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Eros:Confessions and Expreiences


Extracts from a Disciplined Childhood

by Edith Cadivec


When I went to school the next day, the teacher made it quite obvious that she was fully and exactly informed about the disagreeable story of the forbidden book. She pointed at Dora and branded her as an evil-doer before the whole class. Someone had taken the trouble to hand the book over to the teacher and to disclose the secret to her with all proper discretion.

She took the Casanova book from her desk and fastened it up on the wall ...

At that time thrashings were not only administered in families, but also in schools. Dora, a thirteen-year-old girl, had not only lent the book to me but had secretly removed it from her father's library. When the teacher called her to account for it, Dora flatly denied it and named as the real culprit another girl who had nothing at all to do with the matter. After reaching the end of her patience, the teacher announced that Dora was to be punished before the whole class.

During this announcement all eyes in the classroom fell on Dora, whose pretty face reddened with shame. She bowed her head with a saintliness that was hypocritical sham, because I could notice that under her lengthy whimpers she was winking over to me and striving mightily to suppress an outburst of mocking laughter. She believed that I had betrayed her. I was in a state of wild excitement and trembled all over with a lustful craving for a look at her naked bottom.

At the close of the lesson the teacher pulled from her desk a fresh birch rod, obviously prepared in advance, summoned Dora to stand before her, adjusted a chair, and then ordered her to kneel on the seat. In a trice the poor girl's clothes were flung high above her back, her bloomers were pulled down and her rotund buttocks revealed to view. Dora remained in this position for several minutes, exposed to the scrutiny of all her classmates.

She had a white, well-formed bottom, voluptuous and beautiful in its lines, as I had envisioned it in my fantasies. Dora contracted the churning buttocks so close together that the dividing line almost disappeared, and she sobbed bitterly into her handkerchief.

As the teacher's rod swished on the smooth, white rotundities, Dora grew desperate and began to scream so loud that the nerves of all the onlookers quivered with excitement. Her screams ring in my ears to this very day:

"Forgive me - Fräulein teacher - please forgive me! ... oooh ... ooh ... oh-oh-oh ... I won't

- do it ... again .OOOOHH . . . forgive me . . OOOOOOHHHH!

Her act of contrition, however, had come too late because the teacher now took no notice of her shrill screams. Unflinchingly, she landed spirited blows on the repentant sinner's scarlet red buttocks... Swish! .... Swish!.. Swish! ... Swish!...

flogged bumHer flogged bottom danced and hopped according to this beat time, now expanding and contracting, now spreading the hams apart, now protruding toward the class and pulling itself in, only to meet again with the pitiless birch.

As if in a frenzy, the teacher counted, loud and slow, the blows that she landed on Dora's bottom, so slow indeed that she always counted two blows for one. She lashed Dora's red-hot and welt-covered buttocks pitilessly and vigorously without pause and her frenzy seemed to know no bounds.

Finally the procedure was over.

The teacher looked as though she were drunk and she was breathing heavily. Dora rose to her feet with feeble movements, dried her tears, and rushed, unnoticed, out of the room. I, however, had enjoyed this punishment scene.

It had a terrific impact on me and sent me into raptures. Even long after I fed upon the remembered voluptuousness of the scene. I clearly saw the glowing, welted, dancing, twitching buttocks. I distinctly heard Dora's mad moaning in my ears, and with this vision in mind I sexually excited myself.

At this moment, of course, it is not possible for me to report on each case in which our teacher's birch rod threatened the smooth bottoms of her charges of both sexes, and just as little on the many pretexts which our parents knew how to find when it was a question of administering the favourite arse-warmings to us. But the older I grew, the more intensely I felt that I was no longer able to separate my sensual excitements from the corporal punishment administered to stark-naked bottoms.