Chapter Text
I was ten years old when Mom saw me walking on the railroad track. I didn't think it was a big deal but she got all excited saying, "Oh, honey you have great balance. You could be a gymnast. I would be so proud if you got into the Olympic competition."
Like I said, it was not a big deal. I had balanced myself on smaller things, like our board fence, and I was not excited about becoming a gymnast. I had watched them on TV and it looked like a lot of work that could hurt. I was not big on being hurt at that age, but that was going to change.
Since I was five, I was reminded of pain every time I went to my room to see the strap hanging on my wall. It was there for one purpose—to remind me to be a good little girl.
It was not easy being a good little girl. I really tried, but sometimes I did things I thought were okay, yet it turned out that my parents hated them. They were little things like improper table manners, or not doing my homework right after dinner, or watching trash on YouTube.
As a matter of fact, my table manners were better than the kids at school, and it didn't affect my grades if I did the homework right away or later. But none of it mattered to them.
I also thought they were hypocrites since they seemed to enjoy punishing me. My punishment time was always Friday after dinner. I am sure they picked that time to let the welts and bruises go down before I went to school on Monday.
They also believed in progressive punishment. Any time I did anything wrong, they put a check mark on the bulletin board:
First check earned me a spanking on my panties. Two checks, and the spanking was on my bare behind already sore from the first. Third got me spanked on my inner thighs real close to my vagina which really hurt. Fourth was delivered on the soles of my feet with a stiff cane. Fifth was reserved for my chest and my budding nipples. Sixth got me a spanking on my tummy, from below my belly button to the top of my puffy pussy. Seventh was on my stomach again, but the cane was replaced by Daddy's fist, while my Mom held my arms from behind. I hated the eighth the most because they would slap my face eight times until I sobbed from pain and humiliation. Ninth was the belt that landed on my vagina and you could not imagine how painful that would be. But it was the tenth that was the worst of all, and it was delivered ten times right on my spread-open anus with a plastic rod.
By Wednesday I had two checks and I was really careful not to get any more. It wasn't just the pain that was terrible it was having to live with the fear for days and the humiliation and embarrassment.
Friday after supper the degrading ritual would begin. I had to go to my room and get the appropriate punishment instrument to bring down to them, then kneel and hold it out in front of me to say, "I have been naughty. Please punish me. I know I deserve it."
I hated having to say that because it was a lie. Most times I didn't think I deserved to be hurt at all.
Then I would have to take off my dress or jeans and T-shirt. I couldn't understand the necessity of being bare on top if I my punishment was on my bottom. I assumed they made me do it because I was embarrassed about my nipples sticking out from my chest.
Once I was only wearing my little cotton panties I had to go to the kitchen to get a chair to place in front of the couch where Daddy would be sitting and then lean over it. I am not very tall, so the back of the chair would painfully dig deep into my tummy even though I was on tip-toes.
Mom would give me five spanks that felt like they were stinging and burning deep inside me, then Daddy would get up and give me five more on my already sore bottom.
For the second set I had to move the chair, then move the coffee table forward to make room for me to be hit without hitting Daddy's legs. After that, I had to take off my panties facing him. When they were on the floor I had to say, "I am ready to be punished." I never really felt ready for it.
This, however, wasn't over yet. I had to turn and lie flat across the coffee table. The only way I could get every inch of my belly and chest touching the table was by spreading my legs. I had checked in the mirror on my closet door and knew that made my pussy totally visible which made me very embarrassed.
Mom would give me five swats that hurt even more on my sore and naked butt, after which, Daddy would get up to give me another five. His were worse because he aimed at the juncture of my thighs and butt which would be super sensitive and really close to hitting my pussy. In retrospect, I think that was exactly what he wanted to do. Punishing my genitals wasn't common, but I knew they both enjoyed inflicting pain on my poor cunny until it became red and swollen.
When it was done, I had to get up and turn to face them and thank them for the just punishment. The thing that really bothered me was that Daddy would have a big lump in his pants and I had learned in Sex ED that penis grows when the man is sexually aroused. Even Mom would be breathing funny with an excited look on her face.
I had to face the wall and think about my failure while they went into their bedroom. I heard the bed squeaking and their moans. It made me angry to be used as some kind of torture toy that provides them with sexual excitement. It seemed only fair for me to rub the little nubbin called my clitoris to make me forget the pain and eventually get this great feeling of release.
Later, they would come out of their room in bathrobes and tell me to go to my room and do my homework.
I never did it right away. First I would back up to my mirror to asses what damage they had done. I swore that if it was welted to the point I would still have marks on Monday, I would tell the teacher and have them arrested for child abuse. The marks would always be gone by Monday though and I don't think I would have told anyway since that meant I would have no parents and have to go to a foster home. The other kids had told me horror stories about foster homes run by perverts and I certainly did not want to get myself into something worse.
Anyway, Mom checked around and found a Gymnastic trainer. When we went into his office she was really impressed when she saw girls my age and younger in photographs on his wall wearing gold and silver medals. It was not until much later I found that none of those girls had been trained by him.
He came in and looked me over, then with the excuse of checking my muscle tone, he asked me to strip naked right there before my Mom, and then he felt my legs, butt and tummy. I blushed furiously at this strange man shamelessly groping me, but Mom just went along with it.
He said, "It takes a lot to be a great gymnast. She will have to learn discipline and to accept pain. Until she becomes limber some moves will be quite painful. It is also necessary for her to be skinny. In your daughter's case, that is not a problem. As you can see, her ribs stand out on her chest. You can count them: five on each side. On some girls I can count up to eight ribs, but it takes dedication to the sport to get to that point. Hard exercise and strict diet. As her mother, you have to enforce the proper diet. A single dry toast for breakfast, half a banana for lunch, and a small cup of yogurt for dinner. Nothing else. When she's exercising, she will have to accept me as her Lord and Master and do as I say without question."
Mom said, "Oh she is a good little girl. She accepts our discipline and I am sure will accept yours."
"Good. There are a couple of other things I should tell you. Most of the girls are embarrassed at first to wear only leotards which become transparent when they perspire. To get them over that embarrassment early I have them practice only in their panties."
Mom interrupted him to say, "That should be no problem. She is used to being exposed to strangers."
I felt like dying from humiliation and embarrassment.
"Good, but let me finish. Some girls aren't willing to work as hard as they should and in that case I have found the only thing that works is corporal punishment."
I didn't know what corporal punishment was but Mom made it plain by saying, "Oh you mean like spanking. I have no problem with that. She is punished at home in different ways, and I have always thought it was a mistake when schools stopped spanking children. I think that is the reason children are so bad now."
"Good. Then you won't be upset if she comes home with some red welts and bruises on her body?"
"Oh, no. We whip every inch of her body regularly, from her feet to her chest when necessary."
That really embarrassed me and I hated the grin on his face.
"Good. I will accept your daughter as a candidate. I am sure if she works hard she will be in the Olympics team. We will start tomorrow at six PM and you can pick her up at nine."
Mom said, "I planned to stay and watch her practice."
"No. Having parents around distracts them. If you come back before nine you will find the door is locked. That is how strongly I feel about parental interference."
Then Mom said hesitantly, "How much will this cost us. We don't have a lot of money."
He smiled and said, "Fortunately I had a very successful father who left me a substantial trust fund. I train deserving little girls at no charge. I stress deserving. If your daughter does not obey and exercise as required, and if you don't enforce her diet, she will be dropped from the team."
Mom was ecstatic. She smiled from ear to ear and said, "Don't worry. She will cooperate. If you have to punish her in any way necessary, let me know and we will continue on double when she gets home."
I cringed knowing if he gave me ten spanks they would add twenty more which land on my more tender parts.
Mom got me there early next day, and we had to wait until he opened the door of his gym. She shoved me through the door saying, "Do whatever he tells you. I don't want to hear any bad reports."
That scared me and I knew I would have to be his virtual child slave.
When everyone arrived. He had ten girls from nine to eleven. He said that when we got to be twelve we would be trained by someone else. That is when I realized he just liked torturing little girls.