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When I Was A Kid
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Bi-Sexual Male / 43
I was abused as a child. Most of the abuse was beatings and tortures. Sometimes it took other forms including verbal abuse. One of my earliest memories of abuse was when my great grandfather, who was near 80 at the time and the family patriarch would reach into my underwear and squeeze my little testicles hard and laugh at me. He would then have me fish out the contents of his spitoon and make me put some in my mouth and eat it. He wouldn't let go of my balls until I ate everything in the spitoon. I remember the first time I tried to tell somebody. I was whipped to within an inch of my life for "lying" about my revered great grandfather. I was maybe 4 or 5 when this happened. People sometimes say that children don't remember things from that age but if they are traumatic enough you remember forever. This is but one of the many thousands of examples that I could cite.
My mother divorced my father and went from boyfriend to boyfriend each as abusive if nor more so than my mother. Sometimes it was just punishment for not doing my chores the way they wanted. More often than not it was simply a way my mother and her boyfriends entertained themselves. Another example of abuse, one day I was caught sneaking food (I didn't get much to eat and was always hungry) and my mother made me stand at attention naked in the poorly heated living room for 12 hours reciting bible verses from memory. I was 9 when that happened. I was whipped every time I passed out and told to start over.
By the time I was 10 I had been in the hospital for broken bones more than 20 times. I never went to the same hospital once and one time my mom drove for more than two hours in order to avoid going to a hospital I had already been to. Her boyfriend of the time had took me by the arm and swung me in the air smashing me against an oak doorway breaking my leg. I still had to do my chores in my cast despite the doctor ordering bed rest for a few weeks.
Then one day not long before I turned 11 and not long after I had healed up from my most recent broken bone a man moved in next door. He was about 30 years old, tall with blond Nordic good looks. His hair was kind of long and shaggy like a surfer. He was quite attractive though at 10 going on 11 his sexual attractiveness was lost on me. Having been forced to suck cock on rare occasion I was familiar with the lust that adults felt towards children even children who were unatractive like I had become from all my whippings and beatings and other tortures that scarred my body and face.
Part of my chores included doing work in the back yard. Raking leaves, weeding the garden, cleaning up the yard etc. One day I was in the back yard on my hands and knees wearing shorts and nothing else weeding the garden when our new neighbor, whom I had only met once before but had seen at a distance a few times came over to say hello. "my goodness but you are filthy young man." By that I thought he was scolding me so I said my usual apology (for existing) and he laughed and said it wasn't a bad thing just that it showed I was really into my work. What I didn't do was correct him as I knew better than to correct an adult though that was not the only reason. What he thought was dirt was actually dried scabs and bruises but I was too embarassed to let anyone know, especially an adult, that I had been a bad enough person to deserve to be punished to the extent that I was covered with scars, bruises and scabs (some bleeding). Then when he got closer I heard him gasp. Normally I would not have paid much attention but his gasp was quite loud and followed by asking me what happened to me. his question was not in the same tone as an accusation which is what I normally heard. You see, when my Mom interegated me about a new mark on my body it was to find out what I had done wrong to be punished. The same happened when her boyfriend asked the same kind of question. So I was acustomed to such questions being part of interegation to find out what misdeed I did to earn the punishment I deserved. Not as an opening salvo of compassion.
Earlier that morning my mother had kicked me in my groin for looking at her tits. I wasn't looking at her tits. I was completely uninterested in her tits. I simply noticed the swastikas on her ratty old T-shirt and was curious why she was wearing it since I never seen it before. I never found out why. It didn't matter. The pain in my groin made me forget about her ratty T-shirt. So as a result I had been reaching between my legs holding my groin from time to time as I was doing my weeding chores.
So Micheal knelt down next to me and asked how I got my wounds. As I said his voice was not the usual accusatory tone that I was accustomed to so I felt more at ease than usual but still guarded. He put his hand on my shoulder and I winced because it happened to be where I had welts from being whipped the night before. Then with the most gentle and kind voice I had ever encountered he very softly asked what had happened to me, how and who did it. "Everything, because I was bad and everyone I knew" That was my short answer. I was still in my guilt mode thinking I somehow deserved whatever had happened to me. He told me to put the trowel down and then he reach down and gently and gingerly wrapped his arms around me and picked me up and softly carried me back into his house. When I protested fearing punishment for leaving the yard without permission he shushed me in a soothing voice and told me everything would be alright.
Now when you have been abused in the way that I have been you don't notice minor things like people comming along and feeling you up. YOu don't especially concern yourself with anything that happens to you when it does not actually hurt. But when it actually feels good, when it feels so good and is done with such kindness and affection you pretty don't care how illegal it might be or how it might be percieved by others.
Micheal carried me up to his his bathroom which was connected to his bedroom. He sat me down on the toilet seat. Then he plugged the bathtub and started to run the bath. He then gently removed my filthy ratty old rags until I was stripped completely naked. I had been naked in front of adults lots of times before though usually it was to make my punishments more severe and easier to inflict. I had no memory up to that point of ever being naked in front of an adult for anything other than pain. I was a little aprehensive at first but he was so gentle and affectionate and kind I just let him do what he was doing. So he picked me up and gently placed me in the bathtub and had me lie back aganist the back of the tube which was surprisingly warm I had never before taken a bath involving water that was other than icy cold and never more than an inch deep. I had only gone swimming a couple of times and that water was cold too and I had never taken a shower before so I had never known the pleasure of a warm bath. Bath time for me was just another form of torture. So I was astonished by these new sensations of warmth and being submerged in the bath. Micheal gently held the back of my head above water letting the rest of my naked 11 year old body go limp and completely submerged in the luxurious soothing warm water. He soaped up his hand and ginerly began to wash me. He washed me everywhere from my head to my toes and yes he spent a huge amount of time with his hands between my legs but he was incredibly gentle as I said and I felt wonderful goosebumps and tingling all over.
When he had bathed me thoroughly which took nearly an hour, he lifted me up out of the still warm water (he kept replenishing the water with hot water to keep the bath warm) and carried me over to his bed. He laid me down naked on the bed face up then said he was so sorry that I had had such a horrible life. While in the bath I had explained some of what my life was like but he seemed almost as though he didn't believe me. He placed a few towels on top of me to soak up the wetness. He didn't rub me dry like people usually did. He just put the towels on me and let them soak up the water and I was grateful that he thought to do it that way as my skin was raw everywhere. Then again it always was raw everywhere.
While soothing me with his affectionate tone of voice he asked if it was ok to lick my wounds. He said that mother animals often licked their babies especially if they were wounded. I just laid there stunned at such an unheard of offer. He didn't wait for a response and began kissing my wounds starting with the scabs on my feet from having a cigarette burned onto my feet a week earlier. He kissed and licked my wounds on my feet and up my legs stopping short of my groin. Then he started at the other end first with my hands then arms and up to my face and kissed and licked me all over my bruised face. He smelled so good, not like my Mom's boyfriends who always wreaked of tobacco and booze and sweat. He licked my right nipple where a couple of months ago my mom jabbed me with a needle for the offense of borrowing one of her needles to repair one of my 2 pairs of socks. He licked under my sore armpits. They were sore because a couple of days before I was made to stand for hours at attention but with my arms straight out like I was on a cross. he licked down my chest and licked circles on my belly which felt amazing. Then he asked if he could kiss my sore balls and I said "OK." and I felt his lips gently kiss my balls then lick them softly then he gently spread my legs to allow him more access to my body and he took my little penis and balls in his mouth and softly sucked on them and I got hard and felt pleasure in that part of my body for the first time in my life. In fact that was the first time I felt any kind of physical pleasure in my life. I think on that day I fell in love with Micheal. I certainly felt love from him the very first time I ever felt as though I was loved.
Not long after all this happened my mother's boyfriend came home (my mom was still at her job at McDonald's) and then the screaming began from next door. Micheal asked if I knew who was screaming and I told him it was my mom's boyfriend and that he was most likely screaming because I wasn't home to make his lunch. I said I better go or I'm gonna get beat. Micheal asked me if I would like to remain here and be his boyfriend and let him have sex with me every day or would I like to go back home and live the way I have been. I didn't hesitate. I didn't know what sex was per se. I knew that my mom had sex with her boyfriends but at ten I really didn't have a clear concept of it. I also knew that boyfriend meant queer and that was something that I did not want to be labeled with but as an option it was far better than what I had experienced in my life and if being his queer boyfriend meant experiencing the exquisite sensations I had just experienced then my attitude was "where do I sign up????????" So when I said I would like to be his boyfriend he told me just hide here in his house and he would protect me and I never had to go back again.
The screaming went on for a couple of hours then died down then started up when my mom came home then started all over again but this time there were two adults screaming. Then finally it died down. Meanwhile Micheal prepared and served me my very first steak dinner. We sat naked on his bed and ate steak and watched gay kiddy porn together and I learned a whole lot about what sex was at least sex bewteen men and boys.
Not a peep next door for more than two weeks then the police were all over the place. They searched all over my mom's house and I peaked through the curtain from my new bedroom next door and watched all the commotion next door and I wasn't even tempted in the slightest to go next door and tell everyone I was alive and OK. Meanwhile my life was changed dramatically. Micheal had told me that since I was virtually a slave up to that point in my life I had already done many years worth of chores and therefore was exempt from ever doing any chores at all for the rest of my life. He then told me I had been punished so much in my life that I had already been punished for all the bad things I could ever think up to do in the future so no matter what I ever did from that point on he would never punish me no matter how bad I was or thought I was. I had complete freedom to be and do whatever with not repercussions. The only thing he did parental was make sure I looked after my hygene, ate the right food and studdied. He told me he was a retired school teacher and had even been a professor for a year but made a lot of money in the market and now didn't have to work so he had plenty of time to spend with me and teach me everything I would ever need to know.
Well the searching went on for days. I saw a story about myself on the news. My mom pleaded with the cameras for somebody to please return her beloved baby. I grunted when I heard that. "yeah, right" I mocked her while Micheal gave me one of his wonderful blowjobs. At one point, I don't remember when, they asked Micheal if they could search the house. He was already prepared for that and had shown me a secret hiding place in the attick that was a gap in the chimney where I could hide and nobody would ever find me. But they didn't look that much in the attick. I could wathc them through a peep hole in the chimney but I think they spent all of about 30 seconds glancing around. It was a very good hiding place.
They got back hoes out and dug up my mon's yard and never found me. At one point they took Mom's boyfriend away in hand cuffs. I saw a few stories on the news and in the newspaper about how several hospitals in the area had come forward to report that I had been treated there. They had put together something of a profile of me and presented it at news conferences figuring that I had been abused for years. Finally they had a trial and my mom and her boyfriend were convicted of my murder. I felt absolutely nothing for them. Mom's boyfriend died in prison some years later. My mom got out eventually and I ran into her at a shoppoing mall 300 miles from where I had lived. she was pushing a shopping cart like a bag lady and stunk like she hadn't had a bath in years. I was 20 at the time. She didn't recognize me at all but I recognized her from the unique tattoos she had. I passed by her like I would pass by a gum wrapper left in the gutter.
Meanwhile Micheal and I moved to the other end of the country. I had just turned 11 and he gave me a fabulous birthday party though only he and I attended. We danced and played games and sung songs and told jokes and watched movies and gay kiddy porn which I started to like watching a lot, especially the parts where really handsome men made love to little boys. We had cake (my first birthday cake) and ice cream (my first ice cream) and he had made lasagna which I discovered I loved and chocolate milk (which I had only tasted once prior to knowing Micheal) and I don't remember what else but it was all magical. I had never had a birthday party before in fact my birthday had never been celebrated by anyone before. All the kids in school always told me about when they had their birthdays but embarassed that I was never good enough to have one I always lied and said it was in the summer figuring that since I would never see them in the summer the matter would be dropped. So this meant I never got a birthday card either. So he handed me my very first birthday card. I opened it and it and there was a picture of a baby on the cover and it said happy first birthday. In the card there was a silver dollar that was over a hundred years old. I hugged Micheal and asked about the choice of cards reminding him that I was now 11 years old. He said nothing but handed me another envelope. I opened it and inside was a card with a yellow duck on the cover obviously meant for for a toddler and it said "Happy Birthday you are now 2!" and inside was two silver dollars. Perplexed by this I was about to say something when he handed me a third birthday card and when I opened it I read the message which said "Happy 3rd Birthday!" and there were three silver dollars inside. This continued until I got to the last card which said "Happy 11th Birthday" and inside where was of course you guessed it, eleven silver dollars inside. I had a big pile of silver dollars and was grateful for the generous gift but asked why all the cards and he said "because these are all the birthday cards you were suposed to get in your life from your parents and never got" but he was so choked up crying that he had to make several attempts at saying that too me before he finally managed to spit it all out by which point I was crying.
Then he gave me my birthday spanking which I was nervious about because he never hit me but turns out his version of a birthday spanking was licking my asshole for an hour.
My mother divorced my father and went from boyfriend to boyfriend each as abusive if nor more so than my mother. Sometimes it was just punishment for not doing my chores the way they wanted. More often than not it was simply a way my mother and her boyfriends entertained themselves. Another example of abuse, one day I was caught sneaking food (I didn't get much to eat and was always hungry) and my mother made me stand at attention naked in the poorly heated living room for 12 hours reciting bible verses from memory. I was 9 when that happened. I was whipped every time I passed out and told to start over.
By the time I was 10 I had been in the hospital for broken bones more than 20 times. I never went to the same hospital once and one time my mom drove for more than two hours in order to avoid going to a hospital I had already been to. Her boyfriend of the time had took me by the arm and swung me in the air smashing me against an oak doorway breaking my leg. I still had to do my chores in my cast despite the doctor ordering bed rest for a few weeks.
Then one day not long before I turned 11 and not long after I had healed up from my most recent broken bone a man moved in next door. He was about 30 years old, tall with blond Nordic good looks. His hair was kind of long and shaggy like a surfer. He was quite attractive though at 10 going on 11 his sexual attractiveness was lost on me. Having been forced to suck cock on rare occasion I was familiar with the lust that adults felt towards children even children who were unatractive like I had become from all my whippings and beatings and other tortures that scarred my body and face.
Part of my chores included doing work in the back yard. Raking leaves, weeding the garden, cleaning up the yard etc. One day I was in the back yard on my hands and knees wearing shorts and nothing else weeding the garden when our new neighbor, whom I had only met once before but had seen at a distance a few times came over to say hello. "my goodness but you are filthy young man." By that I thought he was scolding me so I said my usual apology (for existing) and he laughed and said it wasn't a bad thing just that it showed I was really into my work. What I didn't do was correct him as I knew better than to correct an adult though that was not the only reason. What he thought was dirt was actually dried scabs and bruises but I was too embarassed to let anyone know, especially an adult, that I had been a bad enough person to deserve to be punished to the extent that I was covered with scars, bruises and scabs (some bleeding). Then when he got closer I heard him gasp. Normally I would not have paid much attention but his gasp was quite loud and followed by asking me what happened to me. his question was not in the same tone as an accusation which is what I normally heard. You see, when my Mom interegated me about a new mark on my body it was to find out what I had done wrong to be punished. The same happened when her boyfriend asked the same kind of question. So I was acustomed to such questions being part of interegation to find out what misdeed I did to earn the punishment I deserved. Not as an opening salvo of compassion.
Earlier that morning my mother had kicked me in my groin for looking at her tits. I wasn't looking at her tits. I was completely uninterested in her tits. I simply noticed the swastikas on her ratty old T-shirt and was curious why she was wearing it since I never seen it before. I never found out why. It didn't matter. The pain in my groin made me forget about her ratty T-shirt. So as a result I had been reaching between my legs holding my groin from time to time as I was doing my weeding chores.
So Micheal knelt down next to me and asked how I got my wounds. As I said his voice was not the usual accusatory tone that I was accustomed to so I felt more at ease than usual but still guarded. He put his hand on my shoulder and I winced because it happened to be where I had welts from being whipped the night before. Then with the most gentle and kind voice I had ever encountered he very softly asked what had happened to me, how and who did it. "Everything, because I was bad and everyone I knew" That was my short answer. I was still in my guilt mode thinking I somehow deserved whatever had happened to me. He told me to put the trowel down and then he reach down and gently and gingerly wrapped his arms around me and picked me up and softly carried me back into his house. When I protested fearing punishment for leaving the yard without permission he shushed me in a soothing voice and told me everything would be alright.
Now when you have been abused in the way that I have been you don't notice minor things like people comming along and feeling you up. YOu don't especially concern yourself with anything that happens to you when it does not actually hurt. But when it actually feels good, when it feels so good and is done with such kindness and affection you pretty don't care how illegal it might be or how it might be percieved by others.
Micheal carried me up to his his bathroom which was connected to his bedroom. He sat me down on the toilet seat. Then he plugged the bathtub and started to run the bath. He then gently removed my filthy ratty old rags until I was stripped completely naked. I had been naked in front of adults lots of times before though usually it was to make my punishments more severe and easier to inflict. I had no memory up to that point of ever being naked in front of an adult for anything other than pain. I was a little aprehensive at first but he was so gentle and affectionate and kind I just let him do what he was doing. So he picked me up and gently placed me in the bathtub and had me lie back aganist the back of the tube which was surprisingly warm I had never before taken a bath involving water that was other than icy cold and never more than an inch deep. I had only gone swimming a couple of times and that water was cold too and I had never taken a shower before so I had never known the pleasure of a warm bath. Bath time for me was just another form of torture. So I was astonished by these new sensations of warmth and being submerged in the bath. Micheal gently held the back of my head above water letting the rest of my naked 11 year old body go limp and completely submerged in the luxurious soothing warm water. He soaped up his hand and ginerly began to wash me. He washed me everywhere from my head to my toes and yes he spent a huge amount of time with his hands between my legs but he was incredibly gentle as I said and I felt wonderful goosebumps and tingling all over.
When he had bathed me thoroughly which took nearly an hour, he lifted me up out of the still warm water (he kept replenishing the water with hot water to keep the bath warm) and carried me over to his bed. He laid me down naked on the bed face up then said he was so sorry that I had had such a horrible life. While in the bath I had explained some of what my life was like but he seemed almost as though he didn't believe me. He placed a few towels on top of me to soak up the wetness. He didn't rub me dry like people usually did. He just put the towels on me and let them soak up the water and I was grateful that he thought to do it that way as my skin was raw everywhere. Then again it always was raw everywhere.
While soothing me with his affectionate tone of voice he asked if it was ok to lick my wounds. He said that mother animals often licked their babies especially if they were wounded. I just laid there stunned at such an unheard of offer. He didn't wait for a response and began kissing my wounds starting with the scabs on my feet from having a cigarette burned onto my feet a week earlier. He kissed and licked my wounds on my feet and up my legs stopping short of my groin. Then he started at the other end first with my hands then arms and up to my face and kissed and licked me all over my bruised face. He smelled so good, not like my Mom's boyfriends who always wreaked of tobacco and booze and sweat. He licked my right nipple where a couple of months ago my mom jabbed me with a needle for the offense of borrowing one of her needles to repair one of my 2 pairs of socks. He licked under my sore armpits. They were sore because a couple of days before I was made to stand for hours at attention but with my arms straight out like I was on a cross. he licked down my chest and licked circles on my belly which felt amazing. Then he asked if he could kiss my sore balls and I said "OK." and I felt his lips gently kiss my balls then lick them softly then he gently spread my legs to allow him more access to my body and he took my little penis and balls in his mouth and softly sucked on them and I got hard and felt pleasure in that part of my body for the first time in my life. In fact that was the first time I felt any kind of physical pleasure in my life. I think on that day I fell in love with Micheal. I certainly felt love from him the very first time I ever felt as though I was loved.
Not long after all this happened my mother's boyfriend came home (my mom was still at her job at McDonald's) and then the screaming began from next door. Micheal asked if I knew who was screaming and I told him it was my mom's boyfriend and that he was most likely screaming because I wasn't home to make his lunch. I said I better go or I'm gonna get beat. Micheal asked me if I would like to remain here and be his boyfriend and let him have sex with me every day or would I like to go back home and live the way I have been. I didn't hesitate. I didn't know what sex was per se. I knew that my mom had sex with her boyfriends but at ten I really didn't have a clear concept of it. I also knew that boyfriend meant queer and that was something that I did not want to be labeled with but as an option it was far better than what I had experienced in my life and if being his queer boyfriend meant experiencing the exquisite sensations I had just experienced then my attitude was "where do I sign up????????" So when I said I would like to be his boyfriend he told me just hide here in his house and he would protect me and I never had to go back again.
The screaming went on for a couple of hours then died down then started up when my mom came home then started all over again but this time there were two adults screaming. Then finally it died down. Meanwhile Micheal prepared and served me my very first steak dinner. We sat naked on his bed and ate steak and watched gay kiddy porn together and I learned a whole lot about what sex was at least sex bewteen men and boys.
Not a peep next door for more than two weeks then the police were all over the place. They searched all over my mom's house and I peaked through the curtain from my new bedroom next door and watched all the commotion next door and I wasn't even tempted in the slightest to go next door and tell everyone I was alive and OK. Meanwhile my life was changed dramatically. Micheal had told me that since I was virtually a slave up to that point in my life I had already done many years worth of chores and therefore was exempt from ever doing any chores at all for the rest of my life. He then told me I had been punished so much in my life that I had already been punished for all the bad things I could ever think up to do in the future so no matter what I ever did from that point on he would never punish me no matter how bad I was or thought I was. I had complete freedom to be and do whatever with not repercussions. The only thing he did parental was make sure I looked after my hygene, ate the right food and studdied. He told me he was a retired school teacher and had even been a professor for a year but made a lot of money in the market and now didn't have to work so he had plenty of time to spend with me and teach me everything I would ever need to know.
Well the searching went on for days. I saw a story about myself on the news. My mom pleaded with the cameras for somebody to please return her beloved baby. I grunted when I heard that. "yeah, right" I mocked her while Micheal gave me one of his wonderful blowjobs. At one point, I don't remember when, they asked Micheal if they could search the house. He was already prepared for that and had shown me a secret hiding place in the attick that was a gap in the chimney where I could hide and nobody would ever find me. But they didn't look that much in the attick. I could wathc them through a peep hole in the chimney but I think they spent all of about 30 seconds glancing around. It was a very good hiding place.
They got back hoes out and dug up my mon's yard and never found me. At one point they took Mom's boyfriend away in hand cuffs. I saw a few stories on the news and in the newspaper about how several hospitals in the area had come forward to report that I had been treated there. They had put together something of a profile of me and presented it at news conferences figuring that I had been abused for years. Finally they had a trial and my mom and her boyfriend were convicted of my murder. I felt absolutely nothing for them. Mom's boyfriend died in prison some years later. My mom got out eventually and I ran into her at a shoppoing mall 300 miles from where I had lived. she was pushing a shopping cart like a bag lady and stunk like she hadn't had a bath in years. I was 20 at the time. She didn't recognize me at all but I recognized her from the unique tattoos she had. I passed by her like I would pass by a gum wrapper left in the gutter.
Meanwhile Micheal and I moved to the other end of the country. I had just turned 11 and he gave me a fabulous birthday party though only he and I attended. We danced and played games and sung songs and told jokes and watched movies and gay kiddy porn which I started to like watching a lot, especially the parts where really handsome men made love to little boys. We had cake (my first birthday cake) and ice cream (my first ice cream) and he had made lasagna which I discovered I loved and chocolate milk (which I had only tasted once prior to knowing Micheal) and I don't remember what else but it was all magical. I had never had a birthday party before in fact my birthday had never been celebrated by anyone before. All the kids in school always told me about when they had their birthdays but embarassed that I was never good enough to have one I always lied and said it was in the summer figuring that since I would never see them in the summer the matter would be dropped. So this meant I never got a birthday card either. So he handed me my very first birthday card. I opened it and it and there was a picture of a baby on the cover and it said happy first birthday. In the card there was a silver dollar that was over a hundred years old. I hugged Micheal and asked about the choice of cards reminding him that I was now 11 years old. He said nothing but handed me another envelope. I opened it and inside was a card with a yellow duck on the cover obviously meant for for a toddler and it said "Happy Birthday you are now 2!" and inside was two silver dollars. Perplexed by this I was about to say something when he handed me a third birthday card and when I opened it I read the message which said "Happy 3rd Birthday!" and there were three silver dollars inside. This continued until I got to the last card which said "Happy 11th Birthday" and inside where was of course you guessed it, eleven silver dollars inside. I had a big pile of silver dollars and was grateful for the generous gift but asked why all the cards and he said "because these are all the birthday cards you were suposed to get in your life from your parents and never got" but he was so choked up crying that he had to make several attempts at saying that too me before he finally managed to spit it all out by which point I was crying.
Then he gave me my birthday spanking which I was nervious about because he never hit me but turns out his version of a birthday spanking was licking my asshole for an hour.
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