by Drew Sera
I tried to shake the heavy fog from my brain, and recall how I ended up on the floor of the bathroom. My mouth was dry and I was in my underwear. My damp underwear. I pushed myself up off the ground and leaned against the side of the cold porcelain tub.
How did I end up here?
After having been upright for a few minutes, the pain in my stomach became so unbearable and I starting seeing spots again. Spots and stomach pain usually meant that passing out was on my horizon. Sometimes I could fight it off. I leaned over the toilet and threw up. There was nothing solid there; just fluids.
I pulled my hand away from my stomach to wipe the sweat from my forehead when something red caught my eye. Oh, fuck! Am I bleeding? Quickly I looked at my hand, but it wasn’t blood. It was lipstick. They had written on me again. Written in lipstick on my chest and stomach was “I’m a baby. Babies pee their pants.”
I don’t know why I keep doing it! I slammed my fist down on my thigh. My pants were crumpled up near the door; wet. Something must be really wrong with me. Fourteen-year-olds don’t do this shit.
With a wet washcloth, I wiped off most of the lipstick without rubbing too hard. I had fresh strap marks from the belt across my stomach and just touching it gently caused me pain. I stumbled down the hallway to my room and changed into dry underwear and pants. I found a short sleeve undershirt and carefully pulled it on and then my warmest flannel shirt. I didn’t understand why I seemed so cold now when moments ago I was sweating. I sat down on my bed and held my hand over my stomach while the soundtrack of my life played out in the kitchen.
Eventually I heard the door to the garage slam and the car start. As soon as it squealed out of the garage, I slowly crept to the kitchen.
Glass covered the floor, and my mom sat against the wall, drinking from a bottle with a jagged opening. Her face was bruised, and her lip was bloody. Her eyes latched onto me.
“Anthony, baby, come help mama,” she slurred.
I didn’t move. I hated it when she got like this. Sadly, my mother was even meaner when she was drunk.
“Anthony! Get your goddamn ass over here and help me up!”
I walked over and carefully stretched out my hands for her to take. She grabbed my hand but wouldn’t set the bottle down long enough to stand. It was pathetic. She started to slip, but I caught her so she wouldn’t fall and land on the glass.
She began laughing hysterically and grabbed at me in her drunken state. I moved out of the way and out of her reach.
“Why do you do this to yourself?”
“It makes me feel good. I’m surprised you haven’t started yet. Maybe slip a sip here or there when we aren’t looking.”
“I wouldn’t dare put that shit in my system. I see what it does to you guys!”
“Oh baby, we drink so we can tolerate you.”
She didn’t mean it. She’s drunk. The liquor makes her say those things. Even though I know this, it doesn’t make it any easier. Her hideous laugh filled the kitchen.
“Did you find the lipstick?” she asked while laughing out of control.
I could barely look at her as she laughed at me.
“I wrote it while you were passed out!” She cackled. “Anthony, baby, you really need to stop pissing yourself. Twelve is too old—”
“I’m fourteen!”
“Bruce said he’s going to start putting you in diapers!”
She laughed so hard and stumbled backward, falling to the ground. Her bottle crashed to the floor, and she cried out. Serves her right.
“Help me up, Anthony!”
Since the liquor was gone, I went over and helped her off the ground and guided her to the couch. The entire way, she was grabbing at me and making me feel ill.
“Stop!” I yelled and backed away.
“Anthony baby, I was just checking to see if you were still dry.”
“I’m NOT a baby!”
I had it. I stormed out of the house, leaving behind me the sound of her sick laughter. The second my feet hit the sidewalk, I took off running to the park. I made my usual path of walking around the tennis courts and found a tennis ball on my route. In the park, there was a large cement wall, and I went over to it with the tennis ball. I threw that ball against the wall as hard as I could until my stomach hurt so badly that I had to stop.
I woke up to pain in my side and immediately turned the light on and felt under the blankets before pushing the sheets back. I was dry. I hadn’t had an accident since I was eighteen. I breathed a sigh of relief but still got out of bed.
Quietly, I walked out into the loft, and I was going to go downstairs, but my football caught my eye on the couch. I sat down next to it and then leaned on it. Soon enough, I was hanging onto it.
Chapter Thirteen
February 2001
“Anth, are you in the mood to play with Samantha?” Colin asked me as he took a seat next to me at the bar in Irons.
I frowned and looked around for Samantha.
“She’s outside in the pool. I was getting blown by a sub out there, and Samantha asked me if you and I were up to a scene.”
“Samantha, the switch?” I asked.
“Yeah, but she said she’s just looking to entertain her submissive side tonight.”
I raised my eyebrows. I was indifferent, so I told Colin that if he wanted to play, I’d play along. Otherwise, I wasn’t going to lose sleep over not having a scene. I lose enough sleep on my own.
“She said she’d love to scene with us,” Colin said.
Matt burst out laughing and slapped his hand on the bar.
“As if any woman in Irons wouldn’t want to scene with you two,” Matt threw in his two cents.
“That’s not true, Matt. The Domme’s want nothing to do with us,” I added.
Again, he laughed and shook his head. I flipped him off and nodded to Colin.
“Yes!” Colin slapped me on my shoulders and said he’d go get Samantha and would meet me in the dungeon.
I left Matt in the bar and made my way down to the dungeon and went into a stall that had just been cleaned. I normally didn’t play with switches, so we’ll see how this goes. Colin appeared with Samantha, and I exchanged pleasantries with her. He reiterated to me that Samantha would be in the submissive role this evening and I nodded.
“What is your safe word, Samantha?” I asked her.
“Red is what I play by, Anthony,” she replied.
I glanced at Colin, and he was already looking at me. I’m not one to get off on being called “Sir,” or “Master Anthony,” but it’s known in Irons that subs use a title and name out of respect, versus our first name only. I was wondering though if we were really going to play with Samantha’s submissive side, or if we were playing with her dominant side. I’m pretty sure Colin was wondering this as well.
“Do you have any prior injuries or places we need to avoid or anything we should know about?” Colin asked.
“No injuries, gentlemen.”
I made mention of my right side, and she nodded before saying, “Yes, the famous side scar. I know my boundaries.”
Samantha removed her clothes as Colin and I pulled our shirts off and unbuttoned our pants. Colin and I used rope to bind her to the spanking bench and took turns paddling her ass. While I paddled her, she sucked on Colin and then we traded places. She was blowing me when Colin caught my attention. I could tell he wanted to know if I was ready to fuck her. I nodded and took a stepped backward so my cock would be out of reach for her mouth. I crouched down and freed her wrists from the restraints while Colin took care of her legs.
“Ready to be stuffed, Samantha?” Colin asked.
“Hell yeah! I’ve been waiting for this opportunity,” she replied.
I got down on the floor so she could ride me. I barely slipped a folded towel under my head before Samantha slapped her hands down on my chest and straddled me. It caught me off guard, and then she dragged her fingernails down my chest to the base of my cock.
“Fuck,”
I hissed and glanced at my torso.
From time to time, I enjoy rough sex, so this move hadn’t completely turned me off. Over Samantha’s shoulder I could see Colin, and his expression was one of shock. I nodded to him that I was fine and motioned for him to enter her. Samantha had mounted me and was fucking me hard, but Colin still wasn’t in her yet. I reached up, grabbed hold of her nipples and pinched. This halted all of her movements.
“Be still so Colin can get up in your ass and make you moan,” I said.
She sucked in her breath as Colin smacked her ass and pushed on her back so that she’d lean over me. Again, Samantha slapped her hands down on my chest as Colin began to invade her ass.
“Oh, fuck!” Samantha huffed out. “I thought taking him up the ass would be better than taking your thick cock up the ass, but damn…he’s feels as thick as you look!”
Samantha dug her fingernails into my chest and then lowered her head to my shoulder. As Colin pushed all the way in her, I felt a piercing pain on my upper arm. I made a shrugging movement with my arms, effectively shoving her away. I glanced at my arm and saw blood. My eyes shot up to Samantha, and she had a little bit of blood on her lower lip and chin.
“Red,” Colin said.
“Dammit!” Samantha said and held her hands on her face.
I think she realized that at some point she switched over to her dominant side. At some point. Colin slowly withdrew, despite Samantha’s protests.
“Dammit, Colin! Give me another chance. This time, I’ll be completely submissive,” she begged.
“Nope. I said ‘red.’ Scene over,” Colin calmly replied.
As Colin stood, he pulled Samantha off of me by her upper arms, and he looked down at me. I sat up and looked down at my chest. Fuck it stung. Sometimes my mom would scratch me like this. I shut my eyes for a moment and forced myself not to go there and get caught up in old memories...not here. Not in Irons.
When I opened my eyes, a Dungeon Monitor was looking at Samantha’s lip, and then another Dungeon Monitor walked into the stall. It was Luke. He was talking with Colin as I stood up. Colin was already back in his jeans. I swiped mine up off the floor and quickly pulled them on. Over Colin’s shoulder, I could see Paul out in the hallway leaning against a pillar, watching.
“So, what hurts the most: being a scratching post for a cat or a vampire’s plaything?” Colin joked.
I just shook my head. A few minutes later, Blake walked into the stall. He checked on Samantha first and then came over to me. His hands were on his hips, and he looked really surprised.
“What happened?” he asked.
Colin thankfully did all of the talking, or most of it, until Blake pointedly asked me if I was ok. I nodded that I was, but they all said I needed to visit the first aid station. As Colin and I headed that way with Blake, I noticed that Paul was nowhere in sight.
“Hey, let me see,” Matt said as he approached me at the first aid station.
Matt took hold of my arm and tilted it to get a better look at it in the light. He pulled out a pair of latex gloves from the box and put them on, then gently rubbed his finger over the bite.
“Yeah, she broke the skin,” he said.
“Really, Matt? Was it the blood that gave it away, or was it the nine years of medical school that led you to that prognosis?” I sarcastically jabbed.
The four of us had a laugh over it as Matt told the first aid attendant that he would tend to me. After he cleaned and bandaged my arm, he took an antiseptic pad and brushed over the fingernail marks that went down my chest and stomach. I glanced at Colin, and he looked pissed but calm. A calm pissed off. He was always so calm.
After I smelled like a hospital ward, I pulled my shirt on and went up to the bar with the guys and got a tall glass of Coke. I sipped it quietly as Colin retold the story to Matt and Blake. I could feel Blake’s eyes on me and sensed that he was concerned, though he didn’t have a reason to be.
“I’m going to head out. My chest fucking burns,” I said and downed the rest of my Coke.
I told Colin I’d see him Monday at work and headed to the lobby. I grabbed my jacket from the coat check girl and headed towards my truck. I got in my truck and was about to back out when a piece of paper under my wiper blade caught my eye. I put the truck in park, opened the door and stood on the running board to reach the piece of paper on the windshield under the wiper blade.
“Ow, fucking son of a bitch!” I swore.
Stretching for the paper made the marks left behind by the fingernails hurt. Annoyed, I snatched the paper and sat back down in my truck. Written on it was one word: pussy. I rolled my eyes. I knew it was Paul. Fucking dick.
By the time I got home, I was even more pissed off. These fucking fingernail marks better not leave anything permanent. I can’t believe that bitch bit me. I went inside and immediately pulled my shirt off on my way to my bathroom.
“Fuck!”
I swore again when I saw the welts. I was breathing hard and had to calm down. It was just some fingernail marks…just like my fucking mom would put on me. I took a cold shower and made up a few baggies of ice and took them back to my room. I put a tee shirt on and set the ice bags on my chest and stomach. Not only would it soothe the welts but it should also take some swelling down.
Even though I was dead tired, I couldn’t fall asleep. I turned on Sports Center, and every twenty minutes or so I pulled the ice bags off, waited about fifteen minutes and put them back on. I’ll be damned if I end up with permanent marks out of this.
“Mom?”
I knocked on her bedroom door and called her name. I didn’t hear anything and knocked again. Still no answer. I went to the kitchen and looked at the clock. It was almost seven, and Bruce wasn’t home yet.
Carrying my book report, I pushed the door open and walked into her room. I got an ‘A’ on it and was excited to show her. Along with my book report, I carried a book order flier. I never brought the book order fliers home because I knew the answer would always be ‘no.’ But this one had a special He-Man Masters of the Universe two book set. I was hoping that luck was on my side and she’d let me order the two books…especially since I did so well on my book report.
“Mom? Where are you?”
I heard her sniffling and thought she was crying in the bathroom. I called her name and pushed her bathroom door open. She was sitting on the lid of the toilet with a tray on her lap. On the tray was the white powder stuff that I’ve seen her and Bruce messing with before. I startled her, and the tray slid off her lap onto the floor.
“Damn you, Anthony! Do you know what a closed door means?”
“I’m sorry. I knocked—”
“And did I fucking open the door?”
I shook my head.
“No, that’s why I came in. Look, I wanted to show you my book report.”
I proudly held up my book report of Charlie and The Chocolate Factory with the ‘A’ displayed on my yellow construction paper cover. Some kids had really nice folders for their book reports. But even though mine was just stapled with yellow construction paper, I still earned an ‘A’ on it. Everyone who earned an ‘A’ was going to have it displayed on the bulletin board in the second grade hallway.
My mom grabbed it out of my hands and tore it down the middle. In horror, I screamed for her to stop. She tossed the few pieces of paper on the floor at my feet, and I dropped the book order flier to retrieve my book report.
“That was special to me!” I yelled.
She pulled me up on my knees by my hair and slapped me hard on the side of my head. I dropped my papers and tried to shield my face from her long nails. She ended up scratching my neck with one hand while her other hand slapped my ear.
“Now you know what it’s like to lose something that is special. You made me drop something that was special to me, you little shit.”
She picked up my book order flier and tore it into several pieces and sprinkled the pieces over my head.
“Get out of my
sight, Anthony. I can’t even look at you right now.”
I grabbed my papers and ran to the park. When I got there, I was out of breath and slid down the fence to the tennis court. My papers were crumbled and damp from my sweaty hands.
My mom hated me.
I kept rubbing and the places where she scratched me; it hurt. My ear hurt too. I wiped my tears on my sleeve and tried to smooth out my papers. Maybe we could tape it.
I trudged back home and knew more was coming from Bruce. When I got inside, he was waiting for me with the belt already off and resting on his knee.
I woke up feeling panicked from my dream and cold. I had fallen asleep with the bags of ice on my chest and stomach, and they were now resting on the mattress against my sides, mostly melted.
The dreams are starting to only come when something triggers it, I’m noticing. I take this as a good thing, though they’re still distracting. I checked out the slightly raised fingernail lines on my chest before I went to the gym. I was actually more annoyed with the fucking bite mark on my arm. I was heading out the door to go to the gym when my phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Anth,” Colin’s voice came through the receiver.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Nothing. Just calling to see if your arm fell off or if your skin is peeling away from the scratches,” he joked.
It made me laugh. I realized that he was calling to see how I was doing, but in a joking way. So, I joked back with him.
“Whoa, are you checking up on me or something?”
I was pretending to be shocked and used a mocking surprised tone. Colin laughed though.
“Yeah, something like that. If it’s easier for you to digest, then yes. Consider this as a big brother call.”
Now it was my turn to laugh.
“Ha! So, I have to be the little brother?”