Abuse and Survival Stories

I will not name places or names. I was spanked as a child though not by my mom. This led to other things being done to me once he had the power to remove my clothes. People back then had this power ,right? I hear people say, "Oh things were different back then." They were......... HERE GOES. All my friends were excited to be going to Sunday school, so I was too. We had bible study or Sunday school in the basement of the church. We weren't church going people, mom and I. A youth group was better than nothing at all. My dad left when I was 4 and we moved to this little town in 1970. I was 6 and a half. This youth worker/volunteer/maintenance man ran the bible study. I really liked him and so did mom. Young, clean cut but stern. He lived in a little cottage up behind the church. We could sit on his lap and read and he would tickle us. We liked him...We will call him "John". I was a chatter box and disruptive. You know, a "NORMAL KID". He could get your attention just by using that tone. That look, it meant behave or else. I came home from school one day and he was having tea with mom. Sometimes he stayed for supper. Mom liked that I had a male figure in my life. I even begged him to stay a few times. I was 7 when John mentioned to mom that she should be more "FIRM" with me. Mom was getting frustrated with me misbehaving. I wouldn't clean my room, or help with dishes or whatever. I was sassy. I cant say us kids ever hung around him, but mom would send me to see him if I had been bad. He made me do chores around the church yard. I was a lonely little girl and liked the attention. Then one day he swatted my pants. I told mom and she told me I had better behave then. Another time I knocked a vase off of a shelf. He put me across his lap and spanked my pants. That got my attention. It was real warm to sit and he sat me facing the corner. He was stern. I got home and told mom. She called him and nothing came of it. Mom said I had to learn to obey and if I don't well, we will see. Some times he was nice and fun. I would ride his leg like a horse as he bounced. He would lift my top and lick and blow on my belly. He would hug me really close and tickle till I wet myself. One day mom came to pick me up from youth group, I had stayed back to help clean up. She caught me with another little boy lifting my dress. She blamed me for showing off myself and told me I had to stay there, she talked to John and left. After everyone had left this man took me privately to the basement. Pulling me by my hand to a chair he sat down. He pulled me close and put his hands up under my dress. Now I don't know where I got a dress because I was a tomboy. I just froze with his hands touching and pulling down my panties. He said in that stern voice " If your going to be a bad girl that you will have to be punished". Then he put me across his lap and pushed my dress all the way to my shoulders. He put his hand on bum and rubbed and said "You have to learn to obey". I will never forget it. I had to obey, be good ,not be bad. I cried and he spanked. After staring at the corner, and squirming he took me home. I told mom and she told me that I had better smarten the hell up, or else. She never actually said he could spank me but never said he couldn't. I told her that he took my panties down, but thats just the way it was back then. Right?

Liar,liar pants on fire. I used to sing that in the school yard. Of course it meant that if you got caught lying your pants, or should I say your buttocks would feel as though it were on fire from the spanking you would get.......School was a place where I witnessed boys at the front of the classroom over the teachers knees being spanked. Sometimes on their bare bottoms. Clearly very humiliating for them. The whole class of boys and girls forced to sit quietly and watch as she smacked and smacked and smacked and boys naked bottoms, turning redder and redder. They try not to cry, the 7-8 year olds. The girls however get to go to the principles office. I'll bring more of that up later. So school life was no escape from corporal punishment. What we witnessed there only re-enforced that spanking was normal. Spanking in our culture. It was expected. You sure didn't want a note sent home or a phone call home. A spanking at home meant that mom would contact the church youth teacher "John". Our family friend. Mom would say "M, do you want me to call?" ..."M" was a nick name. John could be so good to me though, taking my friend and I to the movies or swimming. Sometimes he would take the whole youth group on a trip. Sometimes he would watch me if mom was going out. John would hold my hand just like a father would, lifting me up and spinning me around, he was good to me and he spanked me. Mom was so busy trying to fit in, get friends get a job and have a life,she appreciated his help. This man was firm with me. It went from pants smacking to bare bottom spanking. The more he spanked me the more it progressed. The sessions could go on for so long. He would smack and talk. Then smack again and talk. He would wait a bit before smacking again. When he somehow decided I was ready he would spank harder and without as much pause. He made sure I was crying, begging for him to stop. And that's how he did it. He got into rubbing. Sometimes his fingers went down between. He rubbed afterward telling me to stop crying. He rubbed my bum sometimes till I learned to lay still and obey. I had to learn to obey. Spanking was everywhere, in school, at a friends house and at home. I think we were brainwashed into thinking it was perfectly normal. And it was wasn't it? He touched me one night after a bath. I sat in his lap in my p.j's and he rubbed my back and down inside the back of my pajama bottoms. He left his hand on my bottom till I got up for something. All just part of snuggling I guess. I would sit facing him in just my nightie and panties he would tickle and lick my neck and pull me close enough to rub my privates against him. Lifting me up and down. The thing is I liked it. I liked his touches. Even thought he lifted my nightie to lick and blow on my belly button. He had control of my body. That saying "your ass is mine" well its true. My body was under his control. I felt warm and safe with him, and the spankings didn't happen that often. But often enough. One day this friend of mine, she was a foster kid, were out raking leaves in the church yard when we found the garden hose. We decided to wash the lawn mower. John came around the corner and caught us "ruining the mower". He marched the both of us to his cottage. It was small. A large old red leather couch took up a lot of room. I'll never forget that couch. I'll never forget the smell. So upon threatening my friend with the telling of her foster parents, had her agree to a spanking. So in front of one another it was pants and panties down, lift up your top and be put over his lap. She cried but I think she had been there before. Then it was my turn. It became increasingly uncomfortable being undressed the older I got. I noticed his control over other kids in the youth group. His stern, sharp voice got your attention, but for some like myself it caused instant fear and discomfort. It led me to believe that he was spanking other children in the group. He would rub my back and bottom at the youth meetings, making sure nobody was looking. I was 8 when I was called to the principals office. I threw a sandwich at a boy because he called me fat and ugly. Now I saw my school pictures. I was a scrawny blond haired pretty little girl. So the principal threatened to tell mom. I didn't want trouble at home so I chose to keep it at school. I had my pants unbuttoned and my zipper open. The principal took each side of my pants and gave a push. There was no complaining, I had to obey. He lifted my top up to my chest, while I just stood frozen in front of him. He lifted me up and over and held me still on his lap. I was already crying when the spanking started. I didn't see it but he had something like a ping pong paddle. It hurt more than any spanking I had endured before. I remember the sharp "crack" sound as it struck me over and over. I remember wishing I had chosen to tell mom. It wouldn't have been this bad at home. Its hard to explain what it feels like to someone who has never experienced it for themselves. The sting is intense. It hurts so bad and you squirm and cry out as your buttocks go from warm to hot to burning. The whole time this man is looking at you naked, touching you naked....I couldn't sit on the bus ride home, I hid myself from mom at bath time and so she wouldn't see my bruised bum. I got caught throwing rocks at an abandoned house. It wasn't just me. So mom was threatened with the police. I got sent to Johns for the night to be punished. "M, what the hell were you thinking, do you want me to go to jail, do you want to go to jail?" All this over a broken window in some old house. We got to the cottage and I was ordered to the bath. I bathed in a strange house and had to go to him in just a towel. He sat on that leather couch and held my hands and lectured me. I knew what was coming. I felt so exposed in only a bath towel. He told me to take it off.I said no. He took out what looked like an old ruler from a drawer next to the couch. It was thick and dark brown. He asked if I wanted him to use it on me. I was scared and remembered the principals office. I was in tears and said no. He had me take off the towel and stand completely nude in front of him at 8 years old. Then I noticed he was wearing shorts.I remember him wearing pants earlier. He had me crawl over his bare lap. I had to obey. I had to be taught to obey. He rubbed my bare bottom and asked me questions.If I didn't answer correctly he would smack me. Each time he didn't like my answer I got another smack,but harder. It wasn't long until I cried out. "Who was with you?", "Who's idea was it?", "Where did you get the rocks?" the stupid questions. Then I could be sent to jail. Bread and water and beatings every day. I believed this stuff he was telling me. For f...k sake I was just a little kid. And he was an adult who seemed to be enjoying this .Imagine an 8 year old little girl with no clothes on laying across the unclothed lap of a man. A stranger. In his house, privately, scared and powerless. He smacked and rubbed and asked questions." Are you going to behave?, "Are you going to obey?" and I would have to answer "yes sir", or "No sir" and the rubbing. Then he began to spank. A smack, then he would rest his hand on my butt for about 5 seconds. Then raise his hand and come down again with another smack. Then another 5 seconds. If I cried out he would ask me if I want him to start over. He spanked like this for awhile the whole time moving his legs against my privates. He held me in place or lifted and moved me so my privates were against his bare legs. He began to spank faster paced. He had me rocking rhythmically against his lap. I don't know if it was intentional or not. I suppose at the time all I was worried about was the pain and humiliation. He spanked me for a good while clearly enjoying his power over me. Now that I look back. I hate to admit this but it became sexual. I was squirming, clenching and arching my back. I remember being beaten. That's what it was, a beating. A hand pounding against you little body over and over.I also remember things that no one talked about. Things like sexual pleasure caused by the rhythmic rubbing of my body against his. My naked privates rubbing back and forth against his bare legs. But back then no one had the words to describe it. Little girls don't touch themselves down there. Little girls don't say things like sex, pleasure orgasm, masturbation. Dirty, dirty words like that got your mouth washed out with soap, you tongue peppered and your pants pulled down for a good long hard bare bottomed spanking." You wont sit for a week", anyone remember that. I learned not to say dirty words like sex, horny,and the "F" word. I spent the rest of that evening grounded to that couch, nude with a blanket over me, in the dark, alone in tears from a very sore, hot bottom. I had that tingling between my legs as I lay on my front. My hands seemed to gravitate down there. I touched and it felt good. I masturbated......At home I began to masturbate. Of course I didn't know what it was called or what I was doing. It felt good....I would put a pillow between my legs and rock and "hump". I was ashamed about what I was doing. It was dirty. I was a dirty girl and hid this dirty little secret for a long time. I would masturbate and imagine I was getting a spanking. Spanking was invading my sexuality. I fantasized all through my childhood and through my adolescence that I was getting a spanking WHILE MASTURBATING.........That's all ill write for now,till I muster up the courage to tell you more. Anonymous~

Spankings....The author wants the reader to picture an 8 year old girl standing in front of a "stranger" with no clothes on, in his house. It's very hard to get past the fact that the author also has talked about the relationship she had with him as a father figure and the kind things he did. Which establish him as being more than a "stranger" her mother put this man as an authority over her because she, herself, admitted that she behaved in ways that her mother could no longer deal with. The food throwing over some calling a name, destroying someone elses property by throwing rocks at windows and even now seems to be justifying that by saying it was "an old abandoned building" and destroying a lawn mower with a garden hose. The author needs to accept some responsibility for being what appears to be an unruly child, living in a time when that was not tolerated. Unlike now where kids do as they please and very little if anything is ever done about it and, yes, the end up going to some juvenile hall (or jail)over some of these choices. Why didn't you just behave yourself if you didn't like getting whipped? I don't know whether or not this man had ulterior motives. It sounds as if the author has such an issue with spanking that she very well may have added the ulterior motive when it never really existed. It's a shame, really. ***Sandra***

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