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Eros:Confessions and Experiences


Extracts from a Disciplined Childhood

by Edith Cadivec

The Stepmother

The stepmother was a lady of thirty-five. When father took her home she had just become the widow of a seventy-eight-year-old doctor, to whom she had been married four years. Formerly she had been the governess of many children of socially prominent families.

Outwardly she was pleasant without actually being pretty. Practical, materialistic, and clever as she was, she had married father only for reasons of security. She was a model of a good housewife, a good cook, a foe of dust, and of stockings with holes, and tyrannized the whole house with her inveterate love of order. She shook me out of my daydreaming and urged me to take up needlework. Gabrielle had to help with the housework and knit stockings. We were no longer allowed to be idle and to play.

We sisters quickly discovered that the stepmother was a lady of great energy and sternness who always knew how to make her will prevail. She demanded prompt obedience, good behaviour, and an iron industriousness from us. When she was angry, and bored through us with her looks, her cold, steel-green eyes could look at us with a sternness that made hot and cold shivers run down our spines. Our freedom was limited and now we had to come home punctually, on the minute.

Despite her zeal in child-rearing, the stepmother did not show the slightest affection for us children. But she was ostentatiously affectionate with father. He was happy at her side, wholly henpecked; he even handed over to her the education of his daughter, which up to now he alone had directed.

When our mentally ill mother was still alive the atmosphere at home had been oppressive and unhealthy, full of mysteries and horror. Fantastic shapes crept toward me from all corners, the disorder in the rooms was appealing and uncanny at once: I avoided touching the objects in them, bewitched as in a fairy tale. A needlework begun would lie for weeks in one place, untouched and covered with dust, the cat would lie down on it and fall asleep. Our toys were strewn all over the floor and our school things lay dreaming in a corner. The stepmother brought order and purposefulness into the idyllic peace of these slumbering things. She discarded, and radically, all which stood in the way of her practical sense.

A few months after the entrance of the stepmother into our house it happened that Ella, now thirteen, did not come home punctually at one o'clock for the midday meal. It was served and eaten as usual and when Gabrielle finally came home, around one-thirty, she was served afterward and had to eat alone. The stepmother darted angry glances but did not utter a word as long as father was present. Gabrielle excused herself to father, explaining that she was late because she had accompanied a school friend home and believed that this explanation had settled the matter. As she finished her lunch with good appetite, father and stepmother returned to their bedroom to rest as usual after meals.

After this rest, when father had left the house, the stepmother came into the room where Ella and I were busy with our homework. She went directly up to my sister and, flushing red, angrily asked her: "At what time are you supposed to be home?'

"At one o'clock," answered Gabrielle calmly.

"Good! And at what time did you come home today?"

"At one-thirty, because I walked my girl friend home."

"Yes, indeed! But you know that I have insisted again and again that you be at home at one o'clock punctually. Now, come with me!"

The stepmother grabbed the resisting Gabrielle by the arm and dragged her to the bedroom next to the living room in which we had been sitting. It was clear to both of us that now something terrible was about to happen. Gabrielle, too, sensed that something frightful was in the offing for her. I stared into space, stiff, as if paralysed in every joint. My heart was in my mouth, and the air was laden with an oppressive mystery that took my breath away. Ella began to cry, to plead, and to promise that she would certainly never do it again. But the stepmother did not listen and silently dragged Ella along with her. After she and Gabrielle disappeared into the bedroom, she locked the door.

The surmise that a thrashing was in the offing became a certainty. An oppressive stillness prevailed all around me, so that I could hear every sound coming from the bedroom. I heard the sound of a chair being pulled out and then I heard how the stepmother was speaking to Gabrielle

"Now, little girl, my patience is at an end! If you will not hear, you must be made to feel. Now you'll taste the birch on your naked bottom, maybe that will make you mind my words better!"

Immediately the bedroom resounded with urgent pleas and implorations for forgiveness. Gabrielle's promises to mend her ways were heard, her weeping grew louder and louder, her screaming ever more heart-rendering. A convulsion went through my body, I trembled like an aspen leaf.

"Here!" called the stepmother in the bedroom, and Gabrielle, in a mysteriously fear-ridden tone, whimpered and wailed: "No! No! You can't ... unbutton my drawers! ...I'll be good . . . good and punctual.., as you want, mother! I won't ever do it again! But not the.. drawers . . . no!. .no!"

birchingA piercing shriek ensued, betraying that Gabrielle's naked bottom had received the first blow with the birch, and indeed the first birching that had been given in our house by our stepmother. Indeed it was also the first time that Gabrielle had received a taste of the rod - but not the last!

I listened in a state of frantic, tense excitement to the whistle of the birch as it came swishing down, blow after blow, on my sister's bared body. Swack!...swack!... swack! So many were the blows that descended on Gabrielle's bottom that it seemed to me that the birching would never end. I will never forget that day - my soul enflamed and my blood raged as in a fever.

A wholly new epoch was ushered in by this event. From then onward the stepmother thought of no other punishment for us children than the birch and always on the fully bared bottom.

Since that day hardly a week went by without my sister or me being summoned into the bedroom by the stepmother. Gabrielle, who was older, always had to unbutton her drawers by herself, whereas any stepmother pulled them down from me, the younger, as from a moppet. When I received the rod for the first time, I almost could not endure it. The blows that had the effect of molten lead on the naked bottom singed any flesh like an infernal fire.

We were never birched when father was at home, but we lived in constant fear of inviting a punishment. One day Ella complained about the stepmother to father because she, now a big girl of almost fourteen years, had been birched. She did not want to put up with this anymore. But father calmly answered, "You must have surely deserved it, my child." That day when father left, the stepmother summoned Ella to the bedroom and birched her again and so soundly that she never again complained about the stepmother to father. Thereafter she meekly submitted to her punishments.

I always waited for such events, which stirred my soul so deeply, with taut nerves. I observed the stepmother's features searchingly and tried to read in them the riddle of her inner being. Never did her eyes beam more brightly, never did the smile around the corners of her mouth play more conqueringly than when she could belabour her step-daughters' bare bottoms with smarting blows from the birch. Then she would beat with a slow deliberateness and the strange sensations she felt filled me with awe.

Later, when I recognized the nature of my own being, when my eyes and mind had been opened wide for this sweet enjoyment of the rod, the image of my stepmother often cropped up in my mind. Then I would see her glowing cheeks, her flashing eyes, and I understood the zeal with which she sought occasions for calling us, big girls of thirteen and fifteen, into the bedroom. No doubt that was the stepmother's greatest enjoyment. Later I also learned that as a teacher she had likewise used the rod to punish her unruly pupils.

Strange to say, in this moment my thoughts turn to the drawers which my sister and I wore at that time. We never wore the open flap drawers that were prescribed in the convent. Ours fit tightly around the thigh and bottom, bordered with pretty lace, tied with ribbons: the front flap folding under the back as customary, the rear flap folding under the belly. A seamstress came to the house periodically to sew our outer clothing and our underwear. This seamstress was summoned to the house shortly after the stepmother's arrival in order to make drawers and other undergarments for us. My sister had to hold her dress high and try on the drawers so that the stepmother, in the presence of the seamstress, could see how they fit.

After a close examination and testing the stepmother ordered the seamstress to cut the side-slits of the drawers lower by a hand's breadth so that - as she put it - the drawers would not split upon being pulled up or pulled down. We made wholly futile objections against having such large side-slits, but the stepmother was adamant. This episode comes to mind now along with a crystal-clear explanation of her design! Obviously the only reason for the large side-slits was that they would enable the stepmother to pull down the rear drawer flap even lower. So at that time the stepmother was already thinking with "love and solicitude" about our bottoms hidden in the drawers and about her birch rod! At that time none of us had been birched and it is probably for this reason that the underlying purpose of the deep side-slits had not occurred to me earlier.

After the introduction of these "practical drawers" one could pull down the rear flap to the middle of the thigh once the front slip-knot was loosened. And when dress and blouse were then raised up to the waist, the full bottom lay smooth and bare down to the middle of the thigh-invitingly ready for the rod.

Gabrielle received her first punishment on a bottom that had been bared accordingly.  Since Ella had refused to, the stepmother herself had grabbed her and untied the front knot of the drawers, pulled down the rear flap, after which she stretched Ella across a chair, dress and blouse raised high above her waist. Thus the field of action was laid bare. In the evening, of course, I was bent upon finding out whether traces of the birching were still discernible on my sister's bottom. At bedtime I made her lift her long nightgown and with horror I saw a number of clear, fine streaks, partly red, partly reddish-blue, and also some that were all blue. Especially and strongly noticeable, however, were the yellow-blue spots on her right buttock which was precisely where the points of the birch branches had lashed in.

It was understandable that such a sight should excite me and fill me with a quaking fear. Which one of us would be the next to have her naked bottom birched so soundly? Oh, numberless times, I too was stretched over the chair like Gabrielle and received the birch on my bare buttocks! In the beginning both my sister and I found it puzzling when the stepmother mysteriously came into the room or even merely stuck her head in the door, motioned with her forefinger and called out, "Edith, come over here!" Little by little, however, we understood what it signified: the birch rod, the rear flap of the drawers pulled down in order to lay bare the bottom, always face downward, across her lap or- especially as we grew older-across a chair! And while she once more rebuked the culprit for her misbehaviour, she bared the bottom with great care while deploring the necessity to birch such a big girl on her naked - yes, on her naked - bottom. She would lay such a special emphasis on "naked" that one simply felt like crawling into the earth for shame.

At that time it seemed to me that a complete transformation had taken place in my soul. Until then I had been a small schoolgirl. My thoughts were divided between homework, my playmates, my sister, and matters affecting our household. New conditions had developed since the introduction of birching by the stepmother; the strict upbringing imposed on us played the most prominent role. In the beginning, however, this circumstance was considered merely as an exciting intensification of our education, as something unavoidable to which we had to submit with resignation. My sister Ella never grasped this circumstance in any other way.

As the years went by only I was consumed by the erotic power of birching. Why? This question has often occupied my thoughts. Is it an accident or did I possess this tendency from birth? Or was it placed in my soul from the ovum onward and had it waited only for this impetus in order to break out with elemental force? I do not know.

At that time I had still another experience that shook me deeply. One day father and stepmother had retired to their room after the midday meal as usual. Someone then came to us in the room and asked to speak to father. I was eager to be of service so, unthinkingly, I entered the room, the door of which was not locked, and surprised my parents in the act of sexual intercourse. The bed in which this was happening faced the door. I caught sight of my father moving rhythmically up and down astride the body of the stepmother. Paralysed by shock, I stood there rooted to the spot, rigid as though bewitched, unable to utter a sound, The act was well under way. I wanted to scream but had no voice. I wanted to run but my legs failed me...

Minutes - perhaps an eternity - went by when the stepmother seemed to notice the open door. She raised her head, caught sight of me in the door, troubled and staring at the repugnant scene, and roared angrily: "Get out! What are you doing in here!!!"

Father leaped off the bed in a flash, rushed at me, grabbed me by the arm, shoved me out the door and then turned the key in the lock twice.

Shivering from head to toe, confused and torn apart in my innermost being, reeling, I ran into the garden, threw myself on the grass and wept... wept. . . wept...

After I had calmed down somewhat, I heard the stepmother calling my name from the house: once, twice, thrice! Mechanically I obeyed and went into the home, where she was waiting for me. Without saying a word I let myself be led to the bedroom because it was quite clear to me that I could expect a sound thrashing for this "disturbance." For all that, the punishment on this day became for me the fateful hour of my life! In this hour I found myself on the 'send de la conscience', and now I stepped beyond this threshold of consciousness.

I had never known the feeling with which I received my punishment that time. The words uttered by my stepmother appeared to me in a wholly different light than was otherwise the case. To this day I hear the words, those wicked words - quasi-wicked I suddenly felt! - uttered by the stepmother when the door was locked and I was alone with her:

"Aren't you ashamed that you violated my command not to come into the bedroom? You can't deny that I forbade you time and time again to set foot in the room unless you were summoned! Or can you? You're too big a girl not to obey instantly. Now you'll get your well-deserved punishment for it. Unbutton your knickers!"

In a state of frenzied excitement I tried my best to calm the stepmother. Instinctively, however, I felt that under no circumstances did she want to release her prey. Finally the stepmother shrilled into my face, "Are you going to unbutton your drawers, yes or no!" Her tone was so brutal that I suddenly started with shock. A ringing slap in the face accompanied her words.

The stepmother heard my sobs and urgent pleadings with visible pleasure; she sensed my quaking fear and understood that I was ashamed to deliver my naked bottom to her blows. Pitilessly, in the grip of a wild sensuous excitement she finally achieved her desired goal. In well-delivered blows she made her birch dance hissing across my bare buttocks - a thrill shot through me like a hot spring and I felt the excitement being experienced by the birch-wielding stepmother flow over me as well. To me it was a wholly incomprehensible experience. I floated in a state of imagined bliss and cried heartrendingly for sheer joy. The blows fell over and over again on my stark-naked bottom and every blow became a sweet pain for my own mounting and awakening voluptuary pleasure.

At the end of the punishment I ran reeling into my mom, threw myself on the bed and did something with such a compulsive necessity that there was no way out. The ticklish feeling of happiness in my sex swelled into a driving force, the flogged bottom burned like fire - I pressed my legs closely against each other and did not understand at all what was happening to me. I had never known such a feeling before! I did not yet clearly know that it was voluptuousness increasingly urging itself on in order to release a flow of still greater enjoyment. I made frenzied efforts to bring on this feeling. I did not yet know the technique, and finally I wept bitterly in the throes of an unappeasable sexual excitement.

The tickling, the urging and throbbing in my sex rose to an ever greater and more powerful crescendo, my vulva was swollen, my clitoris stiffly erect. rubbed my legs against each other, it felt good, but all it did was to heighten the tickling sensation and finally I could not stand it anymore! My hand had to reach for the tickling spot in order to ease the tension but even this action required ever greater pressure; I rubbed the vulva with the finger and the more I rubbed, the more frenziedly did my fingers go to work in the centre of my voluptuousness, the more beatific became the feeling of happiness, a moan escaped my lips and the images of my fantasy filled my senses with a never suspected ecstasy. My hand was under the compulsion to rub faster, ever faster, at the focal point... I was still fully a novice-until at last the orgasm convulsed my whole body in an avalanche of pleasure. Thereupon my senses faded away.

I had never before experienced such a wondrously blissful hour, and when I awoke from the dream, I ambled about like a drunk. Only then did I become aware of the heavenly voluptuary pleasure in birchings and by degrees this passion saturated my whole sensory life. And from this hour onward I began also to understand the stepmother, and spontaneously felt myself drawn to her. I began to love her-although I still received the blows of her birch rod on my bottom! It hurt as much as before, and yet I could not prevent myself from snuggling against her, from kissing and caressing her.

The stepmother seemed to perceive the change in my feeling. When she called me into the bedroom, she always held me close to her, called me her "darling," kissed me and deplored the fact that she was forced to bare my bottom. She caressed me tenderly, and in the midst of these caresses she would furtively slip her right hand under my dress in order to pull down my drawers. She furtively "caressed" my drawers down, as it were.