Dominating By My Blood

I have always been dominated by women in my life, and it started out when I was very young by my mother and older twin sisters. I remember when I was very young I had a big yellow dump truck that I was playing with. This was my favorite toy and I would spend hours filling it up with blocks inside, and dirt outside. I got this toy for my birthday and since I didn't get parties like my sisters I usually only got one or maybe two toys. I remember the first night I had the truck I slept with it in my bed. It was raining and I was playing with it inside, and my older sister came to me and said that she wanted it, I told her no and that I was playing with it and she went and told my mother. My mother told me to bring the toy to her, which I did. Then she told me that I had to do what my sister wanted me to do. Standing in front of her with the toy my sister turned to me and told me to give her the toy. I looked at my mother and she told me to give it to her. I did and my sister sneered at me and took the toy and left me standing there on the verge of crying. My mother then stood up and told me to follow her. We started to walk into her room and I remember thinking this was very strange because I was never allowed to be in her room. Once we walked into the room she told me I was to get my first spanking. I was made to drop my pants and panties (my mother called briefs panties) and bend over with my hands on a small footstool. She used a leather strap called a tawse. Later after I got older she used a stick about 2 feet long and 3 inches wide. It didn’t take me long to learn that I had to do whatever they told me to. I received 10 strokes and I was crying after only 4 strokes.
Mother told me to go to my room. I went and closed the door and laid down on my bed without any pants or panties on and I began to cry. A few minutes later mother opened my door and threw my clothes on top of me telling me that she wanted the door to remain open. This was the first time that I was sent to bed without any supper. It was getting dark and I could smell dinner being cooked. I thought mother would soften and give me something to eat. I laid there wishing I could have something to eat. I saw mother go into her room at the other end of the hallway and I put on my pants and went and knocked on her door and I asked her if I could please have something to eat.
Mother opened her door and stood there looking at me and then said, “You’re so pitiful”, and grabbed me by my hand and jerked me into her room. I was told to drop my pants and I begged her not to spank me again and she jerked my pants and panties down with one yank. Then she grabbed me by my waist by bending over and holding me and began to whip me with the tawse. Again and again she spanked me and I was crying begging her to stop but my pleas fell on deaf ears. When she was done she told me to go back to my room and to get to sleep. I did this and I cried myself to sleep after a long time. I remember thinking that this person couldn’t be my mother and I hoped my real mother would come back soon and save me from this evil person.
The next day nothing was said about my spanking and I didn’t bring it up, but after breakfast mother took me back to my room to look at my butt. It was a mass of bruises all red, purple, and black and blue. I remember seeing my mother smiling after she inspected her punishment of me.
Two days later I was told to take the garbage out and that it would be my chore going forward. As I took the top off of the kitchen can and there was my big yellow dump truck laying in 3 pieces with the front axel and bed torn off and laying next to what was left of my truck. As I half picked up the can and kind of dragging it my mother told me to make sure that the truck make it into the garbage. As I pulled the can down the walkway to the alley my tears returned streaming down my face burning their trails into my heart.
subjaye subjaye
61-65, M
5 Responses Jan 7, 2013

Your mother was a real ******. I hope this was just a story, otherwise my heart goes out to you.

if i were you i would run away or just simply torture her with knife or something

I could never run away or torture her, she would never give me permission.

My blood boiling.

It's real, and it made me strong. It's my life and the only one I had so I had to make the best of it. I enjoyed what it was

What was it that you could take such horrible experiences and turn them into something positive. Did this maternal and feminine domination turn you into a crossdresser?

Dressing me as a girl when I was two to four turned me into a cross dresser. My Mother hated me because I was not a girl and she made me regret that I was born a male.

This seems to be an expression of a very sick women vacant of any love. I feel so sorry for you.