, when I was only three." That's a long time kid. What brings you here?" Despite my protests, she reached up. I would turn myself off and let this man use me, if he still wanted.He reached to me and lifted my face to his. "Don't be upset. None of it's your fault, I know what happened to you."That didn't make me feel any better. But a bitter curiosity crept over me. What had I been like during that time that didn't exist? I asked him."You spent almost the whole time in the meditation pose. You hardly said anything. Just a few times you cried out, mainly when we moved you, and tied you over the horse..