Filthy Little Beast

When my dad was home I felt very safe playing like any normal boy. Dad would spend hours after work playing with me out in our back yard. We would play catch or play with my toy trucks in the sand. When we would come inside it was always the same. My mother would be furious with my father for allowing me to get "filthy". I would go to my room and then hear them shouting at each other for hours. She would always rant on and on about the way he was encouraging me to act like a disgusting male.

My dad tried to be home all he could to protect me from mother. He did have to make a living however and at times he would be away for the entire weekend. It was at those times that my dad was away that my mother would get her revenge on me.

I would try to be quiet and well behaved while dad was away. If I made the slightest noise however mother would come bursting into my room. She would always start by screaming at me that I was a filthy little beast and needed to learn a severe lesson. She would order me to remove "Those disgusting boy cloths" and then report to her room when called.

It was usually about half an hour before I would hear the dreaded call to report. With each passing second the fear would grow worse at what was to come. I will never forget standing in my room waiting naked and helpless while she would prepare herself for my punishment session.

It always stated the same way. I would hear her yell, "Get your dirty little ass in here NOW"! I found out through hard experience that not going just made it worse. When I would get to her bedroom I was always ordered to drop to my knees and crawl to her with my head bowed low. I would crawl to her my hands and knees trembling with pure terror. In time I also started to feel a strange sense of anticipation about her punishments. It was almost as if I began to crave them.

Her preparations for my punishment were always the same. She would tie her long blonde hair into a severe bun and put on extreme make up.