Chapter 10
"DOING THEIR OWN THING"
When an upper-middle-class suburban neighborhood was recently the subject of widespread publicity because of a police raid at two homes where obscene films were being produced, it became evident to many observers that socio-economic status has little to do with the fetishes that afflict people. Both motion pictures and stills which were being produced in these suburban homes were those that dealt with a multitude of sexual deviations and fetishes. The actors in the films were adult men. The majority of the female roles were played by high school girls.
There is little doubt that in some cases it is the fetish itself that brings a girl to the role of seductress. Sometimes it seems that her choice of a partner is made by instinct or is psychically directed, for, in most situations a fetish must claim two. There are situations, too, however, where the young girl seductress is merely the active subject for her partner's fetish, where she has little drive for the fetish, but is driven instead to the partner to meet his desires on his own terms.
The police raid of the suburban homes has provided a number of interesting case histories. A few of them follow.
CASE HISTORY
Irene was exposed to culture at an early age. Her mother, a frustrated former actress who never quite got over the fact that she had once played summer stock with a well-known Hollywood personality, decided that the child would be culturally endowed. The means were possible. Irene's mother gave up the theatre for the security of a wealthy man. She married him, was a dutiful wife, and bore him a child without once feeling the tiniest sign of love for her husband.
At eight years of age, Irene was exposed to art. The same year she learned to ride horseback expertly, moved to advance sessions of piano lessons, and entered ballet classes. Between these activities she attended a local girls' school, did well in her classes and participated in a great many extra-curricular activities. Irene was pretty and popular. She was developing in exactly the way her mother wanted her to.
If there was any condition in her lavish home that disrupted the image of a child growing up with life's greatest advantages, it was the fact that her father spent so little time at home. Her father, a wealthy corporation director, was often absent from his home as a result of his business and social responsibilities. Sometimes weeks would pass without Irene once coming under her father's influence. But she had her mother, her school, and her many, many outside interests to compensate for the fatherlessness she experienced.
Fencing was added to her other activities when she was fourteen years old. Already possessing the grace of a queen and the physical attributes of a movie starlet, Irene was enrolled for private fencing lessons because her mother felt it would give her "carriage." Fencing did give her this, and more, too. It proved to be her entree into the world of sexual fetishes.
Her fencing master was a man of about forty. He was straight and tall and very handsome with the bearing and clipped moustache that gave him a "continental" look. He was stern, too. Irene rather liked it. When he would strike her thighs with his foil, indicating an error in her stance, she almost smiled. He was so serious, so strong, so insistent upon perfection. And, even though Irene did not realize it, the fencing master was also very much a strong father-figure.
It became her practice to dress differently from the other girls who also took fencing lessons. She soon preferred to wear her bikini swimsuit. Over it, she would don the white vest and meshed mask of the professional fencer. The master once questioned the unusual attire. Irene explained her choice by saying that the costume made for great bodily freedom, a necessary quality for top-flight fencing.
Soon, Irene was experiencing the symptoms of a "crush" that was directed toward her fencing instructor. He seemed unaware of it. But it is difficult to understand how he could be unaware or ignorant of her desire when one considers the physical provocation of her body. Irene was large-busted, and dressed in the bikini her breasts would round out the front of the skimpy top like large, vibrant moons. Her waist was narrow. Her legs were solid and shapely. And her green eyes flashing and her dark hair dancing at her shoulders, she was a sight that could try the reserve of the most strong-willed man.
Irene sensed this. She began to bring her body into contact with the fencing master as often as possible. Some of her contacts were casual; a mere bump of her breasts against some portion of the master's body. Other contacts were purposeful and left no doubt of what it was she wanted to accomplish. But the fencing master remained aloof, kept to the lessons and the objectivity they required. Before long, Irene was feeling the pains of rejection. Apparently she felt some guilt, too, for her sexual aggressions toward a man who was a father-figure, because she began to feel actual sexual responses from the punishment of the master's foil.
"En Garde," the master said crisply one evening.
Irene jerked to a fencing position of readiness.
The foils clicked in an initial contact. They clicked again. Then the master lunged strongly and brought his foil down diagonally across her right breast.
"Touche," she called.
The word signaling a scoring point was uttered in a tone that was different from any Irene had ever used. There was a reason. The hard strike of the foil against her breast had charged her with a first rumble of sexual excitement. She flushed. Her body grew warm. And even through the strong-material chest protector, she could feel the sting of response at her breast ends.
Teacher and student resumed their duel. They circled. They attacked and retreated, lunged, parried, drew back, then lunged again. Twice more the master struck Irene on the breasts. Each slash intensified the feelings within her, the feelings that seemed to grow and grow as if they were reaching for some mysterious release.
Irene felt choked and hot. She felt a pulsation soar throughout her entire body. And then when the master struck her sharply from the side and against one hip, Irene was certain she was about to explode. She did not understand what was happening to her. But she could not deny it, or the kind of aching pleasure she received from the punishing foil.
This night of her first experience with the masochism which was a part of her, ended without any climactic sign. But the very next lesson, one in which she became more intent upon being struck than in gaining any scoring points of her own, found her at the end receiving a series of strikes from her master that sent her body to trembling until at last a final, hard slash, enflamed her. Irene nearly blacked out. Her foil clattered to the hardwood floor.
The fencing master was at her side at once.
"What is the matter?" he asked concernedly.
"Nothing - nothing, I'm sure," she replied, her words sounding far off as if they came from another person.
"Perhaps you are not feeling well tonight, eh?" he asked.
"I'm all right."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Maybe - maybe I'm just tired. I've been working hard in school."
"Of course." The master looked closely into her eyes, then said, "Go now. Shower. Dress warmly and when you arrive home take some hot milk and go immediately to bed."
"All right," she said, smiling, feeling her body return to normal, and feeling, too, the warmth of affection the master gave along with his words of advice.
She did go home. She did shower and she did go to bed. But she did not sleep. She churned restlessly all the night. She remembered the flame of climax that took her body. She relived it a thousand times as she lay in her darkened room. She did not understand what had happened. But she knew that she had to experience it again.
So intent was Irene upon the feelings and responses she hoped to receive at her next fencing session, that she had completely forgotten that her fencing master was on a short vacation. But another master had been hired to take his place.
The new master introduced himself when Irene had dressed and entered the gymnasium-type room. His name was Dave. He was heavily built. His eyes flashed.
Irene acknowledged the introduction with interest. She wondered if a new master might provide new experiences. She picked up her mask and prepared to face the new master in their initial combat of the evening.
"What about the vest?" the master asked. "Are you leaving off your vest tonight."
"If you don't mind," she replied, her voice shaking a bit for she had planned to fence without protection in this experiment at more intensified feelings.
"It's quite all right," the master replied. His eyes glanced over her attractive figure.
They clashed foils for less than a minute when Dave whipped his foil sideways across both her breasts. She shivered delightedly as the same feeling returned to her, that great, great feeling of growing passion. A new strike nearly convulsed her, then the next one did. She dropped her foil, bent over and clutched at her stomach with both arms as if she had been struck by an abdominal attack.
The fencing master walked over to her, but he did not offer words of sympathy nor ask what bothered her. Instead, he smiled. Then he shocked her with words she had never expected.
"It is all right," the man said softly. "I know. I understand. For some of us, fencing is even more thrilling when we are struck."
Slowly, she raised and looked into his eyes. "You know - you know what just happened to me?"
"Of course. For some of us it is that way. For some of us, it is the reason for fencing."
Irene choked.
Solicitously, Dave placed his arm around her shoulders. Then he said, "Tomorrow night, you come and see me again. You come to me and I will show you some things that will amaze you - and please you, too."
Her eyes were question marks.
"We will fence a bit differently tomorrow night. That is, if you want to, and if you will keep the matter private and between just us two."
"I will," she said.
She met Dave at the appointed hour at the fencing school the following night. When she had dressed, then gone to the room where they were to meet, Irene felt a great, growing anticipation at her loins, at her breasts, at nearly every part of her body.
Dave met her cheerily. He was dressed in a flowing robe. Then, with his eyes trained on her, he whipped the robe from his body and she saw that he was nude.
She recoiled a step. She had never before seen a naked man. The sight both appalled her and fascinated her.
"Do not be alarmed," Dave told her. "This is the way we fence tonight. You and me - bare, and with sharper foils."
Without a question, wordlessly, but staring into his eyes, she undressed. His gaze covered her body when she was naked. Then he handed her a foil.
Irene took a position opposite the naked Dave. She tested the balance and sing of the foil. It was different from any she had yet held. She examined its edge and found that, although the foil was not especially sharper than the other, it had more bend and lash to it, apparently having been made from a different, brisker type of steel.
When they assumed their position of readiness, she could hardly keep her eyes from staring at his heavy-hanging penis. But then she became aware of her own body and its need, and she struck out with a coaxing lunge at his chest as a method of making him strike back. He did, with a stinging swipe of his foil. Again, her breasts were the targets, of his attack. He struck them in a rapid series from right to left, then back again, and Irene felt a giant warmth swell within her loins. But she did not convulse and drop her foil. Now, it was not necessary, for her nudity and his provided a confidence that would let orgasm come slowly, grow to a new peak then explode, but only after they had teased it to the height of their desire.
Irene slashed her foil in a mighty, thumping attack forward that found her striking against Dave's chest, then lowering to make two quick, hurtful slashes at his swinging masculinity. They then both drew back to let their quickened breathing calm.
When they reassumed the position for combat, she noticed that his penis was no longer passive. It had strengthened and lengthened to an ultimate degree. The sight of it and the knowledge that she had created this remarkable reaction served as an added aphrodisiac for herself. Her breasts tingled. Her nipples hardened. Her stomach muscles rolled in ripples of tension that made it seem that she had already embarked upon the spasms of final culmination for her exploding genes.
Irene looked at all of his body as they readied to the positions that would allow them new strikes and new thrills. His body was red-blotched and carried long, red swipes were her foil had made its marks. Then she considered her own body and by the feel of it alone she knew that she carried the same signs of the slashing contacts that had been made.
Dave and Irene touched the tips of their foils together. Then they struck out viciously at each other, giving and receiving the strikes their bodies yearned to feel. She felt his foil slash against both her breasts, across her waist, at her thighs, hard here, again and again, then higher to her shoulder blades and finally at her breasts again. She breathed hard. Her vision blurred. She threw one arm up and lunged toward Dave to give him that which she was receiving. She gave it amply; at his thighs, at the very point of his masculinity, at his chest and at his waist, then at his thighs again.
Irene, through the half-vision of passion, saw that his face was contorting, his muscles were rippling, and that his manhood had stretched to an incredible size. Then she jumped closer and slashed down upon it, again and again and constantly harder, and at the same time she took the beat of his foil against her stomach and her thighs where it stung again and again, raising her as Dave was rising, sending her soaring as he soared until neither of them made any pretense at fencing but merely gave and received the brutality of the singing foils.
At last, there was no further beating either of them could give or receive. Irene felt her body glow and heighten, then streak hot and red and burst to the skies at the same instant that her own foil brought a hot eruption from his penis. They screamed out at exactly the same time. Their foils clattered to the floor in a duality of sound that seemed to offer the climactic clash that was meant to accompany their erupting, gushing bodies.
Both Dave and Irene fell to the floor in exhaustion when they had experienced the total unleashing of their bodies. And if she was a bit perplexed by all that had happened to her in the pursuit of culture, she quickly forgot it as she considered the earth-shattering thrills she had learned to obtain at the end of a singing, fencing foil.
CASE HISTORY
Ida was sixteen when she decided to get a job in a well-known, very exclusive, suburban department store. She planned to major in marketing when she entered college and she was sure the experience would be worthwhile.
For two years preceding her venture into the world of retailing, she had dated a lot and on many dates had been sexually promiscuous. She was very popular among the boys. She had a reputation for easy compliance. The boys knew they would not be disappointed when Ida dated them.
After only a few weeks of employment at the department store, Ida could not resist her seductive nature. She flirted wantonly. And she got some responses, especially from the manager who was in charge of the drapery and imported fabric department.
True to the typical pattern of the promiscuous girl, Ida had never experience a sexual climax, although she sought it with every boy with whom she had intercourse. She was sensitive, however. She especially was sensitive to the silken drapery goods she worked with at the department store.
Near the end of the year, the manager of the drapery department informed Ida that he wanted her to remain after hours and assist him in some special work. She agreed, gladly. For several weeks she had been trying to seduce the good-looking manager. She was sure that she would succeed once they had the opportunity to be alone in the store.
During the day of the evening she was to work late, her efforts at seduction increased to a high degree. She missed no opportunity to press her body to the manager's. She grew animated when she spoke to him, could not keep her hands from reaching out to touch at his shoulders and arms as she explained some inconsequential matter. And she noticed that the manager was beginning to react to her aggressions. He started to trade touches and looks, and make sly, sexually provocative conversation. But it wasn't until they were alone in the store that Ida learned that the manager had a fetish - one that he wished to impose upon her.
The store was empty. The night watchman had just made his rounds and was not due to return to their area for over two hours. Ida and the manager, Dick, set to work counting the bolts of the various materials in their department. Soon, they had progressed to the most exclusive material the store carried - imported silk.
"This is sexy," the manager said, picking up an end of a brightly colored silk and pressing it against his cheek.
It seemed a little odd to her, but she agreed that the silk was indeed lovely.
"Do you respond to touching silk?" he asked suddenly.
"I like it," she said.
"That's not what I mean," he said. "I mean is it sexy to you? Have you ever creamed your panties over something like a piece of silk?"
"My God, but you're frank," she said.
"Yes, I am. Well, have you?"
"No."
"What a shame," he sighed.
"Why is it a shame?" she asked.
"Because it's so great -such a wild sensation!"
He paused, looked very contemplative, then added, "Would you like to find out about it?"
Ida didn't hesitate. "Sure. It sounds kicky."
They went to the warehouse room where most of the draperies and other materials were stored. There, a great stack of bolts was piled high. The manager looked at them lovingly, then started to undress.
Ida looked at him when he was naked, and she was surprised that he, unlike the boys who dated her, was not erect with lust.
"Well, come on," he said, glancing at her. "Strip down."
She smiled and narrowed her eyes seductively. Then she undressed. She did so slowly and with her eyes fixed upon the man for she knew that this, the slow, teasing exposure of her body, was bound to do to him exactly what it did for others.
Nude, she straightened. He looked at her, then hurried forward to a large bolt of silk. It was azure blue and sparkled beneath the fluorescent lights. He stopped and grabbed one end of the bolt, then pulled upon it, unwinding it quickly. When it lay wild and crumpled upon the floor, he turned and smiled at her.
"Wild!" she said, knowing that her breasts rose and fell prettily as she spoke, that the nipples had enlarged and that her belly pinched inward in a sign of sexual urgency.
"Come here," the manager ordered.
Ida walked over to him. The manager bunched several yards of the material in his hand, then extended it toward her. Slowly, he rubbed it against her breasts, her shoulders and at her belly and thighs.
Ida shut her eyes and concentrated upon the touch of silk against her breasts. It was nice. She liked it. But it did not excite her any as much as the hands of a man would. In fact, she concentrated upon the caresses of her experiences to bring even the slightest stimulation to her body.
"Rub your tits against it," the manager said. "Rub them hard against it." His voice was strained and husky.
Ida rubbed her breasts against the fabric. Disappointed, she got no sexual feeling from it.
The manager persisted. He lowered the fabric against her body. "Rub your belly against it," he ordered. Ida wiggled sensuously against the material. She tried to stimulated a sexual feeling within herself, but she was not successful in doing so.
Once again the manager brought the silk lower upon her body. "Rub your cunt against it," he said, in a tense, sex-infused voice.
Ida wiggled her body like a belly dancer. She rubbed her crotch against the silk, brought it away, and wriggled back again. She did bumps and grinds, like a burlesque queen, against the silk. Actually, she felt rather silly, but she was determined to see what the result of all this would be.
"Oh, that's it!" the manager breathed. Quickly, he unrolled several more yards of the fabric and brought the loose yardage between Ida's legs, rubbing it roughly back and forth. "Fuck it," he ordered her. "Fuck it!" His rubbing became swifter, harder.
"Hey, take it easy!" Ida complained. "You're hurting me there." But she humped her vagina again and again against the swishing silk to see if it would stimulate a reaction within her. It didn't.
"Shit!" Ida said. "This isn't turning me on at all!"
The man stopped his movements and looked at Ida contemplatively. He held the silk out toward her.
"Now you do it to me," the manager said.
Ida took the silk from his hand and brought it into contact with his chest and arms, then moved it to his waist. Here, she lingered when she saw that the touch was taking its effect. The man had been filled with sudden sexual strength. He raised his arms over his head and stretched up on his toes in order to expose more of himself to the caressing silk. She ran it over all of his writhing body. For a moment, Ida was sure that this alone would bring the man to an erupting climax. But it did not.
Suddenly, with a wild cry, the man clutched Ida to him. He kissed her hard. Then he wrenched the silk from her hands and stuffed it between their bodies where they touched, her breasts to his chest. And then he held her tighter and kissed her even harder.
Soon, the man pulled his mouth away from hers. Then he pushed her to the floor to lie among the silken folds. When she did, he moved her to her back. Then, very carefully, he arranged the silk so that it covered her body across her breasts and waist, covering all of her from neck to thighs. At her thighs, he delicately arranged the material so that it did not obstruct her vagina.
Ida braced herself. The man positioned himself, then lunged into her. She received him, reached her hands upward to lace around his neck. Slowly, carefully, the man lunged again and again. But as he moved he seemed as attentive to the position of the silk between their bodies as he was to the excitement of their joining. From time to time he adjusted the silk material, making sure that it was between them, that he could know the feel of it against his chest and belly with every inward movement he made into Ida.
Ida felt the silk rubbing against her breasts and belly, moving up and down, up and down, tenderly caressing her as the man worked his body on hers. And she liked the feeling. It was like dozens of fingers working upon her skin, all seeking to inflame her and ignite her.
Suddenly, the man cried out and moved faster. Ida felt the new strength of him within her, the caress of the silk atop her, and she felt a feeling she had never known before. Her sensations intensified, zoomed upward, and then at last, at the very moment that the man's face contorted in an expression of pain-pleasure, she knew the bursting of herself, she felt that great release that joined the man's as he gasped out wild, choked cries and finally collapsed upon the silk-covered girl.