American Blue (15 page)

I stepped into a hallway I’d last seen in a picture with two unfortunate girls, supposedly sisters, being giving corporal punishment for coming home late and dressing like sluts.

‘So where’s Hudson?’ he was saying. ‘And don’t get me wrong, you’re cute and that, but I was expecting a younger girl – Jemmie?’

‘Jemima,’ I told him. ‘They’ll be along later. I drove down separately.’

‘Cool,’ he said once more, and ushered me into the main room. ‘Make yourself at home. Fancy a Bud?’

‘Yes, please.’

He went into a kitchen, leaving me to look round the room. It was long, with a huge picture window facing out across the valley, and I recognised it from his website as the scene of more than one of his domestic discipline shoots, although he’d done his best to make it look as if it was several different rooms in several different houses.

‘So what are you up for?’ he asked as he came in behind me. ‘Great ass, by the way. I love a full ass in tight blue jeans.’

As he spoke he planted a firm smack on my bottom and kept his hand there, kneading one cheek as if testing me for quality. I managed a giggle, knowing I had to play my part, and as he finally took his hand away he gave a dirty chuckle.

‘Great, nice and meaty. Sit down.’

I sat, but I hadn’t answered his question and wasn’t sure what to say. He solved my problem for me by pushing a piece of printed paper across the table. It was a sort of price list, setting out the various punishments a girl could take and how much she would be paid for each. I hadn’t expected anything so complicated, especially as their main aim seemed to be maximum exposure and a hard paddling for everyone,
but
there were plenty of choices, set out rather like a pizza menu.

The basic, equivalent to a margarita, was a hand spanking on jeans delivered by a partner. Going in your knickers paid more, bare more still, with a bonus if your pussy showed and another for having your cheeks pulled apart. Being stripped off on top added a smaller bonus, and going nude another. Having somebody other than your partner to do the spanking also paid more, and more still if it was a woman rather than a man, although for me that would have been the lesser humiliation. Then there were implements, each with its specific increment in price, from straps and small leather paddles right up to the big sorority paddles and the birch. Any girl who took the sort of punishment I’d seen on their site would earn what seemed to me quite a generous fee.

‘I thought you only did paddling?’ I asked.

‘Hell no, that’s just for Blue Ridge, which is how we started off. Nowadays we do all sorts, but we’ve got to put it on all different sites or it wouldn’t look right. The big deal with Blue Ridge is that it looks like it’s for real.’

‘I see. What has Jemima chosen?’

‘Jemmie? She’s going to start with a shoot for Over Mommy’s Knee; that’s jeans, panties and on the bare, all by hand. We’re going to play it like she’s been skipping school, saying she’s ill. That way we get to stick a thermometer up her tushie, which pays extra and the customers just love it. Then once her butt’s had a chance to cool off, she gets the full Blue Ridge treatment, yes ma’am.’

He broke off with a wistful sigh, no doubt imagining how Jemima would look holding her ankles while she was beaten with his enormous paddle. I bit my lip, also imagining her, but with a thermometer up her bottom
before
a woman who was supposed to be her mother spanked her. If anything it was worse than the paddling, more intimate anyway, while the fake incest carried a stigma all its own.

‘So how you going to fit in?’ he asked. ‘You can’t be Mommy, because my Janey likes to do that, and she looks the part. Say, how about you’re Jemmie’s teacher, who comes in and lends a hand with the spanking? You’d make a great school ma’am.’

‘Thanks,’ I answered, but he carried on, immune to sarcasm.

‘Then maybe we could go over to the classroom and you give it to her again, only she gets uppity and gives you a dose of your own medicine, how about that? Some of our boys just love to see an older woman get it from somebody younger, especially when she’s been dishing it out.’

I found myself blushing at the thought of being spanked by Jemima on camera, but I needed to play for time and responded with a thoughtful nod.

‘You just take your time,’ he said, ‘but I surely want you in those jeans. You fill ’em out like two pigs in a sack.’

The remark was supposed to be complimentary, and I forced a smile. I had to be there when Jemima and Hudson arrived, but I wasn’t at all sure when that would be, possibly not until the morning. Meanwhile I had to keep Tucker Vance occupied, and I really did not want to end up on film myself. He presumably needed somebody on camera, so I was safe for the time being, but needed to choose something from the list to show willing.

‘I’m fine with jeans,’ I told him, ‘and maybe outdoors?’

‘Outdoors is cool,’ he said. ‘Great day for it. How about one for Down the Woodshed? That’s where
we
’re husband and wife, and I take you down the garden for a larruping, then after I make you suck my dick. You suck dick, don’t you?’

I’d gone bright pink, and my fingers were shaking as I scanned the list, which had no mention of sexual activities at all.

‘Other side,’ he pointed out.

I nodded weakly and turned the piece of paper over, to find a whole range of options, all offered in combination with spankings, from having a man masturbate over my smacked bottom cheeks, through fellatio and cunnilingus, right up to full sodomy after a dose of the paddle. The prices for having various things stuck up your bottom or pussy were listed too, including the thermometer, the handles of implements, various plugs and your own knickers.

‘Take your pick,’ he offered generously, ‘but I’d count it a personal favour if you chose to give me a blow-job, because you’ve got a real pretty face, and Janey don’t like that sort of thing unless it’s in the way of business, if you get me.’

Again I forced a smile, wondering how I could possibly escape with Jemima but without prostituting myself. He was waiting for an answer.

‘OK, a woodshed spanking, if you like?’ I offered.

‘Cool,’ he answered, and reached out to take the price list. ‘So that’s a hand spanking on the bare, with an extra bj. Pussy on show and cheeks apart, yeah? Cool. Fancy anything up your butt? A screwdriver handle maybe?’

I shrugged, blushing, glad it wasn’t actually going to happen but unable to stop myself picturing my bumhole spread on the rounded handle of a screwdriver as he watched. He nodded, frowning as he studied the list, then quoted a price that would have paid for my Winnebago hire and a couple of tanks of fuel on top.
I
told myself firmly it wasn’t worth making a prostitute of myself.

‘Cool,’ he repeated, and sat back, completely relaxed.

Outside it was bright sunshine, and if Janey came back I was going to need an excuse not to do what I’d agreed to. I thought of pretending I was on my period, but I had a nasty suspicion he’d simply offer me a bonus for having the string of my tampon hanging out of my vagina while I was spanked.

‘Nothing like a cold Bud,’ he said, and put his now empty bottle down. ‘If I know my Janey, she might not be back before dark, but don’t worry, you’ll get your tail attended to in the morning. While we’re waiting, how about we do your mugshots?

‘Mugshots?’

‘You must have seen ’em; face, cunt and ass, all in a row, with your name and the logo on ’em so no thieving bastards can pinch ’em. They’re a trademark of ours, and great publicity, believe me. They get all over the net.’

I could believe it and my stomach had gone tight, remembering the hideously intrusive pictures of the Blue Ridge girls, with every tiny fold of their most intimate body parts posted for all the world to gape at. Presumably they wouldn’t put mine up if they didn’t have a spanking set to go with them, but then again if I deprived them of Jemima they might very well do it out of sheer spite, complete with my real name, which it had been pointless to try and hide when Hudson could instantly identify me.

‘Shall we do it outside?’ he asked casually.

I got up, desperately trying to think of some excuse. The best I could think of was asking to use the bathroom first, but that would only postpone my fate. I did it anyway, wiping my pussy and giving my
bumhole
a quick polish and a check in the mirror to make sure I was clean. As I held my cheeks apart to inspect myself I was thinking of the shot he would take, showing the soft pink ring of my anus in her little nest of hair, which gave me an idea. All the girls I could remember from his pictures had been shaved.

He was already outside, setting up an expensive-looking camera on a tripod. I walked across to him, praying it was him, rather than the girls he worked with, who was keen on the removal of body hair.

‘Um … there’s one little problem,’ I said. ‘I’m not shaved, and …’

‘That’s cool,’ he said casually. ‘Most guys like to have their girls shaved, but hey, what’s wrong with the natural look? Face the camera, and relax. I want you looking like you’re just going down to the store, real normal.’

I turned to the camera, trying to look calm, but with a sense of panic rising inside me that hit a peak as he took the shot. They had me on record, unmistakable as myself, and yet still innocent because there was nothing rude to go with it. That wasn’t going to last long.

‘Cool,’ he was saying. ‘Now pop your jeans and panties down, look back at me and stick that cute little butt right out, all the way, so daddy can see the chocolate starfish.’

My hands went to the button of my jeans, opening it as I thought of how I would look, my face clearly visible as I looked back over my shoulder, my bottom stuck out to show off my pussy, my bumhole pink and rude between my spread cheeks, to be put on record for any man in the entire world to gloat over, to masturbate over …

Something broke inside me. I panicked, running before I could stop myself, down across the lawn and
in
among the scrub. Tucker called out, but I didn’t catch what he said, crashing in among the bushes and away, indifferent to anything but escape. Only the thickness of the undergrowth slowed my headlong flight, and I didn’t stop until I was well down the slope and among taller, older trees.

He hadn’t followed, and I rested, panting, as I struggled to get my thoughts under control. I knew I’d probably lost my chance of saving Jemima from the same fate, but the thought of my students and colleagues at the university seeing me like that was unbearable, never mind my mother. It would have happened too, because if I’d had my mugshots taken and spoiled Tucker’s shoot with Jemima he was all too likely to have put them up under my real name. Once they were up, anybody putting my name into a search engine was likely to find them. Every time I set a student an essay he or she would very likely have ended up studying not genetics but close-ups of my pussy and bumhole. I’d been right to run.

I couldn’t go back to Blue Ridge, so decided to make for the Winnebago and think about what to do next. Unfortunately a sharp gully ran down through the woods between me and the road, steep, muddy and choked with thorns. To get around the top meant coming uncomfortably close to the house, so I continued down the slope to the bottom of the valley. The river proved to be quite wide and in spate, making it impossible to cross, while a fence prevented me from following it up the valley. I went down instead, and after over an hour of rough walking managed to cross where a big tree had fallen and scramble up the opposite side.

By the time I reached the main road I was hot, sweaty and covered in tiny scratches, my hair full of twigs and my hands filthy. There was a bar some way
further
down the road and I made for it, ignoring the curious looks from the men inside as I made for the Ladies. Having used their bathroom I felt it was only polite to buy something, and I badly needed a drink anyway, so I ordered a beer and retreated to a quiet table. It was quite a rough-looking place, and other than the slatternly barmaid I was the only woman there.

Two of the men propping up the bar began to glance at me, making me nervous, and when a gravelly male voice spoke from directly behind me I nearly jumped out of my skin.

‘Hey, you’re early.’

It was Matt Reynolds, grinning all over his hairy face.

‘Hi,’ I managed. ‘I was, um … walking and I got a bit lost, so I thought I might as well come in.’

‘Glad you did,’ he answered me. ‘Another beer?’

‘Please, yes.’

I was still thirsty, and swallowed my second beer almost as fast as the first. Now that I was with Matt Reynolds none of the other men were paying me any attention at all. Evidently I was spoken for, and it was a great deal easier to accept the situation than to resist. I let him buy another round of beer and a third, then treat me to a dish of something called Brunswick stew, apparently a local speciality and traditionally made out of squirrel.

By the time I’d finished I could barely keep my eyes open for exhaustion. I felt drunk and warm, while the patter of his conversation washed over me without really sinking in. A band arrived and several friends of his joined us, both male and female. If the women hadn’t been asking me endless questions I’d have soon been asleep. They seemed to assume I was Matt’s property, and before long one of them suggested that he should take me home and put me to bed.

I knew he’d have me, but I didn’t really mind, just as long as he didn’t expect anything beyond sleepy acquiescence. He took me outside, and began to paw me even before we got to his pick-up, pressing his mouth to mine and squeezing my bottom. I gave in to it, letting him kiss me and touch where he liked, until my body began to respond in sleepy arousal.

He was keen, bundling me into the pick-up and driving just a few hundred yards down the road to where three huge trailers loaded with logs stood in a lay-by. I let him lead, responding to his kisses as he unbuttoned my blouse and pulled my bra up to free my breasts, allowing my hand to be guided to his cock, pulling him free and tugging him erect as he fondled me. He was barely hard before he was easing my head down into his lap, holding me by my hair as he put his cock in my mouth, not rough, but making it very clear that he wanted to be sucked and wouldn’t stand any nonsense.