Chapter 7
The Fetish Mistress
When the Probate Court of a Northern Michigan county started to hear the testimony that resulted in the institutionalization of Sharri C, the judge called a recess until the principals could be taken to his chambers where he intended to review the case away from the innocent ears of court room spectators. The case of Sharri C, was too shocking for public consumption, the judge felt, for at sixteen years of age the girl-subject of the court had already been three years a mistress to a man thrice her age-and she had participated in the grossest kind of sexual deviations and fetishes.
Sharri was a farm girl. She worked hard helping her family work land that would never provide more than a below-average income. She was almost constantly despondent. Although pretty and popular with her classmates at school, she was underachieving and had little interest in an education. Her parents concurred. Education wasn't necessary for a farm girl. They encouraged her to miss school frequently in order to help with the chores. Sharri was willing. School was as much drudgery as was the farm.
When she wasn't working, Sharri spent a lot of time with the farm animals. She liked them. Their lot was as bad as hers and so she had a rapport with them.
Sharri was eleven when she discovered that sex was something that could break the boredom of the farm. She was in the field where the horses grazed when she recalled her father had mentioned that one of the mares was ready for mating. She opened the gate that separated the horses, then propped herself on the fence to watch the intimacies that would result.
The horse was wild. He was also mammothly inclined toward the mare that waited for him. Sharri, looking at the huge organ of the horse, watching as the stud mounted the mare then shivered himself within her as they both snorted, felt a rustle of thrill at her thighs. She knew that the act represented the eternal act between men and women, yet it seemed very remote from any kind of copulation she might ever know. But, at the climax of the act between the animals, Sharri felt she knew something of what the male felt as he whinnied and jammed and then withdrew. She knew that release was what he had attained. Release. It represented many things to Sharri.
About a month later, Sharri, alone in the barn and sitting in the hay with her knees propped, laughed when the big collie dog came up to her and clamped his paws about her legs. And then she didn't laugh, for she felt a reaction like none she had ever before known. She felt sexually excited. She raised her skirt high above her thighs, then pushed her panties away from her body. Then she reclined in the hay, breathing hard, wondering exactly what might happen to her. The collie sniffed. Then he labored hard with his long, thin snoot as he nuzzled to her.
Sharri became very excited. She closed her eyes and envisioned far away places, rich clothes, handsome men-anything and everything that could blur the reality of herself, a poor farm girl, receiving the lapping attention of a dog.
Sharri reached some peak of excitement that psychiatrists claim must have been just short of orgasm. But it was sufficient to make her gasp, then sit up and push the dog away.
For several months, quite frequently, Sharri would go to the barn and engage with the dog in a manner of receiving his thirsty orality. It was her only diversion from the boredom of farm life.
When Sharri turned thirteen, she met a farm equipment salesman who was very handsome, seemed very worldly, and was very taken with the fresh beauty she displayed. He talked to Sharri a lot. She listened to his stories of the city, of the excitement of life that was not rural squalor. And her dreams were fed. She began to look forward to the salesman's monthly visits to the farm. By now, Sharri knew that she was the only reason he ever made the call. Her father couldn't buy a thing.
"I'd go to the city in a minute if I could make a living," Sharri said one day to the salesman.
"Maybe I can help," he told her.
As she sat wide-eyed with interest, he explained that he had a friend who sometimes helped young girls-you know, those girls who are too young to work but who don't want to go to school either. The girls with guts to make it on their own.
She assured him that she had the guts-that she only needed the opportunity.
"It's illegal," he said seriously. "It's illegal and you won't be a sweet little virgin any longer."
She laughed and told him it didn't bother her at all-not a damn bit, she said, trying for sophistication.
Arrangements were made for Sharri to meet the salesman's friend-not the friend himself, just one of his lieutenants, but the man would have the authority to hire her if she qualified.
"What do I have to do qualify," Sharri asked.
"You'll see," the salesman said.
She met the junior executive of the prostitution syndicate at a hotel fifty miles away from her home. He was handsome. Sharri had worn her best dress, but the best was cheap and simple, although revealing of her body which was already fully mature.
The man got to the point immediately. Although Sharri was shocked at the things he said-and at the way he said them-she fought with herself not to show alarm. Anything would be better than the life she knew-she could not miss this opportunity to leave it all behind her.
"So what do you say," the man asked.
"It sounds wonderful," Sharri replied.
The man grinned as if he knew how hard the girl fought with herself to be cooperative and not embarrassed.
"Well, do you want to audition for the job," he asked.
"Audition?"
"Yes. Right now. Here on the bed."
"I guess so."
"You might work out for something special," he said. "You see I'm trying to recruit a girl for a client if you qualified, well, you wouldn't have to work like the other Babies you'd be for just one man a very rich one. You'd live with him and he'd take care of you."
"Oh, like a guardian, eh."
He roared, then said, "Yeah something like that."
"I'm ready to audition," Sharri said. "Good."
The man stood up and went to the desk where the telephone rested. He dialed a number, then spoke into the mouthpiece, saying, "Joe listen, are you free for an audition? Good. Come on over."
"Is that the man I might work for?" Sharri asked.
"No, he's one of my crew. He helps with the auditions."
"I hope I'm successful," Sharri said.
"Baby when the audition's over when Joe and I are through, you'll have to be successful cause, baby, there ain't nothing else left for you then."
The pimp spoke from wisdom. The audition was an orgy of sex that was meant to shatter all the past for the girl. And it did. Joe, the assistant, was wild and insatiable, apparently the victim of some ravaging disease that kept him in a constant state of readiness for sex. Within five minutes of his appearance, he had stripped Sharri of her clothing, blackened her eyes, then took her in an act of sexual intercourse that was hard and almost interminable. When he finished with her, the original recruiter, forced her to fellatio. Then she was beaten again. Then Joe forced her to an act of anal intercourse while at the same time she was forced to perform an act of fellatio upon the other man.
And finally they stopped.
The pimp looked at her bruised body, at her breasts hanging downward with the nipples hiding within flesh, at her thighs which showed the black-blue marks of pinching and hitting. Then he gathered her clothes up, walked to the dresser and took up her purse from which he extracted the few dollars she had.
Holding her clothes and with her money in his pocket, he grinned and said, "Well, what about it little girl? Do you take the job, or do you want to go home to mama and daddy like that."
Sharri took the job. She became a very rich man's mistress and learned all about fetishes.
Sharri's paying paramour was a wealthy man, so wealthy that he had every hour available to pursue his experiments in sexuality if he wished. And he did so wish. Sharri was treated very well. She was given expensive clothing, was allowed most any entertainment she wanted, and knew the kind of paternal companionship she had never received from her father. (This, psychiatrists have proclaimed, was a strong factor in Sharri's submission to the sexual indignities imposed upon her, for it touched of certain Electra-incestuous elements of her subconscious.)
Sharri soon learned to expect anything from sex. And she received much, even found herself responding in climax to many sexual deviations and fetishes. The one that seemed to thrill her the most was that of flagellation. Her young body was scarred badly, but she never resisted an opportunity to receive the lash of the whip. She described these situations for the Probate Court investigators, from which the following is created.
The wealthy Mr. North entered Sharri's room and looked at her where she was propped on the bed, her body veiled lightly in an expensive negligee.
"Good evening, my dear," he said, smiling. "Don't tell me you're ready to retire so early."
"I didn't know if you were coming home or not," Sharri answered. "You said you didn't know."
"That's true, child, but I couldn't resist returning to you."
"That's nice," she laughed.
Mr. North settled himself on the edge of Sharri's bed. He reached out and lightly separated the bodice of her negligee, partially exposing both of her breasts.
It was a gesture Sharri was very familiar with, one that usually preceded a sexual encounter. She smiled.
"Tell me, what do you think of your education in sexology thus far," Mr. North asked.
"It's been interesting," she said. She thought of how she did become very excited by all the things her lover did to her. And then she thought how she always seemed left wanting, a bit dissatisfied as if more should be forthcoming from the act.
"I thought we might try something different tonight," Mr. North said.
"What could be different than all the things we've already done?" Shari asked, laughing.
"A number of things." He paused and looked at her thick hair which was loose and about her shoulders. "As an example, if I were to grip you by the hair and drag you across the room, it would seem on first look as if it was cruel, yet, it might be very, very thrilling for both of us."
"It might hurt, too," Sharri said.
"Yes. And the hurt might be exciting."
She raised a bit and one shoulder strap of the gown lowered beneath a single, full breast. The nipple was already hard and thrusting.
Mr. North looked at her breast a moment, then bent and very tenderly kissed it, mouthing the nipple then taking it between his lips to pull upon it.
Sharri, already well-informed as to the responses her lover liked in her, gripped his head and smothered him close to her breast as she arched. Then she became impatient and pulled back in order to lower the negligee all the way to her waist, offering more of herself for his lips and tongue. Then she shook her breasts madly from side to side, brushing and pulling them against the tug he brought to them.
Finally, Mr. North pulled back, smiling and saying, "My but you're a wild one."
"I'm only wild because you make me that way," she said learnedly.
"Suppose I make you even wilder."
"All right," she answered.
Mr. North stood up. Sharri straightened in the middle of the bed. Then the man's hand shot out and gripped her by the hair. He jerked her to a sprawling position, then dragged her from the bed, across the room and into the library which adjoined it.
Sharri made no attempt to lessen the hurtful pull at her scalp. She was an obedient mistress and she knew that this night it was this that Mr. North wanted.
Mr. North released her after dragging her to the wall of the library.
"Stand up now, Sharri," he said. His voice had changed, was odd and mysterious sounding.
Sharri stood up and placed her back to the wall. Her negligee clung by a single tie at her waist. Both her breasts were bloated and the nipples were erect and waving because of her exerted breathing. Mr. North looked at her for a moment, then turned and went to the big desk in the corner of the room. From the long top drawer, he extracted a thick, black whip.
Sharri, seeing it, was tempted to shudder. But she did not. She had already experienced many sexual things with her lover. She would experience this, too, and without objections.
Mr. North walked in front of Sharri.
"Try not to feel the hurt, my dear," he said. "Try to think of it in terms of excitement."
"I will," she responded.
He drew the whip back and lashed it hard across-both her breasts. Sharri's body jolted. The breasts opened in a long gash just below the nipples. Blood oozed, then dribbled down her front. The whip struck again, this time at the side tie of her negligee, slicing it in half and making the gown fall to her feet. And then she was nude, her thighs pressed closely together, her breasts hurt, but uplifted, the nipples still strong and brave and standing out. And then the whip struck at her waist, slicing her flesh at the navel and making it fill with blood, Sharri could see that Mr. North was becoming very excited. He was breathing hard and she saw that at his trousers there was a bulge, a bulge that she had learned was indicative of his passion, its intensity and urgency.
Mr. North lashed Sharri several times more, at the thighs, the breasts again, across her belly, then above her breasts. Then he stopped and rested. Then he dropped the whip while he undressed.
Nude, he picked up the whip and took a step closer to Sharri. Sharri glanced at his manhood, then turned away, thinking that this new strength of him frightened her more than the whip. It was un-like him, and, it indicated a high pitch of passion never before reached. It excited her a little, too. She discovered this when he shortened his hold on the whip and struck it in an undercut between her thighs.
This time, Sharri cried out. But it was less for the pain than for the thrill she received. She struck her in the same manner again and she obliged the whip by separating her thighs a bit. Then his blows grew frantic, he struck again and again from the underhanded position, sizzling the whip's end at the undersides of her thighs, between them, high, hard, and snappingly between them and into the enclosure that was herself, her womanhood, that delightful place of love.
And as he lashed, Sharri felt a swamp of heat captivate her body as she had never before known it. Instead of shriveling from pain, her body grew and bloated and received each lash of the whip as if it were a giant and exceptional lover. She even tried to maintain the touch of it by clasping her thighs together with each blow that was made. Once she was successful, and Mr. North withdrew the harsh whip more slowly, allowing her to feel the full, teasing rasp of it as it departed her body. Sharri panted hard. Her body quivered as it anticipated each new sting of the whip. And as she sighted the continued growth of Mr. North's masculinity, she knew that her thrill was also his, that they were growing and bloating together, that they were? reaching and being shot higher and higher until soon they would burst. And they did.
Mr. North doubled the whip in his hand and walked closer. He stopped in front of her, then with the end of the whip curled to the thick handle, he brought a gruesome blow between Sharri's thighs again. She nearly collapsed, but did not, would not because then there would be a pause that might interrupt the thrill she was receiving.
North struck in uppercuts again and again. Sharri clutched her breasts, dug her fingernails into them and bent over a bit while she made a wider welcome for the zipping, crashing, twirling, hurting whip.
And then she screeched the beginning thrill that had surpassed endurance.
"EEEEEEEEEEE," she yelped. "AHHHH yes, YES HARDER!"
North cooperated. He lashed so hard and so fast that his arm was a melting circle, constant, unceasing, whirling and whirling and whirling.
"UGH, yes!" Sharri groaned.
"GRAB ME!" North suddenly exhorted. "Grab me hard while you go, darling!"
She reached both hands out and squeezed with both hands as North brought the final volley of the whip to her femininity.
Sharri erupted in a frantic orgasm that sailed her to the skies even as she brought her lover the same thrill by squeezing and pulling and twisting him to a well-timed finish.
Sharri became extremely fond of the whip. Although she submitted to, and was thrilled by, other deviations and fetishes, it was the whip that became her greatest love. And, her romance with it did not end until she was taken from the rich Mr. North and incarcerated in a state institution for the mentally ill.