"What shall we use- hand, crop or belt?" At this a hand slapped my right arse cheek very smartly making me give a little yelp. "Let me go!" I pleaded,...feeling about as vulnerable and humiliated as a person can. "Crop, To start with ". A pause, then I heard a crop being swished through the air experimentally. Another pause, a swish and a burst of excruciating pain, then another and another. My arse cheeks felt as though they were on fire. Occasionally there would be a pause and a hand would. I always wanted to play with dolls and would beg my parents for them. Myfather would never get them for me. I guess that's where my resentmentfor my father started. I also always wanted to dress up as a girl ofsome kind for Halloween. I never got that either. My father would yellat me to "man up" and stop being such a "sissy". My mother would look atme sadly but she never went against him. So life went on until twoincidents when I was 9 that changed me for a while. We were on avacation. More

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