Chapter 2

You’re an onion mom and I’m going to strip away your layers ... one at a time.

As they stood there Debbie’s mouth now fell open and it was while her brilliant mind tried to process the revolting thing that her son had just said that Jarrett shoved her. It was an action that only took an instant and yet that was all Jarrett needed. For, even though he was small for his age and his voluptuous red headed mother still towered over him; as Jarrett lunged forward, first with his entire body and then with his arms, the young boy managed to strike her right at the bottom of her ribs. This now caused Debbie to not only fly backwards but it also completely lifted the sheltered, prudish mom off the ground. Debbie though was only dimly aware of the fact that she was now flying for, before she could react, a tremendous new pain was shooting throughout her spine as it joined the agony in her ribs. This was because, when Debbie She was landed, she hit the couch right where its metal frame was covered with only a thin strip of upholstery and she landed right on the middle of her back. Even worse, the couch was pushed back against the wall that doubled as a staircase up to the second floor and Debbie’s head now cracked hard against the edge of one of the wooden stairs. Off the wall and the couch Debbie now bounced and, as she ricocheted and then fell, the pretty Catholic mom landed with her left arm awkwardly underneath her. Now it was this delicate limb’s turn to bear the brunt of the attack as the weight of her entire body landed on top of it. She had landed on the cushions of the couch, not that it seemed that such a soft surface had helped save her arm but then she rolled onto the floor. There the shocked prudish mom merely lay as her breath came out in shaky gasps. Now, ironically enough, even though Debbie was brilliant, her genius mind just couldn’t seem to understand what had just happened. Perhaps it was merely a fog created by pain, for the ache in her midsection seemed unbearable. The pretty Catholic mom had never experienced anything like it before; in fact, Debbie would have never believed a person could experience as much pain as she was in just then but, then again, she had led such a sheltered life that she had never suffered any sort of injury other than a minor cut, scrape, or bruise.

God... Debbie now thought. I ... think I broke m-my wrist ... maybe my arm and probably my ribs too. So ... so much pain but I ... I can’t ... what ... what is happening. Why ... why would Jarrett do such a thing. I ... I don’t understand but I ... I think I might be in real d-danger. I ... I’ve got to get up. Come on. Get up Debra you’re ... you’re in danger.

But, even though Debbie’s mind gave out orders, her body wouldn’t comply. Physicality was an area in which she had never learned discipline and so the pretty Catholic mom instead merely laid there; softly moaning and desperately wanting to take in air yet unable to do so because of the pain in her ribs. But where was Jarrett? He was somewhere but all Debbie knew now was her pain and it wasn’t until she opened her eyes that she then became dimly aware that Jarrett was grabbing her ankle. It was another act that confused her and, in it, Debbie didn’t see much danger at least until Jarrett removed one of her shoes.

What? I ... I don’t understand? What ... what is he doing?

Whatever it was it was starting to set off little alarm bells in the prudish mom’s brain. She then tried to get up and while she was able to maneuver herself into a sitting position, despite the excruciating pain in both her ribs and spine; Jarrett took off her other shoe.

“Juh ... Jarrett ... what ... what are you doing?”

Debbie’s voice came out in a grunt. Apparently even speaking was an activity that hurt but, as she waited for an answer, none was forthcoming, at least not in any form the pretty red-headed mom could appreciate. Instead, all Debbie got now was a new and ferocious burning sensation that went screaming and tearing through her scalp. For Jarrett had intertwined his fingers throughout her gorgeous auburn and silky locks and then attempted to lift her onto the couch by her hair.

“GAAAAH!!!!!!!!!! JARRETT PLEASE STOP!!!!!!!!!! STOP!!!!!!!!!! STOP!!!!!!!!!!”

Debbie’s shrieks of pain seemed ear-piercing to her own ears but Jarrett acted as if he didn’t even hear them. Instead, Debbie now discovered that her left wrist wasn’t broken at all because her arms, while they at first merely flailed, they then found the corner of the couch and pushed hard against it as the pretty Catholic mom attempted to lift herself up. Now, working together, Debbie and her son managed to raise her up high enough so that she could be seated on the couch but, once she was on it, Jarrett then yanked her backwards, slamming Debbie’s back into the rear of the couch. It was all just happening so fast that, as intelligent as Debbie was, her brilliant mind just didn’t have time to process it. Now, before she even realized what was happening, Jarrett had straddled her legs while placing his knees on top of her hands.

“Jarrett ... what ... what are you doing? Why ... why are you doing this? I ... I don’t understand.”

“Admit I’m your master. Swear that you’ll bend the knee to me. Tell me you now understand that it is only proper that women submit themselves to any man who demands it but especially to members of their family, even to their own fourteen-year-old son.”

“Jarrett ... what ... I ... I don’t understand,” Debbie said again and the woman who had always comprehended even the most complex of subjects with ease now found herself to be genuinely confused.

THOCK!Jarrett now punched her as hard as he possibly could, of this Debbie was sure, hitting her squarely in the center of her tender left breast. The pretty Catholic mom now reflexively lurched forward in overwhelming pain while her eyes bulged out wide and her full and red lips quickly formed into a small red ‘o’. Then, as Debbie leaned forward as she tried to double over in pain, Jarrett made his move. He now took advantage of his mom’s momentary incapacity as he lifted his left knee off her right wrist. Jarrett then grabbed ahold of that wrist with his own left hand and, as Debbie settled back into her seat again with her eyes now shut as if that would keep out the pain, he viciously yanked on his mother’s right arm and then repeatedly punched it with his own right hand.

THOCK! THACK! THOCK! THOCK! THOCK! THOCK! THOCK! THACK!

Jarrett’s tiny, closed fist now landed eight times as Debbie’s fourteen-year-old son pulverized her arm from her wrist to her shoulder.

THACK! THACK! THOCK! THOCK! THOCK! THOCK! THOCK! THOCK! THOCK!

He then punched her again, only this time the punches were going in the reverse direction as they started at her wrist and traveled up her arm and only stopped when they finally reached her shoulder. To Debbie, whose body was overcome with pain, each blow her son landed with his tiny rock hard fist seemed to paralyze her arm to the point it was useless. Jarrett then capped off his volley of punches with a final massive smash to Debbie’s shoulder; it was another vicious thing that seemed orders of magnitude more powerful than anything a fourteen-year-old boy should be capable of delivering. An explosion of pain now shot out of Debbie’s shoulder as her entire body rocked back on that side and, as her eyes opened wide in shock, the pretty Catholic mom thought for a moment that her shoulder would pop out of its socket. Now, as Debbie once again closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to deal with the pain, the pretty Catholic mom felt her son let go of her arm. It then fell limply to the couch as if it were a dead animal and there it just lay while Debbie fought to keep herself from crying. Then, from Debbie’s full red lips, came a squeal of surprise as the pretty Catholic mom started violently thrashing. For, Jarret had now grabbed the bottom of her sweater and, having done so, he then started lifting it up.

“NOOOOOO!” Debbie now wailed to no avail. For her son merely ignored her and, when she clenched her left arm against her side, for only the wrist on that arm was injured, Jarret asked her a question.

“So, I guess you want that arm to get a poundin’ like the other one did?”

“No-ho-ho” Debbie now cried and, this time, when she felt her son’s hands reach for the bottom edge of her sweater, right below her pulverized right arm she merely sobbed but didn’t move.

“Jarrett no it hurts,” Debbie now moaned and, when her son now dropped her sweater on that side, the pretty Catholic mom breathed a sigh of relief.

“Alright then, well I’ll lift it up on the other side then. Slide it over your head from there and then you won’t have to move that hurt arm at all.”

“No, you can’t do that either,” Debbie now protested but, at this point, even she was beginning to doubt her own words.

“I’m here to show you that I can mom. That’s part of the point of me doing all this. To show you that you are so weak and pathetically powerless that you can’t even stop your own fourteen-year-old son from doing whatever he wants to you. Now, do you want me to pull that left arm of yours out and prove it to you. I’m trying to be nice here but, one way or another, you’re gonna learn to accept the fact that I’m the man of the house and I get to do whatever I want, both to you and to everything else. How much you have to suffer while that happens, that’s entirely up to you.”

Jarrett now reached for the edge of his mother’s sweater on her left-hand side and, in response to this, Debbie clenched the arm on that side even more tightly against her. The pretty Catholic mom then tried to lean forward. She shut her eyes tightly and tried to roll herself into a ball but was unable to do to Jarrett straddling her thighs. So Debbie pressed her forehead into him and tried with all her might to dislodge him from her lap and, in response, the pretty Catholic mom was rewarded with an explosion of pain in her stomach as her head tried to move forward.

“OHNNNNGGGGGGG!!!” Debbie moaned against the pain and, as she did so, the pretty Catholic mom felt her left arm being torn from her side. At first it was yanked outwards so that it was parallel to the floor and then it was lifted. Once more Debbie thought her arm was going to tear out of her shoulder but her tendons and ligaments held while her forearm was forced over the top of her head. Debbie was then slammed back into the back of the couch and, now, she did feel her sweater lift. Her son was using his right hand while his left hand held her wrist up and over her head and now it was rising. Her sweater was being lifted on her left side and this was despite Debbie’s struggles. The pretty Catholic mom was now exerting maximum effort to free either of her hands and, even though she was fighting with everything she had, her sweater was still rising. Debbie was trapped. For the pretty Catholic mom was held down against the couch by the weight of her own son’s body while he also had wrapped her left arm around her head and then pinned her left hand against her right ear. Debbie now found herself struggling to believe just how strong Jarrett was and he squeezed her wrist so tightly that Debbie cried out in pain. For a moment, Debbie felt relief for, while the back of her sweater was trapped between her body and the backrest of the couch; it was then only a few seconds before Debbie could feel that material begin to be dragged up. All of her sweater was now rising on her left-hand side. It was being systematically removed from her body and to her ever-growing panic there didn’t seem to be anything Debbie could do about it. First it rose on the left-hand side and, as it did so, it dragged the fabric that was pinned between her body and the couch cushion with it. Soon, while the portion of the sweater that covered her back was still being dragged upwards, the bottom edge of the sweater that had been on her left side was rising over her elbow and, once the rest of the fabric from that side also came around that bony corner, Jarrett piled it up right next to where he securely gripped her wrist. Jarett’s right hand then slipped around behind her and, to her horror, Debbie then felt her son pull the rest of her sweater free from between her body and the back of the couch. In only a few seconds he had managed to get it all so that the entire back of her sweater lay bunched up behind her two shoulders.