This is my true story of things as I best remember them....
When I was eleven years old my mother married my stepfather and we moved into his large homw. I was a good boy, average at school and quite good at games, especially soccer and tennis. I was a good looking boy. Now, looking back, I realise that I was probably everything my stepfater had been looking for in a new son. Photos of me then in my tennis shorts show me as handsome and athletic.
It had been some years since nmy real dad had died and I was a little over protected by my mother and grandparents, all of whom lived close to us in the home counties outside London. I was a happy boy and everyone was proud of me.
At the end of the summer I was due to go with my freinds to the local grammar school as I had dione well in my eleven plus exams. We had already bought my new school uniform and I wore it to my mothers wedding in the August. We then spent two weeks at a hotle in Dorset, but that is another story. I was excited about having a new father and he was freindly. He bought me presents every time he had come to visit mother and he was kind to me.
Before their wedding my mother explaindeds to me that I must be a good boy for my new father and do as I was told. She told me to be careful to obey him if he asked me to do anything and to be respectful to him. As I had usually done as I was told, up to this point in my life, I did not see any difficulty.
After we returned from our two week holiday ( which was their honeymoon)it was easy for me to do as I was told. My father was not too demanding and just expected me to show him and my mother respect, and do as either of them told me. As the new school year approached though I found that he began making a bigger influence on me and also started giving me more instructions and telling me off a little more than he had before he and mother married. He bagan finding reasons for us to spend more time together. We made trips into town and he bought me my clothes, as well as the odd present. At first I had not really noticed but then it occured to me that it was my father and not mother who would come out to the park, close to our new home where I was playing with my freinds in the evenings, to call me indoors.
One evening about a week before school was due to start I heard him calling me. I ran to him and asked very politely if I could stay out to play for a little bit longer. He looked down at me and put his hand on my shoulder.
''Are you arguing with me young man'' he asked in a very matter of fact way. ''I do not think that would be very wise now, do you?''
I looked up at him and replied ''no daddy'' in the nicest way I could.
''I think we might have to have our first meeting in your room''.
Then, still looking down at me and with his hand still resting on my shoulder he asked ''I wonder if your bottom would benefit from a whacking?''
I did not say anything but looked down at the ground. I turned and walked back to the house and he followed me.
When I got indoors I said goodnight to my mother as politely as possible, kissed her and went upstairs to get ready for bed. My father joined my mother in the living room, the door was closed and I heard the pair of them talking. I waited at the top of the stairs listening for as long as I dared but could not hear wat they were talking about but I suspected it had something to do with me. I was to find out soon enough!! I went into my room to change into my pyjamas.