I didn’t cry the second time either. I liked it. He was gentler. He told me it was our secret, our special thing, and no one should know about it. Based off of the dialogue prompt "Don't make me take you home and punish you." A short Frerard ficlet. Jesus Christ!” Diego rubbed the side of his temples, talking to Klaus was even more exhausting than going on missions. “What I was trying to say,” He put as much emphasis on ‘trying’ as he possibly could, “Is that I also found a pacifier.” But to my dad, this is how boys play. And apparently, he’s still a boy at heart. My son would return home from visiting with my dad with his skin covered in bruises and scratches. Games of chase, of King of the Bed, even of hide-and-seek — all playing, it seemed — becomes wrestling. Which means my dad dominating a child with the immense size of his body, and turning what should be play into something sadistic.

Stories 1 - Boyz and Sirs Stories 1 - Boyz and Sirs

He only said he was doing it for me, that it was for the best, my best. How could I have ever believed the man loved me? He even looked sad that day, so sorrowful and tired. In better times and in our previous world, I would have taken him in my arms as I was wont, and work my magic on him. Over the years I had learnt his special recipe. I was the only one who knew his mix. I had never asked him, but I sensed that even my mother didn’t take him to the heights I took him. didn’t seem an option at the time. I kinda felt I’d gone too far, that last week of summer. Yet I still longed for his touch. He wrapped his arms around my chest and pulled me closer. “More hugs for my little girl. Got it!” He said. I wonder if he noticed I wasn’t wearing a bra underneath that shirt.

Ongoing

My shame at this terrible decision is magnified by the fact that, at almost 9, my son still remembers these formative experiences, just as I do with my own dad. He’s sitting next to me as I write now, and when I ask about it, he says, “Spanking hurt a lot, and I didn’t want you to do it, and you still did it anyway. I didn’t like it, not at all.” I was a very well behaved child; I had all the proper manners for a proper lady. Thanks to my father. When I was a child, it seemed my dad only touched to hurt. Hugs were scarce, and cuddles not an option for “big boys.” I had hoped he didn’t mean it, that this was just another punishment, but the way he said it convinced me it was final. I knew my father; I knew the look on his face. It was the same look he had when he shot Dragon our Alsatian. This was not like before when he would refuse to touch me because I misbehaved. My father had never hit me or scolded me; his punishments were usually more severe and silent. He would simply refuse to touch me for days on end. Such days were hell for me. I could barely survive without him. When he was pleased with me, he really would take his time and give me much pleasure that I never knew was possible. I need you to get something for me," he said to me. I really didn't know what to think at this point. My mind was racing and I didn't know how to act.

My father’s lap – My taboo diary My father’s lap – My taboo diary

I felt his muscles tense up and realized my question might’ve sounded a bit naughtier than I had intended. For a long time I had believed my father loved me. On my twentiethbirthday, I knew the truth. That day was my awakening to the heartlessness of men, and the absurdity of love. That day, I grew up, I grew old and I died.It wasn’t easy. It took a while before I could stand the touch of any other man, but vengeance helped me detach my body from myself.