iii Mummy Mummy dear Mummy what did I do that so disappointed you What did you see as I looked up to you Did you see the look of love a little smile within How did you miss the things that this would bring What did you see as you looked down on me I was so small as I crawled on the floor The look that implored the look that you abhorred As i tried once again to get you to see me What did you feel as you looked down on me How could I make you love me Your look so distasteful your tone full of scorn I curled in a ball a little one so rejected What happened when I felt your touch was something I often consider My soul within was shattered and worn my world so forlorn How did this happen no one can tell for now you are in Heaven away from it all Mummy dear Mummy what did I do that so disappointed you Iv
Preface: My beautiful Master oh how I love that sound, He who allows me to call him this even when I have pissed him off, this wonderful man this slave’s owner, the man who has done something, which no other has ever even tried to do. Now on the death of my Mother, I am plagued by memories of my childhood, the torments and loneliness, of being the unwanted child: unwanted because she told me I am unlovable. I write about the memories of living the life of the Spawn of the devil, the unloved and indeed unlovable child Mother unwillingly adopted. I was their last chance, that they had wanted a boy but had been told; it was to be me, or nothing! Mother always let me know this was my fault that I ruined her life by being born that even my birth mother had seen how evil I am and thrown me away. I like my sister was adopted at six weeks old she being nearly five years older, we are closer now in our adult life, and I found that she never knew that Mother had told me lies. Mother always told me that my adopted sister did not want me and that she hated me for not being the brother she had asked for. Therefore, from earliest memories I tried to keep out of the way, to be invisible staying in the shadows and to hide at the back of my shelf behind the cobwebs.
I sit looking out of the window the social worker telling me the details of Mother’s ignominious demise, I now had to accept there was no way I could make her love me; I have lost her. I was able to ask the right questions and write the answers down as my Master has taught me. ‘Oh Master I need you, I need to tell you, and for you to tell me what to do, Master help me please’!’ vi
It was as though he had heard my pain, my Master called. Whilst I continuing to talk with the social worker Master called me on his mobile His private line. On hearing my beloved Master’s voice tears well up and I cannot breath, the social worker continues to talk as does Master, neither aware of the other; me aware of both, and in the same instant neither. Suddenly I was unable to cope. I knew I must take these details so I asked Master, to call me back or let me return his call, not something which His slave is allowed to do, I heard the anger in His voice and I understood why, I try to let him know, but could not say the words. “Master you will understand, but please I cannot tell you now, I am on the phone, please I have to call you back.” Master must have known, was it something in my tone, he was demanding something, what? The social worker was talking, what was it they were saying? I quickly told Master I was talking to a social worker about my Mother and he hung up, ‘am I in trouble now’!
The conversation continued and the memories started charging out from behind that bolted door, behind which I had hidden them; where they would not bite me and make me bleed, the pain she always made me feel. I listened to the social worker telling me what needed to be done, and all I could think was Mother was gone.
I was numb, and shaking the tears would not come, they burned behind my eyes like acid. After I hung up on the social worker, the rush of pain was tremendous, this slave sat shaking and all she could think of was her beautiful Master! How much my Master has given me in the short time we have had together, would he drop me now because I am truly needy. In my thoughts, I spoke to Him, my way of coping to shut out the world, to climb into my place on that shelf and hide behind those cobwebs as I learned to do from earliest memory.
‘Master, since meeting you, my beautiful Master, you have become the brush that has swept away those cobwebs and shown me to the world in the daylight as your slave, and not just told me, “you can be mine, but nobody will ever know.”
As was said to me in childhood by friends, who would have been embarrassed, for their real friends to know I tagged along with them, permitted as a charity!’
The slave still gazes blindly out of the window, and silently talks to the man she loves, her Master. ‘In my middle years, I have found a way, finally a release from the torments of my childhood. The hidden bruises, the unseen wound, the burn mark from your paddle, your belt, and your cane, the even the tears brimming behind my eyes no longer bring fear as they did in my childhood.
Now Master, they mean that you care enough to deal harshly with me, but never to banish me back to my place on that shelf. I have given myself to you Master, and I begged you to take control of the whirlpool that was my life; I was the turd swirling in the bowl as life flushed the toilet, indeed that was where my life was when I started the New Year. I had come to an epoch in my existence, yes Master that was what it was I was not living I existed. I needed something, or someone to scoop me out and place me on firm ground. Master, last year I placed that advertisement begging you to find me, to take me and to mould me into a real person, that through your patience and training I am becoming.
I was fed up with being nobody, the invisible thing that Mother had cast from infancy, Master you see, Mother called me, Spawn of the devil, an evil thing without worth. Therefore, how could anyone like me, when even Mother could not?’
The slave sits and remembers still shocked and scared, and continues to tell her Master that which he does not know. ‘Therefore, it was a fearful being, the invisible turd, which made that call Master, your first command to me, to call you on your mobile and ask, “Master is it convenient to speak?” I read this letter ten times before getting up the courage to obey, although I did not know it, it was the first of many such calls to this wonderful man, to you my beautiful Master.’
‘I sat in my office at the computer desk,’ where i now sit in pain, ‘wondering is this man my Master as I listened to the ring tone. Then when I had spoken to you and been commanded to call you the day after your return from holiday, I hung up I felt lost, lonely, and abandoned he does want me to call again! Why would he, he is just letting me down lightly.
However, I stored your phone number Master, with the feeling I was losing someone of utmost importance, and not understanding why I was devastated. Master, I continued to get replies to the advertisement and indeed met three lovely men, each one made me feel special, and introduced me to something I have always wanted to experience but never, until then had the courage to do anything about.
These men made me feel good to be me, they administered discipline and I thought control, I enjoyed it. Master they told me I was good to be with, that they enjoyed being with me!’ I did not for one minute believe them, I thought how could this be I am worthless. However, I did enjoy it; I suppose it was vanity to be told finally that I was good at something!
I was able to take the punishment they administered, they all told me they were harsh, and were astounded by my ability to take silently, no matter what was administered. In truth, I felt the strokes but they did not hurt, the administrations were my payment for their company. Master I was empowered through these actions; I started to feel my life might just be worth continuing.’
The phone rang and interrupted this runaway train, it is by instinct that I answered and not conscious thought, it was my beautiful Master. He was demanding an explanation thinking I was just playing a trick to tease him, as sometimes I do! At the sound of his voice the tears flow, as Master gives comfort and understanding, he continues to be the one in control, and I start to feel finally that I have found someone who truly cares for me, and that I am no longer alone.
I am His slave, I am His property, He is my Master, He has made the statement to the world by placing His collar on me, by locking it in place, and keeping the key, by which action Master keeps me at His side. In doing this, Master has shown He truly wants me that finally I do belong to someone.
My Master has given me meaning in my empty life, and all Master expects in return, is my total submission. To bend to his will and to obey him in all things, I do this freely and with love, therefore when people who cannot understand why someone would willingly accept corporal punishment, total control and BDSM and actually enjoy it, I tell them it makes my life safe.
Nevertheless, when my Master deals out punishment, in giving this he shows me I must comply with His rules, that in my subjugation to him I gave up the right to make decisions for myself, and must accept his laws without question, wherein I gained freedom.
‘Master, when on our first meeting you got out of your car, your aesthetic beauty took my breath, I remember the fear and self-loathing I felt, I heard her voice inside my head. Oh God, when he sees this ugly and disgusting body, he will run and never look back! This was my first thought on seeing you Master, why would a man so beautiful want me, the turd!
Although Master, you did not you continued to walk to my car and from thereon in took total control over my very existence. From that moment Master, I am forever yours, your loyal slave, your plaything. Indeed the first time you saw me naked, you did not ridicule me you encouraged me, Master you even lied, you said that you were please with me!
You looked at me and saw something that was positive, you ignored my bulging body and my rounded shoulders, and you commented on the softness of my skin and the colour of my hair. You have not turned me away, Master from that moment, my lonely heart become unfrozen and has continued to thaw through your care and strict guidance, Master through you this slave has become a woman, who has worth.’
Therefore, to any who might think how could I do what I do, to take the ephemeral pain of the sometimes-severe punishments, administered throughout my ongoing slave training. Dear reader please read on, I hope you will see that I have now found the release valve to all that pain which I do still feel in my adult life. From which the seeds of these torments were sawn, as I, the spawn of the devil grew and matured into my beautiful Master’s plaything, I am freed by this strict but always caring Man, my beautiful Master.
Master please may I tell you about my childhood, the things I can remember, and hopefully in the telling, those that I locked away for fear they would crush me.’
1 Chapter 1: Running
My parents were old when they adopted us, Dad was 65 and Mother was 49 neither was in good health Dad physically and Mother mentally, I have found in recent years that she suffered from paranoid schizophrenia, yes a very stable mix to place two defenceless children! I was told the first time I ran away I was 2-years-old and the last time well it was when I left home at eighteen.
The first memory I have I was five, we lived in London I have no idea where my sister was but she was not with Mother and I, we were alone shopping. We were going in to a department store she let go my hand just for a second, I looked around and saw the man with his cute little monkey, sitting on his arm, wearing cloths; but he was not a toy he was real. Master even then I loved animals; I wanted to pet him, so I wandered over to the man and asked permission, although I was not allowed to talk to a stranger!
He had a monkey how could he be a stranger, this man smiled at me so therefore he must have known me! This kind and friendly man took my hand and allowed me to touch his special little simian friend; he sat on his chair and lifted me on to his lap and with an arm around my little body, he let me hug this living toy, oh how that hug felt like love.
I must have spent a long time playing on that man’s laps in his arms, with mine around my new monkey friend, without a thought that Mother might be looking for me that she would be angry that I had wondered off! At that thought, the scared little girl started to cry and now her new little friend did not like her any more.
He climbed back onto his master’s shoulder and glared at me; his owner grinned and told me I must have scared him as he gently placed me back on the pavement. I looked into his now malevolent gaze, was he going to spank me, for scaring his monkey, I ran blindly afraid knowing what happened to little brats who upset people, they are beaten, and I was not going to let him spank me!
Then I remembered Mother, I had just wondered off left her alone she would have been scared all alone in that big shop what was it called! Master I was scared of what was she going to do if she came looking for me, but I knew what happened every time I went missing I would be spanked with her big hairbrush! I stood at the curb, wanting to cross but I was not allowed to not on my own.
Then they came out of nowhere that mother and daughter, holding hands lovingly and I started to cry. There I was between them holding on to them as though my life depended on it, the mother asked me what does Mummy look like, I was scared of the hairbrush and cried my heartbreak. I thought this mother would slap me for crying but instead, she scooped me up and hugged me, and told me I was ok we would find Mummy.
Her very kindness was strange, no harsh word, no sharp slap; to me this was something new. In the end it was decided, that I was too upset to be able to help find my mother they would take me to the police. Mother had always told me I would be arrested! Master this kind woman laughed when I asked why she wanted me arrested and told me I would be safe with them until Mummy could be found, I was still in her arms I had no choice I had to go.
I have no idea how long I sat the officers desk eating chocolate and drinking orange juice, if this was what it was like to be arrested well bring it on. Then that ominous voice oh I was scared, Mother was very angry, shouting at the police officer who was so kind to me, he had encouraged me to run away again, and look at the state of me!
I was about three feet tall white blonde curly hair, and blue eye I looked like a Shirley Temple doll. Mother had dressed me in a pure white dress and white ribbon like an Alice band around my head, with the bow on top, at least on leaving the house. Now I was covered from head to foot in brown chocolate and orange juice, and sat at a desk banging away on an old typewriter. She stopped shouting at the officer and grabbed me by the wrist dragged me off the chair and was going to smack me there and then. I started to cry as the kind officer told her not to punish me, as I had been very scared and crying when I was brought in, and it had taken a long time to be comforted, he told mother to take me home bath me and put me to bed.
Even at that young age, I knew that was never going to happen. As soon as we got onto the street, she slapped my legs and told me I would be thrashed on getting home. I had wasted her day making her give up on her shopping, because I was too stupid to stay with her. She marched me home shouting at me and occasionally slapping my bottom, dragging me firmly by the arm; I was an evil little cow!
That was the first time I can remember being taken into a shop to buy a hairbrush with which Mother would beat me, she always selected the largest scariest looking brush, and made me carry it home with us. This first time she put me over her knee and just kept whacking my bare bottom until she broke the brush, then ordered me to bed without supper. Master unlike now when I feel very little pain, that little girl had a very hard time sitting down for days.
However, what hurt far more was the barbed tongue of her mother telling her those little brats who wondered off were taken by the gypsies and cooked for their supper! I still have nightmares about that cooking pot and the old granny gypsy stirring in all those runaways kid, whacking them with her spoon to stop them escaping.
The next time I went off on my own, we had gone out, as a family. Dad worked at Bullins so we could get into the park free I have no memories of Dad whatsoever, just indistinct images of an old man, and images without substance. These leave me feeling incomplete Master, but I cannot force him into my memories, I do not remember why he has been obliterated. We, my sister and I were in the funfair I was about six-years-old and can remember being a brat; I was sitting on a mechanical horse I was riding off into the sunset I remember never wanting to stop.
They wanted to carry on looking around and my sister wanted to go on other more interesting rides. Consequently, my sister was not amused with me keeping everyone waiting, with my refusal to dismount my beautiful horse and leave him. Mother was trying to keep her temper, and just walked on; my sister thinking to make me follow, told me that if I did not come they would leave me and I would never find my way home. Well Master you sometimes find me stubborn I was as a child also, I was not going! So off they went, I continued to sit happily I have no idea how long, then realize they had left me once more I was alone.
I wandered around looking for them those three that family unit, to which I knew I was not affiliated, I could not find them. So I thought they might have gone into town or to walk along the beach it was late summer and a lovely warm day, I walked along the path next to the beach scanning for them without really thinking to find them. Had my sister not told me I would never see them again.
On occasions when Mother took us into the town we usually walked past the lost children’s hut, what a scary place; no way was I going in there! Every time I had been past I had heard kids crying, was the woman who worked in there beating them, was she a witch like in Hansel and Gretel, she was going to eat them. That was it; she was the old granny gypsy no ways was that happening to me. Master I was scared, tired and getting hungry and had no idea where the family was. We lived about five miles away from the town and I knew the way, my sister had told me they would go home without me so that was where they could be found. It was hot and sticky, the perspiration pouring off me making my golden curls stick to my head in a sticky itchy mess, I remember walking along side a very busy road, and daddy longlegs attacking me, horrid things buzzing around me and scaring me.
I had been walking for hours and was extremely tired and needed to loo I was only six and embarrassed to use the bushes, so I held on hoping Mother would allow me to use their toilet on getting to the house. By the time I had made it to the house I was in a very sorry state, I had started to cry; thinking of that hairbrush, the creepy nasty daddy longlegs and I was exhausted and nobody was there. I ran in to the garden and hid in the bushes to relieve myself terror biting me, what if she was to catch me, peeing in her garden! I felt much better after that at least I had not wet myself that would have been a thrashing.
Once again, i tried to get into the house, hammering on the back door so hard I broke the little window in the door, this was bad, and I sat on the doorstep and cried. Now I was in deep trouble, if I ever saw them again. In the week before this excursion, I had finally managed to learn to ride my sister’s old bike without the stabilisers, so I had a very clever idea. I would go back into town and continue looking, nevertheless, I was too tired to walk all that way, so I went back into the garden and got the old bike out of the shed, it was not mine but I needed to borrow it. Would I be punished for taking it! Ignorant to these consequences I was off again, back down that busy main road, but I made sure I followed my sister’s advice.
Master you see she had told me that the yellow lines on the side of the road were for kids to ride their bike between, so they would be safe! Therefore, I was bombing down the main road into town, keeping strictly within those yellow lines, keeping my eye firmly on them because if I did that i could not see the oncoming traffic hurtling towards me. Yes, Master that idiot child that I was had been riding her sister’s bike, with the saddle set for a much taller child, on the wrong side of the road!
Mother told me later that they had spent the time looking for me in all the usual places getting increasingly angry by the minute, and on not finding me, my parents had decided to split up. Dad staying in town with my sister and they would inform the police that I had wandered off. Mother was to get the bus, just on-the-off-chance I had gone home, she would go there and check. Mother had told the bus driver her problem and asked him to look out for me, it was to her great consternation, and indeed that of the bus driver that I came into view directly in his lane, you see the lines had disappeared!
Therefore, I was wobbling in the centre of the lane still concentrating on the road under my wheels, this time using the white line, far too scary to look at the oncoming traffic! The noise of the brakes was alarming but not anywhere as bad as Mother’s booming voice as she dragged me off that bike, pulled down my knickers and spanked me at the side of the road, everyone on the bus was watching. The bus driver got out and tried to distract her as she spanked my now very red bottom, oh boy was I in trouble when I got home.
We lived on the bus route and the kind driver offered to take us home with the bike, Mother accepted his offer and allowed him to take the bike onto the bus as she hauled me on behind him. There was uproar on the bus at her reaction this gave me a glimmer of hope that the spanking I had just been told I was to get that evening, was not going to happen. Mother shouted at me the entire way back to the house only stopping to thank the driver for his help and make me apologise for nearly killing everyone on the bus.
As I landed on the path I heard the other passengers saying how unfair this woman was being to that poor little mite, but not one had actually tried to stop her! As I was marched to the back door, I remembered the window I had broken and fresh tears flowed. Once I had been washed and changed quickly into clean cloths Mother took me back into town, to meet up with my father and sister, and then to explain to the police once more, why I had gone missing.
The officer was kind to me, he offered me some milk as a reward for thinking of such a clever plan in getting home, but suggested that Mother perhaps I should have the bike adjusted so my feet could touch to road! That time it was a trip into a shop to buy a new leather belt which was used on my bared bottom that evening once we had got home, I was not allowed to ride that bike again, it was given to the bin men, as I was too stupid to ride it safely.
Master memories are unpredictable things I have so few memories of my life on that shelf that I treasure even my bad ones for I have no others.
Chapter 2: Random memories Master is on his way home, oh, I wish it were mine, but he does not live with me. I have to face my husband to tell him this news will he help me? We live under the same roof but are living disconnected lives, Mother was not good to him either; will he want to know but I knew I owed it to him to tell him. Our lives are so distant we no longer communicate, no longer sleep in the same bed or even sit in the same room, ours is a dead relationship.
I know I must breach the invisible barrier, which I have built in self-protection, which has stopped me joining him and therefore having his company. My husband sits watching the television something comic, he sits chuckling, what I have neither idea nor do I care. Whilst speaking with Master my tears had flowed unnoticed, my face wet and my eyes red, this is how I presented to my husband.
I stood next to him his eyes never leaving the flickering screen, so I just told him, the man to whom I am married, that my Mother has died. Will he hold me; will he tell me I will get through it, will this be the trigger to begin to heal our gaping wound, allowing our moribund marriage to mend?
I stand trembling and at a loss he does not care, he has not even taken his gaze from that dam screen, the only comment “Oh dear”. I am once more the invisible turd, swirling dizzy and feeling sick, my panic rising I rushed back to the safety of my desk. As I sit at the desk I am numb, I now know I am truly alone in this. Then Master’s mobile rings, His bird song loud and clear, and on instinct once more, I answer it. On hearing his voice my torment overflows with tears, he lets them flow as he held me with his word allowing me to rant, then gently he asked how my husband reacted. I hear anger and disbelief but this good man does not criticize.
As we continue to talk I, once more feel this wonderful man take control, the unsteadiness I was feeling subsides, as I am allowed to lean into his protection, at long last I feel love, we continue to talk my Master and I.
Master I have a few memories from my junior school between eight and ten years old, I had very few friends but those I had I clung to I now think too hard, I clung tightly like the toddler who finds a beautiful butterfly and wants it. She took it into her hot little hands and enclosed it, squeezing tightly for fear it might escape, unable to feel it dying under that grip. Therefore, when she opened her hands to gaze once more at its beauty, all she had was the mangled crushed body the wreckage she had brought about. Master you know one of these friends you have meet her, I had a few others before her and one since.
There was Catharine we were fast friends for many years she was good for me, her Mother was always kind and loving towards me as indeed was her Father, Catharine had two older sisters they tolerated me as an older sister tolerates the younger friend of their sibling, but were never unkind. We met in junior school and were friends into adult life, Catharine taught me to tie my shoelaces and to cope with the bullies at school. There was another girl Sarah she was friends with both of us, Sarah lived very close to me so we would walk to school together she was always nice to me we played at each other homes.
She also had two older siblings and one younger all girls, and Mother paid her eldest sister to help me to learn to read, as you know Master, I am dyslexic. Mother told me she was humiliated that I was unable read at my age it was embarrassing to hear me trying but getting nowhere. I looked on Sarah as a true friend we went to ballet classes together.
Mother told me I needed to learn poise to become less clumsy, Master I was no good I had no aptitude or co-ordination as much as I tried I was terrible. All the girls in the class were in my class at school so this gave ammunition for the bullying, which was merciless unless Catharine was with me. After a while, I could not take the comments and stopped going, my Mother told me I was wasting her money so she was happy for me stop; Sarah and the others continued at the dance school.
This memory was the day Sarah and I was due to have supper at her home, I needed to get out of mother’s house, Mother was in a mood and I knew if I stayed, I would be beaten. Therefore, I decided to walk up the dance school to meet Sarah, and then walk back together. I arrived just a little too early, so I sat in the changing room feeling lost. I had liked being a part of the class, to feel I fitted in, even if the woman who ran the school neither like nor encourage me, at least I belonged there.
When the girls came out, Sarah was with her friends she look at me in horror, a look I missed until she like the other started calling me names, the girls were kicking and slapping me for intruding in to their dance school. I was confused physically and emotionally hurt, how had I lost my friend stupidly I had not expected it. As soon as I could, I fled to stand outside, I was still there trying to figure what to tell Mother I knew I would be punished for this, they came streaming out and saw me.
I realized my stupid mistake too late, I walked on ahead of them, and they all lived in the area of Mother’s home. The girls were still outraged that I had dared to enter their domain, Sarah was shouting insults, but was not actually joining in when on occasion the others six girls launched an attack. They took it in turns to punch and kick, however keeping to my body so no marks would show, I felt each barbed comment and blow, I felt my shelf calling me; the need to shelter within its comforting darkness as I continued walking towards Mother’s home. As we passed each girls residence they said good-bye to each other and my torment became less.
On walking passed Sarah’s house I felt more lonely, the hunger for her friendship hurt far more than that of the food I would miss; I had decided to stay out until the time seem right that I would have left Sarah’s house. I would hide in an abandoned house until it was time to go back to Mother’s house, therefore not having to tell Mother my mistake. I walked stiffly, because of the contusions and small cut on my body, past her gate, and Sarah sounded quite surprised she called me back.
Master, hope forever eternal I walked back to her my eyes stung with unshed tears I had learned to suppress emotions and outward tears, they only caused more pain usually from Mother’s hand or her hairbrush.
Sarah asked me where I was going her Mother was expecting me I was stunned. I told her she had rejected me that she and her friends had attacked me I was not wanted. She then rocked my world, Sarah told me that was just in front of the other girls, she was quite happy to be my friend as long as no one else knew about it; I must never again meet her from dance class.
Master I was shocked and asked how she could say this after she and her friends had attacked me, but Sarah quite rightly pointed out that she in fact had only called names to join in and to seem to agree, she had not hit me once. Master I was so in need of her companionship I accepted this, and apologised for embarrassing her in front of her friends and I promised not let anyone know we associated in any basis. Sarah was kind enough to accept this and told me that I may think of myself as her friend but I must never again let it be seen, that she would be humiliated if her friends were to find out.
This friendship continued through to senior school and into my late teens, we attended the same senior school, but in different form classes so our almost friendship was easier to keep under wraps. Never again did I let my guard down; and say to anyone that someone was my friend without them first telling at least four others in public that they are my friends. Master, it was a lesson hard learned, but I had learned well.
Master in my adult life this has made me appear unapproachable, to not want friends, and has adversely affected my chances of making lasting relationships. I hang back hoping that the other person will publicly announce, they are my friend never again wanting to humiliate anyone by their associations with me. As you can imagine I have likely lost potential friends who will have thought me uninterested. It is only now under your protection I feel able to reach out a hand in friendship without the terror it will be bitten off, this is yet another gift you have given me Master, thank you.
There was one other girl with whom I had a kind of friendship, Katie she was new at the school and I quite liked her she seemed not to mind people knowing I was her friend. Mother hated me but she was also covetous she would denigrate anyone with whom I made friends; consequently I was unable to tell her the problems I encountered, therefore I tried to figure things out for myself.
Therefore, when Katie had invited me to her home, we were to go straight there after school, using public transport; and to do this unaccompanied was a first for me. I was excited by the prospect that my new friend and I were to travel in public; we would be ‘seen’ everyone would know I had a friend! We left the school together and walked to the bus stop Katie seemed worried once more, I failed in my stupidity to notice, her agitated mood.
It was not until we were on the bus on the way to her house that she told me her problem, she truly wanted to be my friend but she had not asked her mother if I might come home with her. Katie had told me, that it was at the invitation of her mother I was riding at her side; I had also told Mother this lie. This prospect frightened me mother would beat me when Katie’s mother refused to have me in her home as we had been so naughty, and I cried. Katie had a plan but I must agree, I must tell her parents that mine had to go out, and I had asked to go home with her.
I was to tell her parents that I could not get into the house. Seeing no other way I agreed, her mother was kind and allowed me to stay, she fed me and allowed me to play with her daughter. When it was time to leave Katie’s Father drove me home, he wanted to speak with my parents, but would not tell me why. Katie and I sat giggling in the back of her Father’s car my first time in a car that I could remember.
We arrived at Mother’s front door, she always reminded me I did not belong there I was just there because they allowed it. Katie’s Father told Mother he wanted to speak with her, we girls were too busy chatting to take any notice, until it was too late. I stood there in horror, as did Katie, as her father told my Mother off!
He told her that I was a lovely little houseguest with impeccable manners, but did she think it right to go out leaving me without shelter. He had had a discussion this with his wife and if my parents needed to go out again they need only phone and tell them I was welcome anytime. Nevertheless, they had felt it necessary to say something as to my being left, unprotected at such a young age, I felt sick. Mother looked ready to explode what did he mean they would never go out without my sister or I with them, the look she gave me said it all. I was in deep trouble.
Katie started to cry she was also in trouble, then I was shocked out of this trance what was she saying! Katie was telling her Father that I had told her this was the fact and asked her help, I stood glaring at her knowing that no matter what I was to be beaten. I passionately denied this outright lie although it would not help me, Katie’s father soon realized his daughter was lying, and he sat on Mother’s sofa put Katie over his knee and smacked her bared bottom very hard, and then marched her home to be further spanked for the prank we too naughty girls had perpetrated.
I was sent to my room, Mother liked to make us wait when she was to beat us, that night I was thrash severely for not only telling lies to her guest, but for humiliating her by telling others that I was left alone. Mother at that time did not have a hairbrush; she had broken it on me the week before. Therefore, after she hand spanked me over her knee, then Mother made me lie on my bed and she took Dad’s heavy leather belt to my bared bottom legs and back, I was off school for the remainder of that week.
I arrived in the playground the following Monday morning to be surrounded by the bullies which this time included Katie. It would never have occurred to me to run, she was my friend, my body having recovered, and my hurt at her lies had subsided I had forgiven her. These girls penned me in and encircled me, they were going to beat me, Katie included. The blows just rained down on me as I curled into a ball, then my guardian angel came and helped me, Catharine, she beat them back and made them stop.
It transpired Katie had been thrashed on getting home she and I could no longer to be friends, as we seemed to be a bad influence on each other. However, Katie had been in school during the time in which I was not able to be and Katie had told her other friends the same tale she had told her father. In addition, that it was my fault she had been spanked; I saw no reason to tell them what had been done to me; what was the point it happened to everyone!
Chapter 3 The end of innocence:
Sleep came slowly to the shattered slave; she kept going over the conversation with her treasured Master enjoying the comfort he brings her. The social worker will deal with the details the slave has nothing to do with it, legally she is not the next of kin, due to a court protection order. Once more, her Mother has made her a nobody. It seems that only with her Master to whom she has willingly surrendered her soul, with whom she has worth, the wonderful man who offers her solace.
The slave recalls her first weeks in this man’s service, the constant demands on her time to think of him before all others in all aspects of her life, the excitement of being told he expects her to be available to him twenty-four hours a day. Does this mean that finally she had found someone who wanted her; this slave knew this to be true? Her Master was showing her a different life, with a growing love, which she was fighting, not wanting to ruin her relationship with her Master; if he were to find out, she loved him! She knew it would be the end, she knew this beautiful man liked her, and this was enough, she had learned never expect to be loved in return, and that is why she has dog and her unconditional love.
The slave realizes her love for her Master is just as unconstrained, her husband’s lack of feelings towards her hurts far less now she can focus her affection on someone worthy of love. She lay in her bed and once more allows her memory to wander, back across the years to another pet her first. The slave starts to tell her Master about the first time she took responsibility for another living thing, her budgie.
Master I do have a good memory the day of my twelfth birthday my parents had bought me a budgie I carried him home and I was his. I was the one to clean out his cage to refresh his food and water to sit and talk to him. I called him Nibbles the only memory I have of Dad, was his refusing to call him this so he called him Joey, the bird called himself Nibbles-Joey! He stayed my constant companion and beloved friend until his death a few months past my twenty-first birthday.
Instead of sitting all weekend watching the television, Master, I remember on Saturdays and Sundays between the films, the test card girl came on, as the station did not transmit programs all day. I would sit on the floor and climb into her box in the middle of the monochrome screen and chat with her. This child she was my friend, I imagined we would go places together and we never got into trouble, in this box I was safe. We would chat until she had to leave me when the next film came on.
However Master, I now sat in front of him teaching him to talk, to say his name, to sit on my hand, to become my friend. I taught him well that dear little bird, he told me he loved me, he would ask for a kiss, he would run up my arm and nibble my chin or earlobe, hence his name.
It must have been within a week of my birthday I had my weekly allowance, and birthday money. I was going to spend it all on him buying him toys and seeds. It was February and I was helping Dad sort out the daffodils in our little patch of grass and flowerbed in front of the large house in which we live in the top flat. I loved gardening it got me out of Mother’s way, and I loved digging, planting and cultivating.
We had worked hard Dad and me, and he was tired so we took a break. I asked permission to go out to the pet shop I had decided it was a good time to go and get the things I had planned for Nibbles.
I was given permission, however, told not to be too long or there would be major trouble! I was very immature for my age and very trusting, I have always taken people at face value, which even now gets me into trouble. I was dressed in my school gym tee shirt trousers and plimsolls. Just an ordinary little girl walking in the street near where she lived, Master she should have been safe! I was tall for my age and was often thought to be much older than my years. It happened as I was on my way back proudly carrying the seeds and the toys I was already planning what we would do, my bird and I. He stopped me and introduced himself as a friend of Dads from work, I knew Dad had retired years ago, however he had worked in Whitehall when I was younger it must be there that they had met, I asked this man was it so, and he agreed enthusiastically.
The man knew my name, I was happy to talk with him after all he was not a stranger. He had just come from the house having a beer with my parents; I could smell it on him and tobacco, Dad smoked a pipe it must be this I could smell. Master to this day I hate the smell of tobacco and beer it rekindles these recollections. He continued to question me and gain my trust, and then told me as though he had just remembered that my parents had had to go out with my sister and had asked him to meet me and take me back to his place.
He knew them, he knew my sister’s name and he also knew mine, I went willingly chatting and showing him the seeds and the toys. He appeared interested and kind as we walked to his residence not far from my parent’s home. He kept asking how old I was and I reminded him I had just told him, I was just twelve that I had just had my birthday, and we laughed genially at his bad memory.
We arrived at the house and this friend of my parent told me his flat was on the first floor, we needed to keep quiet until we got inside his flat. I was used to these rules my sister and I were not allowed to make noise, we were always being told children should be seen and not heard, would he spank me if I made too much noise, he was a giant of a man this reprimand scared me, I was not going to make any noise!
As we stepped inside his home and this man whom I only now realized I had not asked his name, his manner change as I heard the front door latch click I was looking around the lounge. There was something about that sound which put me on edge why did I suddenly feel I needed to escape, then it dawned on me he had locked it!
He had change from the genial man who had walked and laughed with me to someone very scary, he ordered me in to his bedroom and told me to sit on his bed, but there was an armchair in there, so I chose to sit on that, this did not please him; and he slapped me. He took me by my throat and dragged me to his bed, smacking my bottom as we went, thinking to stop me fighting back, how could he know this was the one sure way to quite me to ensure I climbed on to the that shelf, therefore making me acquiescent to his demands.
He told me to put down the toys and seeds still clamped in my sweaty hands, I refused I clamped on tighter so he yanked the bag from me the seeds spilled all over the carpet. The bell on the little mirror tinkled as he slapped me for disobeying him, he pulled me over his knee and pounded my bared bottom with his hand. This was the first time I felt very little pain I had left that shelf and instead climbed in to a box, this man was closing the lid and hammering it shut, I was anaesthetized and I think now in shock.
This man subjected me to an ordeal, which lasted for hours, he detained me, and he bound me and held me down by my throat. He entered that child’s virgin body with force he beat me inside; this was another first, but not exiting, as with the bus ride, this was pure terror. Master you see I now knew I was the whore Mother constantly told me I was; was this man not proving it.
He kept on asking how old I was and gradually I realized he was not listening to me and stopped telling him, I knew it would make no difference he was never going to stop causing this pain deep within me. Master I was scared, but not as you might imagine of my plight, which was not really happening to me. I was thinking of how Mother would beat me when she found I had been whoring, I believed I would be cast out, too dirty to even be allowed to stay on my shelf.
This man kept ordering me to keep silent what else did he think I would do, call out and let the world know I truly am a whore, then to my horror footsteps outside the front door! He was grunting and moaning, making disgusting noises he could be heard through the door, she would find out. That horrified child then compounded the situation; she begged the monster to be quiet, to keep whoever it was outside that door from coming in and seeing me in this state. His handprints had faded from the spanking he had administered on my refusal to comply, but I saw blood on my legs from the beating he was giving me inside my body.
He looked at me as though confused, but did as I begged him and quietened therefore saving my discovery, I had decided I would not tell anyone, then she would not cast me out, the world was a scary place to live alone. Master I think my request for his silence awakened something within him and he change. Once more, he asked me my age but on my telling him he got angry and slapped me, why had I not told him I was underage, I was too numb to argue was he going to beat me again for this perceived lie. I was humiliated, the pain searing throughout my body, my throat hurt from his forced penetrations, and I curled into a tight ball and cried, as I felt him getting off the bed and dressing. He throw my clothing at me and ordered me to dress, he was taking me home! He was going to walk me past the police station so I would not go in, and report him was he stupid! She would then find out and I did not want the officers to know either, as we walked home the pain was terrible it was hard to walk. I tried to cover the pain i was feeling, knowing that everyone who saw me would think I was dirty, and disgusting that indeed I was the slut.
At this point, I still believed him to be the friend of my parents he had told me he was, but he did not seem to know where the house was, so I lied to him and told him I lived in the flat we were just passing. He grabbed my arm and reminded me if I told anyone what had happened, that he would come back, he would do it again, he would beat me far harder, and then he would kill me. I was stunned he was stupid why the hell tell anyone I wanted nobody to know.
He released my arm from him painful grip and I ran into the flats, I hid in there in the corridors for a long time. As I walked the last painful steps home, it dawned on me that I had been gone a long time; mother was going to be angry. As I arrived at the door she was there, she dragged me in and smacked my face, where had I been. Once more, I lied for fear of that open street she had told me about, I told her I had gone to visit a friend, and forgotten to buy the seeds, which I could even then feel in my hair. I was ordered up to the bathroom and then told to get into bed she would be up soon, I went carefully to wash to rid myself of this evidence the blood on my leg, but the filth in my soul I could not reach.
She came to me that afternoon with a new hairbrush which she broke on my bared bottom but I felt very little for the burning inside was terrible, once she had finished and told me I was to stay in bed for the rest of the day, I was glad. I dragged myself on to the shelf and curled trembling and agony of loneliness and pain and I tried to sleep. Master I kept that monster quiet, I helped him in his deed; therefore, I know I was to blame.
You see as I was undressing I realized my name was on the tee shirt, that was how he knew it! From thereon in, I truly know that I am utterly stupid. The slave lies trembling as the old numbness sinks its sharp teeth into her soul the memories of childhood mingle with those of adulthood, the fear and pain the degradation of each sexual act, which had plagued her throughout her adult life. Because she was unable to tell anyone what had happened for shame and fear that, everyone would shun her if they had known. There have been other men, with whom she has done this shameful act, never again raped, but only willing to comply to be accepted not ever enjoying it.
That is until her Master, even in this he has taught her the sexual act does not have to be painful, humiliating and unpleasant, indeed, he has given her a first, He has shown her there can be pleasure within this act. Her Master taught her gently and with patience as though this adult was indeed the child and needed to be shown, a job that her Master has done to perfection.
The slave remembers more, from that horrid year. Master, it must have been about three months after the rape and I was still constantly afraid of meeting up with the monster again, so I tried not to have to go out, not wanting to go to school or to friends just to hide in my room and spend time with my little friend. Time in my heaven away from the world which I wanted not to belong to anymore.
There was a school camping holiday a weekend in Wales, at Ross-on-Rye, I had been allowed to go. I was looking forward to going to be away from home would be great. The whole of my class were there, therefore I stayed on the peripheral trying to stay unnoticed by those who bullied me.
The holiday was good it got me out of the house and far away from the monster. Our campsite was on the bank of the river and the only way to the other side was a wire mesh suspension bridge, all the other kids had no problem crossing it unlike me. I was timid wanting to stick close to the teachers; they were getting tired of this, not understanding why. Hence I was told I must go with the others on a foraging trip to the opposite bank mushroom hunting; we were to go on mass. I knew if I disobeyed this instruction, the staff would inform Mother and she would punish me, therefore, I tried to comply; we had all been given a box in to which we must put our mushrooms.
On the bridge was a notice, maximum load, 10 people, I have always been fat and as consequence been bullied for it, Master I have always been unsure of heights but this phobia came to a head on this trip. We were to set off in groups of eight we were commanded to stay in those groups whilst on the opposite bank as a safety measure as no staff would be with us. The group to which I was attached was the last group to go. I had been hanging back, this was very high and you could see through the mesh all the way down to the fast running water below. The kids in my group let me know I was no welcome to walk with them so I hung back further just hoping the teachers would change their minds and allow me to stay.
As the kids got closer to the middle of the bridge I managed to get myself onto it and to walk slowly and carefully towards them, people were passing me walking at what seemed to be a very quick pace causing the bridge to vibrate alarmingly. Then I looked up and the world went black, he was here, he had found me I was going to die! The monster that had haunted my every waking moment and most of my fear-filled dreams was charging at great speed towards me. I just knew he was going to throw me over the handrail to my painful death, as I watched my box floating on the breeze into the fast running water below.
I froze panic acid rising into my mouth, I was hardly able to breathe I was almost in the middle too far to turn back and run for safety, and too far to the opposite side and I would have to pass him. I stood with my hands clamped tightly to the rails with my eyes screwed closed shuddering in blind terror. I felt him pass me and heard him speaking to the woman with him, but I have no idea what either was saying; I had run from the world into the safety of my shelf trying to wrap myself in the cobwebs to protect me from him.
The boys in my group had watched this performance and could not let such an excellent opportunity pass. The leader of their pack ran back to me right up close face in my face and whispered, the sign said ten people maximum on the bridge at any one time, but in my case it meant only two others could safely cross as I would bring down the bridge.
This cruel jibe pierced the protective bubble, which I had erected around me it seemed to explode, however in my terror I mealy gripped tighter to my safe handrail my grip becoming painful my knuckles white.
I was told later that as the boy turned and left me very pleased with himself, I started to cry and tremble even more pitifully. My world was dark and cold although the sun was shining and hot. Then came a kind man seeing I was not going to budge on my own he helped me with tenderness and loving tones to loosen my iron grip and instead hold tightly to his hands he guided me over the bridge. I even heard him tell passers-by to slow down they were scaring me he was a kind man. He lead me with patience and caring to the bank where my class mates stood laughing at my stupidity, this kind man told them off, he had heard what the boy had told me.
I spent the time in which the others gathered the mushrooms, hovering near the bridge, hoping for the courage to once more cross the bridge to get back to the correct bank and my nice dark tent, I needed to sleep and never wake again. It was not until the rest had crossed the bridge and I was left alone that the kind man came back, and on seeing my plight got cross with me that I had not told him it was the wrong side of the bridge. Although I had been reprimanded he was still kind he took my hands and made me look into his face, into his eye, and as he walked backwards having sent his friend on the either side to stop anyone crossing and therefore scaring me further.
Once he had lead me onto firm ground, he told me to take him to the teacher in charge, I blindly obey him; blind to any reprisals from my classmates. This kind man complained that the staff had allowed their charges to cross without supervision, and informed them of the cruel comments of my tormentor. As soon as I had thanked this kind stranger and he had left, I ran to my camp bed in the tent and hid under the covers quivering in terror. My nightmare was not over the monster knew where I was, had he not known I would be there!
I was summoned to my teacher who questioned me as to why I had behaved as I had, how could I tell him the monster had found me and I knew now I was going to be killed at the earliest opportunity, I just stayed mute. I found out at the evening meal that the boy who had teased me had been put on camp cleaning duties after the complaints of that kind stranger. That evening the boy visited my tent I was beaten punched and kicked for telling tales and getting him into trouble. I took these blows knowing that I would not be leaving the tent ever again; I was hiding from the monster’s return.
My fear of bridges started from that day and has stayed with me from thereon. Each time i set foot upon a bridge Master, I feel that same terror and blind panic creep over me even though I know the monster is likely in hell by now.
Spawn of the Devil By Dawn Raven View from the shelf behind the cobwebs and out of the shadows Boudoir Press http://boudoirpress.com ii Copyright © 2010 Dawn Raven The right of Dawn Raven to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 All rights reserved The author and the publisher have not knowingly infringed any copyright however should this not be the case, please contact the author via the publisher and an acknowledgement will be gladly placed in all future copies of this book. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, without prior permission in writing from the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. No part of this publication may be circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser All characters in this publication are thought to be fictional and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. ISBN 978-1-907407-17-8 THE BLACK LEAF PUBLISHING GROUP 83 Clipstone Rd West Forest Town, Mansfield NG190ED Nottinghamshire England http://boudoirpress.com
Thank You Simone.. Levena George