Arnold, Janet and Bettie

Bertie's office--he's sitting at his desk as Bettie enters, sullen, slumping, and more than a little afraid.

"Here I am again, Mr. Headmaster, obeying orders."

"Do I detect a note of resentment in your voice, Bettie? That won't do, you know. These sessions are for your own good. And I'm afraid I have some disturbing news from your housemother, Miss Fourchette. But first, your daily chastisement. Come here, my dear. Today, no whips, no paddles--just the personal touch of my hand. Quickly, now--pull up your skirt and kneel across my lap. (She complies.)"My Word!! Bettie! Where are your panties?"

"I didn't bother to wear them--you always take them off anyway!"

"A cheeky attitude, young lady--no pun intended--and your cheeks will pay the price, oh yes!" Bertie spanks her, hard, alternating hands as he holds her down across his lap. This continues-slow, measured, merciless-for quite a while, until Bettie is sobbing softly,flinching with each slap. *

"On your feet now, girl--and stand tall! Can't have all that slumping and slouching! And look me in the eye when I'm talking to you!"

Bettie is cringing in pain, sniffling, head sunk on her chest.

"Oh, stop sniveling. I've got something here to improve your posture." Bertie takes a high leather collar with a stiff, bill-shaped anterior projection. He forces this under Bettie's chin, and buckles the multiple fastenings tightly. Now her head and neck are held cruelly erect, her chin jutting skyward in an attitude of extreme attention. Still tearful, she glares at him.

"Much better!" says Bertie. "now that I have your attention, let's deal with this other matter. Ms. Fourchette tells me that you've been fondling yourself-your nasty private parts-after lights out. Shocking!"

"Lies! She's the one that's trying to fondle me! That ugly dyke!" With the choker collar and chin restraint, Bettie's plea came out in a strangled, lockjaw Eastern prep school style.

"Perhaps there's some truth to your story--though I doubt it. In any case, I'll Interrogate Ms. Fourchette myself--very thoroughly, you may be sure. But as for you--we must be absolutely certain you won't touch yourself down there. Understand?"

Bettie tries to nod.

"Here, now--let's try these!" Bertie produces a pair of thumbless, black leather mittens."Hands in front of you, please. There!" He tugs the mittens on, the straps them securely at the wrists. "Hands behind you now, crossed behind your back, High! Higher! Up between your shoulder blades! Note how they strap together and, when I fasten this buckle, connect to that ring on the back of your collar. I think your fingers are safely out of mischief's way now!"

Bettie sways, shoulders pulled back by the severe leather bonds.

"Pulls your blouse a bit tight, doesn't it?" Bertie chuckles. "Well, that can be remedied." He unbuttons her sheer blouse and her breasts tumble free. He massages them briefly, then tweaks her nipples, which soon become turgid. "Might as well get rid of that skirt, too--we're coming to the best part."

Now Bettie stands nude except for her open blouse and her dark gartered hose and high heels. The collar forces her head up and back, the stringent wrist bondage is already very painful. Her bottom is swollen, splotched deep pink from yesterday's whipping as well as her recent merciless spanking. Her dark pubic bush is exposed.

Bertie capers over to the wall rack of bondage devices, more cheerful by the minute, He turns and holds out a belted leather device for Bettie's inspection. "Know what this is? And where it's going? No?"

Bettie is almost too sore and miserable to respond.

"This is a chastity belt! When I get it on you, no-one's fingers--yours, mine, Ms. Fourchette's--will be able to explore your little secrets. Here's how it works. I strap this broad leather belt around your waist--tight! Now this big leather -thing--looks like a sausage, doesn't it--with a big knob on the end--goes between--spread your legs, please-wider-wider--Oh my..." Bertie kneels in front of her fondling her labia open, rubbing her clit, penetrating just a bit with two fingers. "...where was I, my dear? Lost my concentration for a moment. You certainly are--mature--ripe, for a youngster--due to your decadent nighttime habits, I suppose--and already deliciously moist! Well! We'll just tuck this in here--in you go--and tug this strap up between your legs and your rosy cheeks and buckle it tight. Yes, tight!" Bettie starts to writhe and whimper, the leather device now almost out of sight between her legs.

"One more thing." Bertie almost crowed. "we wouldn't want you to be completely devoid of stimulation, so I soaked the leather in a hot chili pepper oil! That should keep your attention focused during quiet time, which is now.'

"Aoww! That burns! Stop it! Stop it! Please! You bastard-- AAAoow!"

"So noisy! Let's get the gag in quickly, then--and the blindfold. And just before the ear plugs, let me share this--I've a little extra chili oil; so as not to waste it, I'll just anoint your nipples--look how thy pop right up--and smear the rest on your flaming ass. There! Quiet in your corner now, for an hour or so. I think you are going to be a very fast learner, Bettie--a credit to St. Maligna! "

He slaps her cheerfully on the buttock one more time. Bettie sways, totters, continues to buck and rotate her pelvis and thighs,trying to get some relief from the pepper soaked dildo. Whistling cheerfully, Bertie returns to his desk. Fade.

Bettie's bedroom: She sits up, screaming. "AAArgh! O--ooow! That was--Oh God! the worst dream I ever had! Worse than last night! And that same creepy guy! And-and--my pussy feels so--It's burning up!" She turns

on the light, limps over to the mirror, clutching her pudenda, and pulls off her nightie and sees: her butt is bright red, swollen. Her nipples are tender,erect and throbbing. And as she turns to the camera, we see her purple pink swollen labial lips, dripping wet.

Bettie, facing camera, horrified: "What-what's going on? What's happening to me?" Fade. *

Arnold , filming this last scene, was aghast. "Janet! What happened? What did you do to your pussy?" And then he knew: "You put something on that chastity belt, didn't you?"

"Well, I wanted to---be a good actress, get into the role, so I rubbed a little bit of that Habanera chile sauce on that leather thing--I didn't know it would sting and burn so much--but it's awful! and it's just getting worse--Oh I'm still swelling up! What shall I do?"

"We might try a fire hose..No I've got a better idea. I'll just kiss it and make it better, as my mother used to say. Just lie back now, open your thighs..." He eased her down onto the faded persian rug; the afternoon sunlight lent a golden light to the musty law office.

Arnold licked her throbbing clit until his own tongue began to sting. A quart of cool milk helped; rubbed on, then rubbed in, deep in her swollen cunt, then more licking; but it was at least 45 minutes before Janet was able to respond to his caresses; they made love--carefully-- side by side, Arnold behind; as tender as she was, but with all her nerve endings tingling, Janet was soon gasping with multiple orgasms.

Lying back on the rug, cradling her body--she was now purring like a cat--Arnold said thoughtfully: "You know, that's not just acting. You love that stuff, that spanking and whipping and all. The humiliation. i should have known it after that leather stuff. You told me about this, but there's got to be a limit. This stuff is kinda scary--for you, and for me, too. I've got to be careful I don't start enjoying it too much--like the headmaster, Bertie--my greatest creation."

"Bertie--oh, I kind of liked him. He was so rotten, so cruel! What do you suppose he'll do to me in my next nightmare?"

"That's what I mean, Janet. You're --pushing this self-therapy trip a little too fast, a little too deep, I think. And I don't want to be the one who--helps get you to a place where you shouldn't really be. Oh shit. I'm not sure I understand any of this anymore--except that I love you. Now let's get out of here--Wendell is due back at any minute."

That night Arnold stayed awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling. This woman he loved, this strange creature--why was she so intent in torturing herself? He didn't quite buy her facile explanation--boyfriend abuse--of the prior evening, And did he really want to know? Besides, Sid would be in town next week. The careful plan for gradual release of the tapes was already out the window; Sid was quoting figures in the thousands, and was frantic for product.

Clearly he, Arnold, was losing control, if he had ever had it, of this modest fantasy--sensitive filmmaker, tribute to a forgotten sex symbol--that was clearly self-deluding bullshit. He was making--and loving it--flat out porn; manic Sid, enigmatic Janet, but delectable fuckable, wonderful Janet--the whole thing was getting way too big. And yet--it was a wild toboggan ride to God knows where, and he didn't want to get off.

TWELVE

At breakfast--Arnold had done his own toast and coffee, and was sitting in Janet's dinette, listening to her splashings in the shower. He shrugged and grinned, luxuriating in the improbable upturn his life had taken in the last few weeks; Janet--Bettie--and every thing that had followed--and still: this gorgeous, sexy, and slightly crazy lady...

Janet glided out of the bathroom in a terrycloth robe. "Good morning, Headmaster, you perverted pedophile! I'm still a little tender--want to check?" She turned and swirled her robe; as she bent, her still rosy bottom flaunted and bared, she grinned over her shoulder at him.

"Give me a break! Cover up that gorgeous ass! We need to talk business. We're pretending that you're Bettie Page, filmed maybe twenty years ago--this was a sexy hillbilly dancing in her underwear, now we're moving into bondage, spanking, implied and overt fucking--I love it, you know that, but, we've got to start adding to the cast--I'm a cameraman, a director, an amateur actor and not a very good one. And also, we need another woman, a dominatrix, someone to interact with your bondage stuff. We talked about this before and I mentioned Stacy."

Janet closed her robe,teasingly. "You're so serious this morning! Let me wing it. Of course Stacy. She clearly knows what's going on.; she'd keep our little secret, Mr. Porn King! And you think she's just a young valley girl-- not true! I got vibes from minute one. She'd be a great evil blonde bitch--and she'd love to do it for you!"

"I never would have--maybe you're right! So maybe you can ask her this morning."

"You don't get it, do you? She's hot for you; you ask her! I'm going to get dressed now--you're so businesslike this morning!"

At the store, Arnold stumbled through his proposition to Stacy; Janet stood several steps behind him, Arnold was the man. "Uhh, you kinda know the films we're making; we really need some additional --actors. A female villian, to kind of, to dominate Bettie--I mean Janet. But, no pressure!; this might not be your thing at all!"

Stacy smiled and exchanged glances with Janet. "I'd love to work with Janet--lovely, vulnerable, sexy Bettie--I think we can--really interact!"

Arnold said: "Stacy,that's wonderful. But you've got to know that some of this materiel we've been filmling is--a bit risque. I wouldn't ask you to take your clothes off, but--Janet is --undressed in some of the--scenarios."

"C'mon. Arnold. S and M, B and D, no problem! You think I've been living in a time warp? Janet, I know you don't. I've got to tell you, ever since I figured out what the two of you were up to, I wanted to be part of it. And you, Janet. I get wet just thinking about tying you up and--whatever! Ummm!"

The two women smiled at each other. Some kind of feminine vibe was in the air. Arnold, a bit bewildered, cleared his throat and forged ahead. "We also need a set. This film is about a rich heiress, and her maid--Bettie, of course-so I'll have to look around..."

"Don't bother." Stacy said: "My folks are up at the lake for the weekend. How about my home in Piedmont?" She noted Arnold's gulp of astonishment and continued: "You don't think I'm working for your lousy eleven bucks an hour, do you? I want to be around film! And this weird stuff feels absolutely right on!"

"Stacy, honey--" It was Janet purring--"i think we'll do just fine together! My tired old ass quivers, anticipating your loving attention."

"Attention is what you'll get, my lovely slave--absolutely!" Stacy leaned towards Janet, eyes gleaming.

Arnold was flustered as heavy non-verbal messages flew between the two women. He tried to regain control. "Alright, then, we have a shooting script; Janet will need maid costumes; you, Stacy, riding togs; tight breeches, boots, a whip., of course. We'll shoot at your house tomorrow."

THIRTEEN

Arnold double checked the address, then turned into the impressive driveway, curving some two hundred feet to the turnaround in front of the two story brick mansion with its gables and slate roof. He turned to Janet: "This can't be the place, can it? Stacy lives here?

As if to answer, Stacy appeared at her imposing front door, an oak slab nine feet high, waving gaily. "Hey, you're here! Come on in!"

The grungy teenaged clerk Arnold had taken for granted had metamorphosed into a young Grace Kelly; her spiky hairdo transformed into a sleek blonde coif. She wore a sheer cotton shirt--even at thirty feet, Arnold was sure she was braless--and skin tight whipcord riding breeches, tucked into supple black leather riding boots. To complete the image, a leather clad riding crop dangled from her left hand.

"How about the costume, OK? I thought: spoiled, rich, horsy heiress--what would she wear? is this close?"

Arnold and Janet exchanged quick glances. "Uh --yeah, you look great! And --and this place--wow! Is it really OK to shoot here?"

"Absolutely! My folks are at Tahoe--or Spain. or somewhere--I'm never quite sure. Anyway, the place is ours. Unload your stuff, Arnold, and lets get to filming! I'm kinda excited. Come in, come in!"

Arnold began to set up his lights and cameras in the opulent walnut paneled library; Janet gawked openly at the twenty foot skylighted ceiling and at the stacks and stacks of leatherbound books. "My God" she thought, "This place makes you feel like a servant." She was wearing a perfectly servicable but slightly dowdy french maid's outfit: short black dress, white apron and cap, black stockings, black garter belt and sensible shoes--sensible for Bettie; only 3 inch high heels.

Stacy was ebullient. "I really like the script, but maybe I'll wing it a little! Bettie, I bet you'll go for that! And your costume is not quite right! I'm going to make you change into something really sexy! OK?"

Arnold had the lighting and cameras set up in no time. "Ladies--let's stick to the script at first, OK? I know its wordy, but it sets up the scene, later on--just go for it! OK, action!"

Scene: Stacy, lolling in a leather armchair, tapping her riding crop idly against her thigh. Bettie, in her maid's uniform standing demurely in front of Stacy.

Stacy (S from now on): Bettie. May I call you that? This is the first chance we've had to talk since my father's untimely death and the reading of his--surprising will. Well, speak up! is that correct?"

Bettie (B): Uhh--i guess so. Yes."

S: "Yes, ma'am!"

B: (with a little irritation) Yes, ma'am!"

S: "You were the one that discovered him in the master bedroom, were you not?"

B: "Yes.---Ma'am. When he didn't answer my knock, I--opened the door

and found--found him--(dabs daintily at her eyes with her apron). I called 911 of course, and they were here very quickly, but it was--too late. A massive heart attack, they said."

S: "Which accounts for the broad smile on his face. Unusual with a coronary, I'm told. Which brings us to the will. He left you $10,000 outright, and $50,000 more, should you stay on for another twelve months. Now, doesn't that strike you as a bit--generous? A bit --unusual?"

B: "Bunny--I mean, the master--was a very generous man, and perhaps he appreciated how I had always attended to his needs--and those of the household, of course."

S: "Of course. Well, Bettie. things are going to change around here. My dear mother is in the Betty Ford Clinic for God knows how long, and I am now in total charge of the estate. My expectations for the hired help are very high. Do you understand?"

B: "I--I'll do my best--maam."

S: "You bet your sorry ass you will! Big time changes in store around here! I seriously doubt that you'll survive the year on your contract, or collect the fifty thou. So let's begin. That frumpy outfit has got to go; it may have turned on my old man, but it does nothing for me. I have your new maid's uniform here. Go change and be back in five minutes! Quickly, now!" (She thrusts a large shopping bag into Bettie's hands)

(Quick fade and back up; we don't see the actual costume change.) Same scene, Stacy now sipping a flute of champagne, impatient. Bettie enters, a bit shyly, and no wonder: she's wearing a tight blackleather corset, cupping but not covering her upthrust breasts and exposed nipples; long garters from the corset tug at thigh high black silk stockings; she totters in five inch patent leather heels. She wears an insubstantial wisp of a black lace miniskirt. and a white lace maid's apron and cap. She stands, awkwardly, for Stacy's inspection. *

S: "Excellent. Slutty. Just what I had in mind." Lolling in the armchair, she idly lifts Bettie's skirt with her riding crop. "Slutty, indeed. Your bush is a bit unkempt. don't you think? Perhaps I can have our gardener, Jose, do a little pruning--No, I think I'll let you take care of it--by tomorrow, I expect a tidy little pussy. Understood?" During this dialogue Stacy teases Bettie's exposed pubic thatch with the crop. flicking her exposed vulva lightly.

B: Winces, backs away, suddenly suspecting how this is going to play out. "Ohh! Please--don't! I couldn't find any panties--it's not my fault..."

S: "Of course you didn't find any--you'll.. wear none. And I have a few more additions to your costume. Come here!" Moving slowly, insolently, she fastens a broad leather collar with steel rings front and back around Bettie's neck and buckles it tightly. then she locks leather wrist and ankle circlets with chrome D rings in place.

B: "I don't quite understand what all this --this leather stuff--is for."

S: "Let me show you. Cross your arms behind your back, please. High! Higher!" Bettie complies, uneasily."See, when I link these cuffs together and connect them with this short chain to your collar, you're not in a position to show me much impertinence, are you? Even if I whip your titties just a bit, like this?" (She slashes--lightly--with her riding crop across Bettie's exposed nipples.)

B: "OWWWW! SHIT! What are you---"

S: "Such vulgar talk! any more of your dirty mouth, and I'll have to punish you like this! Bend over!"

B: "Ow! Please, uhh--ma'am..."

S: "I said, bend over!" She flicks Bettie's tiny skirt up over her hips, exposing her bare bottom. She languidly traces the furry cleft between Bettie's buttocks before whipping her, five or six rapid forehand and back hand strokes.

B: "Ooh! Ow! That's--don't do that!" (wriggles a bit)

S: "My my! I do believe you don't mind a little well deserved discipline! Ten more, shall we? Legs apart, please--that's right. You're a delectable target, I must say."

Stacy whips her, with hard, measured strokes. Bettie writhes and moans, but maintains her victim's position, pinioned arms straining between

her shoulder blades, her knees still defiantly straight, her vulnerable ass, now streaked with welts from the crop, still proffered for her punishment. Stacy strokes her maid's reddened asscheeks, then reaches between her legs.