Chapter 1

It was in Darmsdorf on the Rhine that Mathilda Kuchknoepfel first saw the light of day, and she was the cross-product of the loins of a misanthropic son of one of the migrant Baltic Barons and the womb of a healthy, strapping, buxom, slavery of the kitchen.

Tilly knew little, if anything, of her father, except the glowing details of her parents’ courtship underneath the stars, and even that she learned from the unwilling lips of her mother, who subsequently lived under the tyranny of a fanatical zealot, content to accept all the drudgery of a poor man’s board for the right to keep her little Tilly. Never did she hear a word of reproach from her mother against her father. To her he was a legendary figure that had come down to her, as from Heaven, one night when she was lonesome. She had been an orphan and had suffered the lot of many little such waifs in the cruel, bigoted towns of old Germany. When she had been sent out of the orphan home into services, she had exchanged on taskmaster who had little consideration for her health and happiness for another , who didn’t even know of her existence. Her immediate lord and master was the butler, a pig-jowled mastodon, who graced his uniform like a hippopotamus, oozing sweaty fat from every pore.

He had early tried to seduce her and it was only that the poor, starved soul of the little orphan dreamed of some grand passion, that held her back from succumbing to his blandishments. He was persuasive and powerful in his own back-stairs kingdom and he might have made her lot easier had she submitted, but this mother of Tilly’s had her Fairy Prince’s image graven on her heart and she could be no stretch of the imagination picture the gross butler as the incarnation of this dream.

Later, when Tilly was past her initiation to puberty, her mother, who in her own naïve honesty, had no reticence before those she loved, told her the details of that attempted seduction, and it is from Tilly’s diary, which evidently she had started to keep while still a young girl, that we get a glimpse into the character of the woman.

“Mama told me today how that yokel, the big, bruising, lump of lard tried to take her

cherry. She tells me that that’s whate he called it, for she did not know what he meant at the time. How I hate him, too.”

That’s what the girl Tilly wrote and we breathlessly peruse the further lines to see how he did it and the reaction of the young girl to her mother’s story.

“It was while mama was on their hands and knees, scrubbing the floor of the kitchen that he came upon her. Mutterchen says she was a broth of a girl in spite of her early hardships, and I can well believe it. She is not skinny like that stupid Helena, the chamber-maid. Mama’s titties should not be called that, for you might think they were small. They were as large, each of them, as a large cured ham. And when I see them, they remind me of the udder of a find milch-kuh, except that they are white and blue-veined. She lets me handle them, for she is vain of them. They are beautiful.

“They are round and fleshy but firm and they stand out on her body like big watermelons. The tips of them are not tiny bibs like one see on the genteel girls of the upper-classes, but they stand out like a thumb, only they are rosy and somewhat crinkled. In the center is a tiny hole from which I drank my milk as a baby, and mother is so sweet, that even now, when I am sad and cry, she takes me to her soft, billowy bosom and lets me suck on each one of her teats, one after the other. This gives me such comfort and it seems to do her good too.

“Well, she was scrubbing the floor and bending over when one of her big teats fell out. She didn’t notice it for a while, because she had to finish her work, but suddenly she saw a face looking into hers. It was Reinhold, the Butler. He was on his hands and knees and he was avidly looking at that lovely teat as it hung down. He stretched out a hand and began to caress it. She grew indignant and said to him, ‘why, Mr. Reinhold, you mustn’t do that!’ But evidently she was not too firm, for he continued massaging the teat.

“She told me that for sometime she had been having the most wonderful dreams of a lover who came to her in the night, kissed and hugged her and then laid with her, pushing something into her slit between her legs. She struggled as all good girls do, but he was so hot and trembling with passion, that at last she could not deny him and he gave her the best time she ever had. She got up from her sleep in a sweat and found herself oozing from her slit. There was such an exquisite pain in the spot under her groin, that she groaned in agony. She looked around almost expecting to see this dream lover but he was not there, of course, and every night thereafter she cried herself to sleep, hoping that he would come back to her in her dreams.

“When Reinhold the Butler took her teat in his hands, she closed her eyes as if to capture again the sweet agony of her dream, and for the moment she forgot her menial position, the fact that she was scrubbing the floor and that this swinish person was importuning her and she almost swooned his arms.

“She told me that he made her get up off the floor and began tearing her bodice apart, taking out each separate teat, while his mouth drooled saliva, and his little pig eyes were shining with an unearthly light. She noticed that under that mountain of a stomach, she could clearly see a fearfully, long, stiff stick from which hung down large, cannon-balls. She had never seen anything like it before and she was almost in a fever to touch them.

“Reinhold saw her look and even in his frenzy did not misunderstand it. He obligingly opened up his pantaloons and allowed that big stick to pop out. Mother tells me her eyes bugged out. Even in her wildest dreams she had never imagined that any human could have such a long pole. It seemed to her a yard long and thick, four times as thick as a broom-handle, almost as broad as the mare’s pee-er, and the balls that were attached to it were almost as large as coconuts.

“For the life of her she could not resist touching it. It was like a magnet. Once she had her hand on it, she felt she could never leave it alone. She squeezed it frantically and Reinhold danced with glee. He kept pushing it toward her and her grip loosened. She grabbed it again to steady herself and he again plunged it toward her. It seems the stick had a loose skin at the tip and when he pushed it forward, the skin moved back and revealed, she told me, a head shaped like a toad-stool, its umbrella-head being enormous. Right in the center was a hole and from it, as she squeezed it and he plunged it into her hand, kept dripping little drops of egg-white. She said she was fascinated and bent down to look at it.

“Before she knew what was happening, Reinhold had forced it into her mouth. Mama says she was outraged at first, for she began to choke on it, but then she found it soft to the feel and when she put her tongue experimentally on the top, she found the liquid that dripped from it, salty and tasty. It felt like the nipples of a cow and she began to suck it. Reinhold laughed uproariously and patted her on the back while he pushed the stick further and further into her mouth. Then, while she was beginning to enjoy the sensation, she found her mouth full of that soft, pulpy, warm, salty liquid. It gushed into her mouth like a spray of water. She was horrified for she thought it was pee, but Reinhold told her it was his man-juice, that every man had it and when one sucked it long enough, it came out, only he was a real man and when he came out like that, it was like a flood.

“Then mother told me she felt the queerest sensation in her slit. It was so agitate that she swears it began to move of its own volition. She thought she was getting convulsions and put her hand to it to quiet it, but it jumped and jittered terribly.

“Reinhold, saw her do this, she says, and he laughed at her. ‘You silly girl, don’t you know that you are hurting yourself rubbing your cunt like that. Here, let me help you.’ And she says that although after he took his stick out of her mouth, it hung down like a limp rag, it now stood up again bold as Grenadier. She said he lifted her petticoats up to waist and pulled down her long drawers. She was terribly ashamed and grew red in the face, but try as hard as she might, she could not help herself. Her slit simply would not behave. It was like a live human being. It almost seemed to say, ‘I must have that stick in me. I must. I must.’

“And Reinhold then began to push the stick into her slit. It had a hard time and began to hurt her. And it was then only that she began to see that perhaps she was letting him do something to her that was wrong. She grew enraged. She hit the stick a blow that caused Reinhold to dance with rage. She was like a wildcat. She bent down and took a bite on the stick and when the blood began to spurt from it, she began to laugh hysterically. It was comical, she said, to see that huge hulk dance around on one leg and hold on to his stick, that someone leg and hold on to his stick, that somehow had shrunk until it looked like a button.

“During all this time, I listened fascinated to that story and I moaned with suppressed pain, as if I myself had been going through that experience.

“’Mutterchen,’ I groaned, ‘I have a terrible pain in my middle. Please mama, let me show you.’ Mama was all contrition. She was so gentle. She took me on her knees and lifted up my dress. I was not wearing anything underneath and mama began to look into my little triangle, between my legs.

“’Liebchen,’ she said, ‘you are growing up. I shouldn’t be telling you such stories. Look, Liebchen, you have hair growing around your little triangle.’

“I began to cry, I had such pain there that at last Mama bent down and kissed me right in the very center of the slit. It was delightful, and in joy I pushed my triangle right against her lips and cried for pleasure. Mama could see that I enjoyed it, and lovingly she began to open up the lips of my slit and put her fingers inside. She rubbed it a little and I almost danced with glee. It was so good. ‘Mama,’ I cried, ‘do it some more. Go on.’ But mama did better than that; she bent over and put her tongue into the slit. Oh, it was heavenly. No young girl my age, I am sure, ever had such fun, for mama just kept pushing her tongue around and licking the inside of each little lip, until it began to tingle. She even touched something right in the center of the slit, and it began to jump as if it had the ague. I gurgled and chortled with glee. ‘Mutterchen,’ I pleaded, ‘lick that little thing again and again. That’s where I feel the best when you do it.’ And mama was so dear. She did. Then I felt as if my whole body was coming into some sort of a spasm, for my chest was strained, my eyes were closed, my breath came shorter and shorter, and I almost stopped breathing, when I felt an eruption like a volcano come to a head and I found myself jetting a liquid out that little center-piece, and I went limp and lifeless. Mama was scared, but in a few minutes I was feeling better and I looked up in wonder. Had I fainted? What was the meaning of this wonderful lightness in my body. Why, I got up and danced around. I felt like a fairy. Something had happened to me that I could not explain. It was as if I had gotten rid of some heaviness in my heart and was now the most sprightly and cheerful elf in the kingdom.