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This is a true story. I have never told all of it before. Years of reading things on line made me bold enough to write it all out.
I'm in my 40s, and I live in an urban area now. I now have a professional dominatrix who strips me naked and punishes me. But as a boy, I grew up in a more rural area of North Carolina. My father was military, and not home very often. My mother was raising my older sister and I. Angie (my sister) is 4 years older then I. When I was 3 and my sister 7, my mother started going to night school. She worked 9 to 5, then a couple of nights a week went to the community college, leaving us with a sitter.
Some sitters were good, some were bad, but one in particular was magnificent. Miss Thea. She was magnificent even when making me stand before her naked and bare. But she came later.
At first, because of my age, my mother only took a few classes. She inched her way to a degree, and she only worked and went to night school during our school year. For summers, she was around. We had camp Mommy. We were never wealthy, in fact we were slightly less than median income in a part of the country with a rather low income. But I don't know if my sister and I knew it at the time. We weren't allowed to watch a lot of TV, my parents wanted us reading, playing sports, or running around outside (we lived in a remote community near a large forested area). I don't know why, but there were a lot of kids my sister's age, and none my age. I was always the tag along.
I hated that. Because I was ignored. Not counted. Not noticed, not seen.
I would eventually be seen more than I wanted in this tale. Be careful what you wish for. Or perhaps not. It made me who I am. And I am content with it. As I write this my bottom smarts from a nude belting that my dominatrix gave to me last night. But I digress, back to my youth.
From years 3-6, it was one of two older grandmother type women in our neighborhood. They would get us from the school bus, then my mother would come home and they would go home, then they would come back when my mother went to night school. I don't really remember them, except that they were patient and kind. I was usually a good kid, but whenever I got rambunctious I got a quick swat on the butt. That was normal where we lived. You got a little out of line, smack or two on the hiney. Serious trouble, pants and underwear down, over the lap, serious butt whacking. That was done by a parent's hand, unless somebody argued about it or fought it. Then it would be a hairbrush or paddle. I didn't realize this at the time but a local preacher had made an impression on people a few years before I came along that spankings were to be done with love, skin on skin, unless the child REBELLED! (Can you hear how he said that word?) If the child would REBEL then a hairbrush or paddle or strap would do just fine. The result? Kids did not argue and accepted the spanking. Which meant that they needed them less, actually.
So no real spankings from my sitters through age 6. Nor from my mother, as I said I was usually well behaved. Nor from my dad, just because I was always so happy to see him when he was home that I made no trouble. Also at this time, no baths from sitters, my mother bathed me (my sister bathed separately, she was 10 already). Again, not unusual, thought nothing of it. But the bath rule would change for Miss Thea. Are you curious about this wonderful woman? Because I'm getting there, have patience with me. The tale needs a real telling.
Somewhere halfway through age 6 to age 7, we had different sitters. The two grandmas weren't available, one moved, one started helping with her own grandkids. So my mother hired from one of three college girls in the neighborhood. Two of them mildly ignored me, fed me, answered me with short words, never actually spoke to me, sought to stick my sister and I in front of the TV (although at this point my sister was spending more time at a friend's house). I was alone and ignored. And the third one, well, I don't like to say this, but she was a selfish, miserable person, used only as a last resort by my mother. She would ignore anything short of a house fire. And she dealt with me by locking me in my room, and then in a closet. Sometimes for a real infraction, sometimes a perceived one. Usually for just a few minutes.
Then one day for quite a bit longer. She just forgot about me. Would you lock a 7 year old in a dark closet and ignore his crying for an hour? My sister came home and rescued me, told on the sitter, my mother blew up, called the sheriff, and that young lady had to eventually plead to a misdemeanor and had to move, and got a nice stain on her record. Yeah, when I got older I went digging for her, and found this out. She eventually picked up some shoplifting & drug charges, then moved west and either changed her name or straightened her life out. I don't know and I don't care.
I'm telling you this because I want you to understand that negligence, ignoring a child, is cruel. Crueler than forced nudity and spanking. Crueler than my next babysitter's idea of discipline. Oh yes, Miss Althena, who had me call her Miss Thea. She is how this story begins, as I have been foreshadowing.
She introduced herself by giving me a big hug. My mother was introducing her to my sister and I. Miss Thea was very physical, very huggy, and I felt wonderful. I wasn't being ignored! (Little did I know what was coming.) She was firm but fair, and very loving. I was seven, I think about 3 months away from being 8, when she came into our lives. She was very touchy, very huggy, very loving, very handsy. I think she was 30 or 31, very unusual for a woman that age where we lived to not be married, but people were becoming a bit more tolerant. She was in very good shape, she liked to job, and she was a "health nut" (what they called people back then who didn't make meals out of grease and salt). She had dark down hair, just past her shoulders, usually pulled back in a ponytail. I remember gorgeous green eyes. She played tennis, and I can tell you that she had a STRONG hand. She was a nurse, but only worked part time or pick-up shifts. She apparently had family money and was watching us out of kindness, charging my mother less than the college girls had.
The first week or two was fun, she played with us, found a way to have games that included my 11 year old sister and I, and when my sister was with friends, gave me all the attention I could soak up. Talking to me, looking at me, laughing with me.
Touching me.
When my sister or anyone else was around, a light touch on the shoulder, a hug, a back rub, a hair tousle. When it was just us, a slight brush across my chest, then my butt, then my crotch. She didn't say anything, just ran her hand there after a hug. I didn't know what to say.
Then it was Spring, not sure when, but school was almost out, and it was a very warm day. I think it had to have been shortly before Memorial Day. My sister went straight to a friend's house for a sleepover, and Miss Thea took me into the woods for a hike! I loved the woods. Dropped off my school backpack, and she and I went into the woods. She had a pack, and I knew that there were fresh cookies in there. We went into the woods for about 15 minutes, into the deep part directly away from the residences in the area, and then the mosquitos came out. I started getting bit.
"Charlie, come here", she said, pulling what looked like a large lipstick tube from her pack. "Homemade repellant, come here I have to put it on you." I dutifully walked over. She smiled. "Well, I can't put it on your clothes, take your shirt off Charlie." I hesitated, and she gave me a look. Not as friendly as her usual looks. "Charlie, if you make me say it again, I will spank you."
"I'm sorry," I said, shrugging out of it. "I just, we're not inside is all." I didn't know how to say it. I felt open, exposed. I took my shirt off. I was now naked from the waist up. I looked around. Just forest.
"There's nobody around, Charlie," she said, smoothly running the stick across my back, my chest, my neck, my arms. She lightly stroked me as she did it, and rubbed my small boy nipples, which I found odd. "Nobody comes this way but me, I hike here sometimes. The nice trails and the playgrounds and ball fields are in the other direction. We are alone out here." She was right, but it still felt odd. Then she said "Now the pants."
"What?" My mind refused to process what she said. I couldn't take my pants off out here. She couldn't mean for me to.
She leaned in real close, those eyes were very strong, her breath smelled like peppermint. Her finger traced a circle around my left nipple. She smiled. But it was a hungry, serious smile. A hunter's smile. "Leave your shoes and socks on. Pull your pants and underwear down to your ankles. And do it now."
I trembled. My throat felt full. My hands shook. I didn't want to make her mad. She was so fun, so nice, so beautiful. So strong. I couldn't disappoint her. I had no ability to refuse her. I fumbled, undid the snap on my little pants, and hooked my thumbs in. I shoved the underwear and pants down at the same time. I looked away, to the side. I did not want to see her look at my penis. My pants got snagged on my knees.
She reached in, and jerked them down to my ankles. No resistance. She was strong. She could make whatever she wanted to happen, happen. I turned back to see her face. She was staring at my penis, smiling. She reached forward, and cupped by little ballsack. I quivered. She began rubbing my penis and balls with her repellant. I looked at her, her eyes locked with mine. Now the smile was nicer. "You don't want to get bit, do you?" she asked. I shook my head.
She rubbed the front of my legs down, then ordered me to turn around. I did without question, blushing even more when she saw my hiney. She put a hand on the small of my back. "Bend over and grab your ankles." I did. The stick ran up both legs, then slowly across my butt cheeks. "Hmm," I heard her say, spreading my cheeks. "Stay like that, don't move," she said. I heard her open her pack. I froze. I did not move. I had to obey. I felt a wet washcloth rubbing in my crack, swirling around my back hole. She'd put a wet washcloth in a ziplock bag. This was not like now, when wipes are easily found (pandemic aside). I realize now that she had to have been planning this. "You're not so clean back here," she said, slowly and carefully swirling around my hole. I shivered. It was making me feel good. It was making me feel small and helpless. I felt my eyes tear, I was humiliated, she was touching me in a way no one did. I was embarrassed, shocked - and I liked it. It was such a mix of emotions. Why did it feel good to be so humiliated, to be handled like a tool?
"Hmm," she said in mock seriousness, like a bad actor trying to sound like a doctor. "You seem a bit more poopy than you should back there, I am going to have to check you."
"I getting dizzy bending over like this," I said. I whined it. But I was getting dizzy, that was true.
"Well stand up," she ordered. I did. "Turn around." I did, slowly, covering my crotch with my hands. "Get your shoes and socks off too, pants and undies all the way off, totally nude." She said it matter of fact, like she had just asked me to pass the salt and she knew I would. I gaped, but then obeyed. I had to. She expected me to.
She controlled me, I suddenly realized.
She took my clothes, then grabbed my ear, and led me, stumbling, to a flat rock near a fallen tree. I hurried to keep up. I know she watched my penis flop around, because she smiled at it. She bent me over, stark naked. "Grab the tree," she said.
"Okay," I croaked out. WHACK! I jumped and my eyes teared up. She'd swatted my bare butt good!
"Yes, Miss Thea, is what you say," she harrumphed. "Bend back over!"
"Yes Miss Thea," I gasped, even sobbed a bit.
I felt her gently rub my bottom. "Shh, Charlie," she said soothingly. "I don't want to hurt you, I'm doing this to help you, do you understand?"
"Y-yes, Miss Thea," I said. Her rubbing my bare butt, giving it a gentle caress after hitting it, and then returning for more serious massaging and caressing. I could not describe exactly what I felt, it was such a spiraling swarm of emotion. I knew I was not in control. I knew she controlled me. I knew my body was not my own. I did not have words for this, exactly. But I knew how it made me feel. I was scared, but also excited. I was embarrassed, but I also felt loved. She was not ignoring me. She was giving me LOTS of attention. She liked me, didn't she? She was good to me, wasn't she? She was better than the mean girl who locked me in the closet. So this was okay, then? It had to be. It didn't make sense if this wasn't okay for her to do.
Then my penis started to get hard. That shocked me more than anything Miss Thea was doing. "Okay, I need you to spread your legs apart Charlie," she said so sweetly, withdrawing that loving, caressing hand. "As far as you can."
"Yes, Miss Thea," I said. I was glad to have something to do than just stay there bent over naked. I spread my legs, giving myself a wide stance.
"Good boy, Charlie!" she said. "You're such a good boy!" I felt pride. I was making her happy. My penis actually got harder. This also surprised me, but I said nothing about it.
She stepped forward, putting a jar of vaseline on the horizontal tree, inches from my left hand. I turned my head to look up at her. She smiled down at me. And she was pulling a rubber glove, like a dishwashing glove, onto her right hand. I must have looked worried because she said "It's okay, Charlie, I promise it won't hurt. I'm a nurse. I'm just going to examine you. Okay?"
"Okay," I said, my voice trembling. What was I agreeing to? I didn't know. I just knew I should say 'okay.'
"'Okay, Miss Thea,'" she corrected me. The glove was totally on her right hand, and now she was opening the vaseline jar.
"Okay, Miss Thea," I said. It felt good to be given instruction, to be told what to say, what to do.
"Good boy!" she said. That made me happy. "Now you must hold position, okay? Hold position like that no matter what I do." She was dipping her gloved finger deeply into the vaseline. I had a suspicion why, but I just nodded, then remembered to say 'Yes, Miss Thea,' as she was walking behind me. "You have nice legs, cute little legs, Charlie," she said, using her left hand to spread my butt cheeks. I did nothing. I stared. I saw trees and leaves and green. I could not see behind me, but I knew that she could do anything that she wanted and I could not stop it. I couldn't even SEE it. There's a power in seeing it, because then even if you can't stop it at least you know when -
Her fingertip entered my asshole. I shivered and instinctively leaned forward. "Do. Not. Move," I heard her say. I froze. "Good boy." Then the finger went in deeper. An inch. Two inches. More?
"Uhhhhhh," I gasped. My knees wobbled. She was rubbing something. I did not know this at the time but she had found my prostate and was giving it the merest of touches. It was invasive, it was humiliating, it was unsettling - and it was fantastic. I was hers. She was doing things to me. I was not being ignored.
"Good boy, Charlie," she told me. She put her left hand on the small of my back and rubbed my back, even as she worked her finger in and out, around, left and right. I was her puppet! I was her toy! "Good boy!"
I loved it when she called me a good boy. I was being invaded and humiliated, and I was just so happy that she approved of me. She liked me. She wasn't ignoring me.
As I write this I have a tear in my eye. If you feel horrified reading this, you are missing the point. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. I was being called a good boy by the beautiful woman that was really proud of me.
Finally she was done. She wiped my butt with the cloth again. She put the glove in another ziploc bag. She packed up the vaseline. She told me I could stand up. I stood up.
Then she gave me such a hug, such a wonderful hug. "Oh, Charlie, you are such a good boy, I love you so much!" she said. She was mashing her breasts in my face, only a thin sweater and peeks of what seemed to be a black bra separated my face from her bosom. She reached around me, and rubbed by butt.
"Thank you, Miss Thea," I said, hugging her back. It seemed the right thing to say.
As she stood up, breaking the hug, her hand slid from around my butt and it grabbed the end of by hard penis. I gasped. "This is a beautiful part of your body," she told me. "Don't be ashamed of it."
I was dumbstruck. She was holding my penis. And it was hard. And she lightly squeezed the head and it felt gooooooddddd. "Okay," I finally croaked. I forgot to say 'Miss Thea' but she didn't seem to notice.
She took her hand off my penis and then handed me my socks and shoes. "Put these on," she said.
"My, uh, my pants," I stammered.
"No," she said. Her lips were firm, and that look came back to her eyes.
So I put on my socks and shoes. She put my other clothes into her pack. And we walked deeper into the woods. I felt a bit of vaseline in my hole, squishing, but other than that, it seemed normal that she kept me naked. She touched my shoulder or face or arm many times, and she kept telling me what a good boy I was.
Well, the repellant worked, I didn't get bit any more. And we didn't see anyone else. And I did get to eat some cookies. Naked.
And while we were eating the cookies, she was sweating so much from the long walk that she took her sweater off. Slowly. Her bra was magnificent. I got a bit hard again. She smiled at me. But all I got to see that day was the bra.
It was a long walk back. Maybe 15-20 minutes out she gave me my clothes and watched silently as I got dressed. Then we got to the house and she made me strip again and watched me get into the tub. Then she washed my hair. Then she washed my butt crack and my penis. Then she told me that if we were really friends, we wouldn't tell anyone about any of our secrets. Otherwise the mean old babysitter would come back. I promised not to tell.
Then I was out and in new clothes, and then dinner, and then some board games and books and then bed. She kissed me on my lips when she tucked me in, and promised me many more fun adventures.
So now you know how things began. This was hard to write. Not because I resent any of it, but because I loved her so much, and I have been ashamed to speak about it. I do not consider myself a victim. I am a happy, functioning professional. But I know how some people will receive this.
Miss Thea was my friend, my savior, and eventually my most intimate. I will try to write more of my memories. But do not judge her harshly, please.
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