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A new documentary, Hot Girls Wanted , follows young women as they are maneuvered into being "amateur" porn performers, then discarded by the business within a matter of months. Hot Girls Wanted focuses on year-old Tressa, a high school cheerleader and good student who leaves her parents in small-town Texas to go to Florida and work in porn. Variety's Geoff Berkshire says it's "an eye-opener for parents ," which I can't help feel misses the point. But in his coverage is an important part often missed: that technology and communications are the medium that helps young people make dreadful mistakes. At a time when self-esteem is determined by likes, friends and followers, the quickest way to boost a social profile is through sex appeal. The New York Times' Mike Hale says the documentary doesn't manage to reconcile two viewpoints within it , "respecting the right of their subjects to make the choices they do while abhorring those decisions. The pathos is right on the surface, as the women stroke their tiny dogs and discuss money, independence and the absolute necessity of escaping their parents. The scarier, even more callous side of the business appears in due course as the women sign on for niche videos to keep the checks coming in. The sleazeballs doing this are well-versed in the language of female sexual empowerment. It's a key ingredient of the scam.

The massage parlor is already swallowing clients through its dark doorway; cheap perfume hangs in the air. The Home of Body Building exudes a sour sweat from the hall where older men are eyeing prancing young boys. But in a nearby shelter for former prostitutes the scene is demure, as girls settle down for group therapy. This day, a visitor is taking Polaroid pictures and passing them around. The pictures make the girls look like small, spindly birds, rather than sex objects. It is hard to imagine that not long ago these children, aged 11 to 14, worked as prostitutes, used by men three and four times their age. As soon as Lek sees her photograph, the quiet year-old girl is transformed. She jumps up and pokes wildly at her image. She has never told her life story, but now she belts it out. Auntie put her in a brothel.

These are external links and will open in a new window. As a report says early access to extreme online pornography can leave children with a distorted view of sex, one woman talks candidly and explicitly about how it made her think rape was normal. When Karen not her real name was 16, she got into her first relationship with a boy who was keen on watching online pornography. He even had a smartphone he kept secret from his parents, which he used solely to view pornographic material. She saw pornography for the first time at the age of 11, in the bedroom of a friend's older brother, she says. After that, pornography became part of her social landscape, with links to favoured sites and films shared between friends like music videos. And as the relationship progressed, they began watching what she described as "rape porn" through a smartphone propped up on the pillow. She says she felt expected to perform the role of the woman even though effectively, she was being raped. But even though she was not enjoying what was happening to her, she says she did not feel, as a year-old girl in her first relationship, that she had a right to say no. Karen says she was genuinely "terrified" at these times, and that she just wanted it to finish and for him to go off and make her a cup of tea and to be the "nice boyfriend" he could be.

Disclaimer: This story includes details of sexual abuse and may be triggering to some. His face lit up so much I remember thinking he looked like the sun. I was 4 at this time. He was so proud of me as he cheered me on. You caught a fish!

He lifted me up and spun me around as I screamed in delight. My dad was my best friend, my hero, the most incredible person in the whole world. It was really true what they say. My life was picture perfect at this time. I had 2 parents who loved me, and an older brother who I wanted to be next to in every moment.

I started playing soccer and T-ball, both of which I excelled at. We would go camping every chance we could get. I was a very outgoing, loving, and full-of-life child. I felt the blood rush to my face with embarrassment. I remember staring at my underwear in the bathroom later that day. Why was there blood there? Where is it coming from? I went into my room, changed my clothes, and threw them in the hamper. Panic took over my body while I stood in front of my mother. I tried so desperately to find the words to tell her what happened.

I never want to go back there! Her anger grew. I remember seeing it all over her face. She rolled her eyes, started mumbling to herself how that was her break, how upset she was, and stormed out of the room in a huff. I can still feel the way I felt that day in that room. Loneliness held me tightly.

I started crying. This lesson was internalized into my soul from that day forward. I was either 5 or 6, not long after the first incident, when John started rubbing me on top of my bathing suit. I was confused. Maybe this is fine. I felt that same rush to my face with embarrassment.

My body was on fire once again. What is happening? Is this right? It must be okay. The night terrors started happening around this time. Anxiety started to course through my veins. Am I bad? Does God hate me? I need to stay quiet. When it ended, static took over the screen. I hopped up and went over to pick a new one. The Little Mermaid? And then the screen flickered onto 2 adults in the desert.

I went, sat down, and watched. As she took off her pants and he started doing the same things that happened to me, my body filled with a feeling I never had before. Sheer terror as my mind was trying to comprehend what I was seeing. My dad made this tape for me. Does my dad like to do this stuff? Is this normal? I watched the whole thing as my body was frozen with shock and fear. Is that what is going to happen to.. Why does my dad have this? I found a lot. I cried hysterically. It must be a part of life. Why is my dad hiding this stuff? I felt so alone and broken sitting with my demons.

They had a grip on me that suffocated me from that day forward. I lost the last fragment of safety I felt in that moment. My hero was not who I thought he was. After that, my memories started to cut out. There was an incident in my room, when I was sleeping. I awoke with my body in pure shock.

Someone is touching me. Who is it??? It was pitch black as I stared up into the emptiness. I have no memories of what else happened that night. I woke up the next day, got ready for school, and told myself it was a bad dream. Camping was my safe haven. Every week in the summer we would go. I remember this day so clearly. I was 9.

I spent the whole day on the water fishing with my dad. I adored those times with him. Watching the waves hit the boat. Out fishing my dad that he would jokingly be mad about since I was so good.

Spending time with just me and him, and no women or screens in sight. I had all of him to myself. I loved that. That night, the adults told us kids to go in the camper, it was time for bed. John was on this trip.

John and my brother folded down the kitchen table, put a mattress on it, and laid down. I always slept in the top bunk above the driver and passenger seat. I loved that spot. I always felt like I was on top of the world when I would look out the windows. I was falling asleep when John crawled into my bunk. What was he doing up here? Then he started taking off my pants. Not again. Scream Carissa. Knock on the windows to let the adults know you need them! I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out. I glanced down at my brother and begged him in my mind to wake up.

Please wake up! But I watched him sleep, as John started. Everything goes black after that. It finally stopped when I was 10, but it was just the beginning of my suffering from keeping these secrets.

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