Masochist me/My first pain encounter
From Create Your Own Story
Me: What, only here for the naughty bits? Here, let me tell you about the first time I remember. I mean, I have vague memories from when I was three, but I can only remember it happened.
Interviewer: Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to sound like that. Sure, go ahead.
A broken TV
My dad walked in the door and was immediately accosted by my mother. I both dreaded this, and part of me looked forward to it.
"Your daughter is in trouble," she announced.
He sighed, then looked at my mother. "What did she do this time?"
"I got home, and the TV was on the floor, the screen cracked and broken. When I confronted her, she lied to me. She told me it was like that when she got home," she said, shooting me such looks that I wanted to cry. Again.
"What!" he roared. Now, he was mad. Very mad. I could see the veins popping out of his neck.
He marched over to where I sat at the table, leaned over, and said in a very quiet voice, "What really happened? And don't you dare lie to me." I felt shivers run up my spine, and felt so stiff and scared. Him yelling at me was normal. But this, it was the first time I had ever seen this.
I started sniffling. "I'm sorry," I burst out. "I was playing tag with my friend. We were running around, and I was looking back over my shoulder to see where she was, when I ran into the table." I pointed at the bright purple bruise on my leg, where I had ran into it at full speed. "When I looked, I saw the TV falling backwards, and tried to catch it. I pulled too hard, and it fell the other way, right next to me, on the floor."
I could see his eye twitch.
"What have you been told about running in the house?" he said, still in that quiet voice.
"Not to," I replied, gulping.
"That was a $5,000 dollar TV..." he said.
"I...I...maybe I can give you my allowance money..."
He took a deep breath, then stood up, taking off his belt. "No. You know the rule. You broke it anyways." He walked into the living room, sat down on the couch, right in front of the TV, still on the floor. "Get over here." He told me.
I walked over.
He grabbed me, pulling me down across his lap. "Look at it," he said, pointing to the TV, and the first slap of his belt fell across my bottom. I could not help but jump at that first contact.
Then, he started punctuating every word with his belt across my bottom.
"You"
smack
"know"
smack
"the"
smack
"rules!"
smack
My bottom heated up. Each smack of his belt brought new pain, new sensations. Normally, my bottom is just some part of me. But, under the fall of his belt, I was completely aware of it. My bottom became the world. I quivered, crying. As he stopped the first round of spankings, it felt like little pinpricks were all over my bottom. Each one sending little signals of pleasure to my mind.
"I'm sorry daddy," I cried out. "I didn't mean to."
"It doesn't matter," he said. "You need to think about what can happen before you do something, not after."
With that, his belt came down again.
Smack
Smack
Smack
Smack
Smack
Ten. Ten spankings. The last five brought new pain, my bottom already tender. I felt like I was on fire.
I stood in front of him, crying at first, then only sniffling, while he lectured me.
"Go to your room. I don't want to see you for the rest of the night," he told me.
I went to my room, torn. I hated them being mad at me. I hated feeling like I had disappointed them. But at the same time, my bottom was red, in pain, and I was enjoying every minute of it. I laid on the bed, bottom up, touching it, patting it, enjoying the pleasure it brought. I know it was strange, I knew other kids didn't like this, but for some reason, it made me feel good.
At the same time, my mind felt heavy, hating that I had made them mad. Hating that I had hurt my parents.
I went to sleep, patting my bottom, wishing I knew what to do.
