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I don't know why I'm
Some secrets need to be kept. Others don't.
But how do you know which from which?
My Daddy and I have a secret. I can't tell
anyone. Not my friend Rachel. Not my teacher Miss Curtain. Certainly
not my mother.
Thinking of my mother makes my stomach hurt.
If she were nicer everything would be different. It's our secret
but it's her fault.
I mean, she makes him spank me. Every little
thing I do, she yanks me away from my friends and into my room.
I used to beg her to punish me herself, not to tell Daddy. I
stopped begging because it never mattered. She watches while
I take off my skirt or jeans and waits until I'm sitting on
the edge of my bed in just my panties, then leaves.
Sometimes I have to sit all day.
When Daddy comes home he comes to my room
carrying the paddle or his belt. He asks what I have to say
but I never talk. He used to just make me stand and take off
my panties, but last year I started wetting myself when he touched
I didn't do it on purpose, but Daddy thought
I did. So now we go into the bathroom and he takes them off
there. I have to sit on the toilet with him until I go. When
I think about it I'm ashamed, but really I'm glad. Because when
I wet the floor my mom found out.
I don't get my panties back so while we walk
back I'm bare. Being bent over the bed or pulled across his
lap is almost a relief.
Almost. But not quite. Because spankings hurt.
The paddle stings and so does the belt and even though I try
to stay quiet and bite the sides of my mouth until I taste salt
and blood, I end up crying out, begging him to stop. I know
my mother can hear me and my shame. That brings tears.
Daddy doesn't like tears and holds me. He
says he hates to see his princess cry, hates punishing me. He
rubs the sore places to make them better. And the places that
aren't sore. He rubs there too. And it feels good and I stop
I don't want him to stop. When he rubs I'm
brave for him, not crying when he spanks me. He's happy and
my mom's mad because I'm so brave.
But then I have to rub him. I mean, it's his
turn and so I touch him there, so he feels powerful too. I don't
like that, but I do it and pretend to like it too. My mother
can't know I can do it and I won't ever tell her.
After he puts me in bed, I touch myself and
remember the spanking and pretend I was brave.
I don't know why I'm writing this. Some secrets
no one understands.
to Mija's stories
to the treehouse