Felix Salten - The Memoirs of Josephine Mutzenbacher

“Hold your tongue!” “I see! I see! Only learned men may poke you!” “If you don't keep your mouth shut,” I shouted, I will report you to the police.” He turned pale and, in a rage, finished dressing, throwing his things around in his room. Angrily putting on his hat, he came closer to me and whispered: “Wait! You threaten me with the police, you bitch-just wait! You will beg me to do you the honor some day!” Several weeks later I was washing myself, wearing only an undershirt. Father was just leaving, and he quickly bade me farewell. Reaching into my shirt, he quickly fondled my breasts. At that instant, Rudolph opened his door. Father quickly withdrew his hand. Rudolph meekly asked: “Pardon me, could I have my breakfast earlier? I have to go to the magistrate.” We hoped that he had not noticed anything, but when father had gone and I went into the kitchen to prepare Rudolph's breakfast, he grinned and asked: “So-your father may play with your titties?” “You lie!” I answered, blushing. “But I saw it,” he said. “You saw nothing of the kind!” I shouted back at him. “Father said only that I should wash myself better.” He laughed out loud. Walking to the sink, he quietly took out his shaft and began washing it, saying: “I must wash myself better, too!” He then came towards me and continued: “Yes, I must wash myself better, because today or tomorrow Miss Pepi may ask me to poke her!” I laughed with scorn and he left. But it was he who laughed last. Weeks passed. Rudolph seemed not to notice me. Father and I enjoyed ourselves-not every night, but quite often. We had tried every way which I had learned. Living in this way with father, I remained away from all the others. Only twice did I go to see the priest, and then intending only to go to Communion, not to be poked. The first time that I went to him, I found a little, seven-year-old girl in his room. He had completely undressed her. She smiled at him, lying there on his bed. As I entered, the father was licking her little grotto with his tongue-an act which the little tot greatly enjoyed. (She later told me that her uncle and the butcher did “that” to her too; of course they could not poke her.) His Reverence did not try to poke her, but as a precaution that she might not sin in the future, he was “just cleansing her.” I arrived just in time. I lay on the bed and he gave me a good poke! Then he dismissed us both. The second time Father Mayer and I were alone. I confessed my relations with my father. Clasping his hands, he said: Then you are lost!” I did not believe this nonsense any more, but I played my part in the comedy. I decided that I would earn his “absolution” at any cost. “I will do penance, your Reverence!” I said solemnly.

“What do you mean, 'penance'?” he asked. I knelt before him, took out his shaft and began licking it and sucking so hard that he trembled like a kettle of boiling water. I pushed his holy “wand” away back into my throat. He stopped, lifted me up and said: “Come!”

I turned around. Raising my dress, I reached back and pushed his “holy stem” into me from behind. I worked so hard and fast that he could not hold back, but “went off” in a few minutes. But I did not rest. Immediately I began to play with him again, sucking and using all the known arts. I soon had him going the second time.

We parted the best of friends. My sins were all “forgiven.” I had only to promise to have nothing more to do with father sexually-which I readily promised, knowing that I could easily get his forgiveness every time that I broke the promise. After our first great passions bad been satisfied, father made it a rule to poke me only on Sunday mornings before getting up. This was the custom among all the working classes, for the men were tired during the week, but, on Sunday morning, after a good night's rest they were raring to go. So now I very seldom got a “piece” during the week or at night unless I begged for it. Father seemed to be in the best of humor in the morning while he was dressing and I was preparing his breakfast. I wore no clothes except a chemise or possibly a short skirt. He always played with me a little while before leaving the house. One morning-I think it was a Thursday-we had not done anything since the Sunday morning before. Every time father came near me he felt my breasts. This aroused my passions. Finally, after he had finished washing himself, I was about to air the bedclothes when I passed him and he started to play with my nipples until they got hard. I now was crazy for a good poke. As he stood in front of me in his underclothes, I took hold of his shaft, which promptly shot out straight. After playing with each other a short time, father not thinking, threw me down on the bed, where I was ready to pick up the clothes to take them out for an airing, and we began to indulge in a “little morning exercise.” Father had just raised my skirt and got on top of me when Rudolph opened the door. “Oh, pardon me!” he said, jumping back. We jumped up. Father went out at once. He chuckled: “You have to drag that girl out of bed, or she will not get up.” Rudolph laughed wickedly. Father then came back to quiet me, saying: “He did not see anything.” I did not argue, but I was convinced otherwise. Father had barely left the house when Rudolph stalked in. “Well!” he snapped, “perhaps your father just wanted you to wash yourself better again, today?” I still was clothed only in my chemise and short skirt. I held a towel before my naked breasts.

Tearing it away, he said: “Stop your nonsense. I have no respect for a bitch who puts out for her own father!” “We were not poking,” I replied, denying the truth. “Shut up!” he yelled, “You mean to deny what I saw myself?” “You saw nothing!”

“So-wasn't he lying on top of you when I came in? And, didn't you have your chemise up to your neck?” “No!” I said, but uncertainly. “So? So?” he continued as he came nearer. “I will tell you what I saw: I was outside and saw him put his hand in your chemise. And do you know what else I saw-?” I looked scared.

“I saw,” he went on, “how you took his shaft out of his pants and how he then threw you down on the bed.” I was dumbfounded.

“Well-?” he laughed as he lifted my chin. “Isn't that the truth?”

I looked down and did not answer. “And, now,” he said in decisive and threatening tones, “because Miss Pepi was so saucy and mean to me, I am going straight to the police and report the whole story.” I was not prepared for this. I was seized with a terrible fear. He was pleased at my reaction and tantalized me further, saying: “You will both be locked up-you and your dear papa!” “No!” I called out. “No?” he repeated. “No, well, we shall see! I can swear to what I saw.” And, with that, he walked towards the door, saying: “I will go at once!” I jumped between him and the door. “Please-” I stammered. “There is no use to beg.” he replied.

He reached for the door. I held his arm. “Please-” I begged again. “Please, what?” he said mockingly. “I-won't you forgive me, Mr. Rudolph, for being rude to you?” “Aha!” he mocked, “Now all at once-well- well!” “Don't go to the police, Mr. Rudolph, please.” I burst out crying: “Please don't go, Mr. Rudolph. I could not help it!” “What couldn't you help?”

“What my father does to me.” “So-” he said, stepping up close to me, “on that account you pushed me from you when I wanted to feel your titties?” “I won't do it again!” I cried. “So, now you will let me play with your titties-yes?” “Yes, Mr. Rudolph.”

He took hold of my chemise, tore it open, took out my nipple and began to drum on it with his forefinger. “I may do this now, may I?” he said mockingly. “Yes! Yes!” I said, permitting him to rub against my middle with his stomach. “I suppose now that I may also do this-?” “Yes, Mr. Rudolph!” I was helpless. “And, now,” he grinned, “you would let me poke you-?” It seemed my only hope. “Yes, Mr. Rudolph!” “But I don't care to poke you!” he laughed suddenly. “I just want to go to the police.” I cried and sobbed loudly. Then he went on: “Unless you beg me to poke you-ha?”