Arnold, Janet and Bettie

Arnold told her about the letter and the check, and then they reviewed the two tapes. Mostly in silence, though occasionaly Janet would grip his arm and whisper: God. I look good! and: how did you shoot that? The shot in question was a low angle view of Bettie's rotating bottom and furry cleft during the more torrid hula tempos, just this side of blatant obscenity. She was quieter still during the leather bondage tape, except for a few gasps. Arnold had lit the scene expertly from the onset, gliding and zooming to closeups as she donned the painful leather restraints, bit by bit. When the spiteful Darlene vloice came on, he had switched to a lurid chartreuse filter, shooting mainly low angle shots of Janet's struggles. The last scenes, where she was exhausted and tearful were filmed in pale purple highlights and dark shadows. Throughout he had captured her face as she shifted from excitement to pain to final despair; even collared and gagged, her wide despairing eyes, tearing towards the end, leaped out of the screen; it was an awesome performance. *

After a long pause, Janet said; "Whoo. Wow. That is so heavy. Arnold, you have made a great film. More real than real. I hurt all over again. Wow!"

"Wow is right. I've never done better work--or had a better subject. Janet, wherever this goes in the long run, I'm really --I don't know, fulfilled, doing what I was 'meant to do', all that corny bullshit. So we go on, OK, even after what you told me last night."

"You bet your sweet ass we go on, my stud, my impresario. I'm not done with Bettie, and Bettie's not done with me! So what do we do next?"

"Well, Bettie did a lot of two girl films; you know, good Bettie the victim or bad Bettie the dominatrix--if we had another girl, one we could trust with this--scam--I have to tell you that Stacy wants to see what we've been doing, and I told her I'd have to ask you, but probably that's not a good idea..."

"Arnold, you're so transparent! You'd love to see her perky little ass in your lens, wouldn't you? Tormented by sinister Bettie, maybe? Or even

better, the blonde ice queen, humbling her voluptuous brunette slave! You know what? I think it's a great idea. Let's show her the hula tape--not the other one--and see what happens. C'mon. call her in here."

"Stacy. Close the shop for a few minutes, would you, and come in here." Arnold felt awkward. "Uh--as you guessed, Janet and I have a project, that is, we're trying to recreate some of the spirit of the legendary Bettie Page films. Sort of a homage,you know. I--uh--know you've seen some of my--collection, so I won't --anyway, why don't you watch a little bit of what we've done so far?"

"Awesome! I'd love it! Thank you, Janet--I knew you were special the minute you walked in here! And--I'll shut up." She sat on one of the folding chairs and crossed her legs. Long, tanned, lovely legs, Janet noted with a little twinge of excitement----and maybe jealousy; the blonde was so young!

This time through, the Horny Hula tape was not viewed silently; Stacy cheered and commented throughout. At the final itching, scratching and masturbation with the tiki dildo shots, she was beside herself. "Ohh; thats so cool! Yes! do it! Zowie! Oooooh! Wowie!"

Arnold turned up the lights. "I take it you approve of my performance?" Janet asked drily.

"Absolutely! you were great! You've got a beautiful body--maybe better than Bettie Page, even. What do you think, Arnold?--but you've never screwed Bettie Page--oops! I"m sorry!"

"Never mind, Stacy" Janet said smoothly. "how would you like to--perform with me? Under Arnold's capable and tasteful supervision, of course."

"Oh-W0W! I'd purely love it! Arnold, you don't know this, but at our film course at Stanford, we saw all your documentaries. Failures, of course (Arnold winces), but --so full of integrity! I'd work under you in any position I could! (Janet winces).

"We're not doing 'The Sound of Music" here, Stacy." Janet said. "This was soft core porn in the 50's and we're taking it to the 70's--a bit rawer, if you get my message. To be blunt, you just saw my pussy in that tape you admired so much; if you work with us, you may well be asked to show your own cute blonde--I assume it's blonde-- cunt. Some nudity, some bondage--under that auteur you admire so much, our dear Arnold. Do you think you're up to it?"

Stacy recrossed her legs and beamed at Janet, met her eyes for a long moment, then smiled at Arnold: "You can't scare me off, Janet--and I don't think you really want to; I know we're going to be close friends--very close. Of course I'm up to it-and any help I can give you; script ideas, sets, whatever, I'll be there."

"Welcome aboard, then!" Arnold sprang to his feet and gave Stacy a big hug--God--she was really lean and strong, but soft, too--maybe too big a hug, he thought, as he caught Janet's cool, amused gaze.

Later, at a top rated restaurant in Oakland (Sid's check made Arnold feel very expansive) he talked to Janet. After the wonderful rack of lamb, with tarragon butter sauced asparagus, they were enjoying coffee. It was nearly 10, the restaurant was emptying, quiet. Arnold held her hand across the table; for some reason the sense of partnership, not just wild sexual gratification, suffused him.

"Janet, love. You told me a lot about yourself last night. I think I need to share a little bit, too. I'm not quite the aw shucks Jimmy Stewart type I know I pretend to be. My friend Sid--haven't you wondered how I trust this guy in L.A. so implicitly with this big bucks operation?--I didn't pick him out of the phone book; Sid was my boss for two or three years. He's into lots of things; video distribution, agentry, all the show business stuff. He picked me up fresh out of UCLA with my film major, and set me to work filming X rated movies. I was good, he took a liking ot me, promoted me; I pretended to myself that I was doing real art.

Janet was perhaps a bit bored by this long confession; her interest in anyone other than herself--even Arnold--was fleeting. But she was listening now; he had done this before! Arnold wa still talking:

"Then came video. and hand held camcorders--hell. a trained baboon could film with them. And I was getting so tired of bleached blondes with plastic tits and fake orgasms and shaved twats and cum shots that I finally split. I'd saved some bucks, and opened this store. I continue to make films--to try to make films; some nature stuff, one documentary about the port of Oakland; you heard Stacy describe it as a failure--which it was--and now this. You. My quirky obsession with a 50's sex symbol suddenly comes to fruition when you walk into my life with a request for passport photos."

" So--here we are. And I really want to do this right, my best shot. Maybe my only shot. Despite our thing__and you have totally wiped me out, as you know--I've got to stay serious. Even as I love you"

"Oh, Arnold. My Arnold. thank you so much for that. No I didn't think that you were just some farm boy with a knack for photography who happened to be kind and sweet and sexy. I knew from the start that there was more stuff there--and there certainly is! Here's one more thing we know about each other now."

"I love to be the victim; bound, spanked, stripped, whatever--light-hearted, like Bettie, is best, but not always possible. You on the other hand, mister nice guy, you like to dominate. Oh yes you do. Admit it. Don't you see, we kind of match. I've got to tell you; the moment you grabbed me, tied and gagged me--so easily- and spanked me--hard--in that first tape was when I melted. You didn't know it, but I was yours! And I want you to do that some more, as we plot the next tapes. And--and in private, too." she blushed.

He reached across the table and held both her hands. "Janet; this is the richest, fullest, lovingest place I've ever been with another personanother flawed person---- in my life! I feel so--fucking lucky! I--i don't know what else to say....uhh- do you want dessert?"

"Take me home now, love, and you'll get about four hours of the best dessert you ever experienced."

TEN

Arnold and Janet sprawled in the lawn chairs on her little deck off the kitchen; the fog was starting to lift. Both were relaxed and limp, almost boneless, after a long shower and a night of memorable sex. Arnold sipped his coffee lazily. "Janet, my gorgeous earth goddess, forgive me, but--I think I have an idea."

" Umm-- I know, you want to fuck again, this time on the kitchen table."

"That, too--but how about this? There are a bunch of British spanking films; usually some pompous middle aged dude in tweeds blistering the ass of a chubby, unlovely schoolgirl. One I saw was an irate squire

horsewhipping his female groom who had been less than gentle with the horses; he stripped her, put a bit in her mouth, and whipped her until her bottom was covered with bloody welts; these films are evidently very popular over there and with a certain clientele here as well; if you'd like to go that route--you as the lady who likes to get spanked, and me as the guy who loves to do it--It's right down Bettie's alley, and a bit of acting out therapy for both of us. What do you think?"

"It's so early in the morning. yeah, that sounds good. But no bloody welts, please--I go for a serious rosy glow on my buns. I can be a teen aged schoolgirl, in a tiny skirt, blouse and tie, with black stockings and heels; innocent--sexy--trashy, like The Belles of St. Trinians--do you know it?"

'Of course! Exactly the right note! And I'll be Alastair Sim--but much more depraved! Now to find a set!"

As it turned out, the set was easy. On his first call (to Wendell Pierce, a junior partner in a genteely failing law firm, and a co-member with Arnold in the local jaycees), he was able to score the use of the founder's office for the afternoon; the founder had passed away several years before, and his suite had been kept just as it was, only dustier. On a Thursday afternoon, all the partners would be on the golf course (Wednesday was for doctors, Thursday for lawyers) and the office would be available.

Wendell was glad to oblige, excited by the show business aspects of the whole project. Could he watch? Did Arnold need any extras? No, and no, regretfully--this was a documentary about school board corruption; top secret for the time being. But Arnold assured Wendell that he woud be the first to have access to the finished product. Arnold scouted the abandoned office; it was perfect. He and Janet got their costumes and props together; on Thursday afternoon they were ready to shoot.

ELEVEN

Bettie is getting ready for bed, in her usual sheer nightie; she puts aside a bookand speak to the camera, "I probably shouldn't be reading this Victorian pornography before bedtime; I've been having such weird dreams lately--all about spanking and other horrid things. Ah well, sweet dreams tonight, I hope." She gets into bed, stretches voluptuously, and turns out the light. The camera blurs, fades; Her dream--nightmare?-- ensues.

The setting is a girl's school, for problem girls, run by a sadistic British type (who will be played with enthusiasm by Arnold, heavily made up with grey temples, walrus moustache, bifocals and waist padding; (he's always loved those Brit spanking and caning flicks). there is only one set: a musty

headmasters office, very proper but for the whips and canes and bondage apparatus on the walls.

Bettie enters, hesitantly; it's her first day. She's wearing the school uniform; white cotton shirt waist, primly buttoned, but very sheer--no bras allowed-- necktie, a short belted black wool skirt, white cotton panties, dark lisle hose, gartered at mid thigh, and patent leather high--4 inch--heels. She is understandably uneasy. (Janet plays this throughout as a rebellious adolescent--perhaps 15--trapped in her own very mature body)

Headmaster--we'll call him Bertie: " Bettie, is it? Come in. come in--let's have a look at you. Yes. I see what some of the fuss has been about. You're a bit--mature for your age, aren't you? And from these reports (gestures with thick sheaf of papers) sullen, defiant, resentful of authority, and--oh dear--sexually provocative! Well?"

Bettie: "It's my guardian, sir -Uncle Otto. He's tried to --do unspeakable things to me since I was very little. I've been sent to these horrid schools. I know you've seen some bad reports, but they are not true; Perhaps here at St. Malicia I'll get a chance to be as good as I know I can be!"

Bertie: " Well said, young lady. However, these reports note that you're an habitual liar. And Otto--Sir Otto--is of course a wealthy benefactor of this school and its-er-unique approach to the education and training of young women. Let's not beat about the bush, young lady. You are here to be educated. Trained, indoctrinated, perhaps--in our one acceptable mode of behavior. We are stern-very stern, make no mistake about it--but fair. Our students come to us like pampered spoiled puppies. We rub their noses in it, if you get my drift, and beat them until they howl--and learn to obey."

`"You, my dear young lady, I shall take on as my own special challenge. Strict obedience to every rule. Punishment for each transgression. In your case, I think it's best to demonstrate in advance. Lift your skirt, please--that's right, hold it above your waist."

Bettie: 'But sir--I haven't done anything! I...This isn't fair!"

Bertie: "Quiet! Your skirt--higher! now.. tuck it into your belt! Do as you're told. Oh we're going to get along fine! Now pull your panties down!" (Bettie hesitates) "Quickly, girl! yes, like that! below your knees! Now then; skirt up, panties down--capital! Now bend over my desk. Quickly!"

Bettie complies, trembling; ( through these next scenes, while he's acting as Bertie, Arnold is shooting with a static video camera , he will augment later with numerous closeups of Betties glorious and soon to be rosy blistered ass.)

Bertie: " Splendid! Remarkable! (He strokes both her ass cheeks gently, then finishes with a cruel pinch. Bettie yelps) Stop fidgeting! And no use trying to protect your precious little bottom with your hands! Cross your wrists behind your back--and hold them there! (He takes a length of rope from his desk and binds her wrists.) There! That should keep your fingers out of mischief! Now, Bettie, let's see what's in store for you. On a daily basis, here in my office, until your attitude is acceptable, you will be whipped, beaten, punished severely! First, there's the paddle. (He selects a supple leather paddle from the rack of whips behind his desk, displays it to Bettie) ; " Loud, dramatic, smarts like hell, but no lasting damage. try it!" (He swings the paddle once, connecting with a loud meaty smack, smiling at her first horrified yelp, then again and again, perhaps a dozen times. Her butt is already splotched, rosy). (Bettie is now weeping, protesting.)

Bettie: "Oh God! Ooh! ow! Stop it! ow!!! I didn't do anything! No!! Stop!!"

Bertie: "Stop sniveling, child--that's the paddle. I might also use the riding crop! (He selects a rattan crop from his rack and flicks it before Bettie's tearful face) Not as loud or showy, oh no! Doesn't make your bottom rosy all over, either. But what a sting! What a welt! After a proper cropping, it will take days for the welts to subside! You'll need to sit down carefully after this session, I assure you! Just a sample, now. "

(He slashes across one buttock, then the other, waiting calmly for Bettie's sobs to subside before striking her again. On top of her already rosy ass from the paddling, the crop leaves distinct dark red-purple welts.)

" And then there's--but I think that's enough of a demonstration for today, child, don't you?" (Bettie nods, tears streaming down her face). Speak up, child. The proper response is: "Thank you, Master, for my correction." Now say it.." *

Bettie: "Th-thank you--m-master--I can't say that! You hurt me for no good reason! You--you're just like Uncle Otto!"

Bertie: "Oh dear.This is going to be a long and painful process--for both of us, I might add. In any case, I'll see you each morning. One more tradition here--we call it 'quiet time'. A chance to collect your thoughts and reflect on your shortcomings freed of external stimuli. You'll spend your quiet time here in my office, I think. Two hours in the late afternoon."

" Let me show you how it works. Stand up. No, leave your panties down and your skirt tucked up; that's fine. I'll untie you for the moment. Now,

first I cuff your hands behind your back with these leather cuffs . Now this broad leather strap just below your breasts, pinioning your arms. Now another strap pressing your thighs together, and the last one, securing your ankles. Quiet already, right?" (Bettie doesn't have a vocal part in all this, but responds with horror, disbelief that this is happening, despair, revulsion at his touch, the whole gamut.)

Bertie proceeds: "Now to still the other senses: speech--open your mouth, will you? (He slips a ball gag into Bettie's mouth; she struggles and clamps her jaws; he pinches her nostrils and forces her to open her mouth to breathe,than wedges the big rubber ball between her teeth) "Wider! That's it! (and straps it into place). "My, my you are a fighter, aren't you? I do dearly love to break the high-spirited ones! We'll have many lovely sessions, my child--I'm sure of it! " Bettie, furious, tries to speak; the gag allows only a feeble moan.

Bertie continues: "That stopped your childish whining, didn't it? Now vision: this padded blindfold cuts out all light."(He straps it on) "and now, before the ear plugs, here are the rules: You are to stand absolutely still, no twitching, no slumping. "

"One sensation we can not eliminate --pain! Any movement--and I'll be watching--will bring on the paddle or the riding crop, or my hand! "(He spanks her hard, right and left--she shudders, but, gagged, can only sputter) "Now--silence and stillness. "

"Contemplate your transgressions, and how we work together to make you a better person." (He inserts ear plugs in both ears, caresses, then slaps, almost playfully, her tender buns, then sits at his desk, soon immersed in paper work.The camera moves over and slowly pans the leather leg restraints, the bruised and welted buttocks, the fettered arms and wrists, and finally Bettie's head, thrown back in agony, blindfolded, jaws distended by the cruel gag). Fade.

Back to Bettie's bedroom.

Bettie: coming awake, distraught: " Oh! Shit! What a nightmare! that's the worst dream I ever--Oh! I can feel that, whatever, that whip! Thank God it's just a nightmare--but my ass feels so--(touches self, gets out out bed)--tender-and throbbing -just like that dream!! "(She goes to the full length mirror, turns on the light and hikes up her nightie; her bottom is bright pink with red splotches, criss crossed with raised welts.) *

(This is later close up footage. Make up? just a little rouge touch up was all that was necessary; Janet demanded realistic spanking and whipping sequences, and Arnold, protesting but secretly gleeful, whipped her luscious ass bright red. The reluctant sadist meets the masochist in denial, he thought. Great relationship!)

TWELVE

Janet wants to film the second schoolgirl dream sequence right now. "We've got the set, you're in costume--you make a great perverted Brit, Arnold--maybe a great perverted cameraman. You really got into that, didn't you? Tell you a secret; so did I. Maybe stop and do more closeups; we can always do the lines over. C'mon, let's do it! My delicious tender rosy red butt is already fading!"

Arnold didn't protest. So they shot the second episode of St. Maligna.

Arnold resets the camera, plumps up his belly padding and sits at the headmaster's desk. Bettie straightens her blouse and short wool skirt, and the scene begins: