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Notwithstanding the Goat Porn

by Beth Divine 3 Oct 2018

When a friend of mine was very much younger, she was forced into watching porn. In fact, that is understating it considerably. She was away from home without a familiar adult for the first time in her life, and as a young adult she was understandably nervous. She travelled to the foreign city to which she had been despatched as an exchange student for a four month stay, and arrived at the address she had been given.

Rather than the family home she was expecting, she found herself in a hostel, filled almost to capacity with predominantly young men. The manager of the hostel was a man too;  in his thirties, bearded and quite kindly looking, so she took heart and put her bags in the private room that she had been allocated and tried to settle in.

Almost before she’d had time to look around, the manager knocked on her door and invited her downstairs to, what she believed would be the rec room (her language skills were not quite where they needed to be – hence the visit in the first place) so she followed him downstairs, all trustingly.

He led her into a long room, filled with chatting young people: all fine, no threat there. And then he led her onwards into a smaller room off this room. The first thing she realised was that it was quite dark and the room seemed to be packed with people. Then she realised there was a huge screen on the wall, on which was playing some very graphic sexual action, complete with some kind of animal that she thought to be a goat. The third realisation, coming hard on the heels of the first two notions, was that she was trapped – she heard the distinctive sound of the door being locked behind her as she came in. She froze on the spot, terrified at what might be about to happen.

She turned, took a step back and saw – to her tremendous relief – that the key was still in the door. She turned the key, hauled the door open and fled through the crowded ante-room not stopping until she got back to her room.

Shaken and tearful, she phoned her mum and received some solace and comfort, then readied herself for bed. She got under the covers and was ready to sleep when to her horror, she heard the sound of her door handle being tried. She screamed out, ‘No! Leave me alone, stop!’ and heard the miscreants leave… Only to hear them return once again! This time, they had brought the manager with them and he had used a master key, the existence of which she was unaware. The manager opened her door and my friend screamed her head off.

Finally realising that this shy English girl was not comfortable with their games, the rowdy students took themselves off elsewhere, leaving the manager to try and soothe his by-now thoroughly distraught charge.

Eventually it was all sorted out, and explained away as first night high-jinks, with the students having tricked the manager into first bringing her down, and secondly into opening her door, but my friend – many years older and wiser – now wishes that she had been given more time to settle in, and then that someone had told her exactly what was going on in the inner room, giving her the choice to join them or not. She is not unadventurous and had she been allowed to think and decide what she wanted to do, she might well have enjoyed and joined in the activities of the night – being rushed into it, with no explanations, just made her freeze and have a truly awful time. Moral of the story: approach nicely, explain carefully and respect the answer: you might be surprised by the result!