Gerard, Tim’s older brother (half-brother actually, their mom couldn’t remember who their fathers were), had had enough. Too often had they seen Tim with bruises on his arms or a slap mark on his face, too often had he heard Tim screaming or crying himself to sleep. Gerard knew something had to be done, he just hadn’t decided what.
Several times, Gerard had ‘anonymously’ contact child and family services, but that was a joke. Old men judges believe it is ‘in the best interest of the child’ to stay with the mother, even if she is an alcoholic prostitute who keeps bringing ‘uncles’ home, uncles who more than once Gerard had to keep Tim away from.
As months past, Mom kept getting drunk, Tim kept getting hurt and Gerard kept promising himself she would pay until one day, when Gerard came home from his part time job, he was surprised there were no ‘uncles’ around, only his mother on the couch (passed out) with her vibrator in her hand, and Tim playing in the backyard. Tim seemed content to play alone with his toys, so Gerard didn’t bother him, and went to the kitchen to make the usual Kraft Dinner for supper. While cleaning the kitchen, Gerard stumbled across a shocking oddity, a BDSM magazine. His initial shock nearly knocked him over, and then he started to wonder, ‘Was this mom’s or one of her boyfriends’?’
Just then, Tim entered the kitchen with his standard cheery “Gerry’s” and a big hug for his older brother. “Hey, Timmy,” Gerard greeted back hiding the magazine on top of the fridge, “time to wash-up for supper.” and Tim left to wash-up in the bathroom.
Once Tim left, Gerard took the magazine down and started paging through it. ‘Do people... does mom, do this stuff for real?’ he wondered looking at his mother in the next room, ‘Or even to each other?’ Gerard’s thoughts froze at that second and then his mind raced: ‘BDSM magazine, assorted uncles, drunken mom.... Tim?’
He raced to the bathroom just as Tim was drying his hands. “Let me see if they’re clean.” he said to Tim (they were) “and how high did you wash?’” Tim pushed his sleeves half way to the elbow to show Gerard what a good job he did. “Good, really good,” Gerard praised thankful there were no marks on Tim’s wrists to indicate bindings, just the usual bruises, new and old, left by his mother, “Now, let’s go eat.”
After their meal, Tim and Gerard watched television until it was time for Tim to go to bed. Making sure his brother was comfortable and starting to doze off, Gerard left to the kitchen to continue perusing the BDSM magazine. He studied each page noticing, in most pictures, the restraints were fastened in such a way as to limit or even deny any movement by the wretch entrapped. Thumbing through the pages, he also noted that often restraints were used to ensure lack of escape from an instrument of punishment. ‘Boy,’ thought Gerard, looking at his mother, ‘if I could just get my hands on some of this stuff.’
More time passed, more days returning home with mom asleep on the couch (usually alone), more time thinking of how to help Tim until THE day came. Shortly after his eighteenth birthday, Gerard had applied for legal custody of his younger brother and now, a little over a year later, just before his mom’s 40th birthday, it was granted. He had finished college; obtained a fairly well paying job; spoke to countless workers about the bad influence his mother was, and now he won their freedom, leaving only one thing unfinished, vengeance on his mother for Tim.
A few days later, Gerard walked in the door carrying two bottles of vodka, his mother’s favourite. ”Happy Birthday.” He called out entering the door, but it wasn’t needed, she was already passed out.
Putting the bottles of vodka down, Gerard went to work executing his ‘final present’ for his mother, and a special present for his brother. Not knowing how long she’d been passed out, Gerard worked quickly. Taking two blankets from the closet, he took the first and wrapped them around his mother’s body trapping her wrists against her waist and wrapped along her body, tying the blanket off around her shoulders. The second blanket started its wrap around her ankles and worked its way up her legs to just below her crotch. Gerard stepped back to admire his work and smiled. Noticing his mother was starting to wake, he rolled up a towel (lengthwise) and used it to gag her. As she woke, she began to realize her situation, immobilized and gagged, she started to panic, but could barely move to remedy her situation.
“Surprise Mom,” Gerard said picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder, “this year I’m making sure you get what you deserve.” He carried her into the kitchen and tossed her, face down, on the table and proceeded to pull the hem of her dress up, and her panties down. Going to one of the kitchen drawers, he grabbed a roll of plastic wrap, tucked one end into her ass and wrapped her to the table until she was plastic wrapped from the small of her back to her upper thighs. Once done, he returned the plastic wrap to the drawer and got a pillow case from the closet. He carefully, using small safety pins, affixed the pillowcase over her ass, than brought a bunch of blankets, sheets and pillows to camouflage the rest of her body. With his mother securely fastened and disguised, he went to the backyard calling, “Hey, Timmy.”
He sat with Tim in the backyard and told him that about the change in guardianship to which Tim jumped up and hugged Gerard with happiness before Gerard explained, “Tim, I know this is what you want and need, but it must be done right, I don’t want you to bring any unhappy memories to our new home.”
“I won’t, I won’t.” promised Tim.
“I know you’ll try not to Timmy, so I asked all the social workers I know how to ensure you don’t, and I want you to try it.” Taking Tim by the hand, Gerard led Tim into the kitchen and stood him beside the table.
“”Everyone I talked to calls this frustration and memory release.” He told Tim handing him a short, thick, heavy belt, “The idea is to beat that pillow,” he pointed to the pillowcase covering their mother’s ass, “until all bad memories have been released. Now, think of all things you hated and take them out on that pillow.”
Tim drew back the belt and delivered a blow with a force that it amazed Gerard who, standing at the head of the table, watched his mother’s reaction. A second blow landed and tears formed in the woman’s eyes. A third stroke landed and his mother’s eyes begged Gerard for mercy, a fourth, a fifth, a sixth. It was obvious Tim was using all his strength, a strength no one knew a twelve year old could muster, to release the ghosts of fear, pain and hate from his system. The blows landed faster, harder, a thunderstorm of belt strokes beat the pillow of memories until, after some thirty of so blows, Tim dropped the belt and in a panting breath said, ”I think it worked, I feel better than I can remember.”
Then let’s go home.” Gerard said taking him by the shoulder and not allowing him to look back.
Gerard put Tim to bed in their new apartment telling him to sleep peacefully and, as Tim did so, Gerard left the apartment and went to a back alley where he had previously seen some derelicts and asked, “Anyone want to earn some vodka, come with me.”
All five homeless people followed for the promise of free booze. Entering his mother’s house, Gerard took them to the kitchen, pulled away the pillowcase hiding his mother’s ass and cut away the plastic coating exposing a deep red and blue bruised butt. He then turned to his followers and said, “I’ll pay you three ounces of vodka to fuck that ass, and whoever does it the most viciously gets the remainder of the bottle. “
“That’s not fair.” screamed the one woman who accompanied them, “I ain’t got a dick.”
“True,” Gerard conceded handing her the belt, “so I’ll tell you what... two ounces of vodka for each time you freshen the bruises, say five strokes, before each guy has his turn.”
“Deal.” The old hag agreed and, taking the belt, prepared the ass for its first assaulter. The sound of the belt striking bare flesh rather than the pillowcase sounded like a symphony to Gerard. After the fifth landed, he poured the hag her two shots of vodka. Waiting until the first ‘contestant’ was hard fucking his mother’s ass; he leaned over beside his mother’s ear and whispered, “This is for what you put Tim through all those years, Happy Birthday.”
