Gastien Pt 1 Read Free Page A

praised her son, but not gratuitously, and told him how intelligent he really was. She explained that his father felt threatened by Gastien’s strong sense of self. She urged him to keep that and never be untrue to it. She repeatedly told him that the seeds of greatness were in him, and that he would accomplish whatever he set out to do, because he was destined for success. She told him often that she loved him. She also taught him how to read his father’s moods. Around her, he allowed himself to be open. He drank up her love, inwardly growing stronger and more resolved.

 
IV
    When Gastien turned sixteen, his mother gave him some painting materials for making some watercolour paints along with a new kind of paper. He could not imagine how she managed to hide away the money for them. When he had opened the gift, it was the happiest moment of his life so far.
    That moment was cut short by his father’s roar. “I will NOT, WILL NOT, have my son painting flowers like some girl! Give me that garbage right now, Gastien! You will NOT become a homosexual in this household! You are, and always will be, a farmer. Beauchamp men are never sissies!”
    Gastien grabbed the supplies and ran fast, deep into the woods. His father could not even attempt to catch up with him. He had secret places in the woods, places all boys have to keep special treasures that they don’t want others to know about. He put his new supplies in one of those places. They would stay clean and dry. Most importantly, they would stay safe from his father.
    God, how he hated him! He was so tired of being called a woman. He would like to tell his father that he had started dreaming about women a few years ago, and that sometimes he wanted to see a girl naked so badly that his penis got hard and then erupted. He supposed that would be another reason for a beating, though, so he kept silent and let his father berate him as feminine.
    One thing he did know. Whenever he did get lucky enough to get between a girl’s legs, she would not scream in agony! He would make sure that having Gastien Beauchamp was a pleasure females sought after. He did not know yet how to go about pleasing one, but he was determined to eventually learn. He had enough of hearing his pig of a father rut like an animal while his mother cried out in pain. He would never be like his father!
    The one concern was that women always seemed to decide to have babies and those he did not want. That was not really his concern, he told himself. If women wanted babies that was their business. They just were not going to tie him down with that decision. He would give them what they wanted in bed. What they did with it afterwards was up to them. He wanted to paint, not listen to babies cry.
    Between fantasizing about the great lover Gastien Beauchamp, relieving himself (a habit that was becoming more frequent the last several months), and trying out his paints it was soon evening. When he came back, after dark, he knew he was walking into yet another beating. Gastien had no way of knowing, however, that this time would end up being much worse than any previous beating.
    His father was waiting for him inside the door with a wet, leather strap in his hand. Jean Beauchamp looked insane. He told Gastien to remove his shirt. Then Jean beat his son over and over again, raging that he would beat the foolishness out of him or kill him in the process. Gastien heard his father’s heavy breathing as he wound up and lashed him over and over again. He steeled himself against the blows, trying to ignore the cruel words about how worthless he was and his father’s threats to kill him.
    Gastien refused to cry out. He would not give his father the satisfaction of begging him to stop or hearing his pain. Instead, he bit down on the insides of his mouth until he bit through, swallowing blood. Still he kept silent. He could not stop the tears, but he would be damned if he would make a single noise. Gastien could see all of the