by Rick Marlowe
If there was anything Emma feared, it was looking back on her life, years from now, and realizing that she had never really lived. For her first nineteen years, her entire life had seemed, well, ordinary. So when she met Friedrich, who courted her, showering her with gifts, and promised her a life among the elite of Europe, she was more than ready to accept. Her parents were horrified. After all, Friedrich, at forty-eight, was a year older than her father.
True love, it seemed, had blossomed on the beach during a December vacation in Bermuda. Anticipating their reaction, Emma had been evasive when talking to her parents about the guy she was seeing - for tennis, sailing, snorkeling, dinner and dancing. When they found out the truth - about Friedrich's age, that is - they forbade her to see him. She pouted for the final two days before her return to the States.
Her first act when she was safely back in the relative freedom of her college dorm was to call Friedrich, who briefly took up residence in a nearby hotel. There followed a whirlwind courtship that culminated in a springtime engagement announcement. Begrudgingly, Emma's parents accepted their daughter's unwelcome choice, and began planning an early September wedding. Interspersed throughout this period were quick get-away trips - to Acapulco, to the French Riviera, and to New York City.
Friedrich was a Swiss businessman, with industrial and real estate interests inherited from his father. Emma had no concept of the extent of his holdings when she signed the prenuptial agreement he produced just a week before the wedding. The reception, which her parents insisted on financing without Friedrich's help, was no small affair, but it paled in comparison to some of the parties she had already attended with her fiancé.
Following a honeymoon in the Greek islands, Emma's new husband took her for the first time to his home - now their home - in Switzerland. It was a large chalet, very old, overlooking the city of Zurich. While a valet unloaded the luggage from the car, Friedrich gave her a tour of the house. So many rooms, furnished with such elegance!
Emma learned, much to her surprise, that she and Friedrich would have separate bedrooms. When she queried him on the matter, he dismissed it with a reference to European customs and his restlessness at night (which she had indeed experienced). Besides, he assured her, his visits to her room would be frequent enough that she might soon start locking the door.
It wasn't until she returned for a second time to the parlor that she noticed a woman seated in a chair by the window, reading. The woman, roughly Friedrich's age and quite tall, rose to give Friedrich a warm kiss on the cheek. Only then did she turn her attention to Emma, whom she studied carefully from head to toe, before speaking, in heavily accented English.
"So, this is my Friedrich's young bride. How delightful! Friedrich, aren't you going to introduce us?
The woman, as it turned out, was Friedrich's cousin Katrina. He explained that Katrina had graciously consented to come live with them for a time, to keep Emma company while he attended to his business enterprises, and to acquaint her with the city. She would also act as a teacher, helping Emma learn the language, and customs and what not. Emma suddenly felt silly, never having considered how alone she would be in this country, or that Friedrich would have to work. She fumbled her way through an awkward thank-you. The older woman smiled, concealing her thoughts as she sized up her cousin's new wife.
That night, the three of them dined out at Friedrich's club. After dinner, many toasts were drunk to (and by) the happy couple, offered by a succession of Friedrich's friends and colleagues whom they met in the bar. Several times, Emma's bottom was pinched by some unknown party, but she was a little too besotted to care. It was well after one in the morning when they arrived back at the chalet. After an initial reluctance on his part, Emma enticed her husband into her bedchamber for an amorous encounter.
Sometime the next morning, (all Emma knew was that the sun was up), someone knocked on her door, calling her to breakfast. She covered her head with a pillow and went back to sleep. At nearly eleven o'clock, she stumbled downstairs in her robe to find fresh fruit, bread, and coffee set out for her in the dining room. She ate hungrily, but sipped only sparingly at the coffee, which was cold. As she finished a tangerine, she became aware that someone was standing behind her. She turned to see the tall figure of Katrina.
"Well, well. Sleeping beauty has finally awakened. The meal was much better when it was first set out."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know there was a set breakfast time."
"Understandable. You are perhaps a bit jet-lagged today. And as for breakfast, it's up to you when - and whether - you eat it. However, beginning tomorrow, we will start our daily lessons promptly at 0900 - that's 9:00 a.m. to you."
"Lessons?"
"Yes - lessons. German. French. Culture. Don't you remember? I am to help you assimilate."
"Oh, right."
"I understand that you know a little French, but that your German is non-existent, to be charitable. I can help you with both."
"Thanks. That's fine. I just didn't realize that there would be actual 'lessons’, so formal and all. But sure - what time? Tomorrow at 10?"
"Nine o'clock. Prompt. In the library."
That afternoon, Katrina gave Emma a quick tour of downtown Zurich. The woman was a bit stiff, but she seemed nice enough. Emma was glad she was not left to fend for herself.
Dinner that evening was at home, prepared by Friedrich's personal chef, with a business acquaintance of Friedrich's and his wife as guests. Katrina apparently had other plans and did not join them. Most of the conversation was in German, with Friedrich only occasionally pausing to translate. Mid-way through her second after-dinner drink, the lady guest nodded off in the library. Emma used this as her excuse to retreat up to her bedroom, leaving Friedrich in the middle of some long-winded story. She wrote a couple letters, and then fell asleep reading.
The next morning she was up early, or so she thought, showered and downstairs to breakfast by 8 o'clock. Friedrich was just finishing eating, while reading the morning newspaper. He apologized for the boring evening, promising to minimize his future business entertaining at home. Emma inquired about Katrina. Apparently she arose early every day for a brisk morning walk, and so had breakfasted some time before. Friedrich was out the door, leaving Emma, once again, to eat alone.
As Emma sat sipping coffee and nibbling a Danish, Katrina materialized in the dining room.
"I hope you are keeping track of the time. And it is not proper to appear for lessons in your bathrobe."
Emma waited until her husband's cousin was out of the room before scowling into her plate. Just who did that woman think she was! All these rules. After all, wasn't she - Emma - now the lady of the house? Granted, it was gracious of Katrina to stay here to be Emma's teacher and companion - but to take over like this? The lady was too damned rigid. She needed to loosen up a bit. Emma took her time finishing breakfast. When the clock in the parlor struck 9, she scarfed down the rest of her pastry, got up, and ambled toward the library. She peeked in.
Katrina was seated at the desk, writing. Emma considered whether she ought to go right in, or go upstairs to dress first and be late. After a minute's pause, she assumed her most devil-may-care attitude, sauntered in, and plopped herself in a big leather chair.
Katrina stood up and circled the room, without saying a word, pausing only to shut and lock the door to the hallway. Completing her circuit, she stopped behind Emma's chair.
At last she spoke. "Now, about our starting time - I thought I was most clear that we were to begin at 9 o'clock sharp. Was I not?" Emma rolled her eyes. "I have willingly volunteered my services for your education, but I will not have my valuable time wasted by a... a child... who is too irresponsible to show up on time." Emma made a face, although not so that Katrina could see. "And I was quite plain about a robe not being acceptable attire for these lessons. Do I make myself clear?" Emma groaned. Katrina glared. "Now, in the future, I expect to maintain strict discipline during this instruction. I have your husband's clear direction and support on this matter. So, if you persist in being late, or fail to apply yourself to your studies, or fail in any way to conduct yourself as the lady you are expected to become, you will be subject to corporal punishment."
Katrina paused for effect, and only then did the words sink in.
"W-what punishment? You mean like spanking?" burst out Emma. "I've never been spanked in my entire life!"
"That is painfully obvious. For whatever reason, Friedrich seems to find your, ah, 'lack of restraint' a pleasing trait. Nevertheless, you must learn to tame your impulses if you are to be the lady of this house. And if it takes, as you say, a 'spanking' to make this happen, well, then so be it."
"But you can't..."
"I most certainly can, and I will. I must admit that I myself received my own share of beatings as a child, as did your Friedrich, and you most certainly will receive yours. If you deserve them, that is."
"But… I'm not a child anymore..." stammered Emma. "I'm an adult. I'm married. I have my rights."
"There you are mistaken. You are no longer in your home country. Here we are more traditional. If a husband chooses to discipline his wife, no one will stop him. And your husband has entrusted this responsibility with me. Besides, here in Switzerland you are not an adult until you reach the age of 21. Now, rather than your objecting like a child, why don't we just see if we can make the whole punishment business unnecessary. Shall we?"
What truth there was to Katrina's assertions Emma had no idea, nor how to verify them.
"This is crazy. If you think I'm gonna come to your stupid lessons and have my backside whipped for every little thing, then you’re nuts. Forget it." Emma stalked to the door, only to find it locked. Realizing she was trapped, she wheeled around to face her tormentor. Katrina was now standing behind the desk, arms folded, and holding in one hand a thick leather strap or paddle.
"I had hoped we would be able to avoid this, at least on our first day, but your insolence has left me no choice. Bend over this chair."
"I'm not bending over any chair. And what's that thing?"
"Just a strap. From all appearances, you will come to know it well. Now bend over the chair."
When Emma didn't budge, Katrina strode toward the girl, who cowered against the wall. When she was almost upon her, Emma attempted to dart away, only to have her wrist snared by her pursuer. Twisting the arm, Katrina dragged the younger woman toward the chair. At each tug of resistance, a swing of the strap caught Emma on the thigh. As she was being forced over the back of the chair, Emma lashed out with her foot, kicking Katrina in the shin. Emma nearly broke free, only to find herself grabbed around the waist. The two women tumbled to the floor, with Katrina landing in a sitting position and dragging Emma over her lap. Several solid swats of the strap landed on the terry cloth robe that still covered Emma's bottom.
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