Child Abuse Story From Anonymous25

by Anonymous
(Location Undisclosed)

I've been reluctant to share my story here because I am not entirely sure if the event I am about to discuss constitutes a genuine instance of abuse or not. I decided to share my story after reading some of the other stories people have told, because my story has much in common with theirs.

About twenty years ago, when I was seven, my younger brother (he must have been around four at the time) and I went to church with our father one Sunday morning in the summer. During Mass, my brother, who was often very mischievous at that age, starting teasing me, pinching me, poking me, ignoring me when I told him to stop, and generally annoyed me, as he enjoyed doing back then. I don't remember exactly what happened next, but the two of us eventually started hitting each other, right there in the pew. My father stopped us almost immediately, but I could tell he was very angry.

When we returned home, my father let my brother play downstairs and then took me upstairs, where my mom was sitting at the kitchen table. In a furious tone, my father said to my mother, "Do you know what your son did today in church?" He then ordered me to walk over to her and tell her what happened, and then walk back to him. When I did this, he positioned me so that my front was facing him and my back was facing my mother. He said to me, loudly and forcefully, "I want you to know how bad you were today!"

My father pulled down my pants and my underwear and bent me over, so that my mother could see my bare bottom. My dad began spanking me with his hand, swinging as hard as he could. As he was spanking me, he kept shouting, "You were very bad today, do you understand?" and other things of that nature. The spanking went on for several minutes.

Although he was smacking me with all his might, what was the most painful aspect of this whole ordeal was having my pants and underwear forcefully removed from me, and being forced to remain in an exposed position in front of my mother. Being stripped liked that profoundly humiliated me, especially since I have always been a shy, sensitive, private person. The humiliation was so intense, in fact, that I screamed and asked my dad what he was doing when he was stripping me, and quickly entered into a mental state that could only be described as shock. My dad's behavior that day was extremely out of character for him; I had never seen him so explosively angry either before this incident or after it. From my perspective as a child, it seemed as though he had been possessed by a demon! I was astonished at how enraged he was, and the fact that he was directing his rage at me was deeply disturbing to me.

When my father finished spanking me, I ran into my room and started crying profusely – not so much because of the physical pain, but because I felt violated. I felt as though my body didn't really belong to me, that adults could expose and beat any part of my body they wanted to, and there was nothing I could do about it. That feeling horrified me.

Later on that day, we were supposed to go to a big family gathering for an occasion I have long since forgotten. Many relatives that I did not know that well were going to be there. Suddenly a deep, all-consuming fear came over me – what if my parents tell everyone there what I did, and how I was punished for it? The spanking itself was so embarrassing to me that I could not even contemplate how I would feel if all of those people – many of whom I really didn't know – found out about it. Then I thought about the possibility of my father becoming angry with me at the family gathering and giving me another bare-bottom spanking, this time in front of my other relatives. That very thought terrified me, and gave me what I know recognize as a panic attack. When my mother came into my room to check up on me (she saw how badly the spanking affected me), I begged her not to let my dad spank me in front of everyone that day and not to let anyone else know what happened. She said she wouldn't tell anyone anything and wouldn't let me get spanked like that at the gathering that day. She held true to her word; I did not get spanked at the family picnic, and my parents never mentioned the incident to anyone. To this day, my parents never brought up the incident to anyone, even me. It is almost as if it never happened.

Of course, I know it happened, and I will never forget it, due to the enormous effect it had on me. I am currently recovering from Social Anxiety Disorder, a psychological condition characterized by extreme fear of being embarrassed and humiliated in public. I don't know for sure if my humiliating spanking triggered my social anxiety, but I think it is more than likely that it did, since I never experienced the symptoms of social anxiety prior to that event, and when my social anxiety is at its most severe, I feel the same way I did right after my spanking.

Like some of the contributors to this site, I have a very strong sexual interest in spanking. My fascination with erotic spanking has been a source of tremendous guilt and shame for me throughout my life. I did not choose to be sexually aroused by giving and receiving spankings. I have tried to repress my spanking fantasies and desires, but that only made them more intense. It seems to be impossible to eradicate them. At this stage in my life, I am torn between the idea that my sexual interest in spanking is indicative of a damaged aspect of my sexuality that must be "fixed" and the idea that it is a fun part of my sexuality that I should be able to enjoy with a willing, consenting adult partner if I wish to do so. Right now, I am more inclined to side with the latter idea. I do not know, and probably will never know, if the childhood spanking I discussed here led to my fondness for erotic spanking. If I were ever able to know beyond all doubt that it did, I could not avoid feeling as though my sexuality was corrupted or damaged in some fashion.

Ever since I endured my father's spanking that day, I have wondered if it constituted an abusive act or not. I have wondered if he genuinely abused me that day, or if I just overreacted to it because I was too sensitive and weak. If it wasn't really abusive, though, why did it affect me in such a deleterious way?

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Anonymous25" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

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