Fifty Shades of Domination - My True Story Read Online Free PDF

safety of my parents’ home.
Bursting in through our never-locked back door I found my mummy in our tiny kitchen, fresh from work at another local school and still dressed in her dinner-lady uniform of grey skirt, pure white blouse and blue tabard – a necessity to protect herself from the soup splashes and chaos of serving lunches to scores of secondary-school children. Although my friend had upset me, I was sure that Mummy would soon take the scary feeling of uncertainty away… wouldn’t she?
How wrong can one be?
 
I had been a blissfully happy little girl until that afternoon when my loving childhood world fell apart. It was the day I found out that all the adults I knew, and all the grown-ups I loved and I trusted, had been lying to me throughout my young life. It had started like any other, with my normal lessons at school, and with me trying my hardest to please my teachers. One teacher always joked that if she set me one page of writing to do, she would always get back five. I remember people telling me I was ‘a bright little thing’, and so lessons were easy and fun. It was an ethnically-diverse school set between two huge West London council house estates, and I was always the tallest and skinniest girl in my class. I usually came near the top of the form in any tests, which was enough to make me a favourite target for the school bully, a little boy, no older than me, who would call me names and who sometimes waited after school to teaseme, push me across the path and try to make my cry. It was simply schoolyard stuff and never a serious problem but the man I knew as my dad was angry when he found me sniffling into my hankie one day after my classmate bully had teased me outside the school gates.
Strong, wiry, handsome, always loving, and totally dependable, my grandfather – who I had grown up knowing as my dad – was one of the two rocks on which my young life was built. He had a great sense of humour and was always laughing and joking. His naturally wavy hair smelt of Bryclreem and was a source of considerable pride. ‘You know all you girls want hair like mine,’ he would tell me, an unlikely supposition given that my own hair was so long I could sit on it. After years of service in the Royal Navy, my grandfather had been made redundant and was at home a great deal as he struggled to find another job. Although I did not understand his unemployment at the time, his house-husband role meant that he and I grew even closer. I felt I was lucky to have a daddy always at home, while other friends had to wait until almost bedtime before their fathers came home to play.
For my grandfather, the bullying incident was easy to deal with: ‘You just have to stand up for yourself, darling. Push the boy back; you’re bigger than him anyway. Punch him if you have to. I’ll teach you how you can fight.’ To my mum’s – or rather grandmother’s – horror, she walked into the house after work to a scene in which Granddad was play-fighting with me in the living-room, teaching me a flat-handed chop to the side of the neck that he guaranteed would win any fight. ‘Don’t teach her things like that,’ she pleaded. ‘She’ll go and kill the boy, instead of stopping him bullying.’ In the event, the lessonworked a treat. The very next day I turned the tables on my previously-feared tormentor. Although never utilising the much-hyped ‘Navy Death Blow’, I did walk up to the boy after school, full of the confidence my grandfather had given me. I pushed him as hard as I could; he fell on his back, picked himself up… and ran away crying. Looking back now, I feel (just a little) ashamed of the way that my new-found power over him developed from that point. I was now the one who waited for him after school and teased and tormented him to the point of tears. On one memorable afternoon, I made him kneel down on the path and kiss my school shoes – the first of the innumerable times that men have since literally