The Catholic Church used to say that to err is human, but to perseverate in error is diabolic. One Saturday, I saw the Schmidt children leaving the house. These were circumstances when, experience had shown, Frau and Herr Schmidt would have their marital fun. Ulrike had left for groceries; I thought that I might as well have a look.

I climbed to the attic. My guess had been right: our neighbors would be taking the opportunity to have an afternoon session!

The couple began frolicking, the usual kissing and caressing. At some point, the husband picked up a can of something. The wife went on her tummy. I thought he would be massaging her. He seemed to focus on her buttocks… or in between? He then rubbed his penis, then laid on her back. It took me a little while, naive as I was, to understand what they were doing. It then struck me, and I was horrified at first: he was penetrating her anally! The can must have been some kind of lubricating cream…

Dear reader, bear in mind that I had been educated in an uptight Catholic family. I had of course heard of sodomy, but to me, it was something that male homosexuals did because they had no other more appropriate hole. Ulrike had also told me that girls would do it to please their boyfriend while staying a virgin, or to avoid pregnancy, and I had been horrified but understanding. Little was I prepared to see a married woman, presumably with adequate contraception, taking it up the rear.

The spectacle was mesmerizing. I realized that Frau Schmidt, though pinned down on he bed by her husband, had one arm under herself. She was most likely rubbing her clitoris! Herr Schmidt was not long before spending his seed in her backside. He then rose, and brought his hand in between her thighs. A little while later she too shook with an orgasm.

As for myself, I had stopped touching myself after the Schmidt’s foreplay, so intrigued I was by the realization of what they were doing. That spectacle had shaken me considerably. True, I had enjoyed when Ulrike had pushed the thermometer deep into me and moved it in and out… but a thermometer, even the thicker part, is much thinner than an erect penis. Oh, she must have felt it, it likely hurt! How could she… Once the Schmidts were done, I left the attic. I had to find something to take my mind off what I had seen. I had to buy some stationery, so I left for the store.

Why did seeing our neighbors do it “against nature” shock me? It had been a bit hard for me to accept my attraction to Ulrike, to women. It had been also hard to accept that I had enjoyed her taking my temperature, giving me enemas, and spanking me — all degrading activities. By “enjoy” I do not necessarily meant that I enjoyed these things on the spot (the carpet beater was an experience I did not wish to repeat!), but somehow they fit. I took overall delight in my submissiveness.

However, in general, my submissiveness could have an excuse. The thermometer was because I looked feverish, the enema was because I had a stomach issue, the spanking was because I had been naughty. Even the enema after acting jealous could be justified on grounds that it was well deserved. None of these was comparable to frolicking in bed and, instead of accepting the penis where it belongs, taking it in a place where it surely would hurt. Maybe Frau Schmidt like the feeling of being forced? Can a woman both enjoy riding her man and be “taken” in such a base way?

I was taken aback when Ulrike, when I returned, confronted me.

“You’ve been a voyeuse again, haven’t you?”

What could I say? I must have left something amiss, and she had seen it.

“What do voyeuses deserve?

— A… a spanking, Frau Beyer.

— Indeed. Let’s get into your room, shall we.”

Ulrike had me remove below garments. She then removed one of her slippers, and had me lay over her knees, bottom upturned.

I had expected maybe something like last time she had caught me peeping: a hand spanking intermingled with masturbation. Instead, I got some old-fashioned slippering. My mother had not used that method but I soon learned of its effectiveness. It hurt! From time to time, Ulrike would stop and extract information: what had I seen, why did I stay there watching instead of leaving, and so on. I answered truthfully.

My behind was positively smarting and a nice shade of red (my wardrobe had a mirror) when she was done. She had me dress up immediately: “better have you down to help on cooking, I wouldn’t like you to rub yourself alone here”. Little did I actually think of rubbing myself after such corporal punishment and confession.

After dinner, during which I still could feel the irritation in my buttocks, Ulrike told me to go to the bathroom number one and two and report to her. I dared not ask why. Ulrike prepared the enema equipment. I knew better than to protest, and assumed the position. The enema was quick, with not much liquid.

I was then allowed to go read for a little while Ulrike finished some things. Then, she summoned me to her bedroom and asked me to get naked. I complied. I was somewhat tense. Was I to get spanked again?

Ulrike began rubbing me and kissing me all over (yes, including on my vulva, though she did not insist). I relaxed. Then, she asked me to get on my stomach. Was I to get flogged or something, I wondered? I heard her open something, then felt a greasy finger on my anus, entering. The finger toyed with my orifice. Ulrike’s other hand went under me and her fingers rubbed my clitoris. I began tolerating the intrusion in my behind quite well.

Then, the finger withdrew, and Ulrike busied herself with something. I tried to peek at what she was doing. A carrot??! She was readying a carrot! And there was little doubt where it would go! Before I had time to object, the tip of the vegetable was on my anus, and I was told to bear down. I hesitated, but complied. I felt the lubricated carrot slowly entering my behind and distending my opening.

It took me a while to get used to the intruder, while Ulrike rubbed my clitoris and vulva. Then, as she identified that I had relaxed, she began moving the carrot in and out, like a slow version of coitus. She stopped handling the carrot and went onto me, onto my back, like Herr Schmidt had been on his wife. I could feel her body on my buttocks. I was pinned to the bed, trying to relax my anus around the carrot.

She climbed off me and starting moving the carrot again. Her other hand busied herself. Coitus became faster, as well as her fingers. This was exciting, disgusting, uncomfortable and pleasurable at the same time. I had an orgasm.

I stayed on my tummy breathing, carrot still in my behind. Then, Ulrike removed it and wiped my behind.

“Shouldn’t I be rewarded as well?”. She raised her dress, went onto her back on the bed, and spread her legs. She had no panties underneath. “Your tongue.” I knelt and did what was expected of me.

When I went to bed, my head was boiling with thoughts. This whole episode had been thoroughly submissive, from the spanking to the sodomy, and also the enema, not to mention kneeling naked to “reward” Ulrike. Yet I had enjoyed it, I had had an orgasm.

Most girls lose their virginity in the usual way—a man’s penis in their vagina. I lost mine, in a certain way, with a carrot pushed into my rectum by a woman. How quaint.