I am completely new to writing and am planning on starting out with a bang. This will be a prolonged storyline. Feel free to contact me concerning the subject on yahoo IM. My SN is bluhendas
I walked slowly up the hard wooden stairs, climbing the seemingly endless mountain to my small bedroom. Well I shouldnt say my bedroom, I share the room with my two younger brothers, Will and Ben. Im not really a slow kid, im actually pretty fast, the reason that im going so slowly is that I really dont want to go to my room, my room scares me. The only things that happen in my room are whippings, sleeping and at times, other things. The room is cold and dark, the walls are bare, with a small window which my brothers cannot even reach, the floors are hard, dark wood which squeaks with every step. I have a bed of my own but my brothers share a bed in the back corner, under the window and next to our dresser. We dont have a whole lot of clothes to fill our dresser with so we all have a drawer to ourselves.
As I said before, I am walking up the stairs to my bedroom for a whipping. My mother got home about an hour ago (its 9:30 PM) from my aunts house who lives down the street. She says that she goes there to get away from us because we annoy her and she always smells strongly of liquor when she gets back. This all too common smell was present as she screamed at me for not finishing the laundry tonight, a job which I have never before done. Im pretty sure that this is why I will be whipped, although I already received a few smacks for it, two to my right cheek and five or so to my underwear clad bottom. Usually when I reach my room I am to strip to my undies then assume the corner position and await my mother. The corner position is simple, I (or my brothers) stand with our legs spread wide and hands on our heads in the near corner of our room.
Because I have not completed the laundry, thus having no clean pants, I am already in my underwear, as I have been nearly all day. Although I am almost nine years old I still wear the underwear from when I was six because mom never buys us new clothes. I stood in the corner for what seemed like ages but was most likely only 10 minutes until mom came in. She placed her hand on my white blond hair and gently guided me to my bed, lightly rubbing the back of my head as we walked. She sat down and looked me in the eye, I could recite the speech to come word for word.
"Listen babe, im sorry I yelled at you earlier, its just that I expect things to be done and when they are not done then I am really _f_u_c_k_ing pissed off." She usually says this part in a soft, loving voice but that changes soon enough. "I just dont understand you, I give you food, I work all day to feed you and give you a home and this is the crap I get? All you do is despise me isnt that right? All you think of is running away dont you? You think that you are SOOOOO much smarter than I am, well let me tell you how wrong you are, im gonna whip your ass till you understand me you little _s_h_i_t_!" Im sure that she doesnt think those things, its just the alcohol talking, not my mom, but all the same, whippings hurt like hell whether she is drunk or not.
She grasped my small six- year olds briefs by the tattered waistband and ripped them down to the floor, then off. She grapped my waist, digging her long sharp nails into my skin and pulled me across her lap. From behind her she grabbed her long leather belt which she doubled before she whipped my brothers and me. First she allowed it to fall across my bottom and upper thighs, as if she had fallen asleep with her nude child hanging from her lap, but all too soon she raised it high above her head.........and began.
I gritted my teeth in anticipation, hearing the whistle which the vicious belt made as it traveled the distance to my exposed bottom. I tried not to yell, knowing that my small brothers had their tiny ears pressed to the door, imagining themselves in my position, kicking and screaming, tasting my own tears and snot mixed with a good deal of sweat. My mother grunted with each cut, WHISTLE SMACK OWWWW WHISTLE SMACK OWWWW WHISTLE SMACK OWWWW WHISTLE SMACK OWWWW WHISTLE SMACK OWWWW WHISTLE SMACK OWWWW WHISTLE SMACK OWWWW the belt reigned down on my inflamed bottom causing me to thrash about, surely only aggravating my mother further. I lost count after the 25th, but I am sure that it lasted much longer.
I was sitting with my sisters friends in my sisters home at my sisters table drinking my sisters vodka while my children sat at home encuring my responsibilities and enduring my lack there of. Some mother I am, but the vodka soon changed my mind and made me realize all that I do for them, keeping them alive and all. Anyway, I was talking to this great guy named Zack, hes about 63 I would say tan skin, dark blonde and blue eyes, seriously, he looked like the PERFECT guy for me. With the exception of the minor details such as, I am dirt poor with three little boys and a drinking problem, we would be GREAT together. So we talked and talked, almost two hours must have passed while we were immersed in each other at that table. I conviently neglected to mention the existence of my children and the condition of my home which led me to wonder....."what is HE withholding from me?"
I shot a glance at the clock above the stove and noticed the time, nearly 8:30, I quickly wrapped the conversation up, left him with my number and acknowledged the fact that I was IN COMPLETE LOVE......well not to that extreme but I did mention that I had enjoyed his company. I headed home expecting to find my home in relative dissary. Not that my boys are bad but when you have 3 little boys with the combined age of 18 you are left with little to be expected. I expect my children to aid me in every day living. I work hard all day to put food on their plates, although there is occasionally a little less, and to put a roof over their heads, although it occasionally leaks. Because of my hard work I expect nothing less in return, floors must be clean, rooms must be cleaned, dishes are to be washed and tubs to be scrubbed. If all of these simple and elementary jobs are not completed then there is ALWAYS hell to pay. In my home "hell" comes in the form of a thick leather belt, the only remains of Marcuss father. I have always whipped the boys, from the time they turned four, it is, in my opinion the only way to get through to such stupid little kids, not that thats my fault, I just chose to have _s_e_x_ with the stupidest of men. Dont get me wrong, I love my kids, but every time that I look into their eyes I see their fathers, I see the lying and the cheating, I see the dishonesty and the anger but I deal with it, just like everything else, I deal with it.
I arrived home and of course the ONLY think that I had asked of Marcus, my oldest, was not done. I stormed into the living room where he was helping Ben (6yr) with his homework.
"Why the HELL did you not wash your clothes?!?!?!?" I screamed
"I didnt know how mom, I swear, I have never done it before and I didnt want to ruin any of our clothes" Marcus calmly replied.
"There are no excuses for this kind of selfish crap from you, you are supposed to be the man of the house, now get your ass upstairs to your room." This was the prerequisite command for a whipping. I reinforced my words with a couple hard slaps tp his pale white face and a few to his perk rear end.
I watched him walk up the stairs in his underwear, nearly naked because there were no clean clothes. I looked down to Benji, sitting on the floor also in his small undies with tears in his eyes, dripping onto his half completed math paper.