Chapter 2
Sandra went to bed early that night, stripping naked and ignoring the nightie which hung on the post of the old fashioned brass bed.
Her brother and mother were listening to the radio downstairs and she could have stayed with them, but she had too many things on her mind and churning in her body.
At school she had heard other girls giggling as they made references to fingering the vagina. They had spoken of other things too, of the act they called fucking, where the man sticks his thing into the woman's thing and works it in and out.
She understood that her mother had been simulating that act with the candle and wondered how it would feel to have something working in and out of her hole. But that wasn't something she would be able to find out, she told herself and wished her cherry would somehow vanish so that the passage would be free to permit sexual experimentation.
But she could get her finger into her vagina as her mother had done. It was not long before she found the most sensitive part of her, without knowing that it was called a clitoris. She began to rub as her mother had done and was soon squirming in aroused nudity, arousal flooding her innocent young body, her mind filled with images of red buttocks being spanked, of crying and of slapping sounds. She went wild with lust, poised on the brink of orgasm, then went into it, groaning and crying out loudly, not aware that she was making sounds which could be heard easily from the room downstairs.
Climax was just beginning to pass, her hand was still in her crotch and she was still writhing when the door burst open and her mother caught her in the act, emitting a shriek of horror.
"Why you dirty, filthy little beast," she shrieked. "Where did you ever learn such filth?"
Shocked at her mother's attitude, Sandra did not take time to think of her words before she uttered them. "I learned them from you," she flared angrily. "I saw you doing it while you were strapping Ted and later with the candle after you played with his bird."
She had just finished uttering the words when the hand exploded across her cheek, numbing it and making it feel six inches thick.
"You filthy, spying bitch," the woman spat the words. "You just stay where you are and I'm going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget."
There was no fear in Sandra as her mother stormed from the room. She was going to be beaten, she knew, sensed it was going to hurt, and yet, for some reason she couldn't explain, she wanted to scream at her mother to hurry.
When she heard the pounding footsteps returning, she threw herself over on her tummy, her naked behind jerking up and down on the bed, waiting for the fiery kiss of leather.
"What are you doing? Have you gone crazy?" her mother shrieked when she saw the wildly aroused girl raising her bum to be strapped.
"Hurry, hurry, Mum, beat me. Oh, lash my bare arse with the belt. Oh, hurry and give it to me, I'm dying for it."
"Sandra," her mother gasped, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her violently, "have you gone crazy? What in hell is the matter with you?"
"Oh, Mummy . . . Mummy," she panted almost incoherently, "please strap my bum the way you strap Ted . . . please, Mum, make me cry!"
Wild with arousal then, no hope of control remaining, Sandra pushed a hand under her tummy, found the little slit of her vulva and began fingering herself, calling over and over for her mother to strap her madly tossing behind.
With a shriek the woman ran from the room and slammed the door loudly behind her.
Her mind seething with erotic images, Sandra continued to finger her clitoris until, with more cries and shrieks, she climaxed again. Ecstasy survived for a few more seconds, then was replaced by the blackest of depressions.
Suddenly, Sandra saw herself as evil and vile, abnormal, unwanted and unloved. For a long time, she cried, wishing she were dead, wondering what method, what weapon she could use to kill herself and end her torment.
In time, she ran out of tears, but the thoughts persisted cruelly. Her mother loved and beat her brother, fondled his bottom and spoke of the fun they would have together when Sandra left home, begged him to stay with her and never leave.
She had so enjoyed spanking and strapping the boy that she had fingered her vagina, then used a candle like a male organ, and yet she refused to spank or strap her daughter.
What, Sandra wondered, had she done wrong to so turn her mother against her that she wanted her to leave home, to leave her alone to enjoy life with Ted? Why did she so enjoy beating Ted and yet so firmly refuse to beat her?
Prior to then, Sandra had never felt particularly loved, but never had she felt so completely unloved, worse, so totally rejected.
Getting out of bed, she picked up her nightie and put it on. She needed to go to the toilet, but that would mean walking through the kitchen and facing her mother. She couldn't do that. Even though it was hurting her, she vowed she would hold back. Maybe, she told herself, her bladder or kidney would explode and she would die. At the moment, it was a beautiful promise which she hoped would come true.
Later, long after her mother and brother had gone to bed, the pain forced her to get up and go to the toilet in the yard. It was cold then, but Sandra was glad. The cold punished her which was something her mother refused to do. It meant that nature loved her enough to punish her.
Having watched the scene between her mother and her brother in the woodshed, remembering how her mother had fondled the boy's buttocks and genitals, how her voice had been soft and gentle when she told him to go to the toilet and make himself feel good, she came to associate punishment and love as equals.
Her life was terribly empty because, she told herself, her mother didn't love or beat her. She had begged her mother to strap her, but instead the woman had heaped abuse on her for having done what she herself had done in the shed. All of life became confusing and ugly.
Her urine burst from her in a joyous rush as she sat on the cold, wooden seat. As the pressure on her bladder was relieved, so was the pressure on her mind. Guilt and shame and evil passed and as she stood, she passed a hand over her bum.
Her buttocks were cool, not hot like Ted's had been after the spanking and strapping, and the skin of them responded excitingly to the touch of her hand.
Standing in the small toilet, her nightie held above her waist, she reached behind and gave herself a hard spank on the right cheek with her right hand.
It stung and yet it was wildly exciting. Her hand touched the place she had spanked, then moved back and came down in another spank.
"There," she said aloud to herself, "you naughty girl, I'll teach you to do dirty things like fingering your little cunt. I'm going to spank the arse off you, like this ... and this .. . and this... " While she continued the fantasy in which a loving mother was spanking her as she lay across her big, smooth thighs, Sandra rained spank after spank on her sensitive nether cheeks. The slaps hurt, and yet they thrilled and delighted at the same time.
After a long time, she stopped spanking and, sitting on the edge of the cold, hard toilet seat, she put a finger into her crotch, found her tender clitoris and rubbed it with the tip of a finger until she climaxed yet again.
Sandra returned to the house after that, but once again, ecstasy had heen a fleeting visitor and left her feeling guilty and ashamed. In the house, she locked the back door behind her and walked very quietly up the stairs to her bedroom.
She had expected she would be able to sleep at last, but it wasn't to be. Instead, she was haunted by thoughts which became more complicated by the minute.
She loved her brother and, to a lesser extent, her mother. And yet, her mother loved and spanked Ted, but became horrified and said ugly things when Sandra asked to be spanked and strapped. Ted, somehow, was a normal., decent boy. She, for some reason she couldn't comprehend, was a dirty, evil person, so sinful that even her own mother couldn't love her.
Sleep was a long time in coming, and when it did, at last, it wasn't good sleep. It was filled with dreams in which her mother spanked Ted and fingered her clitoris while telling him he was a good boy and she loved him.
Time after time, Sandra woke from her ugly dreams hearing herself begging her mother to beat her with the belt while the woman refused, her face ugly and distorted as she hissed, "I spank and strap your brother because I love him. I won't strap you because I hate you and want you to go away and leave us alone so that we can be happy without you around to interfere with our pleasure."
"But why, Mummy, why?" she asked, sitting up, the dream over and wakefulness not helping her. "Why don't you love me? Why don't you want me to live here with you and Ted?"
"Because," came the silent answer within her troubled mind, "you are ugly and stupid and terrible. Because I don't love you, I only love Ted. I hate you and want you to go away where I'll never have to see you again. Nobody could possibly love you, you dirty little girl, now get out of here, I'm going to take Ted to the woodshed and spank him and finger my cunt. Don't you dare spy on me again or I'll send you away to some terrible place."
After that, Sandra cried again and in time, merciful sleep came to her.