This is an autobiography that I began to write in 1993 just after I told the true story of my childhood to another human being for the first time ever in my life to anyone other than my changeling counterpart Paul who is the Corinthian I was writing to for many years After seeing an old school photograph by chance on the internet we rediscovered each other in adulthood.
I found out about my own situation at the age of twelve when Paul who had just found out himself out told me the truth. It was confirmed by our parents both real and adoptive and resulted in Paul and I having to suffer Sunday dinners with our real families for about three months at which point everyone involved could no longer cope with the situation and we went back to being two families that ignored each other, pretending that our real parents simply didn´t exist despite the fact that we were in fact relatively close neighbours. Paul and I were classmates for most of our time at school, before and after we discovered the truth. We were in fact best friends and each other´s only confidant and have always thought of ourselves as brothers. Because of us both moving towns countries and in my case an address book we lost touch with each other for a number of years but now we are again very good friends albeit at a distance. We haven´t actually met in the flesh since 1982 but hope to do so at some time in the future.
This attempt to write my story was originally thought to be posthumously given to my inherited grandchildren who at the time were too young to take on the tale. Now they have grown up they know my story but don´t need to know all the gory details so I will not show it to them. It was also a way to try to write the pain of my childhood out of my system as it were, I have tried doing that with paint and clay too but neither really worked. I abandoned writing it because it was too painful to continue. I would like to finish it someday at least up to the point when I was old enough to force it to stop but I rather doubt that will ever happen.
I have allowed only close friends to read this thus far as I feel that if it was to fall into the hands of paedophiles it would be for them an erotic novel. That is absolutely the last thing that I want so please respect that and be very careful with whom you share it. I make no secret of my past to anyone anymore but I don´t want anybody getting their jollies off at my expense.
I found out about my own situation at the age of twelve when Paul who had just found out himself out told me the truth. It was confirmed by our parents both real and adoptive and resulted in Paul and I having to suffer Sunday dinners with our real families for about three months at which point everyone involved could no longer cope with the situation and we went back to being two families that ignored each other, pretending that our real parents simply didn´t exist despite the fact that we were in fact relatively close neighbours. Paul and I were classmates for most of our time at school, before and after we discovered the truth. We were in fact best friends and each other´s only confidant and have always thought of ourselves as brothers. Because of us both moving towns countries and in my case an address book we lost touch with each other for a number of years but now we are again very good friends albeit at a distance. We haven´t actually met in the flesh since 1982 but hope to do so at some time in the future.
This attempt to write my story was originally thought to be posthumously given to my inherited grandchildren who at the time were too young to take on the tale. Now they have grown up they know my story but don´t need to know all the gory details so I will not show it to them. It was also a way to try to write the pain of my childhood out of my system as it were, I have tried doing that with paint and clay too but neither really worked. I abandoned writing it because it was too painful to continue. I would like to finish it someday at least up to the point when I was old enough to force it to stop but I rather doubt that will ever happen.
I have allowed only close friends to read this thus far as I feel that if it was to fall into the hands of paedophiles it would be for them an erotic novel. That is absolutely the last thing that I want so please respect that and be very careful with whom you share it. I make no secret of my past to anyone anymore but I don´t want anybody getting their jollies off at my expense.
The Changeling
(Pages from the Black Book)
The room was dark, filled with abstract shapes in grey and black. Opposite me is the clear form of a window, a dim square of light, casting a dim pathway across the floor to my cot. The cot has high ribbed sides like the bars of a cell; I stand behind the bars clutching them tightly with my tiny hands. The shadowed form of a man walks into the dim light and stands silhouetted between me and the window; I jump up and down and shake the cot, I feel the rush of panic as the cot lurches forward crashing to the floor with a resounding thud, then pain surging through me, filling my entire being.
That is my earliest memory, I have no idea how old I was, old enough at least to stand and understand the concept of pain.
It is the night before my third birthday, the cot is now a bed in the corner of the room, and again there is a dark form, this time bent over me sucking on my willy. It is my father, there is nothing unusual about it; I have no memory of a time when he did not come into my room and suck on my willy every time he bought a flagon, his breath with the usual unmistakable smell of beer. I had always liked him sucking on my willy and “the feeling” that always followed. It was our secret never to be told to anyone, especially not my mother. That night everything changed, I was never to like it again. When he was finished he always took out his own willy and rubbed it over my body pulling on it with his hand until the thick white warm “stuff” shot out of it onto my face, I had never liked the “stuff”. On this night it was very different. “Now you are a big boy” he said “and if you are a really good boy and do as you’re told you’ll get a very special present in the morning.” He took out his big ugly willy as usual and stroked it up and down over my body then he told me I was to lick it like a lollipop. I did as I was told, it didn’t taste nice, but wanting my special present I did it anyway. Then suddenly he was forcing it into my mouth, I struggled in panic choking on it, he held me down and kept going, it was hurting me and I couldn’t breathe, I squirmed and tried to scream and then the “stuff” was flooding my throat and I was choking even more. He left me there gasping for air, choking, and vomiting, sure that I was going to die. I crept into the corner with my pillow, rolled myself into a ball and cried myself to sleep.
It was morning and my mother was dressing me, I don’t remember what was underneath but I have a very clear picture of a pair of blue bib and brace dungarees with red and blue piping on the bib and pockets and big blue buttons fastening the neck strap in place. She took my hand and led me into the garden and stood me in front of the steps leading up to the back door, she started singing “Happy birthday to you” and I heard my father join in through the open door to the kitchen. When he came out he was carrying a large toy garage, there was a green painted base, the garage had rough creamy yellow walls that looked like pebble dash and a curved green roof, it had windows and sliding doors, there were petrol pumps glued in front of it and a green thing at the side of it. He put it down beside the steps and proudly demonstrated the sliding doors and explained that the thing at the side was a car lift, reaching into his pockets he took out three Dinky cars and placed one on the lift and showed me how it worked by pulling a little lever which lifted up the car. Reaching into his pocket again he produced four plastic figures, the first was a man lying on his back holding a spanner in his hand, he placed it under the car on the ramp. “This is a mechanic who can work on the car” he explained “and this one is a petrol pump attendant who woks the pumps” he placed a figure of a man holding a petrol pistol in his hands, beside the pumps and then put a car beside him to be filled. “Here’s another mechanic who can work on the cars” he slid open the garage doors and put a car inside the garage; he placed the third figure, a standing mechanic also sporting a spanner beside it. The fourth figure was a man in blue overalls standing with his arms on his hips, they all had blue overalls. “This one you can do what you like with, he can stand and talk to the other mechanics.” He put the third car on the base with the last figure beside it. “Or he can just talk to the driver if you like. This is where you customers can park their cars by the wall.” He indicated the wooden strips also painted green that traced the edges of the base at the back and sides, then pointed to the front edge” I’ve bevelled the front so that the cars can drive up.” He stood admiringly over his masterpiece, “If I say so myself it’s the best garage I’ve ever seen. I wish my father could have made me a garage like that. You are lucky to have a father like me.”
“And that’s not all” said my mother” she ran into the kitchen and came out with a long thin parcel wrapped up in gift wrapping and presented it to me with a big smile on her face. I just stood there. “Well open it up then.” she said. I did, inside was a cricket bat three stumps two bails and a bright red plastic ball. “I made them too” my father said beaming. “I turned the bails on my drill, looks like I had a lathe doesn’t it? The bat has got a proper rubber grip as well; I made that from an old inner tube from my bike. We’ll have you playing for Glamorgan when you grow up. Say something boy, you could at least give us a kiss and say thank you.” I mumbled a thank you. “Well that’s everything” said my mother, she hugged me and kissed me on the cheek, “Happy birthday love. I think he’s in shock bless him, we’ll leave him to it eh, I’ll get breakfast on the go, enjoy.” My father gave me a hug and they turned and went back into the house.
I stood there and stared at everything. I hated it all, this was my special present and I didn’t want it.
I think I just stood there for quite a while, then I took up the bat, went over to the garage and hit it and hit it till I had no strength left. The pumps had flown off and the lift was completely destroyed, the garage doors were broken but the rest was still more or less whole, I jumped on it, nothing, I kept on jumping until at last the garage came away from the base and upside down rocked on its rounded roof like a cradle and I threw the bat as hard as I could into the bushes.
Shortly afterwards my mother came out calling “Breakfast”, she took one horrified look at the debris and screamed out to my father “ My god Ken come here and see what he’s done!” My father rushed out took one look around, reddened with rage he came straight over to me and slapped me hard. “You ungrateful little bastard. Get up to your room right now and don’t even think of coming out.” He stared dumbfounded at the remnants of his handiwork. “I’m not fixing this you little swine” he shouted after me “I’ll be up to you in a minute and when I do you are in for worst the leathering of your life, you won’t be able to sit down for a month.”
It was not long before he kept his promise, I got the worst spanking I ever remember and was confined to my room for the rest of the day, the birthday party that had been planned did not happen, there was no birthday cake, there was no food of any kind.
The story of the garage and especially the cricket bat was long from over they were to play an important role in the rest of my life.
Many of my childhood memories have been kept alive by my mother’s never ending delight in telling everyone we ever met stories from my early life, the story of the garage was one of them, in her version there was of course no mention of the night before, I was simply an ungrateful child who destroyed the wonderful birthday present my father had worked so hard to make.
My third year was not a good year for me. I never played with the garage or the cricket bat as a garage and a cricket bat but they became my favourite toys; the base of the garage I leaned against the side of the house in the corner between the steps and the wall, I would creep into the space behind it and it became my den, my hideout, sometimes it was an Indian teepee, sometimes the tent of a fearless explorer, a pirate or a bold knight, it was whatever I wanted it to be, it was a place of refuge, a place where I always felt safe, even though my father simply threw it to one side and dragged me screaming to whatever punishment I had earned whenever he chose. The garage itself turned upside down became a canoe, a Viking longboat or a pirate ship and the cricket bat was my trusty paddle. I paddled up mighty rivers into the vast landscape of my imagination.
It was then that I began to plan my escape. Across the road in front of the house there was a river, I was forbidden to ever go there without supervision, but that did not stop me from sneaking off to its banks and throwing stones or splashing around with a stick and getting gloriously wet and muddy. There were of course consequences but I didn’t much care. Across the river was the “Wagon Works” as it was called I never really knew exactly what they did there but loved to watch the comings and goings of the shunters drawing behind them wagons filled with their mysterious unknown cargoes. Behind the Works was a hill and beyond that was a whole unexplored world that I had never seen. As I saw it I had three options; I could paddle my trusty canoe up the river to who knows where, or I could paddle over the river and either sneak past the Works up over the hill to whatever waited there, or sneak onto one of the wagons and see where that took me.
Then one day angry from yet another beating after I decided I would paddle up the river. I plucked up my courage, stole a tin of biscuits from the kitchen, “supplies”, I packed them and my paddle into my canoe and dragged it over to the river, launched it carefully and looked around to be sure no one had seen me, to my dismay I saw my mother running towards me frantically screaming, “Don’t you dare, you could kill yourself.” I hopped quickly into my canoe took up my paddle and began to sink. Fortunately for me my mother got to me in time grabbed me and dragged me struggling and screaming to the bank. Yet another hiding ensued. I never saw my canoe again, and began to plan another means of escape.
Some time passed by and I started sneaking off to the riverbank again, there to my surprise and pleasure I found my cricket bat washed into the roots of a tree that hung over at the edge of the river. I managed to pull it out from the tangle of other rubbish that had accumulated there and took it home. My trustee paddle was back again and I was not going to have it taken away from me, I hid it carefully with my other treasures in my secret hiding place under the garden shed. Now that my paddle was back I could begin to plan in earnest. I waited my chance and one day it came. My father came home one day with a large cardboard box full of stuff he that he had taken from work, immediately I saw the box I knew I had another boat, not as good as my old canoe but good enough to take me over the river. This time I would plan things more carefully. I waited for my opportunity and did not have to wait long, my father was safely away at work and my mother announced that she was going to take a bath, now was the perfect time. I emptied the box retrieved my paddle from its hiding place and made for the river. Wasting no time I launched my second craft hopped in and started paddling for all I was worth, I didn’t get very far before once again I started to sink this time I had gotten further from the bank and it was much deeper, the water came quickly into the box and I began to sink, I couldn’t swim and I should have drowned but luck was with me once again. A man walking along the other side of the river had seen what was happening and dived in to save me, he dragged me to the bank apparently still firmly clutching my cricket bat. Knowing something of lifesaving he managed to get the water from my lungs and coughing and spluttering I revived. It was a very close call, he shouted for help and the whole street came out to see what was going on, with my distraught mother in tow one of our neighbours drove me to the hospital. I had come to no real harm, but this time there were to be serious repercussions. After a story in the local paper calling for action and a petition from all the worried parents in the neighbourhood accusing them of negligence, letters to MP’s and god knows what else the local council was forced to build a high fence that was impossible for me to climb along the whole length of the river. It did not stop me from trying and that in its turn led me to find my cricket bat again which was as before promptly hidden, I was to fervently wish I had never found it.
Somewhere around this time there was another incident. My mother could not find me and assumed that I had sneaked off to the river again, ran in panic to look for me, not finding me there she returned home and began scouring the house to no avail, then returning to the garden she saw that there was something strange going on at the railway line that could be seen a short distance away from the house. There was a train that had stopped there which would not normally happen and she could see that they were carrying something from the tracks in front of the train, immediately thinking that I had run off and been run over by the train she ran to the scene in a blind panic. It wasn’t me; the unfortunate victim was a sheep. My mother returned to the garden still in shock and eventually found me kneeling in my fathers shed, he bred budgerigars as a hobby and I was in the process of pushing carrots through the bars of the cages oblivious to her having called my name. When she saw me she started crying, calling me a little bastard and slapped me very hard across the face, I don’t believe she had ever really given me more than a light slap on the legs before that day, it shocked me deeply and wounded me to the core. I loved my mother very much; she was the one who comforted me, when my father had hurt me washed my cuts and put ointment on my scrapes and bruises, she wasn’t supposed to hurt me. I continued to love her of course, but something was broke that day and was never really fixed, I have never forgotten that moment, as an adult I now understand why she did it and I can forgive her for that but just then I did not understand why. I hardly knew that it was wrong to feed carrots to the birds and thought her violent reaction came from nowhere. It was followed by words that I had heard before and was to hear many times again; “You are no son of mine” she said. “They mixed you up when you were babies. You don’t even have blue eyes”. I don’t think I really understood what she was saying at that age but it was a phrase that was to hurt me deeply when I was old enough to understand its implication, then I thought it was just a hurtful expression but in time I was to understand that it was much, much more than that.
There were a lot of stories, not all of them were bad, some of them were funny stories about things that I otherwise would not have remembered. Most of her stories were about my attempts to escape. I have to believe that she didn’t know why.
I don’t know if it was a result of my near drowning, or if it was something my parents had anyway planned to do but not so long afterwards we moved house. This involved a complete rethinking of my plans for escape.
My aunt and uncle along with two of my cousins took over the old house and whilst visiting them I had the opportunity of retrieving my cricket bat and sneaking it back to the new house. It seemed fated to be mine, always to be found no matter what. My father was to find me playing with it shortly afterwards and to my surprise he didn’t throw it away, instead he tied a leather loop onto the handle and hung it on a nail on the wall of my new bedroom too high up for me to reach. There it would always sit, he informed me, to remind me that I should do as I was told and there it was to hang for many years; I learned to truly hate it, I would try many times to hide it, throw it away and even burn it, fate always brought it back to me.
He still came into my room at night, nothing changed there. He did not try to stick his Willy into my mouth again for quite some time but the fear that he might never left me. As I grew a little bit older I tried more often to refuse him, he simply covered my mouth and carried on, I was not strong enough to stop him. I never told my mother but when I began to be old enough I felt ashamed of what he did but I could not help but like “the feeling”. I often wondered if she knew. I tried to believe that she didn’t.
When I was about five years old things took a turn for the worse, I decided that I didn’t want him to do it anymore and that I was now big enough to stop him. I was wrong.
I was now at least able to make it much more difficult for him, I could squirm much harder and I did everything I could to make it unpleasant for him, I learned that I could pee in his mouth, defecate and force myself to vomit, at first all of these methods seemed to work; I always got slapped but I took my punishment like a man, however he was soon to find another way to stop my resistance.
The first time he punched me with all his strength in the face it came as an enormous shock, I was almost knocked out completely and gave no more resistance for a while. At breakfast the next morning he told my mother I had fallen down the stairs the night before to explain the black eye, the swelling and the split in my lip. The look in his eyes told me the consequences of not backing up his story. I was a clumsy child always falling and cutting and bruising myself and my mother accepted the explanation without question. More and more I came to hate his visits, he had been more drunk than usual the first time he punched me and I chanced my luck again with my tactics to stop him, I felt that my efforts were paying off again when he punched me again, this time in the stomach which was even worse, I lost my breath and gasped for air, it felt as if everything inside of me was crushed. That kept me quiet for a while, but not for long, it was then I learned to hate the cricket bat.
He started wanting more and more from me, licking and rubbing his Willy was now the norm but when he started pushing his finger into my bum and started trying to force it into my mouth again it was war, I peed and soiled myself, screamed and fought him tooth and nail, he punched me regularly now and I had learned to take it without giving in. Then one day my mother told me that my grandfather was ill and that she would be staying at his house to look after him until he got better, I begged to be allowed to go with her but she wouldn’t give in and take me. I knew that things were going to be bad when she was away it always was.
My father had a friend from work around for a drink that night and I was sent to bed early and when his friend had gone he came to my room as usual. After punching me several times without the desired effect his eye fell upon the cricket bat hanging in its place on the wall untouched since he had put it there. He reached up, took it down and without a word hit me with it hard squarely across my shins, I had never felt such pain and I screamed so loudly that he had to cover my head with a pillow so that I couldn´t wake the entire neighbourhood. I think that he was afraid of what he had done and he left me alone crying to myself I in agony until the morning. That morning early he came into my room and dressed me, he carried me to the car and drove me away, he told me that he was taking me to the hospital and that I had fallen from the window, I was instructed to say nothing at all to the doctor but simply to nod or shake my head if he asked me a question. Nothing was broken and I was taken home. After that he always took the cricket bat from the wall when he came to my room and placed it at the side of the bed, for a long time I did exactly as I was told.
Escape was what I had to do now and I tried many times.
I had gotten a three wheeler bike for Christmas with a small trunk built between the back wheels like the boot of a car and periodically I packed the boot with “supplies” and tried to peddle my way to freedom. I was always caught. When my mother took me with her into town shopping I hid myself away waiting my chance to run away, she never found out how I could disappear in a big store without being found, my trick was to creep between the coats or dresses where they hung on the rails, take hold of the rail and pull my legs up so that they could not be seen from the side. My mother, the shop assistants, the store detectives and even sometimes the police spent many hours looking for me without ever finding my hiding place, but I could never quite manage to get out of the door without getting caught. Eventually I was banned from Marks and Spencer and I was watched like a hawk in all the other stores. It was to take some time before I was able to make a more successful escape.
Things continued to be tough at home. The cricket bat across the shins became something that happened all too often, I find it hard to believe that anyone could believe that I could have so many terrible accidents, always injuring myself in the same place. He of course learned just how hard he could hit me and where it would least show, there were no more visits to the hospital unless I really did hurt myself badly which was pretty often and probably helped cover his lame explanations. That my mother did not know what was happening was difficult to believe, but I did. I could never allow myself to believe that she did, it would have broken me completely.
Other people started to come to my room when my mother was away and that was all too often with my grandfather’s declining health, my father’s brother was a beast and my cousin was not much better. It was much worse with them, they hurt me and they laughed and showed me graphically what I could look forward to when I got bigger.
My father began to go to London to work, sometimes he was away for months at a time, I looked forward to those times and allowed myself to hope that he would never come back. He always did, and when the announcement that we were to go with him to live in London for a while came it was a terrible disappointment.
The move was to create even more problems. I, like all other schoolboys had my fair share of trouble with bullies and in London I was the new boy at school and it was worse. They all laughed at my Welsh accent and thought me very stupid because I had not covered the same things in my old class that they had covered in theirs. The boot was on the other foot of course when we went over something that I had already done at my old school that they hadn’t done, then I was a swat, a show off and they treated me with just as much contempt. We never stayed long enough in London for me to get over those problems because of my father’s work we spent a few months in London and then a few months back in Wales and when I went back there the Welsh kids bullied me for having a cockney accent, I could never win. This way of living was to go on until I was twelve. At least when we lived in London I was away from my hated uncle and cousin.
I think I was about seven and we were living in London, I was instructed to put on my best clothes and was taken off in the car by my father, it was unusual that he should take me anywhere without my mother. I was told that we were going to visit some of my father’s friends who were very much looking forward to meeting me, I at once smelled a rat but I could never in my wildest dreams have imagined what was to come.
We arrived at a very big house and my father rang the bell, the door was answered by a little woman who asked who we were, my father explained and she disappeared into the house, a few moments later she came back, gave my father an envelope and said that she would take me in. she told my father that he should come back to pick me up later. I was horrified and stood in amazement as my father simply turned away and walked back to the car.
She took my hand and led me into the house. She closed the door and bolted it then she led me to a small doorway at the back of the stairs, she opened it and told me to go down the steps where the gentlemen of the house would receive me. I started down the stairs and she closed the door behind me. The stairs were dark but I could see that there was a light at the bottom and feeling very scared I continued on down. When I arrived at the bottom I got really frightened, it looked like a dungeon from a film, there were chains hanging from the walls and ceiling and strange contraptions standing against the wall and there were two very big men standing in the middle of the room dressed in leather hoods and trousers and had what seemed to be studded belts crossing their shoulders. They looked like the executioners that I had seen in films and I was terrified. I just stood there too afraid to move. They said nothing and started to walk towards me. I turned and ran back up the stairs but the door was locked and I had nowhere else to run. One of the men had followed me up the stairs and he picked me up and carried me unceremoniously back to the cellar. He held me firmly whilst the other man took off my clothes. I was carried over to a sort of frame thing and the other man tied my wrists and ankles to the frame. It was completely silent they said nothing and I was so afraid that I could neither cry out nor struggle. They took more rope and tied it around my neck and tied that fast to the frame, tied another rope around my waist and knotted that to both sides of the frame. I was stretched out in the middle of that frame and I couldn’t move a muscle.
I had felt pain before, my father; my uncle and my cousin had all really hurt me. This was not the same, the pain started slowly, first they put a ball into my mouth and put a strap over my mouth around my head to hold it in place and then they used clamps to hang small weights from my body, my arms, my legs, my nipples, everywhere. The more clamps they put on me the more it hurt. They worked slowly, silently and methodically, they tied a string around my Willy and pulled it very tight they put clamps on my ears and my cheeks, they fastened clamps with weights to my hair and then they systematically added more weights to every string. The pain crept slowly through my body getting worse and worse, tears rolled in a steady stream down my face, spit dribbled down my chin and sweat poured from every pore in my body. As if that was not enough they drew up the frame so that it hung from the ceiling, and then they twisted the frame around and around. When they released the frame it spun around very quickly and as the frame spun the weights flew out until they stood out straight from my body stretching the flesh unbelievably tight, I screamed and I screamed and passed out.
When I regained consciousness the weights were gone, I was lying on my back tied to a table with only the gag in my mouth and the string tied to my Willy, it was swollen and blue and my entire body was full of red angry marks from the clamps. Pins and needles surged through me and I pulled against the ropes to no avail. I was a captive of the cruel brutes and still in their dungeon. The men climbed on to the table wanking themselves until their “stuff” shot over my chest, it burned like fire, they kneeled one on each side of me and gently rubbed it in into my skin. I passed out again and woke up on the back seat of my father’s car. I pretended to be still asleep and when we arrived back at our flat he carried me to my bed and tucked me in very very gently.
When I recovered from that after two weeks lying in bed covered in calamine lotion for the chicken pox my father claimed I had been suffering from, I had a plan. I had thought of nothing but escape for the entire fortnight, this plan was foolproof.
My mother often went up to London on the train, usually with me in tow so I knew where the station was and I knew that small children didn’t need a ticket. We had taken the “Big Train” to Wales a few times to visit my grandparents. Therein was the seed of my plan. I had on one occasion taken the hand of a woman who was wearing a coat that looked very much like my mothers and walked onto the platform with her. I assume that her own child was around somewhere going under his own steam and neither of us realized at first that we were a mismatched pair, that was the way to do it, simply latch on to an adult and act as if she was my mother, hop on to the train and take myself to the centre of London. When there my plan was to simply disappear into the crowd and move on to a better place, I never knew where that place was but I was sure that it was out there somewhere.
I was taken to school as usual and waved to my mother as she turned to go home. I had a lump in my throat, but my mind was made up. Instead of going to class I walked once around the school building and went back out through the gates, I walked to the station and waited for a suitable looking mother, there soon came a mother with two children, I tagged along and the ticket man didn’t even look at me, I sat on a bench and when the train came in I followed my surrogate family, climbed onto the train and sat opposite them until we got to London. The mother and my brother and sister got out of the train at a station before Charring Cross, I didn’t see that as to big a problem, I could not see another mother in my carriage but was confident that I could find one at Charring Cross. I got out of the train and looked around, there were lots of mothers to choose from, and I followed one who had a boy of about my age out of the station and kept on following them. She took an escalator down to the underground. I had travelled the underground many times with my mother, and I thought it was a good idea to keep on following them. No one paid me any attention and when they got out of the train I followed suit. They took another escalator up from the underground and I found myself standing on the platform of Euston station. I knew that if I could get on a train here it would take me a long way from my father. The mother trick was working really well, I would stick with it. There were a number of families on the platform I was standing on and a long train with lots of carriages to choose from was standing there right in front of me, I didn’t know where it was going and I didn’t much care. Most of the families with children were waving their goodbyes to somebody on the platform and climbing onto the train carrying their suitcases. It was time to decide who my new family should be before they all got onto the train and left me alone. There was a boy about my age playing with a model plane being hurried along by a kind looking mother just a little bit further up the platform, I caught up with them and followed them onto the train.
When we got inside she looked around for some vacant seats, found some and started stowing away their luggage and when she was finished I ambled over. The boy was still playing with his plane on the seat opposite his mother and I asked him if I could see it, rather reluctantly he handed it over to me, it was an Airfix kit Spitfire, I had made one just like it myself, mine was better but his was not bad, I gave it a couple of swoops and a dive to attack making shooting noises. “It’s a spitfire isn’t it?” I said, “Did you make it yourself?”. “Oh yes “he replied, “I’ve got lots of them at home.” “Me too.” I grinned, “I love making planes”. I sat in the seat beside him and asked if I could stay and play for a bit. The mother asked me where my mother was. I had to think for a moment but I told her that she was sitting further back. “Go and ask your mother if it’s all right and tell her where you are.” she instructed. “It’ll be nice for you both to have some company on the journey it’s a long way to Edinburgh.” Now I knew where we were going. Perfect. “Is that where you are going too?” she asked. “Yes it is.” I replied. “Run along and ask then.” she encouraged. I got up and walked to the next carriage. I looked around and saw another family sitting there; she was going to have to be my mother. I said nothing but turned and went back to sit with my new friend.
On the journey to Edinburgh there were a few close calls, I was periodically sent back to sit with my mother for a while to report that all was well. The first time I was a little unsure as to what I should do. I went into the other carriage and stared at the lady I had decided should be my mother. She looked quite nice, but I couldn’t think what I should say to her. Then she looked up and saw me “You look lost love.” she said, “Can’t you find your mother?” I thought hard, “Oh no,” I replied, “my mother is in the next carriage, I was just bored and I’m having a look around.” Her daughter was looking at me and smiling, she looked about my age but girls were not so easy to be friends with, they always wanted you to play shop or be daddy to their dolls or something. They were eating sandwiches. “Would you like one love?” she enquired. “Yes please.” I replied. I was really hungry. “Come and sit over here” she said. “Would you like ham or cheese?” I sat down and took a ham sandwich. The girl was staring at me with a stupid grin on her face; I didn’t know what to say. The other mother had found us and she came over, “Oh here you are she said “I see its time for a bite to eat.” She turned to my mother and said “The boys are having a rare old time playing with planes and soldiers.” “That’s nice for them said the other mother.” It’s hard for kids to sit still for so long on the train, perhaps it would be alright for my daughter to join them later; it’s so much nicer for them to be with kids their own age.” “No trouble at all just send them over whenever you like.” she said and she continued up the carriage. Now they each thought that the other one was my mother, it couldn’t have worked out better and I just switched from one to the other when I was sent away. Thankfully the girl didn’t want to play with us and when I sat with them she just sat with a funny look on her face and grinned.
I was a bit scared when the conductor came around but he never questioned anything.
When we neared Edinburgh I was unsure which mother I should follow, the first one sent me back to the other one as we neared the station, and when I came to that one she told me that it was time to get ready to get off the train and that I should go back to my other mother. I tried to melt into the background. When the train came into the station they both got off the train, I hung back watching them through the window, they started talking to each other and I could see them both looking around for me, they called over the conductor from the train, and I could see them both pointing and looking very worried talking nineteen to the dozen. I knew that the game was up when the conductor called over a policeman and they stared pointing this way and that. The mothers stood their ground looking up and down the platform. I hid in the toilet. It was not long before there came a knock on the door and a deep voice announced that he was a policeman and that I had to open the door. I was presented to the mothers for identification. They asked me where my mother was and I pointed to the gate. I refused to speak to anyone.
I was taken to the police station and given over to the custody of a policewoman who questioned me but I refused to answer. After a while I was given food and a very large scary sergeant came and asked again who I was and where I came from. I stubbornly refused to speak. Some time went by and I was put to bed in a cell. I thought I was going to be jailed there for life but I was not going to talk to anyone anyway. The next morning I had a new minder. I wasn’t kept in the cell but put to sit in an office and I was questioned again and again by different police officers. I wouldn’t talk. In the end they found out who I was of course. My parents had reported me missing in London and they could tell from their description that it was me.
I was put on the train and taken back to London by a very nice policewoman. She asked me lots of questions and I decided that there was no longer any point in keeping quiet so I answered most of them. She was both amazed and amused by my plan. She asked me if I had any problems at home and I told her that I did not. She asked me straight out if my father hit me or touched me in a “funny” way. I denied everything, it was a mistake of course but I could never talk to anyone about what was happening to me.
There were severe repercussions when I eventually arrived home, my mother rushed to me with tears in her eyes and hugged me as if she would never let me go. My father appeared truly glad that I was home but I got a serious “talking to”. The new rules were strict, I was not allowed to go anywhere by myself for a very long time and when I went to school I was delivered into the hands of my teacher who always watched me like a hawk and at the end of classes I had to wait with my teacher until my mother picked me up. The story soon got around to the other kids at school and that was the only good part, I became a hero with my classmates and never had any more trouble with the bullies. Suddenly lots of boys wanted to be friends and in school time they were but after school I was never allowed to play with anybody.
When I was eight we returned to Wales and my father never went away to work again. Whether that was a result of my escape or because his work there was over I don’t know.
Life went on as usual until one day when my mother was away looking after my grandfather a strange man came to the house holding a little girl by the hand. We went up to my room; a flagon of beer was opened. The man had a small suitcase which he opened, he took out a tripod which he set up and produced a camera which he screwed to the tripod. The little girl and I sat awkwardly on my bed and waited to see what was going to happen. My father fetched two chairs and they sat joking together and drinking beer, more beer was fetched and drunk until they eventually turned their attention to us.
The strange man took up position behind the camera and my father came up to us and explained that he was going to take our pictures. We were instructed to stand in front of the camera and hold hands and the man took a couple of pictures. We were then instructed to turn to face each other and kiss. Awkwardly I leaned forward and kissed the girl on the cheek. “Not like that” he said “A proper kiss on the lips”. I had seen grownups kiss like that but had never kissed anyone like that myself. We haltingly put our lips together and quickly pulled away from each other. “You have to hold the kiss longer” the man said, we put our lips together again and awkwardly held the pose.
We had not really made eye contact since she came through the front door. I know my eyes were closed and I think hers were too. “Look lovingly into her eyes.” He said from behind the camera. We reluctantly looked each other in the eye looking like two frightened rabbits. He kept taking pictures, “Stick out your tongues and do this.” He said and stuck out his tongue and slowly rolled it around. We did as we were told. “Now kiss again with your mouths open and stick your tongues into each other’s mouth and roll your tongues around like that”. Looking at each other with panic in our eyes we tried to do as we were told. It wasn’t easy and after a lot more irritated instructions we managed to do what he seemed to want. It was a strange sensation unlike anything I had experienced before. The girl was extremely gentle and I was trying to be the same. “Alright, now I want you to slowly open her belt and unbutton her dress.”
She was wearing a sort of shirt dress of black and white gingham that buttoned all the way down the front, it was quite short and she had a shiny black plastic belt at her waist; the sleeves were short and trimmed with a narrow band of white lace, she had a red ribbon tied in a bow in her hair which was a pale blonde colour almost white, she had white ankle socks and red crepe soled sandals of the type every schoolgirl wore at that time. She was younger than me, about six I think. As an eight year old boy I had no appreciation for how a girl looked but the picture of her standing there before me has never left me, I now know that she was very pretty child.
With shaky fingers I did as I was told. Underneath she wore a white vest and knickers with a tiny pink bow and a tiny embroidered pink heart at the front. I could feel her trembling.
The man kept on taking pictures. “Take it off and throw it over here.” At this point my father took out his willy and started rubbing himself; I saw that she had seen him and she turned to look the other way. She was neither skinny nor fat, a sort of girl version of me, she was clearly embarrassed and I could see her goose pimples and knew that she was cold.
“Go round behind her and put your arms around her and kiss her on the neck” he instructed. “That’s it; now put one hand on her tit and the other on her cunt”. I knew the words but grownups didn’t say them to kids. I hesitated, feeling at the same time awkward, shy and sorry and I tried to do as he said without really touching her. “Get a grip boy” he said and I touched her very gently. “Now slowly pull off her vest. Like that, yes, now go back round to the front.” She stood there in just her knickers looking very small. She didn’t look at me and not knowing where I should look I stared at the floor. “Put one arm around her and suck her nipple. Stick your tongue out and do this.” He stuck out his tongue and flicked it quickly from side to side. “Now do that to her nipple. Yes good, good, now very slowly pull down her knickers. Let them stay on her ankles, kneel down and lick her cunt like a lollipop”. This was really weird, I had seen a naked girl on the beach and I knew that they had a hole instead of a willy but I had never seen one this close before. I licked it. “Lick it again, and keep on licking it until I tell you to stop.” She tasted of soap. I tried to be very gentle. I knew that this was the same kind of invasion that my father did to me.
“Now you’ve got a real hard on haven’t you?” He said to my father.” What do you say to another pint?” my father laughed and poured them both another drink.” This is a whole new world.” he said “I’m bursting at the seams.”
They just left us, her standing there naked, me on my knees licking her, I stopped and edged back. “Don’t stop.” Said the man, and pulled out his willy, it was hard, much smaller than my fathers and really veiny and ugly. They sat for a while wanking and drinking beer, they talked to each other, but their eyes were fixed on us.
“Do that thing with your tongue down there.” They continued wanking. “I’m going to have to show you aren’t I”. He came over to us. Here at the top, can you see that tiny little thing there? That’s where you have to do it”. He demonstrated. “You do it now like that”. He went back to his beer. I did the thing with my tongue very very gently.
After their glass of beer, the man went back to his camera. “Now Caroline, it’s time for you to take off his clothes” he said. “Change places with him so you are on the inside. Now I want you to open the buttons of his shirt. Start at the top and work your way down slowly.” She did as she was asked.
I had not heard her name until then, now I knew that it was Caroline. It felt somehow better to know her name. I didn’t think she knew what mine was yet.
Caroline unbuttoned my shirt and was instructed to go behind me and take it off, she was then instructed to kiss my neck and the man continued to take his pictures. She was instructed to put her hand into my shorts and touch my “cock”. She complied. My Willy responded to her touch becoming hard, as it always did at the touch of another’s hand. I hated that it did that with all the men but I couldn’t help it.
This was different; she touched me tenderly, somehow apologetically. “Now come around to the front unbutton his shorts, take them down to his ankles and rob his cock though his pants. That’s good just like that”. He instructed her “I see you’ve got a nice little hard on Rob. That’s a good boy.” Now pull his pants down. Step out of them Rob. Good, good. Now grab his cock and wank him a bit”. She knew how to do it and I knew that she’d had to do it for her father. “That’s the way” he said. “I think we’ll have a bit more kissing. No don’t let go of his cock and don’t forget the tongues”. He was taking lots of pictures now. “Wait a minute I’ll have to change the film again.” He had already changed the film several times.
“That’s that. Get down on your knees Caroline and wank him a bit more then suck his cock.” Caroline took my Willy into her mouth and gently slid her mouth up and down, just like the men did. It was clear she had, like me, been given lessons as to what to do and had to do it to it to her father. I assumed it was her father.
It felt very nice having Caroline sucking my cock, despite everything I had always liked the actual feeling even with the men, Caroline was much more gentle and the feeling was much nicer. “Look him in the eye when you do it. Yes that’s good. Now look at the camera. Good, good. “Now I want you to go over and lay down on the bed, we’re going to do something a little bit different. You’re going to like this.”
Caroline did as she was instructed. “Now Rob lie down on the bed between her legs and lick that little button some more.” Now she knew my name at least, I hoped that made her feel better too.
“Now comes the good bit” he said, “I want you to push your cock into her cunt. “I was surprised, alarmed, and scared that it would hurt Caroline, maybe me too. “Come on now boy you’re going to like this, it might be a bit hard to get it in but keep on pushing and it will feel nice when it’s in.” I tried to push it in.” A bit lower down you’ve got to get the angle right.” I tried again and surprisingly it just slipped in very easily. “Now slide it in and out.” It came out again. “Try again you’ll soon get the hang of it.” After a few tries I sort of got the hang of it. Caroline was looking at me clearly as scared and surprised as I was. I thought it felt nice, I hoped it felt nice for her. I didn’t think it could. I was sure it must be hurting her and I was trying to be as gentle as I could. “Feels good doesn’t it Caroline?” she didn’t say anything but I hoped that it did.
The man took his camera from the tripod and came over to us and took some pictures very close up. Then he replaced it and came over again. He leant over and licked Caroline’s button. “Oh, I can taste the juices running.” He said. “Come and taste this.” My father came over and started eagerly licking Caroline. I didn’t like them doing that. “We’ll get to that later.” He said. “I want to get these pictures done first.” I was glad my father did as he was told for once. He went back to his chair and kept on wanking.
I was beginning to hope that maybe Caroline was not getting hurt, I wanted to ask her but I didn’t dare to speak.
I got “the feeling”. I think Caroline knew and I felt guilty. I kept on sliding it in and out anyway; the man had not said that I could stop. After a while he did and I was instructed to lie beside Caroline.
“I think I’ve got some great shots there Ken. Shall we have another beer before the real fun starts?” My father filled their glasses and they sat and drank. “I’m really looking forward to this.” He said. “You take after your father.” He said to me. “Well you’re not virgins anymore, it was good wasn’t it?” Neither of us replied we just laid there. I was confused by my emotions, and I was dreading what would happen next. My Willy was still hard. It always was.
They sat drinking and laughing for a while, then my father jumped to his feet; he took off all his clothes and the man did the same. Now it’s going to start, I thought. My father took his cock in his hand, “Stone hard.” He said and started wanking really fast. “I’m going to cum like I’ve never cum before.”
They stood there for a bit, pulling on their big ugly cocks and then they came over to us. My father came to Caroline’s side of the bed and the man to mine. My heart sank. They leaned over and the man started sucking me. I could see that my father was licking Caroline and then he forced his finger into her. I was filled with loathing by them both. I had never talked to any of my friends about it but I hadn’t thought that it was the same for them. Now I began to think that maybe all fathers were the same.
After a while my father kissed poor Caroline then he shot his “stuff” all over her face and groaned with pleasure. Shortly afterwards the man shot his stuff all over me, he just shot it and shot it and shot it, I had never seen so much before. “I’ve got an idea he exclaimed, he rushed back to his camera, “Lick it all up Caroline, every last drop, and stick your ass up in the air while you’re doing it. These are going to be the best pictures ever, wait until I show the boys.”
My mother came home the next day and it was a couple of weeks before she was to go away again. When she did my father instructed me to put on my school uniform and I knew that something was going to happen.
We got into the car and he told me I was going to meet Caroline again. I was quite pleased, it was a lot better with her than with my uncle and my horrible cousin. I wished that her father was not going to be there, but I knew he would be.
We drove quite a long way and pulled up in front of a big house, much nicer than ours and I thought that the man must be rich.
My father rang the bell and I was surprised when it was opened by a woman, I assumed that it was Caroline’s mother and began to think that maybe nothing bad was going to happen after all. We went in and we were led into the parlour two men were sitting there with what I assumed were their wives, the man was there and on the far side of the room Caroline and two other girls. They were both older than her; one girl looked about my age and the other one a bit older. The grownups were drinking beer and whatever it was that the women drank; the children had glasses of pop with straws. This must be some sort of party I thought; perhaps it was Caroline’s birthday. I was presented to the adults as Robert, I wasn’t told anybody else’s name.
“Go and sit with the girls.” Instructed the lady, “Would you like a glass of pop?” I nodded and went over to sit cross-legged on the floor with the other children. She poured my father a glass of beer then came over and gave me a glass of orange pop. “Aren’t you a handsome boy in your school uniform?” she said. The girls were also dressed in their school uniforms.
The grownups talked and laughed among themselves and we kids were left to sit on our side of the room; I had glanced at Caroline and caught her eye but we were all to shy to say anything to each other.
After they had drunk a few beers they had started talking and laughing louder as grownups always did. The man got up and asked “Shall we go and get everything organized lads?” they went out and the lady that had answered the door and instructed Caroline to take the girls into the kitchen and help “Arthur” to put out the cakes so that we ladies can introduce ourselves to Robert”. Caroline sent me a look of sympathy and the girls got up and marched out.
“This is Mary”, she indicated the oldest lady who reminded me of my auntie Mary who always wore too much lipstick and insisted on kissing my cheek leaving the imprint of her lipstick behind. She had grey hair with a blue rinse. “And this is Violet” she pointed to the youngest of them, a woman in her early twenties, she was very pretty with big brown eyes and long very dark hair, almost black. She wore it brushed over one shoulder and she was dressed in a black velvet dress a bit like my mother’s best dress but even nicer. They were all dressed up to the nines, Mary had on a dress printed with big roses that looked like my grandmother’s curtains. “My name is Audrey” announced the third woman. She was about the same age as my mother with permed mousey hair; she was wearing a grey twin set with a white blouse that had lace at the neck and an enormous brooch that looked very expensive.
She took up her glass “I’m going to have another Port and Lemon, would you like one Mary? Another Pony Violet?” They both nodded and she fixed the drinks. “Do you want another glass of pop love?” she asked. I shook my head. She told me to come over and sit beside her. I reluctantly did as she asked. She was sitting in an armchair and it was a bit of a squeeze but she made some room for me.
“Isn’t he a handsome boy girls? His father tells me that he’s a very good little boy, and he’s never been with women like us before.” She brushed her fingers through my hair. “You’ve never had a good look at a grown up woman have you love? Would you like to give him his first look Violet?”
Violet smiled at me and asked “Would you like to see Robert?” I didn’t know what she was going to show me but I nodded anyway. “Oh look girls he’s nodding, he’s as curious as all the other dirty little boys. Are you a dirty little boy Robert? Well it’s your lucky day Robert.” She said, “I’m going to show you something that all dirty little boys want to see but never do.” She lifted up her dress so that I could see her knickers, they were white and shiny. “Aren’t they the prettiest panties you have ever seen?” she asked. She put her hand between her legs and rubbed suggestively. I was shocked and my jaw dropped. “He’s shocked Ladies.” She giggled, and then she slipped her hand into her knickers, and asked, “Would you like to see what’s inside them?” she giggled again, “Well alright you cheeky boy you’ve talked me in to it.” She leaned back and watching my reaction the whole time took off her knickers. There was a lot of hair there, I knew that women had it but I had never seen it, she kept her legs tightly closed, “I know you’ve seen Caroline’s pretty little cunt but this is altogether another thing”. She smiled at me and slowly opened her thighs. “What do you think Robert? Isn’t that a beautiful cunt?” she opened it up to show it to me. “Well now you know what a real woman looks like you lucky dirty little man.” She pushed her fingers into it and moaned. “Mary I think he wants to see what yours looks like.”
Mary lifted her dress, she was much older and had ugly white puffy thighs, she pulled down her knickers and revealed a very different sight, it was all skrinkly with a lot less hair around it, what was there was a sort of mousey grey.
Audrey rubbed her hand over my Willy. “Hold your horses Audrey.” said Mary. ”Come over here and get a good look:” she ordered me. I didn’t want to do that. Audrey pushed me towards her. “Go on love”, she urged ”Go and have a good look.”
I reluctantly went closer to Mary. She opened her legs even wider. “Get your face right up here and see it up close.” She ordered. I went a bit nearer. “I bet you’d like to lick my clitty wouldn’t you love? Well go on then, it won’t bite.” I didn’t know what a clitty was but I assumed that it was another word for cunt and I really didn’t want to touch it. I didn’t move from the spot. “I thought your father said you were a good boy.” She said. “Do as you’re told now lovely boy, we don’t want to have to call him in here now do we?” I reluctantly leaned forward, licked it once very quickly and moved back to a safe distance. “Now that will never do, will it? And that’s not my clitty either, this is my clitty.” She rubbed her finger on a fold of skrinkly flesh hiding a pink thing at the top. “Now be a good boy and come and lick it for me. Lick it like a nice juicy lollipop.” I didn’t want my father to come and I didn’t know what else to do, so I licked it. It wasn’t nice, it smelled and tasted awful. “You don’t have to be so careful” she said. “Lick it much harder and bite it a little bit, not too hard mind you”. This was not at all what I had expected; this was going to be another bad day. “Now you’re getting the hang of it love, you can bite it just a little bit harder and flick your tongue against the end of it, oh yes just like that.” She pushed it hard up against me. “There’s hope for this little bugger girls”.
She pushed herself against me whispering quietly, “Oh yes, oh yes, that’s a good little man.” I had to stop for air, she was smothering me. “All right love, can’t you breathe? Take a good deep breath now and do it a bit more.” I had no choice but to do as she asked.
“Don’t hog him,” said Audrey. “I want some of that”. Just a sec Audrey, you can have him in a minute. Oh god, you’re making me cum”. She moaned loudly. “Oh thank you love you’ve made an old woman really happy”. She whispered. “All right Audrey your turn.”
I moved back. Behind me Audrey had pulled up her skirt and taken off her knickers, she was fingering herself as was Violet in her chair. “Come on then Robert. Crawl over here, now it’s my turn.” There was nothing for it I crawled over to her. It wasn’t as ugly as Mary’s, but was not in the least appealing. It was all wet and sticky. She had more hair on it than Mary but not as much as Violet it was the same mousey color as her hair and much curlier than Mary’s. I just licked it the same as I had for Mary. “Quick little learner aren’t we,” she whispered in my ear, “We’ve all shown you ours; I want to see your little cock. She pushed her hand into my shorts. “Oh ladies he’s got a little stiffy.”
She pushed me back opened my flies then pulled my shots down and rubbed her hand over my pants, “I think he’s got a big one ladies, have you got a big one Robert?” she asked. I had no idea if I had a big one or not and said nothing. “You don’t have to be shy, if you’ve got a big one you can brag about it here; it’s just between us girls.” She kept on rubbing it through my pants. “Are you shy? Well we can tell you if it’s a big one for your age, we’ve seen lots of them, haven’t we girls?”
She kept on rubbing. “Gather around ladies, now for the great unveiling.” The other two came and kneeled beside me and Audrey pulled off my pants. “Oh,” she said, “Now that’s what I call a fine little cock, it is very big for a boy of your age, you’re going to be very popular with the ladies when you grow up, but we like them just the way it is now don’t we girls?” they nodded and all three of them took turns in wanking me. Violet licked it once and started to suck it she worked her tongue on it when it was in her mouth in a way that no one else ever had, I couldn’t help liking it. She looked up at me and said “It’s a beautiful cock Robert, I love it.” She sucked me again and I got “the feeling” stronger than ever before, I decided that I liked Violet. The other two took their turns but it didn’t feel the same as when Violet did it. Mary was nearly as rough as my father.
“Now ladies,” said Violet “It’s my turn for Robert to lick me.” She went back to her chair and opened her legs, Violets looked much nicer than the others and it didn’t taste horrible like theirs did, I sort of liked the taste. I tried to do it better for Violet, she had been gentle to me and done the thing with her tongue and her hair was soft and thick, I actually liked doing it for her. “Oh Robert,” She sighed, “I can see that you and I are going to get on like a house on fire. Just keep on doing what you are doing just like that and I’m going to cum all over your face.” I didn’t know what she meant but I kept on going.
When Violet decided that she’d had enough of me they all adjusted their clothing and Audrey went to find out “How things were doing.” “Do you want to taste my Pony?” she asked. “You have been a good little man and you deserve a treat.” She gave me her glass and I drank. I couldn’t decide if I liked it or not, it was fizzy like pop and it tasted of pears which I liked but it still tasted a bit funny. “Do you like it?” she enquired, “Drink it all up if you do, it’ll make you feel nice and relaxed.” I trusted Violet and drank the whole glass at once. “Carefully does it,” she said, “You don’t want to get drunk now, or do you? You are the little man today aren’t you? All right then you can have a bottle to yourself, you have been a very good boy, but don’t drink it up all at once now”. She gave me a new glass and filled it to the top. She whispered in my ear, “You are going to be my special little friend, and I’m going to take very special care of you later when we start our little game. Just do everything that teacher says and you’ll have the time of your life. You’ll see, you’re a very lucky little boy.” She licked my ear.
Audrey came back. “They are ready for us now.” She turned and Violet took me by the hand and led me off behind her, Mary followed after us. Audrey led us up the stairs and into one of the rooms and I was surprised to find myself in a classroom just like the ones at school.
Caroline and the other girls sat at their desks with their books open, there was one empty desk and Violet ushered me to it, I sat and she told me to open my book to page one. I did as I was asked and Audrey announced, “This is your new teacher Madame de Fleur, she indicated Violet, she comes from Paris and is going to give you French lessons. We are very lucky to have her with us here at St. Johns. Pay attention and work hard for her, any nonsense will not be tolerated and will result in you being sent to the headmaster and he will not deal with you lightly. Later you will be visiting matron for a check up and I will be seeing you later for your English examination I am expecting top marks from everybody, bad results will be punished with detention. Carry on Madame”.
“I will be back shortly” said Violet with a French accent. She winked at me. “Whilst I am gone you will be kind enough to read the first page in your textbooks, I will take your questions when I return.” She turned and left us alone in the classroom. We sat in silence and read our textbooks too shy to speak to one another.
As good as her word Violet returned after just a few minutes, she was now dressed in a white blouse with a silk bow tied at her collar, a very tight pencil skirt with a long slit at the side showing her white thighs over black stockings and a glimpse of a suspender belt, she wore an academic’s gown as did the teachers at my school. She sat at her desk and announced that she would take the register. “Please raise your hand when I callout your name”. She called out our names and one by one we raised our hands. “Angela”. Angela was the oldest girl. “Rosemary”. Rosemary was the other one. “Caroline”. Caroline I knew already. “Robert”. I raised my hand. She enquired if there was anybody who had not yet read the first page. We all put up our hands. Did you not have enough time or is there some difficulty?” she asked. No one answered. “Robert?” “I can’t read any of it” I replied, “Is it French?” “Of course it’s French” she said. “This is a French class. Do none of you read French?” No miss we all mumbled. “You will address me as Madame.” ordered Violet. “It is a disgrace that none of you can read French, we must rectify it, have none of you studied French before?” “No Madame”, we mumbled in chorus. She got up from her desk and went to the blackboard. “Then today we must start with a practical French lesson.” She continued. “Can anyone tell me what French means?” she asked. Angela put up her hand. “Yes Angela?” “It’s a language Madame.” “Indeed it is Angela. The most beautiful language in the world” said Violet, "The language of love. “But is it anything else?” no one raised their hands.
“Robert would you be so good as to come here?” I left my desk and approached Violet. “Kiss me.” she said. She bent down to my level and I kissed her on the lips. “That,” she said was a boring English kiss, with a French kiss you must use your tongues. “Again Robert“. I knew what she expected of me, this was the kiss I had learnt with Caroline“. I obliged by using my tongue as the man had instructed us. “Very good Robert. Watch closely girls, once again with feeling Robert”. She kissed me passionately licking my lips and curling her tongue around mine. “You see how it is done girls. This is the French kiss, French for short. Have any of you kissed in this way before?” none of the girls raised their hands. I felt cheated by Caroline. “Then it is time to learn, who would like to be first?” Rosemary put up her hand immediately. “Very well Rosemary, come here.” Rosemary joined us in front of the blackboard. “Robert show her how it is done,” I kissed Rosemary, it was one thing to kiss Violet who was a grown up and had ordered me to kiss her, but by kissing Rosemary even though I had been ordered to do so, I felt somehow that I was disappointing Caroline in some way. Rosemary kissed me eagerly; she thrust her tongue into my mouth hard and poked around with it. “An admirable attempt at passion Rosemary,” said Violet, “But I would like you to do it more gently, caress his lips and tongue with yours, oui?” Rosemary licked and rolled her tongue eagerly over mine, too eagerly. I didn’t like the way she did it. “That’s better Rosemary, it will come with practice, always remember class, practice makes perfect. You may sit, and who will be next?" No hands were raised this time.
”Angela I think.” She indicated that Angela should come and kiss me. “Now Angela you have seen how it should be done but I will demonstrate once more. She leaned forward once again and slowly and gently caressed my mouth and tongue with hers. It got hard and I tried to hide it. Violet had seen it and smiled. “OK Angela it is your turn.” She changed places with Angela and Angela kissed me, it was clear that she was shy and embarrassed and did not want to do it. As with Caroline I knew she was gingerly doing her best to obey her orders. “Non, non, non,” said Violet. “More passion, is not Robert a handsome boy?” Angela did her best and I tried to help as best I could. “Very well Angela take your place back at your desk, you still have a very long way to go, again practice, practice, practice. Now last but not least Caroline, come and show us what you can do.”
Caroline approached, reluctantly I thought, I was disappointed, if had been able to choose I would have picked Caroline. She stood in front of me, looking as before very vulnerable and shy. I was afraid that I had hurt her before and felt ashamed. We looked at each other and placed our lips together Caroline moved her tongue tenderly across mine and I slid my tongue gently over her lips, she was as before very careful and gentle. I tried to be the same.
“Caroline I see you have hidden talents; I think you have kissed like this many times, non?” Caroline looked at the floor and did not respond. “I want you to kiss me like that, I must feel if you are as accomplished as you seem.” Caroline’s was the best kiss. When Violet bent to kiss her I didn’t like it. I stood and watched and I could see that the kiss was not the same; Caroline hardly moved her tongue at all. “You save all the goodies for our handsome boy I see, all right, but you will learn that we ladies can satisfy our needs in a way that men can never know. Back to your desks mes enfants,"
“That was the French kiss, much better than the English non? We French have one more trick up our sleeves that is also called French; does anybody know what that is?” No response. “First I must know how much you know of anatomy”. Now all of you girls have seen a boys cock oui?” she looked around the class. “Rosemary’s hand went up again. “And you other girls I don’t believe you have never seen one.” Angela and Caroline lifted their hands. “Of course you have seen one, but have you seen one standing to attention as all good cocks should in the presence of a lady?” Again Rosemary’s hand went up like a shot. Violet looked at the other two and they raised their hands. “And Robert, I think you have seen a little girl’s tight little hole have you not? Her pretty little cunt.” I had to put up my hand”.
Good, then we can go to the next stage of our lesson. She went over to the blackboard and drew rough diagrams of the human genetalia. “This Robert is the vagina”. She indicated the drawing. Here are the lips, she indicated the sides, “Here is the clitoris she made a dot with the chalk at the top. “This is the most sensitive place on a woman’s body, and when it is stimulated in the correct way it will make the woman have an orgasm. Do you know what an orgasm is Robert?” I did not. “Have you ever masturbated Robert? Do you wank your little cock? I think you do, and after a while you get a wonderful feeling all through your body, do you not, and spunk shoots out of your little cock, does it not?” she looked wickedly over at me. Then said “Well perhaps you are too young to have spunk, we will see. That feeling is a man’s orgasm. She smiled at the girls I feel so sorry for the boys they only get one at a time. An orgasm girls is the feeling that a woman gets when her clitoris is stimulated.” She pointed to the chalk mark again. “But we girls we are lucky, we can have many orgasms, one after another, different kinds of orgasms, one sort when you stimulate the clitoris and another sort when a man puts his hard cock inside us and fucks us.” I didn’t know any of this, now I knew what “the feeling” was, and now I knew that girls could have “the feeling too I was glad. Perhaps I had not hurt Caroline after all. “Actually, there is another sort, when you lick or fuck us in the ass.” I had seen my father do that to my uncle and had always been scared to death that they would do it to me, I was still sure that that would hurt. “When you open up a woman’s lips you will find another pair of lips, both sets of lips are sensitive and they must not be ignored. Then we come to the breasts,” she ran her hands over her own, we all have nipples but a woman’s are much more sensitive than a man’s, they must be licked and squeezed both gently and hard, you can bite them, but not too hard, and when you do they will get hard and stick out like two little cocks, the clitoris is also like a little cock and will swell up in your mouth. Can you see how hard my nipples are Robert?” I could see that they were poking out under her blouse. I had still never seen a grown up woman’s breasts and I was actually very curious. She pinched them through her blouse and grinned at me.
“And now ladies to the cock, your nipples are not yet fully developed, nor are your pretty little girl’s vaginas, it will get better and better as you get older I promise you. The cock,” she moved to the drawing of a cock, “This my dears is a cock, you all admit that you have seen one, but do you know how best to please one? I think not. This is the head and this is the most sensitive part of a man’s body, especially here, between the head and the body, this is the most sensitive part for most men, some of them like this part better, here at the hole on the top. Some men have skin over the head, at least when it is soft, but some men have it cut off when they are babies. All men like to be wanked and to have their cock’s licked and sucked. Now how many of you have masturbated? All of you, oui, so you all know how nice a feeling you get when you rub your little clitties and push your fingers into your little cunts, you Angela are a little bit older than the others, have you started to get little titties yet, have your nipples gotten more sensitive? Do they get hard now when you play with them?” Angela was silent. “You can tell us angel, we are all friends here”. Angela just looked embarrassed.
“Angel, I like that, I will call you Angel from now on, and Rosemary you will be my little rosebud and I will call you Rose, I don’t like Carol Caroline but we will make it more French, nes pa? I will call you Caroleen in the French way, Robert, what shall I call you? Not Bob, not Rob, not Robby, I like Robert,” she pronounced it in the French way, “Yes Robert and I am of course Madame. So now that we all know who we are we can move on.
She sat on her desk and crossed her legs so that we could see one of her stockinged thighs; she ran her hand over her thigh, “The way that you dress is also very important.” She said, “For now you should know that your little uniforms are very, how should I say? Cute, yes very cute, charmont. Robert,” she pronounced it in that French way, “Please come to the front of the class.” She smiled at me wickedly, “And now we must show these pretty little Mademoiselles your fine little cock.” She unbuttoned my flies and pulled down my shorts and pants, it was hard as usual and I could not hide it from the girls anymore. “Oh ladies, do you see how big it is, Robert is a true gentleman and does not waste our time with a floppy little worm.” She took in her hand and began to wank me, “This is how you should wank a boy, gently at first, and then a little faster like this. Come closer girls, I want you to see this up close, you see I am holding it with just two fingers and my thumb, one finger is pressing on the sensitive part right here, do not squeeze it like a grape, hold it firmly yet gently and pull it lovingly up and down like this, we will get to more advanced methods in another class, Robert has a big cock for a boy so young but he is not yet big enough for me to use my whole hand, he will be when he grows. Your little hands are not as big as mine yet and I think you can use your whole hands, but you can begin with two fingers and a thumb like me. Angela you are the oldest and you may try first.” Angela took it between her fingers and started to wank me. “How does that feel Robert?” she asked, “Is she getting it right?” Angela was doing pretty well I thought. “Yes miss.” I said. “Madame.” Said Violet, “So she is doing well, good girl Angela, do you like the feel of it in your hand? Now you have power, he does not want you to stop, you can tease him by stopping, make him want you more.” She grinned at me. “You do want more don’t you Robert?” I said nothing. “He does want more, trust me girls. Stop Angela, shall we tease him? Who do you want to wank you next Robert? Rose, Caroleen, me? I think you want me, don’t you? My hand knows how to please you best, or maybe Caroleen, perhaps she can wank as well as she kisses? Rose you are next. Rose gripped my cock in the way Violet had shown them but too hard as Violet had warned them not to do. “And how is that Robert? Is Rose as good as Angel? I shook my head. “Too hard nes pa? You must learn to be gentler Rose”. Rose relaxed her grip a little, but Rose was too pushy, too eager, I decided that I didn’t really like Rose. “Now you Caroleen”. I didn’t like the way Violet called Caroline Caroleen. Caroline took over gently from Rose, she was as careful as before, much nicer. I liked the way Violet did it too, but Caroline was the best. I got “the feeling” an orgasm I now knew. Violet missed nothing. “You have made him cum Caroleen; it seems you are as good with your hands as with your lips, shall I let you suck it for him? Yes I think you would like that, would you not Robert? Suck it for him Caroleen”. Caroline did, and I had “the feeling” again, Violet seemed to know everything, she missed nothing. “Robert you dog, you’ve made him cum again Caroleen, you are clearly very good at what you do, or can this be sweet young love I see? I think you are definitely Robert’s favorite”.
“Now mes filles it is time for your pleasure non?” take off your pretty little knickers please. Rose eagerly ripped her knickers off in a second and Caroline and Angela gingerly pulled down theirs and stepped out of them.
(Pages from the Black Book)
The room was dark, filled with abstract shapes in grey and black. Opposite me is the clear form of a window, a dim square of light, casting a dim pathway across the floor to my cot. The cot has high ribbed sides like the bars of a cell; I stand behind the bars clutching them tightly with my tiny hands. The shadowed form of a man walks into the dim light and stands silhouetted between me and the window; I jump up and down and shake the cot, I feel the rush of panic as the cot lurches forward crashing to the floor with a resounding thud, then pain surging through me, filling my entire being.
That is my earliest memory, I have no idea how old I was, old enough at least to stand and understand the concept of pain.
It is the night before my third birthday, the cot is now a bed in the corner of the room, and again there is a dark form, this time bent over me sucking on my willy. It is my father, there is nothing unusual about it; I have no memory of a time when he did not come into my room and suck on my willy every time he bought a flagon, his breath with the usual unmistakable smell of beer. I had always liked him sucking on my willy and “the feeling” that always followed. It was our secret never to be told to anyone, especially not my mother. That night everything changed, I was never to like it again. When he was finished he always took out his own willy and rubbed it over my body pulling on it with his hand until the thick white warm “stuff” shot out of it onto my face, I had never liked the “stuff”. On this night it was very different. “Now you are a big boy” he said “and if you are a really good boy and do as you’re told you’ll get a very special present in the morning.” He took out his big ugly willy as usual and stroked it up and down over my body then he told me I was to lick it like a lollipop. I did as I was told, it didn’t taste nice, but wanting my special present I did it anyway. Then suddenly he was forcing it into my mouth, I struggled in panic choking on it, he held me down and kept going, it was hurting me and I couldn’t breathe, I squirmed and tried to scream and then the “stuff” was flooding my throat and I was choking even more. He left me there gasping for air, choking, and vomiting, sure that I was going to die. I crept into the corner with my pillow, rolled myself into a ball and cried myself to sleep.
It was morning and my mother was dressing me, I don’t remember what was underneath but I have a very clear picture of a pair of blue bib and brace dungarees with red and blue piping on the bib and pockets and big blue buttons fastening the neck strap in place. She took my hand and led me into the garden and stood me in front of the steps leading up to the back door, she started singing “Happy birthday to you” and I heard my father join in through the open door to the kitchen. When he came out he was carrying a large toy garage, there was a green painted base, the garage had rough creamy yellow walls that looked like pebble dash and a curved green roof, it had windows and sliding doors, there were petrol pumps glued in front of it and a green thing at the side of it. He put it down beside the steps and proudly demonstrated the sliding doors and explained that the thing at the side was a car lift, reaching into his pockets he took out three Dinky cars and placed one on the lift and showed me how it worked by pulling a little lever which lifted up the car. Reaching into his pocket again he produced four plastic figures, the first was a man lying on his back holding a spanner in his hand, he placed it under the car on the ramp. “This is a mechanic who can work on the car” he explained “and this one is a petrol pump attendant who woks the pumps” he placed a figure of a man holding a petrol pistol in his hands, beside the pumps and then put a car beside him to be filled. “Here’s another mechanic who can work on the cars” he slid open the garage doors and put a car inside the garage; he placed the third figure, a standing mechanic also sporting a spanner beside it. The fourth figure was a man in blue overalls standing with his arms on his hips, they all had blue overalls. “This one you can do what you like with, he can stand and talk to the other mechanics.” He put the third car on the base with the last figure beside it. “Or he can just talk to the driver if you like. This is where you customers can park their cars by the wall.” He indicated the wooden strips also painted green that traced the edges of the base at the back and sides, then pointed to the front edge” I’ve bevelled the front so that the cars can drive up.” He stood admiringly over his masterpiece, “If I say so myself it’s the best garage I’ve ever seen. I wish my father could have made me a garage like that. You are lucky to have a father like me.”
“And that’s not all” said my mother” she ran into the kitchen and came out with a long thin parcel wrapped up in gift wrapping and presented it to me with a big smile on her face. I just stood there. “Well open it up then.” she said. I did, inside was a cricket bat three stumps two bails and a bright red plastic ball. “I made them too” my father said beaming. “I turned the bails on my drill, looks like I had a lathe doesn’t it? The bat has got a proper rubber grip as well; I made that from an old inner tube from my bike. We’ll have you playing for Glamorgan when you grow up. Say something boy, you could at least give us a kiss and say thank you.” I mumbled a thank you. “Well that’s everything” said my mother, she hugged me and kissed me on the cheek, “Happy birthday love. I think he’s in shock bless him, we’ll leave him to it eh, I’ll get breakfast on the go, enjoy.” My father gave me a hug and they turned and went back into the house.
I stood there and stared at everything. I hated it all, this was my special present and I didn’t want it.
I think I just stood there for quite a while, then I took up the bat, went over to the garage and hit it and hit it till I had no strength left. The pumps had flown off and the lift was completely destroyed, the garage doors were broken but the rest was still more or less whole, I jumped on it, nothing, I kept on jumping until at last the garage came away from the base and upside down rocked on its rounded roof like a cradle and I threw the bat as hard as I could into the bushes.
Shortly afterwards my mother came out calling “Breakfast”, she took one horrified look at the debris and screamed out to my father “ My god Ken come here and see what he’s done!” My father rushed out took one look around, reddened with rage he came straight over to me and slapped me hard. “You ungrateful little bastard. Get up to your room right now and don’t even think of coming out.” He stared dumbfounded at the remnants of his handiwork. “I’m not fixing this you little swine” he shouted after me “I’ll be up to you in a minute and when I do you are in for worst the leathering of your life, you won’t be able to sit down for a month.”
It was not long before he kept his promise, I got the worst spanking I ever remember and was confined to my room for the rest of the day, the birthday party that had been planned did not happen, there was no birthday cake, there was no food of any kind.
The story of the garage and especially the cricket bat was long from over they were to play an important role in the rest of my life.
Many of my childhood memories have been kept alive by my mother’s never ending delight in telling everyone we ever met stories from my early life, the story of the garage was one of them, in her version there was of course no mention of the night before, I was simply an ungrateful child who destroyed the wonderful birthday present my father had worked so hard to make.
My third year was not a good year for me. I never played with the garage or the cricket bat as a garage and a cricket bat but they became my favourite toys; the base of the garage I leaned against the side of the house in the corner between the steps and the wall, I would creep into the space behind it and it became my den, my hideout, sometimes it was an Indian teepee, sometimes the tent of a fearless explorer, a pirate or a bold knight, it was whatever I wanted it to be, it was a place of refuge, a place where I always felt safe, even though my father simply threw it to one side and dragged me screaming to whatever punishment I had earned whenever he chose. The garage itself turned upside down became a canoe, a Viking longboat or a pirate ship and the cricket bat was my trusty paddle. I paddled up mighty rivers into the vast landscape of my imagination.
It was then that I began to plan my escape. Across the road in front of the house there was a river, I was forbidden to ever go there without supervision, but that did not stop me from sneaking off to its banks and throwing stones or splashing around with a stick and getting gloriously wet and muddy. There were of course consequences but I didn’t much care. Across the river was the “Wagon Works” as it was called I never really knew exactly what they did there but loved to watch the comings and goings of the shunters drawing behind them wagons filled with their mysterious unknown cargoes. Behind the Works was a hill and beyond that was a whole unexplored world that I had never seen. As I saw it I had three options; I could paddle my trusty canoe up the river to who knows where, or I could paddle over the river and either sneak past the Works up over the hill to whatever waited there, or sneak onto one of the wagons and see where that took me.
Then one day angry from yet another beating after I decided I would paddle up the river. I plucked up my courage, stole a tin of biscuits from the kitchen, “supplies”, I packed them and my paddle into my canoe and dragged it over to the river, launched it carefully and looked around to be sure no one had seen me, to my dismay I saw my mother running towards me frantically screaming, “Don’t you dare, you could kill yourself.” I hopped quickly into my canoe took up my paddle and began to sink. Fortunately for me my mother got to me in time grabbed me and dragged me struggling and screaming to the bank. Yet another hiding ensued. I never saw my canoe again, and began to plan another means of escape.
Some time passed by and I started sneaking off to the riverbank again, there to my surprise and pleasure I found my cricket bat washed into the roots of a tree that hung over at the edge of the river. I managed to pull it out from the tangle of other rubbish that had accumulated there and took it home. My trustee paddle was back again and I was not going to have it taken away from me, I hid it carefully with my other treasures in my secret hiding place under the garden shed. Now that my paddle was back I could begin to plan in earnest. I waited my chance and one day it came. My father came home one day with a large cardboard box full of stuff he that he had taken from work, immediately I saw the box I knew I had another boat, not as good as my old canoe but good enough to take me over the river. This time I would plan things more carefully. I waited for my opportunity and did not have to wait long, my father was safely away at work and my mother announced that she was going to take a bath, now was the perfect time. I emptied the box retrieved my paddle from its hiding place and made for the river. Wasting no time I launched my second craft hopped in and started paddling for all I was worth, I didn’t get very far before once again I started to sink this time I had gotten further from the bank and it was much deeper, the water came quickly into the box and I began to sink, I couldn’t swim and I should have drowned but luck was with me once again. A man walking along the other side of the river had seen what was happening and dived in to save me, he dragged me to the bank apparently still firmly clutching my cricket bat. Knowing something of lifesaving he managed to get the water from my lungs and coughing and spluttering I revived. It was a very close call, he shouted for help and the whole street came out to see what was going on, with my distraught mother in tow one of our neighbours drove me to the hospital. I had come to no real harm, but this time there were to be serious repercussions. After a story in the local paper calling for action and a petition from all the worried parents in the neighbourhood accusing them of negligence, letters to MP’s and god knows what else the local council was forced to build a high fence that was impossible for me to climb along the whole length of the river. It did not stop me from trying and that in its turn led me to find my cricket bat again which was as before promptly hidden, I was to fervently wish I had never found it.
Somewhere around this time there was another incident. My mother could not find me and assumed that I had sneaked off to the river again, ran in panic to look for me, not finding me there she returned home and began scouring the house to no avail, then returning to the garden she saw that there was something strange going on at the railway line that could be seen a short distance away from the house. There was a train that had stopped there which would not normally happen and she could see that they were carrying something from the tracks in front of the train, immediately thinking that I had run off and been run over by the train she ran to the scene in a blind panic. It wasn’t me; the unfortunate victim was a sheep. My mother returned to the garden still in shock and eventually found me kneeling in my fathers shed, he bred budgerigars as a hobby and I was in the process of pushing carrots through the bars of the cages oblivious to her having called my name. When she saw me she started crying, calling me a little bastard and slapped me very hard across the face, I don’t believe she had ever really given me more than a light slap on the legs before that day, it shocked me deeply and wounded me to the core. I loved my mother very much; she was the one who comforted me, when my father had hurt me washed my cuts and put ointment on my scrapes and bruises, she wasn’t supposed to hurt me. I continued to love her of course, but something was broke that day and was never really fixed, I have never forgotten that moment, as an adult I now understand why she did it and I can forgive her for that but just then I did not understand why. I hardly knew that it was wrong to feed carrots to the birds and thought her violent reaction came from nowhere. It was followed by words that I had heard before and was to hear many times again; “You are no son of mine” she said. “They mixed you up when you were babies. You don’t even have blue eyes”. I don’t think I really understood what she was saying at that age but it was a phrase that was to hurt me deeply when I was old enough to understand its implication, then I thought it was just a hurtful expression but in time I was to understand that it was much, much more than that.
There were a lot of stories, not all of them were bad, some of them were funny stories about things that I otherwise would not have remembered. Most of her stories were about my attempts to escape. I have to believe that she didn’t know why.
I don’t know if it was a result of my near drowning, or if it was something my parents had anyway planned to do but not so long afterwards we moved house. This involved a complete rethinking of my plans for escape.
My aunt and uncle along with two of my cousins took over the old house and whilst visiting them I had the opportunity of retrieving my cricket bat and sneaking it back to the new house. It seemed fated to be mine, always to be found no matter what. My father was to find me playing with it shortly afterwards and to my surprise he didn’t throw it away, instead he tied a leather loop onto the handle and hung it on a nail on the wall of my new bedroom too high up for me to reach. There it would always sit, he informed me, to remind me that I should do as I was told and there it was to hang for many years; I learned to truly hate it, I would try many times to hide it, throw it away and even burn it, fate always brought it back to me.
He still came into my room at night, nothing changed there. He did not try to stick his Willy into my mouth again for quite some time but the fear that he might never left me. As I grew a little bit older I tried more often to refuse him, he simply covered my mouth and carried on, I was not strong enough to stop him. I never told my mother but when I began to be old enough I felt ashamed of what he did but I could not help but like “the feeling”. I often wondered if she knew. I tried to believe that she didn’t.
When I was about five years old things took a turn for the worse, I decided that I didn’t want him to do it anymore and that I was now big enough to stop him. I was wrong.
I was now at least able to make it much more difficult for him, I could squirm much harder and I did everything I could to make it unpleasant for him, I learned that I could pee in his mouth, defecate and force myself to vomit, at first all of these methods seemed to work; I always got slapped but I took my punishment like a man, however he was soon to find another way to stop my resistance.
The first time he punched me with all his strength in the face it came as an enormous shock, I was almost knocked out completely and gave no more resistance for a while. At breakfast the next morning he told my mother I had fallen down the stairs the night before to explain the black eye, the swelling and the split in my lip. The look in his eyes told me the consequences of not backing up his story. I was a clumsy child always falling and cutting and bruising myself and my mother accepted the explanation without question. More and more I came to hate his visits, he had been more drunk than usual the first time he punched me and I chanced my luck again with my tactics to stop him, I felt that my efforts were paying off again when he punched me again, this time in the stomach which was even worse, I lost my breath and gasped for air, it felt as if everything inside of me was crushed. That kept me quiet for a while, but not for long, it was then I learned to hate the cricket bat.
He started wanting more and more from me, licking and rubbing his Willy was now the norm but when he started pushing his finger into my bum and started trying to force it into my mouth again it was war, I peed and soiled myself, screamed and fought him tooth and nail, he punched me regularly now and I had learned to take it without giving in. Then one day my mother told me that my grandfather was ill and that she would be staying at his house to look after him until he got better, I begged to be allowed to go with her but she wouldn’t give in and take me. I knew that things were going to be bad when she was away it always was.
My father had a friend from work around for a drink that night and I was sent to bed early and when his friend had gone he came to my room as usual. After punching me several times without the desired effect his eye fell upon the cricket bat hanging in its place on the wall untouched since he had put it there. He reached up, took it down and without a word hit me with it hard squarely across my shins, I had never felt such pain and I screamed so loudly that he had to cover my head with a pillow so that I couldn´t wake the entire neighbourhood. I think that he was afraid of what he had done and he left me alone crying to myself I in agony until the morning. That morning early he came into my room and dressed me, he carried me to the car and drove me away, he told me that he was taking me to the hospital and that I had fallen from the window, I was instructed to say nothing at all to the doctor but simply to nod or shake my head if he asked me a question. Nothing was broken and I was taken home. After that he always took the cricket bat from the wall when he came to my room and placed it at the side of the bed, for a long time I did exactly as I was told.
Escape was what I had to do now and I tried many times.
I had gotten a three wheeler bike for Christmas with a small trunk built between the back wheels like the boot of a car and periodically I packed the boot with “supplies” and tried to peddle my way to freedom. I was always caught. When my mother took me with her into town shopping I hid myself away waiting my chance to run away, she never found out how I could disappear in a big store without being found, my trick was to creep between the coats or dresses where they hung on the rails, take hold of the rail and pull my legs up so that they could not be seen from the side. My mother, the shop assistants, the store detectives and even sometimes the police spent many hours looking for me without ever finding my hiding place, but I could never quite manage to get out of the door without getting caught. Eventually I was banned from Marks and Spencer and I was watched like a hawk in all the other stores. It was to take some time before I was able to make a more successful escape.
Things continued to be tough at home. The cricket bat across the shins became something that happened all too often, I find it hard to believe that anyone could believe that I could have so many terrible accidents, always injuring myself in the same place. He of course learned just how hard he could hit me and where it would least show, there were no more visits to the hospital unless I really did hurt myself badly which was pretty often and probably helped cover his lame explanations. That my mother did not know what was happening was difficult to believe, but I did. I could never allow myself to believe that she did, it would have broken me completely.
Other people started to come to my room when my mother was away and that was all too often with my grandfather’s declining health, my father’s brother was a beast and my cousin was not much better. It was much worse with them, they hurt me and they laughed and showed me graphically what I could look forward to when I got bigger.
My father began to go to London to work, sometimes he was away for months at a time, I looked forward to those times and allowed myself to hope that he would never come back. He always did, and when the announcement that we were to go with him to live in London for a while came it was a terrible disappointment.
The move was to create even more problems. I, like all other schoolboys had my fair share of trouble with bullies and in London I was the new boy at school and it was worse. They all laughed at my Welsh accent and thought me very stupid because I had not covered the same things in my old class that they had covered in theirs. The boot was on the other foot of course when we went over something that I had already done at my old school that they hadn’t done, then I was a swat, a show off and they treated me with just as much contempt. We never stayed long enough in London for me to get over those problems because of my father’s work we spent a few months in London and then a few months back in Wales and when I went back there the Welsh kids bullied me for having a cockney accent, I could never win. This way of living was to go on until I was twelve. At least when we lived in London I was away from my hated uncle and cousin.
I think I was about seven and we were living in London, I was instructed to put on my best clothes and was taken off in the car by my father, it was unusual that he should take me anywhere without my mother. I was told that we were going to visit some of my father’s friends who were very much looking forward to meeting me, I at once smelled a rat but I could never in my wildest dreams have imagined what was to come.
We arrived at a very big house and my father rang the bell, the door was answered by a little woman who asked who we were, my father explained and she disappeared into the house, a few moments later she came back, gave my father an envelope and said that she would take me in. she told my father that he should come back to pick me up later. I was horrified and stood in amazement as my father simply turned away and walked back to the car.
She took my hand and led me into the house. She closed the door and bolted it then she led me to a small doorway at the back of the stairs, she opened it and told me to go down the steps where the gentlemen of the house would receive me. I started down the stairs and she closed the door behind me. The stairs were dark but I could see that there was a light at the bottom and feeling very scared I continued on down. When I arrived at the bottom I got really frightened, it looked like a dungeon from a film, there were chains hanging from the walls and ceiling and strange contraptions standing against the wall and there were two very big men standing in the middle of the room dressed in leather hoods and trousers and had what seemed to be studded belts crossing their shoulders. They looked like the executioners that I had seen in films and I was terrified. I just stood there too afraid to move. They said nothing and started to walk towards me. I turned and ran back up the stairs but the door was locked and I had nowhere else to run. One of the men had followed me up the stairs and he picked me up and carried me unceremoniously back to the cellar. He held me firmly whilst the other man took off my clothes. I was carried over to a sort of frame thing and the other man tied my wrists and ankles to the frame. It was completely silent they said nothing and I was so afraid that I could neither cry out nor struggle. They took more rope and tied it around my neck and tied that fast to the frame, tied another rope around my waist and knotted that to both sides of the frame. I was stretched out in the middle of that frame and I couldn’t move a muscle.
I had felt pain before, my father; my uncle and my cousin had all really hurt me. This was not the same, the pain started slowly, first they put a ball into my mouth and put a strap over my mouth around my head to hold it in place and then they used clamps to hang small weights from my body, my arms, my legs, my nipples, everywhere. The more clamps they put on me the more it hurt. They worked slowly, silently and methodically, they tied a string around my Willy and pulled it very tight they put clamps on my ears and my cheeks, they fastened clamps with weights to my hair and then they systematically added more weights to every string. The pain crept slowly through my body getting worse and worse, tears rolled in a steady stream down my face, spit dribbled down my chin and sweat poured from every pore in my body. As if that was not enough they drew up the frame so that it hung from the ceiling, and then they twisted the frame around and around. When they released the frame it spun around very quickly and as the frame spun the weights flew out until they stood out straight from my body stretching the flesh unbelievably tight, I screamed and I screamed and passed out.
When I regained consciousness the weights were gone, I was lying on my back tied to a table with only the gag in my mouth and the string tied to my Willy, it was swollen and blue and my entire body was full of red angry marks from the clamps. Pins and needles surged through me and I pulled against the ropes to no avail. I was a captive of the cruel brutes and still in their dungeon. The men climbed on to the table wanking themselves until their “stuff” shot over my chest, it burned like fire, they kneeled one on each side of me and gently rubbed it in into my skin. I passed out again and woke up on the back seat of my father’s car. I pretended to be still asleep and when we arrived back at our flat he carried me to my bed and tucked me in very very gently.
When I recovered from that after two weeks lying in bed covered in calamine lotion for the chicken pox my father claimed I had been suffering from, I had a plan. I had thought of nothing but escape for the entire fortnight, this plan was foolproof.
My mother often went up to London on the train, usually with me in tow so I knew where the station was and I knew that small children didn’t need a ticket. We had taken the “Big Train” to Wales a few times to visit my grandparents. Therein was the seed of my plan. I had on one occasion taken the hand of a woman who was wearing a coat that looked very much like my mothers and walked onto the platform with her. I assume that her own child was around somewhere going under his own steam and neither of us realized at first that we were a mismatched pair, that was the way to do it, simply latch on to an adult and act as if she was my mother, hop on to the train and take myself to the centre of London. When there my plan was to simply disappear into the crowd and move on to a better place, I never knew where that place was but I was sure that it was out there somewhere.
I was taken to school as usual and waved to my mother as she turned to go home. I had a lump in my throat, but my mind was made up. Instead of going to class I walked once around the school building and went back out through the gates, I walked to the station and waited for a suitable looking mother, there soon came a mother with two children, I tagged along and the ticket man didn’t even look at me, I sat on a bench and when the train came in I followed my surrogate family, climbed onto the train and sat opposite them until we got to London. The mother and my brother and sister got out of the train at a station before Charring Cross, I didn’t see that as to big a problem, I could not see another mother in my carriage but was confident that I could find one at Charring Cross. I got out of the train and looked around, there were lots of mothers to choose from, and I followed one who had a boy of about my age out of the station and kept on following them. She took an escalator down to the underground. I had travelled the underground many times with my mother, and I thought it was a good idea to keep on following them. No one paid me any attention and when they got out of the train I followed suit. They took another escalator up from the underground and I found myself standing on the platform of Euston station. I knew that if I could get on a train here it would take me a long way from my father. The mother trick was working really well, I would stick with it. There were a number of families on the platform I was standing on and a long train with lots of carriages to choose from was standing there right in front of me, I didn’t know where it was going and I didn’t much care. Most of the families with children were waving their goodbyes to somebody on the platform and climbing onto the train carrying their suitcases. It was time to decide who my new family should be before they all got onto the train and left me alone. There was a boy about my age playing with a model plane being hurried along by a kind looking mother just a little bit further up the platform, I caught up with them and followed them onto the train.
When we got inside she looked around for some vacant seats, found some and started stowing away their luggage and when she was finished I ambled over. The boy was still playing with his plane on the seat opposite his mother and I asked him if I could see it, rather reluctantly he handed it over to me, it was an Airfix kit Spitfire, I had made one just like it myself, mine was better but his was not bad, I gave it a couple of swoops and a dive to attack making shooting noises. “It’s a spitfire isn’t it?” I said, “Did you make it yourself?”. “Oh yes “he replied, “I’ve got lots of them at home.” “Me too.” I grinned, “I love making planes”. I sat in the seat beside him and asked if I could stay and play for a bit. The mother asked me where my mother was. I had to think for a moment but I told her that she was sitting further back. “Go and ask your mother if it’s all right and tell her where you are.” she instructed. “It’ll be nice for you both to have some company on the journey it’s a long way to Edinburgh.” Now I knew where we were going. Perfect. “Is that where you are going too?” she asked. “Yes it is.” I replied. “Run along and ask then.” she encouraged. I got up and walked to the next carriage. I looked around and saw another family sitting there; she was going to have to be my mother. I said nothing but turned and went back to sit with my new friend.
On the journey to Edinburgh there were a few close calls, I was periodically sent back to sit with my mother for a while to report that all was well. The first time I was a little unsure as to what I should do. I went into the other carriage and stared at the lady I had decided should be my mother. She looked quite nice, but I couldn’t think what I should say to her. Then she looked up and saw me “You look lost love.” she said, “Can’t you find your mother?” I thought hard, “Oh no,” I replied, “my mother is in the next carriage, I was just bored and I’m having a look around.” Her daughter was looking at me and smiling, she looked about my age but girls were not so easy to be friends with, they always wanted you to play shop or be daddy to their dolls or something. They were eating sandwiches. “Would you like one love?” she enquired. “Yes please.” I replied. I was really hungry. “Come and sit over here” she said. “Would you like ham or cheese?” I sat down and took a ham sandwich. The girl was staring at me with a stupid grin on her face; I didn’t know what to say. The other mother had found us and she came over, “Oh here you are she said “I see its time for a bite to eat.” She turned to my mother and said “The boys are having a rare old time playing with planes and soldiers.” “That’s nice for them said the other mother.” It’s hard for kids to sit still for so long on the train, perhaps it would be alright for my daughter to join them later; it’s so much nicer for them to be with kids their own age.” “No trouble at all just send them over whenever you like.” she said and she continued up the carriage. Now they each thought that the other one was my mother, it couldn’t have worked out better and I just switched from one to the other when I was sent away. Thankfully the girl didn’t want to play with us and when I sat with them she just sat with a funny look on her face and grinned.
I was a bit scared when the conductor came around but he never questioned anything.
When we neared Edinburgh I was unsure which mother I should follow, the first one sent me back to the other one as we neared the station, and when I came to that one she told me that it was time to get ready to get off the train and that I should go back to my other mother. I tried to melt into the background. When the train came into the station they both got off the train, I hung back watching them through the window, they started talking to each other and I could see them both looking around for me, they called over the conductor from the train, and I could see them both pointing and looking very worried talking nineteen to the dozen. I knew that the game was up when the conductor called over a policeman and they stared pointing this way and that. The mothers stood their ground looking up and down the platform. I hid in the toilet. It was not long before there came a knock on the door and a deep voice announced that he was a policeman and that I had to open the door. I was presented to the mothers for identification. They asked me where my mother was and I pointed to the gate. I refused to speak to anyone.
I was taken to the police station and given over to the custody of a policewoman who questioned me but I refused to answer. After a while I was given food and a very large scary sergeant came and asked again who I was and where I came from. I stubbornly refused to speak. Some time went by and I was put to bed in a cell. I thought I was going to be jailed there for life but I was not going to talk to anyone anyway. The next morning I had a new minder. I wasn’t kept in the cell but put to sit in an office and I was questioned again and again by different police officers. I wouldn’t talk. In the end they found out who I was of course. My parents had reported me missing in London and they could tell from their description that it was me.
I was put on the train and taken back to London by a very nice policewoman. She asked me lots of questions and I decided that there was no longer any point in keeping quiet so I answered most of them. She was both amazed and amused by my plan. She asked me if I had any problems at home and I told her that I did not. She asked me straight out if my father hit me or touched me in a “funny” way. I denied everything, it was a mistake of course but I could never talk to anyone about what was happening to me.
There were severe repercussions when I eventually arrived home, my mother rushed to me with tears in her eyes and hugged me as if she would never let me go. My father appeared truly glad that I was home but I got a serious “talking to”. The new rules were strict, I was not allowed to go anywhere by myself for a very long time and when I went to school I was delivered into the hands of my teacher who always watched me like a hawk and at the end of classes I had to wait with my teacher until my mother picked me up. The story soon got around to the other kids at school and that was the only good part, I became a hero with my classmates and never had any more trouble with the bullies. Suddenly lots of boys wanted to be friends and in school time they were but after school I was never allowed to play with anybody.
When I was eight we returned to Wales and my father never went away to work again. Whether that was a result of my escape or because his work there was over I don’t know.
Life went on as usual until one day when my mother was away looking after my grandfather a strange man came to the house holding a little girl by the hand. We went up to my room; a flagon of beer was opened. The man had a small suitcase which he opened, he took out a tripod which he set up and produced a camera which he screwed to the tripod. The little girl and I sat awkwardly on my bed and waited to see what was going to happen. My father fetched two chairs and they sat joking together and drinking beer, more beer was fetched and drunk until they eventually turned their attention to us.
The strange man took up position behind the camera and my father came up to us and explained that he was going to take our pictures. We were instructed to stand in front of the camera and hold hands and the man took a couple of pictures. We were then instructed to turn to face each other and kiss. Awkwardly I leaned forward and kissed the girl on the cheek. “Not like that” he said “A proper kiss on the lips”. I had seen grownups kiss like that but had never kissed anyone like that myself. We haltingly put our lips together and quickly pulled away from each other. “You have to hold the kiss longer” the man said, we put our lips together again and awkwardly held the pose.
We had not really made eye contact since she came through the front door. I know my eyes were closed and I think hers were too. “Look lovingly into her eyes.” He said from behind the camera. We reluctantly looked each other in the eye looking like two frightened rabbits. He kept taking pictures, “Stick out your tongues and do this.” He said and stuck out his tongue and slowly rolled it around. We did as we were told. “Now kiss again with your mouths open and stick your tongues into each other’s mouth and roll your tongues around like that”. Looking at each other with panic in our eyes we tried to do as we were told. It wasn’t easy and after a lot more irritated instructions we managed to do what he seemed to want. It was a strange sensation unlike anything I had experienced before. The girl was extremely gentle and I was trying to be the same. “Alright, now I want you to slowly open her belt and unbutton her dress.”
She was wearing a sort of shirt dress of black and white gingham that buttoned all the way down the front, it was quite short and she had a shiny black plastic belt at her waist; the sleeves were short and trimmed with a narrow band of white lace, she had a red ribbon tied in a bow in her hair which was a pale blonde colour almost white, she had white ankle socks and red crepe soled sandals of the type every schoolgirl wore at that time. She was younger than me, about six I think. As an eight year old boy I had no appreciation for how a girl looked but the picture of her standing there before me has never left me, I now know that she was very pretty child.
With shaky fingers I did as I was told. Underneath she wore a white vest and knickers with a tiny pink bow and a tiny embroidered pink heart at the front. I could feel her trembling.
The man kept on taking pictures. “Take it off and throw it over here.” At this point my father took out his willy and started rubbing himself; I saw that she had seen him and she turned to look the other way. She was neither skinny nor fat, a sort of girl version of me, she was clearly embarrassed and I could see her goose pimples and knew that she was cold.
“Go round behind her and put your arms around her and kiss her on the neck” he instructed. “That’s it; now put one hand on her tit and the other on her cunt”. I knew the words but grownups didn’t say them to kids. I hesitated, feeling at the same time awkward, shy and sorry and I tried to do as he said without really touching her. “Get a grip boy” he said and I touched her very gently. “Now slowly pull off her vest. Like that, yes, now go back round to the front.” She stood there in just her knickers looking very small. She didn’t look at me and not knowing where I should look I stared at the floor. “Put one arm around her and suck her nipple. Stick your tongue out and do this.” He stuck out his tongue and flicked it quickly from side to side. “Now do that to her nipple. Yes good, good, now very slowly pull down her knickers. Let them stay on her ankles, kneel down and lick her cunt like a lollipop”. This was really weird, I had seen a naked girl on the beach and I knew that they had a hole instead of a willy but I had never seen one this close before. I licked it. “Lick it again, and keep on licking it until I tell you to stop.” She tasted of soap. I tried to be very gentle. I knew that this was the same kind of invasion that my father did to me.
“Now you’ve got a real hard on haven’t you?” He said to my father.” What do you say to another pint?” my father laughed and poured them both another drink.” This is a whole new world.” he said “I’m bursting at the seams.”
They just left us, her standing there naked, me on my knees licking her, I stopped and edged back. “Don’t stop.” Said the man, and pulled out his willy, it was hard, much smaller than my fathers and really veiny and ugly. They sat for a while wanking and drinking beer, they talked to each other, but their eyes were fixed on us.
“Do that thing with your tongue down there.” They continued wanking. “I’m going to have to show you aren’t I”. He came over to us. Here at the top, can you see that tiny little thing there? That’s where you have to do it”. He demonstrated. “You do it now like that”. He went back to his beer. I did the thing with my tongue very very gently.
After their glass of beer, the man went back to his camera. “Now Caroline, it’s time for you to take off his clothes” he said. “Change places with him so you are on the inside. Now I want you to open the buttons of his shirt. Start at the top and work your way down slowly.” She did as she was asked.
I had not heard her name until then, now I knew that it was Caroline. It felt somehow better to know her name. I didn’t think she knew what mine was yet.
Caroline unbuttoned my shirt and was instructed to go behind me and take it off, she was then instructed to kiss my neck and the man continued to take his pictures. She was instructed to put her hand into my shorts and touch my “cock”. She complied. My Willy responded to her touch becoming hard, as it always did at the touch of another’s hand. I hated that it did that with all the men but I couldn’t help it.
This was different; she touched me tenderly, somehow apologetically. “Now come around to the front unbutton his shorts, take them down to his ankles and rob his cock though his pants. That’s good just like that”. He instructed her “I see you’ve got a nice little hard on Rob. That’s a good boy.” Now pull his pants down. Step out of them Rob. Good, good. Now grab his cock and wank him a bit”. She knew how to do it and I knew that she’d had to do it for her father. “That’s the way” he said. “I think we’ll have a bit more kissing. No don’t let go of his cock and don’t forget the tongues”. He was taking lots of pictures now. “Wait a minute I’ll have to change the film again.” He had already changed the film several times.
“That’s that. Get down on your knees Caroline and wank him a bit more then suck his cock.” Caroline took my Willy into her mouth and gently slid her mouth up and down, just like the men did. It was clear she had, like me, been given lessons as to what to do and had to do it to it to her father. I assumed it was her father.
It felt very nice having Caroline sucking my cock, despite everything I had always liked the actual feeling even with the men, Caroline was much more gentle and the feeling was much nicer. “Look him in the eye when you do it. Yes that’s good. Now look at the camera. Good, good. “Now I want you to go over and lay down on the bed, we’re going to do something a little bit different. You’re going to like this.”
Caroline did as she was instructed. “Now Rob lie down on the bed between her legs and lick that little button some more.” Now she knew my name at least, I hoped that made her feel better too.
“Now comes the good bit” he said, “I want you to push your cock into her cunt. “I was surprised, alarmed, and scared that it would hurt Caroline, maybe me too. “Come on now boy you’re going to like this, it might be a bit hard to get it in but keep on pushing and it will feel nice when it’s in.” I tried to push it in.” A bit lower down you’ve got to get the angle right.” I tried again and surprisingly it just slipped in very easily. “Now slide it in and out.” It came out again. “Try again you’ll soon get the hang of it.” After a few tries I sort of got the hang of it. Caroline was looking at me clearly as scared and surprised as I was. I thought it felt nice, I hoped it felt nice for her. I didn’t think it could. I was sure it must be hurting her and I was trying to be as gentle as I could. “Feels good doesn’t it Caroline?” she didn’t say anything but I hoped that it did.
The man took his camera from the tripod and came over to us and took some pictures very close up. Then he replaced it and came over again. He leant over and licked Caroline’s button. “Oh, I can taste the juices running.” He said. “Come and taste this.” My father came over and started eagerly licking Caroline. I didn’t like them doing that. “We’ll get to that later.” He said. “I want to get these pictures done first.” I was glad my father did as he was told for once. He went back to his chair and kept on wanking.
I was beginning to hope that maybe Caroline was not getting hurt, I wanted to ask her but I didn’t dare to speak.
I got “the feeling”. I think Caroline knew and I felt guilty. I kept on sliding it in and out anyway; the man had not said that I could stop. After a while he did and I was instructed to lie beside Caroline.
“I think I’ve got some great shots there Ken. Shall we have another beer before the real fun starts?” My father filled their glasses and they sat and drank. “I’m really looking forward to this.” He said. “You take after your father.” He said to me. “Well you’re not virgins anymore, it was good wasn’t it?” Neither of us replied we just laid there. I was confused by my emotions, and I was dreading what would happen next. My Willy was still hard. It always was.
They sat drinking and laughing for a while, then my father jumped to his feet; he took off all his clothes and the man did the same. Now it’s going to start, I thought. My father took his cock in his hand, “Stone hard.” He said and started wanking really fast. “I’m going to cum like I’ve never cum before.”
They stood there for a bit, pulling on their big ugly cocks and then they came over to us. My father came to Caroline’s side of the bed and the man to mine. My heart sank. They leaned over and the man started sucking me. I could see that my father was licking Caroline and then he forced his finger into her. I was filled with loathing by them both. I had never talked to any of my friends about it but I hadn’t thought that it was the same for them. Now I began to think that maybe all fathers were the same.
After a while my father kissed poor Caroline then he shot his “stuff” all over her face and groaned with pleasure. Shortly afterwards the man shot his stuff all over me, he just shot it and shot it and shot it, I had never seen so much before. “I’ve got an idea he exclaimed, he rushed back to his camera, “Lick it all up Caroline, every last drop, and stick your ass up in the air while you’re doing it. These are going to be the best pictures ever, wait until I show the boys.”
My mother came home the next day and it was a couple of weeks before she was to go away again. When she did my father instructed me to put on my school uniform and I knew that something was going to happen.
We got into the car and he told me I was going to meet Caroline again. I was quite pleased, it was a lot better with her than with my uncle and my horrible cousin. I wished that her father was not going to be there, but I knew he would be.
We drove quite a long way and pulled up in front of a big house, much nicer than ours and I thought that the man must be rich.
My father rang the bell and I was surprised when it was opened by a woman, I assumed that it was Caroline’s mother and began to think that maybe nothing bad was going to happen after all. We went in and we were led into the parlour two men were sitting there with what I assumed were their wives, the man was there and on the far side of the room Caroline and two other girls. They were both older than her; one girl looked about my age and the other one a bit older. The grownups were drinking beer and whatever it was that the women drank; the children had glasses of pop with straws. This must be some sort of party I thought; perhaps it was Caroline’s birthday. I was presented to the adults as Robert, I wasn’t told anybody else’s name.
“Go and sit with the girls.” Instructed the lady, “Would you like a glass of pop?” I nodded and went over to sit cross-legged on the floor with the other children. She poured my father a glass of beer then came over and gave me a glass of orange pop. “Aren’t you a handsome boy in your school uniform?” she said. The girls were also dressed in their school uniforms.
The grownups talked and laughed among themselves and we kids were left to sit on our side of the room; I had glanced at Caroline and caught her eye but we were all to shy to say anything to each other.
After they had drunk a few beers they had started talking and laughing louder as grownups always did. The man got up and asked “Shall we go and get everything organized lads?” they went out and the lady that had answered the door and instructed Caroline to take the girls into the kitchen and help “Arthur” to put out the cakes so that we ladies can introduce ourselves to Robert”. Caroline sent me a look of sympathy and the girls got up and marched out.
“This is Mary”, she indicated the oldest lady who reminded me of my auntie Mary who always wore too much lipstick and insisted on kissing my cheek leaving the imprint of her lipstick behind. She had grey hair with a blue rinse. “And this is Violet” she pointed to the youngest of them, a woman in her early twenties, she was very pretty with big brown eyes and long very dark hair, almost black. She wore it brushed over one shoulder and she was dressed in a black velvet dress a bit like my mother’s best dress but even nicer. They were all dressed up to the nines, Mary had on a dress printed with big roses that looked like my grandmother’s curtains. “My name is Audrey” announced the third woman. She was about the same age as my mother with permed mousey hair; she was wearing a grey twin set with a white blouse that had lace at the neck and an enormous brooch that looked very expensive.
She took up her glass “I’m going to have another Port and Lemon, would you like one Mary? Another Pony Violet?” They both nodded and she fixed the drinks. “Do you want another glass of pop love?” she asked. I shook my head. She told me to come over and sit beside her. I reluctantly did as she asked. She was sitting in an armchair and it was a bit of a squeeze but she made some room for me.
“Isn’t he a handsome boy girls? His father tells me that he’s a very good little boy, and he’s never been with women like us before.” She brushed her fingers through my hair. “You’ve never had a good look at a grown up woman have you love? Would you like to give him his first look Violet?”
Violet smiled at me and asked “Would you like to see Robert?” I didn’t know what she was going to show me but I nodded anyway. “Oh look girls he’s nodding, he’s as curious as all the other dirty little boys. Are you a dirty little boy Robert? Well it’s your lucky day Robert.” She said, “I’m going to show you something that all dirty little boys want to see but never do.” She lifted up her dress so that I could see her knickers, they were white and shiny. “Aren’t they the prettiest panties you have ever seen?” she asked. She put her hand between her legs and rubbed suggestively. I was shocked and my jaw dropped. “He’s shocked Ladies.” She giggled, and then she slipped her hand into her knickers, and asked, “Would you like to see what’s inside them?” she giggled again, “Well alright you cheeky boy you’ve talked me in to it.” She leaned back and watching my reaction the whole time took off her knickers. There was a lot of hair there, I knew that women had it but I had never seen it, she kept her legs tightly closed, “I know you’ve seen Caroline’s pretty little cunt but this is altogether another thing”. She smiled at me and slowly opened her thighs. “What do you think Robert? Isn’t that a beautiful cunt?” she opened it up to show it to me. “Well now you know what a real woman looks like you lucky dirty little man.” She pushed her fingers into it and moaned. “Mary I think he wants to see what yours looks like.”
Mary lifted her dress, she was much older and had ugly white puffy thighs, she pulled down her knickers and revealed a very different sight, it was all skrinkly with a lot less hair around it, what was there was a sort of mousey grey.
Audrey rubbed her hand over my Willy. “Hold your horses Audrey.” said Mary. ”Come over here and get a good look:” she ordered me. I didn’t want to do that. Audrey pushed me towards her. “Go on love”, she urged ”Go and have a good look.”
I reluctantly went closer to Mary. She opened her legs even wider. “Get your face right up here and see it up close.” She ordered. I went a bit nearer. “I bet you’d like to lick my clitty wouldn’t you love? Well go on then, it won’t bite.” I didn’t know what a clitty was but I assumed that it was another word for cunt and I really didn’t want to touch it. I didn’t move from the spot. “I thought your father said you were a good boy.” She said. “Do as you’re told now lovely boy, we don’t want to have to call him in here now do we?” I reluctantly leaned forward, licked it once very quickly and moved back to a safe distance. “Now that will never do, will it? And that’s not my clitty either, this is my clitty.” She rubbed her finger on a fold of skrinkly flesh hiding a pink thing at the top. “Now be a good boy and come and lick it for me. Lick it like a nice juicy lollipop.” I didn’t want my father to come and I didn’t know what else to do, so I licked it. It wasn’t nice, it smelled and tasted awful. “You don’t have to be so careful” she said. “Lick it much harder and bite it a little bit, not too hard mind you”. This was not at all what I had expected; this was going to be another bad day. “Now you’re getting the hang of it love, you can bite it just a little bit harder and flick your tongue against the end of it, oh yes just like that.” She pushed it hard up against me. “There’s hope for this little bugger girls”.
She pushed herself against me whispering quietly, “Oh yes, oh yes, that’s a good little man.” I had to stop for air, she was smothering me. “All right love, can’t you breathe? Take a good deep breath now and do it a bit more.” I had no choice but to do as she asked.
“Don’t hog him,” said Audrey. “I want some of that”. Just a sec Audrey, you can have him in a minute. Oh god, you’re making me cum”. She moaned loudly. “Oh thank you love you’ve made an old woman really happy”. She whispered. “All right Audrey your turn.”
I moved back. Behind me Audrey had pulled up her skirt and taken off her knickers, she was fingering herself as was Violet in her chair. “Come on then Robert. Crawl over here, now it’s my turn.” There was nothing for it I crawled over to her. It wasn’t as ugly as Mary’s, but was not in the least appealing. It was all wet and sticky. She had more hair on it than Mary but not as much as Violet it was the same mousey color as her hair and much curlier than Mary’s. I just licked it the same as I had for Mary. “Quick little learner aren’t we,” she whispered in my ear, “We’ve all shown you ours; I want to see your little cock. She pushed her hand into my shorts. “Oh ladies he’s got a little stiffy.”
She pushed me back opened my flies then pulled my shots down and rubbed her hand over my pants, “I think he’s got a big one ladies, have you got a big one Robert?” she asked. I had no idea if I had a big one or not and said nothing. “You don’t have to be shy, if you’ve got a big one you can brag about it here; it’s just between us girls.” She kept on rubbing it through my pants. “Are you shy? Well we can tell you if it’s a big one for your age, we’ve seen lots of them, haven’t we girls?”
She kept on rubbing. “Gather around ladies, now for the great unveiling.” The other two came and kneeled beside me and Audrey pulled off my pants. “Oh,” she said, “Now that’s what I call a fine little cock, it is very big for a boy of your age, you’re going to be very popular with the ladies when you grow up, but we like them just the way it is now don’t we girls?” they nodded and all three of them took turns in wanking me. Violet licked it once and started to suck it she worked her tongue on it when it was in her mouth in a way that no one else ever had, I couldn’t help liking it. She looked up at me and said “It’s a beautiful cock Robert, I love it.” She sucked me again and I got “the feeling” stronger than ever before, I decided that I liked Violet. The other two took their turns but it didn’t feel the same as when Violet did it. Mary was nearly as rough as my father.
“Now ladies,” said Violet “It’s my turn for Robert to lick me.” She went back to her chair and opened her legs, Violets looked much nicer than the others and it didn’t taste horrible like theirs did, I sort of liked the taste. I tried to do it better for Violet, she had been gentle to me and done the thing with her tongue and her hair was soft and thick, I actually liked doing it for her. “Oh Robert,” She sighed, “I can see that you and I are going to get on like a house on fire. Just keep on doing what you are doing just like that and I’m going to cum all over your face.” I didn’t know what she meant but I kept on going.
When Violet decided that she’d had enough of me they all adjusted their clothing and Audrey went to find out “How things were doing.” “Do you want to taste my Pony?” she asked. “You have been a good little man and you deserve a treat.” She gave me her glass and I drank. I couldn’t decide if I liked it or not, it was fizzy like pop and it tasted of pears which I liked but it still tasted a bit funny. “Do you like it?” she enquired, “Drink it all up if you do, it’ll make you feel nice and relaxed.” I trusted Violet and drank the whole glass at once. “Carefully does it,” she said, “You don’t want to get drunk now, or do you? You are the little man today aren’t you? All right then you can have a bottle to yourself, you have been a very good boy, but don’t drink it up all at once now”. She gave me a new glass and filled it to the top. She whispered in my ear, “You are going to be my special little friend, and I’m going to take very special care of you later when we start our little game. Just do everything that teacher says and you’ll have the time of your life. You’ll see, you’re a very lucky little boy.” She licked my ear.
Audrey came back. “They are ready for us now.” She turned and Violet took me by the hand and led me off behind her, Mary followed after us. Audrey led us up the stairs and into one of the rooms and I was surprised to find myself in a classroom just like the ones at school.
Caroline and the other girls sat at their desks with their books open, there was one empty desk and Violet ushered me to it, I sat and she told me to open my book to page one. I did as I was asked and Audrey announced, “This is your new teacher Madame de Fleur, she indicated Violet, she comes from Paris and is going to give you French lessons. We are very lucky to have her with us here at St. Johns. Pay attention and work hard for her, any nonsense will not be tolerated and will result in you being sent to the headmaster and he will not deal with you lightly. Later you will be visiting matron for a check up and I will be seeing you later for your English examination I am expecting top marks from everybody, bad results will be punished with detention. Carry on Madame”.
“I will be back shortly” said Violet with a French accent. She winked at me. “Whilst I am gone you will be kind enough to read the first page in your textbooks, I will take your questions when I return.” She turned and left us alone in the classroom. We sat in silence and read our textbooks too shy to speak to one another.
As good as her word Violet returned after just a few minutes, she was now dressed in a white blouse with a silk bow tied at her collar, a very tight pencil skirt with a long slit at the side showing her white thighs over black stockings and a glimpse of a suspender belt, she wore an academic’s gown as did the teachers at my school. She sat at her desk and announced that she would take the register. “Please raise your hand when I callout your name”. She called out our names and one by one we raised our hands. “Angela”. Angela was the oldest girl. “Rosemary”. Rosemary was the other one. “Caroline”. Caroline I knew already. “Robert”. I raised my hand. She enquired if there was anybody who had not yet read the first page. We all put up our hands. Did you not have enough time or is there some difficulty?” she asked. No one answered. “Robert?” “I can’t read any of it” I replied, “Is it French?” “Of course it’s French” she said. “This is a French class. Do none of you read French?” No miss we all mumbled. “You will address me as Madame.” ordered Violet. “It is a disgrace that none of you can read French, we must rectify it, have none of you studied French before?” “No Madame”, we mumbled in chorus. She got up from her desk and went to the blackboard. “Then today we must start with a practical French lesson.” She continued. “Can anyone tell me what French means?” she asked. Angela put up her hand. “Yes Angela?” “It’s a language Madame.” “Indeed it is Angela. The most beautiful language in the world” said Violet, "The language of love. “But is it anything else?” no one raised their hands.
“Robert would you be so good as to come here?” I left my desk and approached Violet. “Kiss me.” she said. She bent down to my level and I kissed her on the lips. “That,” she said was a boring English kiss, with a French kiss you must use your tongues. “Again Robert“. I knew what she expected of me, this was the kiss I had learnt with Caroline“. I obliged by using my tongue as the man had instructed us. “Very good Robert. Watch closely girls, once again with feeling Robert”. She kissed me passionately licking my lips and curling her tongue around mine. “You see how it is done girls. This is the French kiss, French for short. Have any of you kissed in this way before?” none of the girls raised their hands. I felt cheated by Caroline. “Then it is time to learn, who would like to be first?” Rosemary put up her hand immediately. “Very well Rosemary, come here.” Rosemary joined us in front of the blackboard. “Robert show her how it is done,” I kissed Rosemary, it was one thing to kiss Violet who was a grown up and had ordered me to kiss her, but by kissing Rosemary even though I had been ordered to do so, I felt somehow that I was disappointing Caroline in some way. Rosemary kissed me eagerly; she thrust her tongue into my mouth hard and poked around with it. “An admirable attempt at passion Rosemary,” said Violet, “But I would like you to do it more gently, caress his lips and tongue with yours, oui?” Rosemary licked and rolled her tongue eagerly over mine, too eagerly. I didn’t like the way she did it. “That’s better Rosemary, it will come with practice, always remember class, practice makes perfect. You may sit, and who will be next?" No hands were raised this time.
”Angela I think.” She indicated that Angela should come and kiss me. “Now Angela you have seen how it should be done but I will demonstrate once more. She leaned forward once again and slowly and gently caressed my mouth and tongue with hers. It got hard and I tried to hide it. Violet had seen it and smiled. “OK Angela it is your turn.” She changed places with Angela and Angela kissed me, it was clear that she was shy and embarrassed and did not want to do it. As with Caroline I knew she was gingerly doing her best to obey her orders. “Non, non, non,” said Violet. “More passion, is not Robert a handsome boy?” Angela did her best and I tried to help as best I could. “Very well Angela take your place back at your desk, you still have a very long way to go, again practice, practice, practice. Now last but not least Caroline, come and show us what you can do.”
Caroline approached, reluctantly I thought, I was disappointed, if had been able to choose I would have picked Caroline. She stood in front of me, looking as before very vulnerable and shy. I was afraid that I had hurt her before and felt ashamed. We looked at each other and placed our lips together Caroline moved her tongue tenderly across mine and I slid my tongue gently over her lips, she was as before very careful and gentle. I tried to be the same.
“Caroline I see you have hidden talents; I think you have kissed like this many times, non?” Caroline looked at the floor and did not respond. “I want you to kiss me like that, I must feel if you are as accomplished as you seem.” Caroline’s was the best kiss. When Violet bent to kiss her I didn’t like it. I stood and watched and I could see that the kiss was not the same; Caroline hardly moved her tongue at all. “You save all the goodies for our handsome boy I see, all right, but you will learn that we ladies can satisfy our needs in a way that men can never know. Back to your desks mes enfants,"
“That was the French kiss, much better than the English non? We French have one more trick up our sleeves that is also called French; does anybody know what that is?” No response. “First I must know how much you know of anatomy”. Now all of you girls have seen a boys cock oui?” she looked around the class. “Rosemary’s hand went up again. “And you other girls I don’t believe you have never seen one.” Angela and Caroline lifted their hands. “Of course you have seen one, but have you seen one standing to attention as all good cocks should in the presence of a lady?” Again Rosemary’s hand went up like a shot. Violet looked at the other two and they raised their hands. “And Robert, I think you have seen a little girl’s tight little hole have you not? Her pretty little cunt.” I had to put up my hand”.
Good, then we can go to the next stage of our lesson. She went over to the blackboard and drew rough diagrams of the human genetalia. “This Robert is the vagina”. She indicated the drawing. Here are the lips, she indicated the sides, “Here is the clitoris she made a dot with the chalk at the top. “This is the most sensitive place on a woman’s body, and when it is stimulated in the correct way it will make the woman have an orgasm. Do you know what an orgasm is Robert?” I did not. “Have you ever masturbated Robert? Do you wank your little cock? I think you do, and after a while you get a wonderful feeling all through your body, do you not, and spunk shoots out of your little cock, does it not?” she looked wickedly over at me. Then said “Well perhaps you are too young to have spunk, we will see. That feeling is a man’s orgasm. She smiled at the girls I feel so sorry for the boys they only get one at a time. An orgasm girls is the feeling that a woman gets when her clitoris is stimulated.” She pointed to the chalk mark again. “But we girls we are lucky, we can have many orgasms, one after another, different kinds of orgasms, one sort when you stimulate the clitoris and another sort when a man puts his hard cock inside us and fucks us.” I didn’t know any of this, now I knew what “the feeling” was, and now I knew that girls could have “the feeling too I was glad. Perhaps I had not hurt Caroline after all. “Actually, there is another sort, when you lick or fuck us in the ass.” I had seen my father do that to my uncle and had always been scared to death that they would do it to me, I was still sure that that would hurt. “When you open up a woman’s lips you will find another pair of lips, both sets of lips are sensitive and they must not be ignored. Then we come to the breasts,” she ran her hands over her own, we all have nipples but a woman’s are much more sensitive than a man’s, they must be licked and squeezed both gently and hard, you can bite them, but not too hard, and when you do they will get hard and stick out like two little cocks, the clitoris is also like a little cock and will swell up in your mouth. Can you see how hard my nipples are Robert?” I could see that they were poking out under her blouse. I had still never seen a grown up woman’s breasts and I was actually very curious. She pinched them through her blouse and grinned at me.
“And now ladies to the cock, your nipples are not yet fully developed, nor are your pretty little girl’s vaginas, it will get better and better as you get older I promise you. The cock,” she moved to the drawing of a cock, “This my dears is a cock, you all admit that you have seen one, but do you know how best to please one? I think not. This is the head and this is the most sensitive part of a man’s body, especially here, between the head and the body, this is the most sensitive part for most men, some of them like this part better, here at the hole on the top. Some men have skin over the head, at least when it is soft, but some men have it cut off when they are babies. All men like to be wanked and to have their cock’s licked and sucked. Now how many of you have masturbated? All of you, oui, so you all know how nice a feeling you get when you rub your little clitties and push your fingers into your little cunts, you Angela are a little bit older than the others, have you started to get little titties yet, have your nipples gotten more sensitive? Do they get hard now when you play with them?” Angela was silent. “You can tell us angel, we are all friends here”. Angela just looked embarrassed.
“Angel, I like that, I will call you Angel from now on, and Rosemary you will be my little rosebud and I will call you Rose, I don’t like Carol Caroline but we will make it more French, nes pa? I will call you Caroleen in the French way, Robert, what shall I call you? Not Bob, not Rob, not Robby, I like Robert,” she pronounced it in the French way, “Yes Robert and I am of course Madame. So now that we all know who we are we can move on.
She sat on her desk and crossed her legs so that we could see one of her stockinged thighs; she ran her hand over her thigh, “The way that you dress is also very important.” She said, “For now you should know that your little uniforms are very, how should I say? Cute, yes very cute, charmont. Robert,” she pronounced it in that French way, “Please come to the front of the class.” She smiled at me wickedly, “And now we must show these pretty little Mademoiselles your fine little cock.” She unbuttoned my flies and pulled down my shorts and pants, it was hard as usual and I could not hide it from the girls anymore. “Oh ladies, do you see how big it is, Robert is a true gentleman and does not waste our time with a floppy little worm.” She took in her hand and began to wank me, “This is how you should wank a boy, gently at first, and then a little faster like this. Come closer girls, I want you to see this up close, you see I am holding it with just two fingers and my thumb, one finger is pressing on the sensitive part right here, do not squeeze it like a grape, hold it firmly yet gently and pull it lovingly up and down like this, we will get to more advanced methods in another class, Robert has a big cock for a boy so young but he is not yet big enough for me to use my whole hand, he will be when he grows. Your little hands are not as big as mine yet and I think you can use your whole hands, but you can begin with two fingers and a thumb like me. Angela you are the oldest and you may try first.” Angela took it between her fingers and started to wank me. “How does that feel Robert?” she asked, “Is she getting it right?” Angela was doing pretty well I thought. “Yes miss.” I said. “Madame.” Said Violet, “So she is doing well, good girl Angela, do you like the feel of it in your hand? Now you have power, he does not want you to stop, you can tease him by stopping, make him want you more.” She grinned at me. “You do want more don’t you Robert?” I said nothing. “He does want more, trust me girls. Stop Angela, shall we tease him? Who do you want to wank you next Robert? Rose, Caroleen, me? I think you want me, don’t you? My hand knows how to please you best, or maybe Caroleen, perhaps she can wank as well as she kisses? Rose you are next. Rose gripped my cock in the way Violet had shown them but too hard as Violet had warned them not to do. “And how is that Robert? Is Rose as good as Angel? I shook my head. “Too hard nes pa? You must learn to be gentler Rose”. Rose relaxed her grip a little, but Rose was too pushy, too eager, I decided that I didn’t really like Rose. “Now you Caroleen”. I didn’t like the way Violet called Caroline Caroleen. Caroline took over gently from Rose, she was as careful as before, much nicer. I liked the way Violet did it too, but Caroline was the best. I got “the feeling” an orgasm I now knew. Violet missed nothing. “You have made him cum Caroleen; it seems you are as good with your hands as with your lips, shall I let you suck it for him? Yes I think you would like that, would you not Robert? Suck it for him Caroleen”. Caroline did, and I had “the feeling” again, Violet seemed to know everything, she missed nothing. “Robert you dog, you’ve made him cum again Caroleen, you are clearly very good at what you do, or can this be sweet young love I see? I think you are definitely Robert’s favorite”.
“Now mes filles it is time for your pleasure non?” take off your pretty little knickers please. Rose eagerly ripped her knickers off in a second and Caroline and Angela gingerly pulled down theirs and stepped out of them.