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Innocence Defiled

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Innocence Defiled by Lizbeth Dusseau

It’s the 1920s and the naïve and starry-eyed Violet Atherton is waiting tables in a Hollywood diner, looking for her big break in the movies. When the famed movie director Lionel Rains comes in for coffee and invites the eager Violet to a screen test in his Beverly Hills home, she jumps at the chance. The scene begins on a movie set in Rains’ living room, during a cocktail party of his well-heeled friends. Stepping before the camera, the timid Violet waits for her lover to appear. However, when her costar finally shows, he ravages the young innocent in a scene of unbridled passion, taking her virginity with one fierce thrust. A bewildered Violet returns home in a daze.

The following day, Violet confronts the director in his studio office, demanding the truth about the previous night. She learns that Rains produces raunchy stag films financed by private collectors. Though she’s repulsed by such depravity, she experiences a strange fascination for the taboo sex. Rains reels her in by promising Violet a staring role in a series of stag films. So captivated by her own emerging sexuality, she cannot turn him down. From the jungles of Mexico to the backseat of a Rolls to a yacht headed toward Santa Catalina, she finds brutal bondage and semi-public copulation await her in every new film. Regardless of the humiliation and abuse she suffers, the willing young actress thrives in her newfound career.

However, when a shocking murder rocks the underground film world, it is Violet at whom the accusing fingers point. Ditched by her friends, she waits alone in an LA lockup wondering if there’s anyone in Hollywood that believes in her innocence. While men with influence bargain to ‘rescue’ the kinky actress for their own depraved purposes, Violet prays for a real man who will save her from the terrible trial she faces.


Lift your dress by the hem…pull it over your head… The words repeated in her mind until Violet’s closed eyes suddenly shot open and she peered beyond the blinding floodlights into the dark room, looking for Lionel Rains.
“Problem, Miss Atherton?” the director stepped out from behind the camera.
“I-un no…no… just that…”
“Just that what?”
“Just that,” she coyly cocked her head, her face grimacing miserably. “Could I…could I speak with you in private, please?”
The director strode toward her, placing an arm on each of her shoulders and cradling her head in his hands. His piercing eyes stabbed her like arrows. “This is a screen test, you’re an actress…I’ve given you all the instruction you need…” His annoyance was undisguised.
“Yes, yes, I know,” Violet interrupted, whispering quietly, “but my… uh…under things, well, they aren’t very …um… very attractive.” She thought of her frayed and dingy underwear, wincing…nothing could be more embarrassing in her mind.
“Ah, I see.” The man’s grim face was suddenly lit with amusement and he chuckled beneath his breath. He let Violet go and called to one of the women watching, “Clara, dear, would you take Miss Atherton upstairs into the wardrobe and find something suitable for the scene? I think you know what I want.”
“Sure, boss,” a sultry female voice came back.
As the woman passed the director, he whispered, not all that quietly, “And don’t mess this up, Clara, the girl is ripe.”
The whole room seemed to titter as if Violet’s secret had been exposed, but before the scared young actress had a chance to flinch from the embarrassment, a lanky brunette in a bangled red dress stepped from the crowd and took her by the hand. She swiftly led her out the door, across the foyer and up the sweeping staircase to the second floor.
“You know, Ly should have counted on this, the bastard,” she whispered tersely as the two took the stairs. “But don’t you let it bother you. You’re doing just fine.”
The women’s offhand and nonjudgmental style put Violet at ease—at least for the moment.
The pair moved from the upstairs hallway into a breathtaking bedroom that was furnished in a dozen shades of white and cream, with fine brocades and papered walls, and a huge white bear skin rug laid before a black marble fireplace with a carved white mantle. The centerpiece of the room opposite the fireplace was an immense canopy bed hidden behind a curtain of sheer silk fabric that draped from the top of the canopy all the way to the floor. Edging the curtain was a delicate gold trim.
“Oh my!” Violet stepped back in awe, too intimidated to move. “I’ve never seen anything like this before!”
“Ly’s bedroom, where he likes to keep the clothes for his… his special screen tests,” the droll Clara explained. “If he didn’t have me around to help you he’d be in here himself dressing you, I’m sure.”
Getting down to business, Clara stood back and viewed Violet critically for several moments, sizing up her body inside the shapeless print dress, then she moved directly to a bank of closets set flush against the far wall. A world of ornate female clothes seemed to spill from the open door, and after fishing around, Clara pulled out several chic pieces of intimate finery and crossed back to the waiting Violet. “These should do,” she said with some certainty, “the dressing room’s through the double doors, you can try them on there.”
Taking the clothes in hand, Violet padded toward a pair of French doors that opened into a bath and dressing area. The same rich white look of the bedroom continued in these rooms. Thick carpet in the dressing room, marble floors in the bath, and fancy gold fixtures that looked as if they’d been raided from an Italian castle, created a fairytale land in Violet’s mind that seemed more dreamlike than real. She could have spent her entire night inside this pretty palace.
After a moment of stunned silence trying to absorb the enormity of her situation, she finally decided that she was too muddled and too anxious to sort out her emotions on the spot—they would have to wait. Forcing herself beyond her fears, Violet began to undress. She refused to look in the mirrors that lined the dressing room walls where a dozen trembling Violets attempted to turn a pretty pauper into a princess with a few fancy under things. To even pretend that she fit into this affluent atmosphere seemed like a waste of her time, but she could think of no graceful way to extricate herself from the uncomfortable predicament. She spent another hasty minute reminding herself: It’s just a screen test, Violet … just a screen test…
Settling slightly, she turned her attention to her task and gazed down at the lingerie. The knickers and brocade chemise were fashioned from silk and finely made, unlike anything she’d laid her hands on. Making quick work of her own shabby clothes, she carefully pulled the chemise over head, and pulled the knickers up her hips. The soft fabric draped sensuously against her skin, the fit was perfect, Clara’s intuition faultless. Not only did the pale pink color enhance her creamy complexion, the way the material clung to her body revealed subtle hints about the shape and size of her breasts and the delightful curve of her youthful hips. Her long lean thighs were dazzling to the eye—though it would be Violet’s audience that would note that fact, not the nervous actress. One could hardly refer to the lingerie as modest but it was discreet enough not to make her turmoil more troublesome than it already was. In fact, when Violet finally glanced in the mirrors, she looked at herself with a bit of pride, and the self-confidence she’d been striving to maintain all evening seemed to return—at least in part.
When she finally emerged from the dressing room, Clara greeted her with a bright smile, her arched eyebrows raised in admiration. “Oh, my dear, do you look seductive,” she exclaimed in her husky voice. Unlike the other women at the party who appeared like baubles on the Christmas tree, Clara was an earthy female of simple sensibilities, with short, blunt-cut hair, little make-up, and a casual manner that suggested she was slightly bored with the night—though that feeling didn’t appear to extend to Violet. With the innocent novice, Clara played the mother hen with an air of mild amusement. She certainly didn’t take herself or the situation seriously.
“Here, I think you’ll want this,” she said, handing Violet an ivory dressing gown. “And Violet, honey, don’t let Ly or his friends intimidate you.”
“Oh, heavens no!” Violet came right back—with perhaps too much enthusiasm. She was still trying to convince herself that nothing about the night should dissuade her from her larger purpose.
“I mean it, dear. If he tries to shock you, you hold your ground.”
“Shock me?”
“He’ll tell you it adds to the dramatic tension, but sometimes I think the man’s a pure sadist.”
Violet didn’t understand. “But Mister Rains has been nothing but a gentleman to me.”
“Of course. That’s his style. You’d be wise to remember that all that polish and sophistication has its darker side.”

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Product Reviews

  1. Posted by Unknown on 23rd Apr 2010

    Innocence Defiled by Lizbeth Dusseau
    Reviewed by Tobias Tanner

    Have you ever taken a peek at one of those vintage blue movie sites on the Internet? If not, you should. What will be immediately apparent is that the digital revolution isn’t showing us anything new, but rather showing us old things in a new way. And I defy you to look at those grainy 16 mm film conversions from the beginnings of movie making and not wonder who those people are. They might be your grandparents, ever think about that? Even if they aren’t, those folks were wild, and I mean wild. They would do anything for those cameras. And if that isn’t sexy, then I don’t know what is.

    Innocence Defiled is a story about how some of those films might have come into being. It follows a callow young girl named Violet who wants to be an actress. She is drawn into that world of crude blue movies that we look back on today with such fondness. Violet Atherton makes concessions to follow her dream—too many concessions, as it happens. Or does she?

    They give her a hundred dollars after filming her defloration, and then they take her to Mexico to film a rape movie. Violet gets herself a little drunk for that one, but the alcohol does more than soothe her jangled nerves. It releases her libido, and the secret submissiveness that she carries inside. Will Violet Atherton reach stardom? Will she attain wealth and fame? Will she find true love? Well, what do you think? And while you’re thinking, read along as our budding actress is spanked and raped and violated in any way imaginable (at least any that she can imagine, and quite a few that she can’t).

    I liked Violet. As the title implies, she is an innocent, but that is only to begin with. There is an intrinsic bravery to her that compels me. Violet has backbone. She is willing to try, and to try again. And she is willing to face the changes that others make in her. Young women today would look to the talk shows for guidance. They would whine and complain. And they would fail where Violet succeeds. She takes her licks and learns from them.

    She’s the kind of woman who makes me want to be smarter and stronger and wiser—the kind I’d want to keep, a good, old-fashioned girl, maybe one like my grandfather had—or maybe your grandfather. Next time you see a couple of gray haired folks holding hands at the grocery and smiling at each other, ask yourself this question: Is that Violet Atherton? You never know. She could be.

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