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Eros:Confessions and Expreiences

The Meaning of My Life

My Kink

When, as a child, I made my most intimate acquaintance with the birch rod on my naked behind as well as through witnessing the frequent corporal punishments meted out to my five sisters, and when it gradually dawned on me that my parents derived a great, indeed the greatest, pleasure from such floggings, my thoughts began to dwell upon this singular fact.

While witnessing the floggings of my older sisters, for the first time I became aware of an excitement, which at that moment, was not wholly clear to me. After all, I was only ten and hardly in a position to analyse my feelings. The first feeling, surely, was one of fear produced by surprise. As the fear subsided, a second feeling took its place, curiosity, or better, the question: "How is Helen or Bertha being punished?" The thought of Helen's or Bertha's naked bottom surely lay in the background of this question. For, customarily, one of several slaps in the face were administered on the spot as parental discipline. But this mysterious withdrawal with my parents into a mom apart guided my thoughts toward the extraordinary. For what could this other punishment be except a birching on the fully exposed smooth buttocks?

This thought, for the moment not wholly clear, but which, as I have said, surely lay in the unconscious, soon produced a vague tickling in my nerve centre which received its definite object when Mother voiced her intention of using the rod on one of her daughter's stark-naked bottoms.

My excitement received a sure direction through this utterance, and it became the point of departure for my whole emotional life. The thought of the punishment to be carried out after the "verdict," which I could watch in all details, instantly kindled my sensual excitement, which increased according to the progress of the preparations: Mother's stern commands, Helen's or Bertha's pleas, entreaties, and tears, the act of unbuttoning the bloomers, the exposure of the smooth buttocks, in the end transported me into a hitherto unknown but very pleasant sensual state, as the rod did its appointed work on the stark-naked bottoms of my siblings.

From this moment, the word "rod" acquired a new ring in my ears, which stimulated my sex through the image forcibly conjured up in my mind of the rod as a punitive instrument associated with unbuttoned bloomers and fully bared buttocks, and which in this circumstance, besides inflicting the most terrible pains on the flogged backsides, also instilled an almost indescribable feeling of shame in the culpable girls. I became conscious of all these painful factors in my own soul and on my own bared bottom. Now for the first time it all became crystal clear to me. From this moment, my thoughts revolved more and more around the rod and naked buttocks, and were projected onto my schoolmates and other girls of my acquaintance. Do Ida or Else or Rigmor get birched? At home must they also unbutton their bloomers with hands trembling from shame and fear in order to expose the sweet, smooth hillocks of their bottoms to the merciless rod? How do their naked bottoms look? I tried to imagine the configuration of their backsides. And to assist my fancy, I used every opportunity to touch their bottoms - alas, only through their skirts - in order to ascertain whether the globes of their behinds were small or large, narrow or wide, firm or soft, arched or flat.

And at night in bed, I would relive all these tactile experiences in my fancy. I would play the role of the stern mother who unbuttons Ida's bloomers and who pitilessly exposes her bottom to view, despite her despairing entreaties and tears. My hands still preserved the feel of the spheres of their bottoms, which I had touched in the morning, and this fed my fancy more.

Thus, from my childhood on, the rod entrenched itself deeply in my psychic life as the central point of my sweetest dreams, as the climax of all that I anticipated in the way of bliss, and for me it has remained the peerless and truest form of eroticism. Every other pleasure in the world pales in comparison to the sweet birching of the naked bottoms of girls. And I am convinced that, no matter how old I grow, this sweet passion will constantly fill me with voluptuous bliss, and that I will eternally find this path to the gratification of my lust!