Arnold, Janet and Bettie

Bettie/Janet scenario (file name: Middleages)

Scene: tourist attraction: Medieval Torture Museum. Sign out front of a forbidding cellar door. The first exterior shot is Bettie, reacting to the sign. then descending the stairs to the dungeon. Now POV is the torture chamber entrance.Bettie enters,wearing a perky little cotton dress, dark hose with garters (no garter belt,) and, of course, her signature five inch heels.

Arnold is costumed as the prissy proprietor; hair parted in the middle, slicked back, rimless glasses, tight suit, little black bow tie, and an upper denture with buckteeth, courtesy of the costume shop. Prissy gestures, but not overtly gay. Just a little----strange. An ominous nerd.

It's early in the morning; Bettie is the first and only customer. She wanders around the small chamber, obviously delighted: the rack, the stocks and pillory, the chains and whips hanging from the walls--she picks up a link of heavy chain and pair of rusty manacles from the torture table, shudders, and closes her eyes.

(Here, as in other 'fantasy' sequences, when she blinks, we see her fantasy--in this case, she struggles in the manacles with her wrists and elbows behind her, linked by a short chain to equally heavy ankle manacles; she's writhing on the floor, hogtied----or should we say hogchained----. She's naked, arched painfully. The fantasy sequence lasts just 10-15 seconds.)

*

"Excuse me, miss, may I assist you?" The host has sidled up to Bettie, unctuous, with a tight smile.

Bettie, jolted out of her fantasy, blinks: "Oh! you startled me! You've certainly got lots of--scary stuff here!"

"Yes. These instruments of torture have seen more than their share of human pain and misery. Everything here is authentic, of course."

"Wow! All this old--stuff! It's kind of neat to---wonder what they did with it--and what it was like. I like to think about that kind of stuff, maybe I'm weird. What was this for?" Bettie gestured to the rack.

"The victim--perhaps a beautiful young lady like yourself, suspected of infidelity, would be strapped down--wrists here, ankles down here, and then slowly stretched as her torturer cranked this wheel--like so! Slowly, slowly, until her poor arms pulled out of their sockets, or until she revealed the name of her lover."

Bettie stretched her arms above her head, wincing. "Oooh!" And closed her eyes.

Second fantasy: Bettie on the rack, nude, groaning and writhing as the host (but now wearing a medieval cloak, leggings, and sandals) turns the wheel. "His name, my dear, No? than another turn!" Bettie moans. * Back to reality. Bettie blinks her eyes open, shudders, and smiles uneasily at the host, who is gently steering her to the next exhibit.

"This is the infamous iron maiden. Step inside, and these iron spikes would hold you in a lethal embrace. "

"Brrr. I don't like that one! And what's this wooden pole and that other stained piece of wood?"

"You are the curious one, aren't you" he smiled sweetly----perhaps too sweetly."That's an all purpose pole; for painful bondage, and of course, whippings.That smaller pole is a spreader bar, one can use it to tie the victim's legs apart for what ever purpose you might have in mind."

"Oh! My goodness!" Betty gasped amd closed her eyes again.

Third fantasy: She is tied to the pole. bound with ropes; the spreader bar opens her thighs widely; she is nude and somehow her pubes have been shaved. The dungeon master (again in medieval costume) has just completed the tight ropiing and stands back, leering at her exposed, slightly open cunt lips. this fantasy lasts longer than the first two; she begins to get wet. * *

The fantasy continues; somehow she has been gagged! She opens her eyes; she is blushing, flustered. The attendant is now watching her closely. "And what is this funny thing?" Bettie picks up a metal belt with two dangling chains, the stouter one attached to a curved metal rod with a bulbous tip, corroded with rust.

"Ahh, well, that's a chastity belt, with a certain--unusual--attachment. German, 12th century. Does it intrigue you?" He smiled his half-sinister, half ingratiating smile.

Bettie was fondling the belt, halfway into her next fantasy, "So this would go around your waist , and be locked in place, and then this--would go--OH! OH!" She fondled the belt and closed her eyes.

Bettie in fantasy mode again: wearing a diaphanous robe and a tiara/crown; her hair is in a long braid; she confronts the king. It's the host again, this time in a furred robe and wearing a crown.

King: 'I'm off to the crusades again, my dear, so you know what we must do."

Queen: " I hate this! the cruel iron chains that rasp against my tender flesh! And I get so lonely!"

King: "Not to fear! Cedric, the blacksmith, has come up with a solution to your problem!" (flourishes the belt with the attached dildo).

Queen: Oh my! I can't! --that won't fit--I--"

King: "Quickly, now. Lift your robe. Bend over a bit, legs spread--a little goose grease as a lubricant--steady--there! And handcuffs, too."

(Filming is not explicit here; mainly Bettie's face as the big dildo slides in: horror, pain, surprise, a fleeting smile, then round mouthed orgasm, eyes half closed. She wriggles,arches, moving her hips as he padlocks the belt. and then the cuffs behind her backin . She flexes her pelvis once more; the iron rod is lodged to the hilt in her cunt. She squirms and falls to hedr knees.) * *

Bettie blinks; back in reality, she wears the same orgasmic expression; she is stroking the ancient metal rod vigorously. The chain snaps. "Oh! Oh dear!~ What have I?--I didn't mean to--"

"Clumsy girl! This is--was--priceless! Look what you've done, with your foolish fantasies!" The host was furious, but controlled, stern. "This belt cost me four thousand dollars! What are you going to do about that?"

"Oh God--I don't have that kind of money! Isn't there some way that I can, you know , pay you back?

"You mean, atone for your sin?" The smile was more sinister now. "I'm sure we'll find a way. Let me introduce you to the pillory now--I'm going to let you participate. Wrists and neck across the crossbar--lean forward--that's splendid--and now I'll close the top piece and padlock it in place. Wiggle around...everything tight and secure? Splendid!"

Bettie, a bit flustered and guilty, obeyed him. She did wiggle as she found her neck and wrists clamped tight in the rough oak pillory, her elbows up and splayed --'like chicken wings', she thought. She was bent forward, her rump stuck up into the air, especially when the host spread her legs and cuffed her ankles to a three foot spreader bar. * Bettie closed he eyes again. this time the fantasy was closer to her actual situation; she was in the same uncomfortable pillory, but naked except for flat buckled shoes and a puritan bonnet, with voices coming at her from all sides: "Fornicator!' 'strumpet!' 'Indifferent housekeeper!' 'Witch!"

Her fantasy ended rudel;y; she was actually locked in to a wooden pillory, legs spread, naked and totally defenseless.

*

The host's voice broke in on her fantasy: "Atone for your sins? Indeed you will, you lovely dimwit! And make me a few dollars as well! For your information, my dear, when the puritans used the pillory--usually in the village square--not only was the victim, helpless and exposed, subject to the expected humiliation; but also jeers, pelting with rotten fruits and vegetables, and occasional stones, but--physical abuse; fondling, stripping, spankings, sometimes frank whippings--all under the severe eyes of the parsons and town fathers. And when night fell, and the randy town hoodlums were on the prowl--Oh my! Today, your worst fantasies may well vie with reality. Because--that's going to happen to you!"

Bettie smiled nervously She writhed in the heavy wood pillory. "Wow. You had me going there for a second. But a joke's a joke. Now let me out of this thing--this wood is hurting my wrists."

"The joke is on you, sweetie! And its not just your wrists that are going to hurt, it's your big gorgeous ass!"

Bettie wasn't smiling now. "Come on now! turn me loose! I mean it! This isn't funny any more! Please!"

He capered about, now gleeful. "Do you want to see my sign? Quickly. now, here comes the bus!"

He showed Bettie his hastily hand lettered placard, which read:

CHASTISE A WICKED WENCH! ONE STROKE: 5 DOLLARS THREE STROKES: 10 DOLLARS USE A WHIP. PADDLE, OR CANE! (BARE HAND SESSIONS NEGOTIABLE)

"Let's get you ready. shall we? I don't think you'll need all these clothes ." He stood behind her arched back and fondled her breasts before he hooked his finger in her neckline and ripped off her dress with one quick tear. He took a small penknife from his pocket and cut her brassiere straps fondling her again as her breasts plopped free. Then he pulled the elastic

waistband of her panties up until the flimsy garment sawed between her legs, and tugged rhythmically for a long moment until he cut them off. "Not quite the Queen's dildo, but not bad, right? But I've got to get the whips and paddles ready; here comes the NRA tour bus. Ugly, overweight gun enthusiasts, you know--macho /sadist to a man, as I'm sure your poor ass will find out!! One more little present----these fifteenth century nipple clips, and these leather straps." Bettie moaned and cursed as he tweaked her nipples erect, and tightened the clamps on them.

Bettie squirmed in the uncomfortable pillory, very aware of her jutting, vulnerable buttocks and the soft furry cleft between them, rudely exposed by her widespread stance. She hoped this was another of her bondage fantasies; but she knew it was not. The voices in the anteroom got louder. She heard the host: "Gentlemen! Something very special today for all you torture and punishment enthusiasts!" And then, as they read his sign: "Where is she? "YEEHAH! I'm gonna chastise that wicked wench, you bet! Whip her ass!"

(These are voices, recorded earlier; given the secrecy/small budget issues, we don't see the NRA horde. Arnold mans the camera as Stacy wields the paddle and then the whip. They exchange a sweet, maybe a bit sadistic smile, then Stacy films and Arnold punishes Janet's red, whip welted ass. Both cameras focus on the quivering, already red and swollen target, not the twin whippers; their whip wielding arms only are shown). Arnold takes the first swat, with a paddle "Step right up , gentlemen! Smite for Gods values! Like this!" He swats Bettie's butt; she gasps in pain and surprise. This is no joke. Whap! She moans again. It's going to be a long day. Fade.

Fade in: Bettie is slumped in the pillory, anguish and fatigue on her face. Slow pan around to her bottom, which is spectacularly swollen, fiery red with purple blotches and criss-crossing lash marks. Some of this is makeup, but the basic tender welts are courtesy of Arnold and Stacy. Janet moans softly. In the foreground, the host is counting money, bills scattered on a nearby whipping platform.

"Miss--I don't even know your name, do I? But I surely know your sweet money making ass! By my math, You need to take only 37 more lashes and

I'm even for my four thousand buck chastity belt--got it at a flea market, actually. But one more day like today, and I'm way ahead. And tomorrow the Pain and Pleasure Pets--that's a San Francisco S and M group --is scheduled. I just hope you hold up..." the host goes to Bettie, contemplates her butt, touches her lightly. She yelps with pain.

"Tender, huh? You deserve to be. You took a merciless whipping today. And, I'm sorry about that guy with the cattle prod. I didn't see him coming. But you're looking good! Skin broken in just one or two little places. Welts, sure--what do you expect from a horsewhip? But on balance (he strokes her lightly; she yelps again) your ass is looking great!"

He comes around in front of the pillory and gently cradles Bettie's chin. She glares at him. "You--you despicable bastard! Turn me loose! I've more than paid for that fucking piece of junk I broke!"

He kisses he gently on the lips; she recoils.

"I'm going to get some lotion for your sore, sorry, but lovely, ass--I'll be right back." he says. Soon he returns and begins massaging her tender bottom with an emollient containing hydrocortisone and a local anesthetic; his concentric strokes are soothing and knowledgeable; he kneads her flaming ass cheeks, over and over, round and around, sensually. Now his hands stray between her spread thighs; more ointment; slowly he massages her soft inner thighs. Lovingly, he insinuates his fingers into her anus, then parting her labia, reaching between her legs to toy with her clit. Here Stacy moves in with the hand held camera; the shots of Janet's succulent pussy and the host's subsequent penetration are much more intimate than the prior films...and not in the script.

(Through the filming of this, we're getting reaction shots of Bettie's face: angry, then somewhat relieved, then slightly enjoying the massage, then frankly turned on--and then surprised, then delighted as Arnold--the host--begins to fuck her .)

"You might want to revisit your chastity belt dildo fantasy, my dear because--here--it--comes!" Arnold's voice is husky with passion. He's still

playing 'the host', but he's almost drowning in his sexual addiction to Janet/Bettie and his pent-up resentment and jealousy from the night before; he is not too gentle. In point of fact, he is fierce. He lunges and lunges and fucks her, penetrating with ferocity; Bettie's eyes pop wide with surprise and pain, then slide nearly shut with orgiastic tripping. His erection at this moment is not about to be denied. He doesn't notice as Stacy moves in for the closeups, the very graphic and clearly X rated closeups.

(Shot from Bettie's POV, when we see that the host has dropped his pants and is entering her. Her face, widemouthed, registers surprise, dismay, and, soon, surprised delight. His hands reach forward and squeeze her breasts; she bucks and sways to the rhythm of his fucking. Which goes on, enthusiastically, both Janet and Arnold, for quite a while.}

Arnold, still smarting from the uncertainty of last night's scene with Sid, lunged and plunged a bit more savagely than usual, perhaps, slapping Janet's wounded ass during his thrusts. She loved it, moaning. Stacy got it all on film. ( Fade on a closeup of Bettie. eyes closed, mouth open, orgasmic ).

SIXTEEN

Stacy lowered the hand held camcorder. Arnold, his hands clenching the pillory, his back arched, still deep inside Janet, slowly relaxed, opened his eyes. And grinned. "Wow. Got a bit carried away. Janet--how was that for you?" "Fucking great, you bastard! Now get me out of this thing!"

Stacy unlocked the pillory and helped Janet down, caressing her chafed

wrists, loosening the leather straps and clamps on her breasts, helping her into the silk robe from the chastity belt scene, continuing to caress her. The two women's eyes met, they exchanged a meaningful smile. Mistress and slave! Blonde and brunette!~ Again both shared the same delicious fantasy at that moment, still the mistress and maid connection. Just a fantasy, of course, but... *

Janet stretched, blinked, still coming down from her orgasms and delectable fantasy, despite her painful bottom, and now her fiercely plowed cunt. She walked unsteadily towards Arnold. He extended his arms; they embraced. She winced as he fondled her still rosy, still tender ass.

"You-you were so --brutal! Ummm! Wow!" Janet whispered in his ear. Arnold wrenched the buck teeth prosthesis out of his mouth and they kissed, Janet pressing her body against him. Stacy discreetly turned her back, busying herself with the camera gear and props.

Arnold felt her lush body; his brain turned to mush. His anger, his jealousy, his reservations about the direction of the series blurred and vanished; he was getting hard again. " Janet--" he whispered "Janet --We've got to--"

The blaring horn of the limo cut through his mood. Sid was at the wheel. "C'mon, kids, let's do lunch--down at Jack London Square!"

"Sid, we can do that later." Arnold was surprised at how assured he sounded. "Janet needs to get dressed--we pretty much stripped her bare during the shoot--and that was fun --so I'll take her home, and we'll meet you in --oh, fortyfive, no, thirty minutes at the store. OK?"

Sid was --not leering , exactly, but certainly eyeing Janet in her sheer 'queen's ' robe. Arnold watched him. Was that normal male horniness (no question she was delectable) or was there a hint of--ownership in that smug stare. What had happened between Sid and Janet last night? Don't go there, he told himself. Not right now.

Sid, not used to having his agendas overruled, certainly not by Arnold, was a bit hesitant., grumpy. "Hey--OK. We can eat later. Janet--are you...? Fine! See you guys in a few minutes. Stacy, let me help you load up that equipment."

Driving to Janet's apartment, both were silent for a few minutes, then Janet and Arnold both spoke at once.

"When you fucked me..."

"Janet, we need to..."

Arnold grinned. "OK, you go first--sounds more interesting than what I was going to say."

"Well, when you fucked me back there, you were so rough! almost cruel--angry, maybe. And-- Vishnu help me, I loved it! You saw me come! Stuck in that awful pillory, spread, helpless--that made it almost better! So I'm not sure I can deal with liking it that much! And all that spanking and humiliation. I think I'm doing a rerun on my real life--except, as Bettie. And I love it; I really do. But it's kinda scary, schizy. You know what I'm saying?"

"Wow. Janet. You're right, I was angry; I was thinking that you and Sid had gotten it on--I saw you flashing him last night--and I--this is scary for me too--I loved plowing into you as hard and as deep as I could, punishing you, raping you. And feeling exultant and guilty at the same time. Which, come to think of it, is how orgasms often feel. And that was a spectacular one." He turned to her with a small, rueful grin. "So--what do we do now?"

"Oh, I'm not about to give up on Bettie. No way! I may have to get my own act together, but I love this delicious victim I've become." She stretched langourusly in her sheer robe, then slipped it off, Her look was soft, almost pleading. *

Arnold gulped and narrowly missed a parked school bus. "Ooh~tie me up! Beat me! Fuck me! Umm! Do it again!" Janet murmered.

"OK,OK--You've become a bigger Bettie fan than I ever was. She's swallowing you whole! Uhh--Here's your apartment. Put your clothes onn , for Chrissake"

"Come on up while I change--I mean dress. Thirty minutes, you said; just enough time for a quickie? OH, probably not. But I want you to read a script idea Sid and I had last night. Don't scowl like that."

In Janet's familiar apartment, he read over the script. In it Bettie was hired to do a modeling job by an unscrupulous porn merchandiser. Starting out with simple leather bondage gear, he progressed to whips and paddles, nipple clamps, and in the second installment, dildos, enemas, metal gags and labia and nipple piercing; Bettie is the reluctant and then cruelly mistreated and tortured victim after the first modest bondage. All filmed on video tape (or, since it was supposed to be the seventies) 8 mm film for the pornographers 'catalogue'.

He felt a little bit turned on, but mainly sick. What are we--what am I doing with this stuff? He thought.

Janet emerged from her bedroom. The Bettie wig was gone; her own dark lustrous mane was combed loosely. She wore a narrow pale orange silk skirt, slit up one thigh, and a brocade silk jacket with pearl buttons and a deep low cut neckline. Her silver sandals were high heeled. "Well?" She said. "Good costume for contract negotiotions or not?"

Arnold gulped. "You are so fucking beautiful! I mean--well, I've already said it--why do you need Bettie? Just be Janet! OK, never mind. Let's see Sid and blow his mind."