My short story “Anti-Semitism as Fetish” was published on Carnal Nation on December 1st 2009.
“Lizzy, your eight o’clock is here. Room three. Hurry.” Ingrid yelled from the office.
I’d been lounging in the living room with the other women. I stubbed my cigarette out and pulled myself up from the couch
“On my way up now.” I yelled back.
I had been prepared for Sidney Glick, a client of the house who favored domme sessions. We had never met. Ingrid had directed him to me as I was the only girl on schedule who didn’t mind doing dominance sessions. I lunged up the stairs two at a time in my six-inch heels to the third floor. I knocked on the door and walked in, morphing into Mistress.
“Hello Sidney.” I began softly. “You’ll call me Mistress. You will only look at me when I allow it.” Sidney was a small unassuming gray-haired man in his sixties. He had developed a slight hunch from years of hard work, and frail bony arms hung loosely by his side. It was easier for him to look at the ground as his neck had stiffened, but he lifted his head with a strain and his blue eyes smiled.
“Sidney, what can I do for you tonight?” That was my opening line. I tried my best to act sexy, superior and as stern as I possibly could. I also wanted to obtain as much information from Sid, so I could turn myself into exactly what he wanted.
“I’d like it if you could use the cuffs to restrain my arms behind my back. I-I-I’d like to be b- b– blindfolded.” His mouth watered, his eyes got glassy, and he rubbed his lips together. “So you want me to restrain you?” I asked with some hesitation. “And blindfold you. Then what?”
“Well… if you c-c—could….”
“Call me a filthy Jew pig. A good-for-nothing animal. That I should be gassed and slaughtered, thrown away with all the other filthy Jew pigs.”I was not a professional Domme. I was a whore. When a client called requesting a light dominance session, there was no reason to send him away. I had been trained by a lifestyle domme years ago. She had given me a starter kit of corsets, whips, paddles handcuffs, and enough education on how to give good humiliation, fantasy, and enemas. It was a welcome break in a day of fucking and sucking. I had done seven sessions yesterday; my body ached from staying in awkward positions for long periods. If I could make money and not fuck for an hour, I was thrilled.
Sid sat hands in his lap, head bowed, on the edge of the bed.
“Talk to me,” I ordered.
“Well um err… can I look at you Mistress?” Sid stuttered.
“…Yes.” I smiled. I must stop smiling.
“Oh, you r- r- really are a pretty one, aren’t you?”
I stood in my six-inch black patent leather, thigh high boots, my legs spread a foot apart. Hands fisted and resting on my cinched waist. I enjoyed the height; it made me confident in my role as a sadistic dominatrix. Looking down my nose at the old man in front of me. I began to feel extremely sexy.
“Go ahead, Sidney. Describe what would you like me to do today. What’s your dream?”
“Well, I-I… I….” He said, looking away from me. Why was he so nervous? He got up and said matter-of-factly, “I want you to call me a filthy little Jew bastard!”
He looked directly into my eyes to see my reaction. I tried to have none, but I was certainly thrown off my cool demeanor momentarily. I could see his mouth starting to tremble. His small eyes glistened.
“Call me a filthy Jew pig. A good-for-nothing animal. That I should be gassed and slaughtered, thrown away with all the other filthy Jew pigs.”
What the fuck!… Wow! OK. Now I was shocked.
Still I tried not to show any reaction. I had learnt that clients often wanted to shock or upset a girl. That’s part of their whole trip. The scenario they have created and mulled over for some time was so bottled up that they wanted a reaction, just like the pervs who flash their penises on the street. They want to shock. But I didn’t think Sid was going through this to shock me. I believed he was simply describing what he wanted from our session.
“Get your clothes off!” I ordered through clenched teeth.
Sid got up from the edge of the bed. He slowly removed his clothes and folded his shirt and pants and put them on the chair. He was wearing a white undershirt,and boxer shorts with black socks.
I nervously walked over to him, not quite sure how to begin our session; I would have to make it up as I went along, to improvise the whole show. But as I had done on my very first outcall, I slipped into an alter ego. Like my name, none of this was real; it was all made up. That realization somehow made me comfortable.
Sid’s head was bowed the entire time. I couldn’t tell if he was aroused or not, but he seemed to enjoy my roughness. He was so old and frail. I didn’t really enjoy treating a man of his age this way. It was way too easy to hurt him.“OK, PIG.” I began. “You’re a nasty little bastard, aren’t you?”
Then there was silence. My mind raced as I flushed with nerves and embarrassment.
I leaned over just enough that Sid could see up my short skirt to my exposed buttocks and heard him inhale sharply. Once I knew he was watching me it gave me something to discipline him about.
“Who told you to look at my ass? Did you hear me, you little shit?” I yelled.
That sounded a bit weak. ‘Little shit’ certainly wasn’t severe enough. I leaned over and put down the paddle I was holding. While doing so I passed my unbuttoned cleavage under Sid’s nose. When I saw him looking at my breasts, I grabbed the cuffs that were on the bed and yanked his arms behind his back.
“Who gave you permission to look at my breasts? you vile, pathetic piece of dirt.” That’s a little better. The word vile sounded good. I liked that word.
I yanked on his brittle arms and cuffed them.
Sid’s head was bowed the entire time. I couldn’t tell if he was aroused or not, but he seemed to enjoy my roughness. He was so old and frail. I didn’t really enjoy treating a man of his age this way. It was way too easy to hurt him.
“Now say it…call me a filthy Jew pig,” he whispered. His eyes focused on the floor.
I had done domme sessions before and at the client’s request humiliated them, peed on them, tied them up and whipped them till they bled. But the anti-Semitic names seemed so sick, it seemed so…demented.
“YOU DISGUSTING… FILTHY…Jew…PIG!” There I said it. I said the whole sentence with conviction, but I lowered my tone when I said the word Jew. I wondered if anyone heard me outside in the hall.
I took long strides around Sid, secretly admiring the way a few inches of skin showed between the boots and my leather mini skir in the mirror opposite the bed. I was buying time before my next move.
I raised one leg onto the small night stand so Sid could catch a glimpse of my crotch and my white girlish underwear.
“Do you want to get blindfolded, YOU FILTHY JEW …err…PIG?”
Again I tested the words. Okay, now I’ve said it twice.
Where else could he fulfill this fantasy? It wasn’t as though he could go home to his wife after a hard days’ work and say, “Honey, lets play this little game… where I’m a dirty Jew fuck. And you’re a Nazi bitch….”“Yes p-p-please.” Sid said, as eager as if I’d asked if he wanted a glass of lemonade.
I blindfolded Sid and looked at him as he stood in his white underclothes. Where else could he fulfill this fantasy? It wasn’t as though he could go home to his wife after a hard days’ work and say, “Honey, lets play this little game… where I’m a dirty Jew fuck. And you’re a Nazi bitch….” I smiled to myself at the thought.
That’s why prostitutes exist. We actually serve a very necessary purpose. I had a vision of myself standing on a stage in Stockholm accepting a Nobel Peace Prize: “For my kind benevolent service in helping tricks,… err,… johns, umm… men, feel fulfilled, complete and whole. Thank-you everyone who has made this day possible.” I saw myself thanking my mother, my father, my aunt Millie. I began thinking of all the friends who I would thank, if I were ever in a position to accept an award. It’s good to have these things prepared. But my parents would be listed just for appearance’s sake, as they had nothing to do with my impending success.
The scene in my head almost made me giggle. Sid was blindfolded so he couldn’t see me entertaining myself. I made a mental note to tell my coworkers about my thoughts on prostitution being a noted, worthwhile humanitarian endeavor.
I got into doing exactly what Sid wanted. He was paying for a service, and I was going to give him the best humiliation I could. This was his dream; this was my job.
I guided Sid to a chair, sat down, and told him to lay across my lap.
“Because you’re a disobedient piece of garbage, and waste of my time, I need to teach you a lesson. You need a good hard spanking.” I said through clenched teeth.
His muscles tensed as I tried to balance his weight on my lap. I looked at his bony buttocks through his striped boxers. The whole scene was becoming comical to me, but for Sid he was in the midst of his fantasy: being belittled, made fun of, and humiliated.
I needed to make sure a spanking was something he wanted without blowing the role I was playing.
“So you disgusting piece of shit, do you want me to spank you?
“Yes please.” he said again. “But please don’t leave any marks.”
I felt awful hitting such a frail old man with a paddle. It was used for serious spankings and stung like hell, so I started off with some light taps. He didn’t seem to really feel them, and whispered for me to spank harder so I put some more muscle into it. It left a red patch on his skin, but he seemed to be enjoying it.
“More,” he said, quietly.
“You’re a piece of SHIT,” I yelled. “And you deserve this punishment because—you’re a JEW. A LOUSY STINKING JEW.” Whew!
In England,we still hold World War II close. My father taught us to dislike Germans for what they did to us, Europe and the Jews. This session brought about mixed feelings. Being told to call this small frail man such anti-Semitic names. Was I wrong in doing as I was told? Should I have refused the session?I watched Sid feel his way around the floor blindfolded. I couldn’t help but like him. His manner and the way he spoke to me led me to believe he was a gentle, sweet, bright man. He had probably been a good father and provider for his family. I imagined a handful of grown children and even more grandchildren, and was certain they loved and cared about him.
I hoped I was right.
I was an emotional person. I felt for other people, I often felt their pain. But the words, it was the words that I was being asked to say that were so…bizarre and revolting.
I didn’t confess to Sid that I too was a Jew. My mother’s mother was a Brooklyn Jew who married a handsome Mexican. So my mother is a Jew, making me one too. I was brought up as a Protestant who did some time in a Catholic convent school as a child. So I’m a screwed-up, non-religious Jew. But the blood runs thick. I am a member of the tribe.
In England,we still hold World War II close. My father taught us to dislike Germans for what they did to us, Europe and the Jews. This session brought about mixed feelings. Being told to call this small frail man such anti-Semitic names. Was I wrong in doing as I was told? Should I have refused the session?
“Sidney, come here, you pathetic, smelly, little scum-bag Jew bitch.” Wow! I was getting used to these words and it surprised me to see how easily they came tumbling from my lips. It made me cringe. But I was honestly beginning to enjoy the freedom to say things that I had never dreamed of uttering.
“I know you’re thinking about things you shouldn’t be… because you’re a dirty, FILTHY JEW… you cunt BITCH! I don’t want you thinking about my breasts or my ass. Got it Jew? Bitch, filthy cunt JEWBOY!” Had I gone overboard? was I hurting his feelings? Oh God, I hoped I hadn’t gone too far with that last bit. I knelt down next to Sid so he could feel my presence and he could smell my faint perfume. I put my face right up to his and pulled his blindfold off.
His nostrils flared and his worn, pale blue eyes got a spark of fire in them. It was an intense moment as we sat nose to nose looking at each other. I saw so much behind those tired eyes.
He touched himself.
“I don’t remember you asking permission to do that,” I said calmly and quietly. “Now you Jew fuck, I’m forced to spank your unworthy filthy Jewboy ass!”
He began breathing a little harder. His penis pushed against his underwear.
“Relieve yourself, you nasty Jew, because… I wouldn’t ever dream of touching you, because… YOU’RE A FILTHY LITTLE JEW BASTARD!”
“Ahhh, yes, Mistress yes…” Sid’s eyes rolled back in his head.
“Slowly!” I yelled. “Now stop! You fuck!” This was fun.
“Please Mistress, please…I beg you…” I could see his tension building; his sexual excitement turned me on. The power.
“Say it…” Sid whispered.
“You disgust me because…YOU’RE A FILTHY FUCKING CUNT JEW…”
“OOO Mis…tress… ahhhhh… ahhh… ahh… Sid slipped to his knees as he came, barely touching himself at all. The words had apparently been enough.
Just at that moment the bell rang, ending the hour. I stood up without saying a word and went out to the bathroom at the end of the long dark hall, leaving Sid alone. It was good to get out of the stuffy, claustrophobic room.
Kiki, a petite, dark-skinned woman with a tough street demeanor, walked from her session next door to the bathroom with me. We hadn’t talked before, and I was surprised when she spoke to me.
“How you like the old man?” She asked in her deep, raspy voice with a heavy Hispanic accent. Kiki squatted over the toilet bowl and peed.
“Fine, sweet old guy, I guess.” I replied as pleasantly as possible. “A bit weird,” I added.
“Yeah, but he easy,” she said. “We could do with more of them Sidneys up in this bitch.” Kiki wiped herself and flushed the toilet.
I’d seen men who I liked, and hated, but I was always able to put them into a part of my mind where I didn’t think about them after their money was in my hand and they were out the door. But Sidney, he had broken through my thick wall of protection, he’d touched me and I felt him. I hoped those watery blue eyes wouldn’t haunt me.I looked into the mirror studying myself. I couldn’t get Sid’s face out of my head. His small hunched shoulders, and tired eyes that held so much. I wondered if I’d ever see him again. I washed my hands.
As I walked down the darkened hall to room three, my mother’s face flashed before me, making me shudder. She wasn’t dead but continued to haunt me. I blinked her out of my head.
I took off the patent leather Domme boots and slipped on my clear plastic platform stripper/whore shoes. I unsnapped the corset and exhaled, finally able to relax my stomach and breathe easy again. I dressed back into my tight, cleavage revealing hooker top, tight miniskirt and started cleaning up the room. I tore off the top sheet on the double bed and straightened up the dresser. We hadn’t used the bed except to sit on it, so there was no need to spray Lysol to get rid of the funky smell that was usual after a session. I put the dominance toys away—the whips, paddles, restraints, handcuffs, and blindfolds.
“Dear, I hope I can see you again.” Sid said, interrupting the silence.
“Oh, I’d love to.” I meant it.
He stepped into his pants. I watched him zip his fly and fasten his thin worn belt. What was with this man? He patted his back left pocket for his wallet, then slid the billfold out and opened it. His movements were so slow and deliberate. He selected two neatly folded hundred dollar bills and five twenties. All the money was in order and facing the same way.
Ninety dollars would go to the house; the rest was mine. I thanked Sid, but I was strangely embarrassed at accepting the money.
I walked Sid down to the first floor.
“Good-bye, dear,” he said politely.
“Good-bye, Sid and thank you.” He walked away with stiff, shuffling steps.
I headed out to the kitchen to clear my head, and breathe a little.
I poured a glass of Diet Coke, which I never usually drank, and sat at the kitchen table. Summer sat opposite me painting her toenails.
I’d seen men who I liked, and hated, but I was always able to put them into a part of my mind where I didn’t think about them after their money was in my hand and they were out the door. That was the way I liked it. I didn’t want clients living rent-free in my head. But Sidney, he had broken through my thick wall of protection, he’d touched me and I felt him. Maybe because I didn’t understand him. I hoped those watery blue eyes wouldn’t haunt me. I blinked him out of my head.
“Lizzy honey, Jeff is here…your eight o’clock…” Ingrid yelled from the office.
“Be right there.” I ran my hands through my hair, checked myself in the mirror hanging by the door, and went out to greet my eight o’clock.
Sid was fading already.
