I Was Made To Stand In The Corner After A Spanking
There are many things I can’t remember.
I can’t remember my mom’s face, I have two photos of her, so I can’t tell if my memories of her are the product of my imagination.
I can’t remember if she was abused or not.
I can’t remember feeling myself loved and cared.
I can’t remember feeling safe.
I can’t remember being kissed by a boy because I never was.
I can’t remember feeling sure about me and my body.
I can’t remember my first spanking
There are so many things I experienced later.
Friendship, I didn’t have a real friend until two years ago.
Safety, I didn’t felt safe until a few months ago, once I realized that I was really out of there.
The sense of owning your life and your future.
Hope, the hope of living a normal life.
Freedom, feel free to go out, meet new people, have fun.
Masturbating, yes, I didn’t try it until I was 19.
Wearing clothes that I liked, again, not until I was 19.
There are some other things I can remember.
I remember the fear of talking.
I remember the feeling of being helpless.
I remember asking for help but getting only more pain.
I remember the feeling of not owning my body.
I remember the fear of being one year older.
I remember the shame.
I remember the humiliation.
I remember the loneliness.
That’s my history, and I want you to think while you read it, think about all that people that is having even a worst situation. Yes, I’ve grown in a self-called 1st world country.
My first memories are blurry, maybe I’ve blocked a few, I’m not sure about it.
This is a history of abuse, not sexually, but physically and mental abuse, it’s not meant to be nice, so sorry if I offend you.
For each memory I have of me laughing, I have at leat two more of me crying.
I have mixed memòries about my first spankings, over my dad’s lap, sometimes with my three brothers watching while I cried and kicked, it never worked, instead, kicking had consequences for me, so I started to control my body to the point to stop kicking, no matter how I was feeling.
With eleven years, I got the sense that the situation was unfair to me. That year, my older brother, four years older than me started to spank me, and I realized that I had never seen any of my brothers being spanked. I heard my dad yelling them around, and grounding them to their rooms, but no one of them had to be over dad’s lap and get his ass smacked.
The few times I felt brave enough to ask I got more or less this answer.
“That’s because they’re boys, they’re mature and better than you, they can learn without pain.”
And I started to hate myself, my body, being a girl. Hearing your dad telling that you’re the worst for being a girl, that you’re inferior and that you need a special treatment makes you feel shame, shame for being a girl, shame for your acts and thoughts.
My first period was traumàtic, at school they had given us some Information, and It came while I was at school, they took care of that, but once at home, I felt the shame again. I hated being a girl, and nothing made it so obvious than having the period. I was a girl, no a woman, and was unable to stop it.
So that day I was mad, mad at the world and to myself, I hated my body as never before.
One of my brothers told me something, I can’t remember what, but it wasn’t nice, they were not usually nice.
I talked back, my dad heard me talking back to one of my brothers, and soon I was on his lap, my panties on the floor next to us, and my younger brothers asking about the sanitary towel they saw.
Again, I remember the shame, while he was explaining all the “dirty” process of my body, opening my girly secrets to them.
My dad never allowed me to lock any door at home again, nor the bathroom or bedroom, I was a woman, and women are bad, they need control.
Boys are boys, and they’re curious, so they made sure to put me in trouble each time they felt I was in “my days” making those days even more miserable for me.
Then, one day I was 13, we used to make a small party at home, of course, that never stopped him to punish me if he thought I was deserving it, that day I was good, so I passed my birthday without a spanking.
I don’t know if my dad enjoyed punishing me in públic or not, the fact is that he never seemed to worry about whoever would be there. If he thought I deserved it, I would get it, so during my first years of memories, I found myself over his lap in front of relatives, family friends and others. He kept doing it until I was 16, but I’m going too fast.
I was talking about the time I was 13 years old. My Dad, the one putting his seed on my mom to have me, decided that spankings were too soft for some situations.
There are a few memòries I have in such detail, that was one.
We had been playing in the park, (yes, the twins and me, about that time we were equals, so we used to play, even when I was two years older, but, I didn't have many friends, so, younger brothers were the only option)
We all got messy. Maybe I got a bit more than they did. But They were wearing shorts, and I was wearing a skirt that reached to my ankles.
Once at home, my dad sent the twins to the shower, and I had to wait, I already knew I was in trouble since he told me to stand at the door so I wouldn’t mess the carpet.
My older brother was out that day, he used to spend the weekends on one, or another’s friend’s House. The twins were back from the bath, and dad told us about the clothes value, about how expensive they were and that we would have to be more careful from now on. Then, he told me to take off my clothes while he walked into a chair.
Until that time, I was spanked naked only from my waist down, that day he was asking me to take off everything. I didn’t move, but when he walked to and slapped me, he made it clear that he was serious.
I was used to having no privacy, my brothers have had many chances to watch me in the shower or in my room while I was changing, but that was different, I had to take off my clothes in front of them, I could feel their eyes over me. My body had only started to develop, but it was bad enough, horrible in fact, showing everything to them, and not casually but in an explícit way.
I had to listen to dad to explain how I had grown enough to be more conscious, how I had deceived him and that his hand was not enough. He took off his belt. I didn’t know his purpose, then, instead of sitting down and having me on his lap, he told me to bend over the back of the chair.
I was short, that chair could serve as a ruler to show how I grew taller from that day on. The back of the chair reached my tummy that time, by the time I left that House, I could fully bend over it and reach the seat without problems.
He told me to hold the back tight and not to move. Then he started to use the belt. Only five times, but enough to have a vívid memory of it, each time I lost my breath and gasped, I sobbed from the first to the last one.
Once I was told to go to the wall I started to cry. I didn’t stop until my dad threatened me with a second round.
That night I cried again, really long, against my pillow so no one could hear me.
My brothers were grounded without the park for a whole week, and of course, I also got that, my Dad never took me to the park alone.
I didn’t have many friends, my clothes, my shy attitude, the fact that I was never allowed going to classmate’s parties or never invited them home didn't help.
My brothers were the opposite, outgoing, with many friends, for a while, going to the twins home meant lots of chances to watch their older sister in different states of nakedness.
Not only because my dad didn’t care about spanking me in front of them, but since I couldn’t lock any door, it was easy to open the bathroom door and having a glimpse of the naked sister. At least, Dad didn’t use the belt with guests at home, so I kept that privacy for a little more.
I felt alone, without friends or real family I didn’t have anyone to talk with, that made impossible for me to talk about what was happening at home, but the rumors were spreading around my school, and I became more and more distant to anyone.
I was 14 when I lost the last privacy I could have. Twins 12 birthday, all the family gathered there, I don’t remember doing the thing I was accused. But in theory, and I had to apologize for it, I had pushed one of my cousins making him fall. It’s true that we had some fight, but if someone fell it was me.
I was having a shower, yes, in a crowded House, yes, without locking the door, but I had got dirty, and I didn’t want my dad to know about it. It didn’t work.
I remember him slamming the door open, opening the shower curtain and pulling my ear until I stepped out of it, he didn’t stop, I helplessly tried to take a towel, he pulled me from my ear into the living room, and I got suddenly aware of my nakedness.
He pulled me over his lap and that way he started to spank me until he thought it was enough. Then, nice to him, again took my ear and pulled me until I was in front of my cousin. He told me to apologize, and I di dit, still not sure about the reason. I could have complained, tell that it was unfair, but, I wouldn’t have won anything, I always lost my battles, so I had stopped fighting some time ago.
So terrified and embarrassed I apologized to him, and then to all my family, relatives and the few present neighbors for making them witness that pitiful show and for messing the party.
I thought that even my dad realized that having me naked while facing the wall would be too much, at least that time he allowed me to get dry and put a shirt before standing in front of the wall until the last guest had left.
That night, I remember looking myself in the mirror and crying, watching my half-developed body and hating each inch of it, at least that year I had got my MP3 for my birthday, along with a painful spanking, yes, but that MP3 saved my life.
How can an MP3 safe a life? Easy, it was music and a chance to run away for a while. I didn’t have internet, I was the only one without my own computer, even my younger brothers had one, but I didn’t. The few times I could use a computer was at school, when I had homework to do at home, I had to beg someone to use his computer, and it was always for school purposes. So yes, I had to ask someone to get music, but at least, once I had some it was mine. I remember many nights, falling asleep between tears and my music.
Once I was 15 my Dad thought that I had to help more at home. Ironic, because helping, meant taking charge of everything at home, meals, laundry, cleaning, shopping, anything, and also go to school and keep your grades, don’t miss a grade or you will regret it.
At that time my punishments were more and more often, more duties, more reasons to get them, I got used to having my face slapped, not real hard, not hard enough to leave a very visible mark, but enough to turn my face and pull out a few tears, sometimes a spanking followed it, sometimes not.
Don’t think I cried all nights, no one could handle that for so long, but two or three days each week yes, I found myself crying alone in my room with the only company of my music.
I’m talking about only 6 years ago, not long ago, spankings in our country were not well seen, that was something of the past, I was sure of being the only one getting them, that made me feel even worst, guilty, since obviously, I had to be really bad to get them while no one else was getting, shame, mostly for the same reason, I started to avoid changing clothes at school, especially after a good spanking or belting.
I feel sick. I have my period, please can I skip swimming pool? Please, can I skip Gymnastics?. Even now, I can’t tell if any of the teachers knew something, I think at least a few of them knew, but no one did anything for me. The rumors were spread around the whole school, so the school staff must be deaf to not hearing anything. Of course, skipping classes didn’t help at home, so I got some more spankings for that reason.
During these years, I complained and tried to avoid getting nude for the belt.
I could not understand the reason, probably because the only reason was to torture me a bit more, after three of four times complaining I stopped.
I learned the hard way that I only made things worst. I would get one spanking dressed until I accepted to take off my clothes, and then, spanked again in the nude for whatever fault I had been accused.
The next two years were like that, I lost count of the people who had seen my butt at home, the times they had peeked a glimpse, and I somehow stopped caring about it. I was a fully developed girl, and against my dad’s efforts, I started to feel proud of my body. I also realized that my family was a sick one and that I had to run from there.
I focused on my studies, and I got real good grades, it’s easy, even when you have lots of work to do at home, if you don’t have anything to get entertained, you use all your free time to study.
I was 17 when hit the lower step into our family trophic chain. The twins made 15 years old. For me, they were only those little bastards who took advantage of any chance to make their sister go through bad times or to expose her.
But for my dad, they were men. Do you remember when my older brother started to spank me? I was 11, and he was 15, yes, now, you know my dad’s thoughts.
Same way I was old enough to take charge of the house duties, they were mature enough to take responsibility for their misbehaved sister.
So to make it clear, on the twins 15 birthday, dad told them to give me the first spank.
A new level had been reached, I had seen by them lots of times, I had felt their eyes, but their hands? never, only a few times, accidental rubs while I was facing the wall.
That was different, now they were the ones ordering me to get naked from the waist down, to get in position, and they were the ones hitting my butt with their hands.
Until that day, I had tried to avoid them, but from that day, it was impossible, they had authority over me, they could order me to do my chores, send me to the bed, to the bathroom, where to study and when, yes, I had 4 dads, the worst kind you could guess.
Years before, dad thought that I had grown too much to be spanked over the knee, so he started to do it while I was on my fours, hands, and knees together on a chair. At first, it was difficult, not chances to kick while I had to keep the balance over the chair.
He had also changed the way of applying the belt, Once I could reach the seat of the chair with my hands while bending over the back of the chair, he started to put a long stool between my legs.
Why? Well, I guess to make it more uncomfortable at the same time the I was more exposed, also, forcing the position made it difficult to kick.
After getting their new brand authority over their big sister, the twins didn’t wait long until they applied the belt for the first time.
They became more and more popular at school, now, they didn’t have to wait for dad to spank me when they brought friends at home, they could do it themselves, anytime, for any reason.
I tried to talk to my dad, and I usually ended getting extra punishment for him, so, I stopped talking.
Later, I would find that they charged for the shows, their "friends" paid them to watch my punishments.
I can tell that while for the last years I had become “used” to the situation, the following months were far worst and I had a really hard time again getting used.
So now, almost every boy in my school or neighborhood about my brother’s age had seen me partially or fully naked, getting the belt and facing the wall, they had also seen me going to bed without dinner before they did, only because the twins told me.
The twins were bossier with friends at home, probably willing to show off their control, I was the little girl at home, with a developed body, but treated like a little girl.
Two years later I found a job, that cost me a long of spankings, more than one, dad tried to force me to stop working, finally, he realized that the only way of stopping me would be keeping me locked.
He didn't lock me, and I didn't stop. I was old enough to keep working, there, I found my first good friend, I got money, and went to buy some clothes, some I wanted for the first time on my life. My friend had to keep them at her home for me, so at least at work, I looked normal.
A few weeks later, she told me to stay at her home, and that’s how I left that damn home and started a new life.
A few months later I found a new job, and a little place for myself in an another city. Finally, I was away.
Now I’m studying and working, it’s hard, but I'm happy, I’m doing what I want, and taking control of my life.
I have issues, many of them caused by my dad and my family, but I fight day after day to step over them, will take time, but someday I will.
About my story, there are some more memories, lots more, writing those ones made me remember some more, it’s like opening a pandora box, but I wanted to keep this one short enough, so you get an idea.
So, think about what you do, I know my story is extreme, but think that each time you use violence over a kid, you're a bit like my father, you're not raising a healthy kid, you're hurting them.
Now, I'm really sorry, but if you feel aroused about this, about my life, about a girl being abused during her first years of life, find someone really fast, I have issues, and you too.
On the other side, if you have questions, feel lonely and need help feel free to contact me, but I would suggest that if you're in a similar situation, or you feel abused, contact someone, don't make my mistake, don't keep silent, is not your fault and probably the authorities in your country will help you.
I can’t remember my mom’s face, I have two photos of her, so I can’t tell if my memories of her are the product of my imagination.
I can’t remember if she was abused or not.
I can’t remember feeling myself loved and cared.
I can’t remember feeling safe.
I can’t remember being kissed by a boy because I never was.
I can’t remember feeling sure about me and my body.
I can’t remember my first spanking
There are so many things I experienced later.
Friendship, I didn’t have a real friend until two years ago.
Safety, I didn’t felt safe until a few months ago, once I realized that I was really out of there.
The sense of owning your life and your future.
Hope, the hope of living a normal life.
Freedom, feel free to go out, meet new people, have fun.
Masturbating, yes, I didn’t try it until I was 19.
Wearing clothes that I liked, again, not until I was 19.
There are some other things I can remember.
I remember the fear of talking.
I remember the feeling of being helpless.
I remember asking for help but getting only more pain.
I remember the feeling of not owning my body.
I remember the fear of being one year older.
I remember the shame.
I remember the humiliation.
I remember the loneliness.
That’s my history, and I want you to think while you read it, think about all that people that is having even a worst situation. Yes, I’ve grown in a self-called 1st world country.
My first memories are blurry, maybe I’ve blocked a few, I’m not sure about it.
This is a history of abuse, not sexually, but physically and mental abuse, it’s not meant to be nice, so sorry if I offend you.
For each memory I have of me laughing, I have at leat two more of me crying.
I have mixed memòries about my first spankings, over my dad’s lap, sometimes with my three brothers watching while I cried and kicked, it never worked, instead, kicking had consequences for me, so I started to control my body to the point to stop kicking, no matter how I was feeling.
With eleven years, I got the sense that the situation was unfair to me. That year, my older brother, four years older than me started to spank me, and I realized that I had never seen any of my brothers being spanked. I heard my dad yelling them around, and grounding them to their rooms, but no one of them had to be over dad’s lap and get his ass smacked.
The few times I felt brave enough to ask I got more or less this answer.
“That’s because they’re boys, they’re mature and better than you, they can learn without pain.”
And I started to hate myself, my body, being a girl. Hearing your dad telling that you’re the worst for being a girl, that you’re inferior and that you need a special treatment makes you feel shame, shame for being a girl, shame for your acts and thoughts.
My first period was traumàtic, at school they had given us some Information, and It came while I was at school, they took care of that, but once at home, I felt the shame again. I hated being a girl, and nothing made it so obvious than having the period. I was a girl, no a woman, and was unable to stop it.
So that day I was mad, mad at the world and to myself, I hated my body as never before.
One of my brothers told me something, I can’t remember what, but it wasn’t nice, they were not usually nice.
I talked back, my dad heard me talking back to one of my brothers, and soon I was on his lap, my panties on the floor next to us, and my younger brothers asking about the sanitary towel they saw.
Again, I remember the shame, while he was explaining all the “dirty” process of my body, opening my girly secrets to them.
My dad never allowed me to lock any door at home again, nor the bathroom or bedroom, I was a woman, and women are bad, they need control.
Boys are boys, and they’re curious, so they made sure to put me in trouble each time they felt I was in “my days” making those days even more miserable for me.
Then, one day I was 13, we used to make a small party at home, of course, that never stopped him to punish me if he thought I was deserving it, that day I was good, so I passed my birthday without a spanking.
I don’t know if my dad enjoyed punishing me in públic or not, the fact is that he never seemed to worry about whoever would be there. If he thought I deserved it, I would get it, so during my first years of memories, I found myself over his lap in front of relatives, family friends and others. He kept doing it until I was 16, but I’m going too fast.
I was talking about the time I was 13 years old. My Dad, the one putting his seed on my mom to have me, decided that spankings were too soft for some situations.
There are a few memòries I have in such detail, that was one.
We had been playing in the park, (yes, the twins and me, about that time we were equals, so we used to play, even when I was two years older, but, I didn't have many friends, so, younger brothers were the only option)
We all got messy. Maybe I got a bit more than they did. But They were wearing shorts, and I was wearing a skirt that reached to my ankles.
Once at home, my dad sent the twins to the shower, and I had to wait, I already knew I was in trouble since he told me to stand at the door so I wouldn’t mess the carpet.
My older brother was out that day, he used to spend the weekends on one, or another’s friend’s House. The twins were back from the bath, and dad told us about the clothes value, about how expensive they were and that we would have to be more careful from now on. Then, he told me to take off my clothes while he walked into a chair.
Until that time, I was spanked naked only from my waist down, that day he was asking me to take off everything. I didn’t move, but when he walked to and slapped me, he made it clear that he was serious.
I was used to having no privacy, my brothers have had many chances to watch me in the shower or in my room while I was changing, but that was different, I had to take off my clothes in front of them, I could feel their eyes over me. My body had only started to develop, but it was bad enough, horrible in fact, showing everything to them, and not casually but in an explícit way.
I had to listen to dad to explain how I had grown enough to be more conscious, how I had deceived him and that his hand was not enough. He took off his belt. I didn’t know his purpose, then, instead of sitting down and having me on his lap, he told me to bend over the back of the chair.
I was short, that chair could serve as a ruler to show how I grew taller from that day on. The back of the chair reached my tummy that time, by the time I left that House, I could fully bend over it and reach the seat without problems.
He told me to hold the back tight and not to move. Then he started to use the belt. Only five times, but enough to have a vívid memory of it, each time I lost my breath and gasped, I sobbed from the first to the last one.
Once I was told to go to the wall I started to cry. I didn’t stop until my dad threatened me with a second round.
That night I cried again, really long, against my pillow so no one could hear me.
My brothers were grounded without the park for a whole week, and of course, I also got that, my Dad never took me to the park alone.
I didn’t have many friends, my clothes, my shy attitude, the fact that I was never allowed going to classmate’s parties or never invited them home didn't help.
My brothers were the opposite, outgoing, with many friends, for a while, going to the twins home meant lots of chances to watch their older sister in different states of nakedness.
Not only because my dad didn’t care about spanking me in front of them, but since I couldn’t lock any door, it was easy to open the bathroom door and having a glimpse of the naked sister. At least, Dad didn’t use the belt with guests at home, so I kept that privacy for a little more.
I felt alone, without friends or real family I didn’t have anyone to talk with, that made impossible for me to talk about what was happening at home, but the rumors were spreading around my school, and I became more and more distant to anyone.
I was 14 when I lost the last privacy I could have. Twins 12 birthday, all the family gathered there, I don’t remember doing the thing I was accused. But in theory, and I had to apologize for it, I had pushed one of my cousins making him fall. It’s true that we had some fight, but if someone fell it was me.
I was having a shower, yes, in a crowded House, yes, without locking the door, but I had got dirty, and I didn’t want my dad to know about it. It didn’t work.
I remember him slamming the door open, opening the shower curtain and pulling my ear until I stepped out of it, he didn’t stop, I helplessly tried to take a towel, he pulled me from my ear into the living room, and I got suddenly aware of my nakedness.
He pulled me over his lap and that way he started to spank me until he thought it was enough. Then, nice to him, again took my ear and pulled me until I was in front of my cousin. He told me to apologize, and I di dit, still not sure about the reason. I could have complained, tell that it was unfair, but, I wouldn’t have won anything, I always lost my battles, so I had stopped fighting some time ago.
So terrified and embarrassed I apologized to him, and then to all my family, relatives and the few present neighbors for making them witness that pitiful show and for messing the party.
I thought that even my dad realized that having me naked while facing the wall would be too much, at least that time he allowed me to get dry and put a shirt before standing in front of the wall until the last guest had left.
That night, I remember looking myself in the mirror and crying, watching my half-developed body and hating each inch of it, at least that year I had got my MP3 for my birthday, along with a painful spanking, yes, but that MP3 saved my life.
How can an MP3 safe a life? Easy, it was music and a chance to run away for a while. I didn’t have internet, I was the only one without my own computer, even my younger brothers had one, but I didn’t. The few times I could use a computer was at school, when I had homework to do at home, I had to beg someone to use his computer, and it was always for school purposes. So yes, I had to ask someone to get music, but at least, once I had some it was mine. I remember many nights, falling asleep between tears and my music.
Once I was 15 my Dad thought that I had to help more at home. Ironic, because helping, meant taking charge of everything at home, meals, laundry, cleaning, shopping, anything, and also go to school and keep your grades, don’t miss a grade or you will regret it.
At that time my punishments were more and more often, more duties, more reasons to get them, I got used to having my face slapped, not real hard, not hard enough to leave a very visible mark, but enough to turn my face and pull out a few tears, sometimes a spanking followed it, sometimes not.
Don’t think I cried all nights, no one could handle that for so long, but two or three days each week yes, I found myself crying alone in my room with the only company of my music.
I’m talking about only 6 years ago, not long ago, spankings in our country were not well seen, that was something of the past, I was sure of being the only one getting them, that made me feel even worst, guilty, since obviously, I had to be really bad to get them while no one else was getting, shame, mostly for the same reason, I started to avoid changing clothes at school, especially after a good spanking or belting.
I feel sick. I have my period, please can I skip swimming pool? Please, can I skip Gymnastics?. Even now, I can’t tell if any of the teachers knew something, I think at least a few of them knew, but no one did anything for me. The rumors were spread around the whole school, so the school staff must be deaf to not hearing anything. Of course, skipping classes didn’t help at home, so I got some more spankings for that reason.
During these years, I complained and tried to avoid getting nude for the belt.
I could not understand the reason, probably because the only reason was to torture me a bit more, after three of four times complaining I stopped.
I learned the hard way that I only made things worst. I would get one spanking dressed until I accepted to take off my clothes, and then, spanked again in the nude for whatever fault I had been accused.
The next two years were like that, I lost count of the people who had seen my butt at home, the times they had peeked a glimpse, and I somehow stopped caring about it. I was a fully developed girl, and against my dad’s efforts, I started to feel proud of my body. I also realized that my family was a sick one and that I had to run from there.
I focused on my studies, and I got real good grades, it’s easy, even when you have lots of work to do at home, if you don’t have anything to get entertained, you use all your free time to study.
I was 17 when hit the lower step into our family trophic chain. The twins made 15 years old. For me, they were only those little bastards who took advantage of any chance to make their sister go through bad times or to expose her.
But for my dad, they were men. Do you remember when my older brother started to spank me? I was 11, and he was 15, yes, now, you know my dad’s thoughts.
Same way I was old enough to take charge of the house duties, they were mature enough to take responsibility for their misbehaved sister.
So to make it clear, on the twins 15 birthday, dad told them to give me the first spank.
A new level had been reached, I had seen by them lots of times, I had felt their eyes, but their hands? never, only a few times, accidental rubs while I was facing the wall.
That was different, now they were the ones ordering me to get naked from the waist down, to get in position, and they were the ones hitting my butt with their hands.
Until that day, I had tried to avoid them, but from that day, it was impossible, they had authority over me, they could order me to do my chores, send me to the bed, to the bathroom, where to study and when, yes, I had 4 dads, the worst kind you could guess.
Years before, dad thought that I had grown too much to be spanked over the knee, so he started to do it while I was on my fours, hands, and knees together on a chair. At first, it was difficult, not chances to kick while I had to keep the balance over the chair.
He had also changed the way of applying the belt, Once I could reach the seat of the chair with my hands while bending over the back of the chair, he started to put a long stool between my legs.
Why? Well, I guess to make it more uncomfortable at the same time the I was more exposed, also, forcing the position made it difficult to kick.
After getting their new brand authority over their big sister, the twins didn’t wait long until they applied the belt for the first time.
They became more and more popular at school, now, they didn’t have to wait for dad to spank me when they brought friends at home, they could do it themselves, anytime, for any reason.
I tried to talk to my dad, and I usually ended getting extra punishment for him, so, I stopped talking.
Later, I would find that they charged for the shows, their "friends" paid them to watch my punishments.
I can tell that while for the last years I had become “used” to the situation, the following months were far worst and I had a really hard time again getting used.
So now, almost every boy in my school or neighborhood about my brother’s age had seen me partially or fully naked, getting the belt and facing the wall, they had also seen me going to bed without dinner before they did, only because the twins told me.
The twins were bossier with friends at home, probably willing to show off their control, I was the little girl at home, with a developed body, but treated like a little girl.
Two years later I found a job, that cost me a long of spankings, more than one, dad tried to force me to stop working, finally, he realized that the only way of stopping me would be keeping me locked.
He didn't lock me, and I didn't stop. I was old enough to keep working, there, I found my first good friend, I got money, and went to buy some clothes, some I wanted for the first time on my life. My friend had to keep them at her home for me, so at least at work, I looked normal.
A few weeks later, she told me to stay at her home, and that’s how I left that damn home and started a new life.
A few months later I found a new job, and a little place for myself in an another city. Finally, I was away.
Now I’m studying and working, it’s hard, but I'm happy, I’m doing what I want, and taking control of my life.
I have issues, many of them caused by my dad and my family, but I fight day after day to step over them, will take time, but someday I will.
About my story, there are some more memories, lots more, writing those ones made me remember some more, it’s like opening a pandora box, but I wanted to keep this one short enough, so you get an idea.
So, think about what you do, I know my story is extreme, but think that each time you use violence over a kid, you're a bit like my father, you're not raising a healthy kid, you're hurting them.
Now, I'm really sorry, but if you feel aroused about this, about my life, about a girl being abused during her first years of life, find someone really fast, I have issues, and you too.
On the other side, if you have questions, feel lonely and need help feel free to contact me, but I would suggest that if you're in a similar situation, or you feel abused, contact someone, don't make my mistake, don't keep silent, is not your fault and probably the authorities in your country will help you.
