BDSM Library - The Replacement Model

The Replacement Model

Provided By: BDSM Library
www.bdsmlibrary.com



Synopsis: By the way, there was no code for who is dominating who which matched my actual story, or at least the story as it could continue after this. The real code would be, I think, F+M+/f "The Replacement Model" is intended to be an intensely cruel story of an innocent girl's gradual exploitation and humiliation. Lilly is an innocent, somewhat unpopular girl who's been raised by a mother who despises all things liberal, particularly any hint of the pornographic. Lilly is courted by a new friend, Carmine, who shows her a couple of porns sites on the internet. Lillly gets the wrong end of the stick however, and thinks Carmine is telling her that she, Carmine, has modelled for porn sites. Regurgitating her mother's prejudices, she offends Carmine by referring to porn models as "sluts." By extension, Carmine reasons, that means Lilly thinks that she is a slut. Lilly is mortified to realise that she's unintentionally given such offence to someone she hopes will be her friend, and, as she apologises beyond what's actually necessary, Carmine realises that however much she may have lusted after Lilly at first, the attraction is now long past. Lilly, instead, is the kind of girl who Carmine loathes - one who lives her life in apology for everything she thinks she isn't, and will never dare to be.Carmine manipulates Lilly into posing - at no more than topless level at first - for her uncle Cyril, who, Carmine knows, runs a small internet spanking site. Shortly after, a shoot Cyril has set up goes haywire, with one of the actors not turning up and another arriving with a debilitating hangover. Cyril tries to rejig the shoot, but he's away from his studio, it's a Saturday, and he can't locate any models. He finds a replacement director through an agent called Dickie, but can't scare up a model anywhere. On the offchance, he tries Carmine to see if she thinks she can get the girl she brought in the other day to perform for them. Carmine takes up the challenge, and tricks Carmine into believing that the only way she can retain Carmine's friendship is by "being brave" and doing some more posing. She railroads her into doing the shoot and gets her to sign a model release.Once the shoot starts, the crew, consisting of Cyril's nephew Billy, the new director Malcolm, a cameraman calld Clive and Mel, a far more experienced model, realising just how gullible Lilly is, and believing that she's somehow been a terrible bitch to the innocent Carmine, start to take full advantage of the girl. Carmine temporarily leaves Lilly to her fate, since she had prior commitments before the call from her uncle. Mel meanwhile, a model who's sick to death of the low intelligence of her co-performers, is promoted to dom for the day, and with weasel words gets Lilly to believe that all glamour models inevitably have to pose in very revealing ways, and that in spanking shoots nowadays, it's always standard for models to take a prolonged and apparently open-ended caning. Since Lilly is so raw and has barely ever looked at porn before, she has no way of knowing that she's being conned.So Lilly's modelling career begins for real. Mel exploits poor Lilly with lie after lie. She canes her cruelly with a "long, thick cane." But the hired cameraman Clive takes exception at Mel's severity. Billy, Cyril's nephew and ultimately in charge while his uncle is away, sacks him, then calls his young friend Kinks, who like himself enjoys all things spanking (especially when it's good and hard) to come and replace the cameraman. But the only way Kinks can get to the studio is to ask his girlfriend Nicks to give him a ride. While Kinks and co don't arrive in this section, they are on their way.In private, Billy thinks Lilly's stressed reactions "awesome." If they keep on milking her, they can get enough material for Cyril for months of releases, and at very low cost in modelling terms. But in public the crew are starting to treat Lilly badly. Mel convinces her that it's essential for continuity that she hold whatever final pose she ends up in at each change of setup or pause in the spanking. Lilly is thus denied any real break from her ordeal.Mel starts to cane her on bare skin. The crew, Mel, Billy and first time spanking director Malcolm, have never had power like this over a gullible girl before, and admit to each other tha they're having too much fun for words. They agree to continue exploiting the girl beyond the normal length of a shoot like this.Mel, at the end of a severe caning, poses Lilly in a particularly explicit and degrading position, then instructs her not to move under any circumstances until they resume filming. Mel and Billy go off for a short break. Malcolm meanwhile, falone for the first time with Lilly, focuses his camera on her face. The girl is very upset by all that's happening and is crying. Malcolm gets her to look directly into his lens. She does so, believing perhaps that he's sympathising with her. He then turns his camera onto her breasts and begins roaming lasciviously around her body, gloating at her predicament, dekiberately hunting for shots where she looks most degraded.One snowflake falling can set off an avalanche. Lilly, in the blink of an eye, is transformed from an average girl into the thing she fears the most: an object of ridicule, forced to become the type of low-moraled person that her mother detests.The story is set firmly in the real world. It tries its best to maintain a believable psychology throughout, with multiple well-described characters, tight plotting, and a high general standard of writing. It takes its time and builds its premise slowly, We follow Lilly's exploitation and corruption every incremental step. The tale is intended to continue, with the next section already partly written. In this section, Kinks will arrive with his goth girlfriend Nicks, Nicks' friend Cal, and Cal's girlfriend Sammy. Nicks and Cal recognise Lilly as having been two years above them in the school they left a while ago. Kinks is drafted in on camera and encouraged to gloat over Lilly with intrusive close-ups of her face as she suffers. Nicks plots what she's going to do to Lilly after the shoot is over, since, as she knows Lilly's mother and brother, she ought to be able to bribe the girl into doing whatever she wants. Sammy, meanwhile, is quietly horrified by what she sees. She's particularly shocked to find her boyfriend Cal's unpleasant underbelly revealing itself. At first she tries to get Lilly to stand up for her rights and walk off the shoot. When the girl proves too cowed though, Sammy's upset over Cal turns to a sudden despising of Lilly. As the initial shoot ends, Lilly will discover that her true nightmare is just beginning.

THE REPLACEMENT MODEL


© Smackmagnet 2008



Opening


1: Lilly and Carmine look at the net


"You're really pretty," Lilly says.

Carmine looks at her sitting there, prim and shy on her sofa. "That's so sweet," she replies, "do you really think so?"

"I wish I looked as nice as you."

They met in a class. Both of them new, at the back, with the serious girls energetic in front. A mirror room, an aerobics lesson. They catch each other's eyes when they stretch and bend over.

"Bet there's some bugger with a camera through that glass." Carmine makes Lilly giggle. They share another laugh when the leader looks cross, then it's sisterly smiles and eye-contact throughout. Carmine brings her bag near to Lilly's when they change. Lilly gets shy though, and picks up own her bag to change in a cubicle.

"Race you to the shower when you're ready, though," says Carmine.

Lilly gets there late. Carmine's nearly finished. Lilly showers clothed, in a one-piece swimsuit. Carmine spots Lilly stealing shy glances to watch as Carmine stretches naked, washing her hair.

But Carmine has gone when Lilly comes out dressed. She's sad, then annoyed. With herself though, not with Carmine. She scowls at herself in the mirror and says, "Stupid."

Carmine's there in the foyer though. "Come on," she says, "I've got you a coffee."

Lilly can't believe it. They chat and laugh and Carmine tells stories. Stuff she got up to as a kid with her cousins. Thieving from shops, not getting caught. Graveyards at midnight. Billy with his flashlight.

"All those things you've done!" Lilly says. "You're so daring!" Her face looks bright and flushed. She feels happy. Someone likes her.

Carmine gives her a lift back home, but they never get there. They stop off at Carmine's on the way, then just stay. She has her own flat, a comfy one-bedroom. Lilly's in a bedsit. She cooks on a tiny two-ring hob and the place is a mess. Even Carmine's sofa is better than her bed. There's music playing on Carmine's laptop, beers in her fridge.

"You're pretty as well though," Carmine says.

"No I'm not."

Carmine frowns. "You are, though. Why d'you say that?"

Lilly's smile stops halfway, then drops. "I'm just not," she says, "I know I'm not."

"That's such a sad attitude. Who told you you're not pretty then?"

"No-one. I just know."

"Well you know wrong then. Is that why you hide your body like that?"

"I hate my body."

Carmine wants to fuck it and can't understand. "Your body's just great. You're out of your mind."

Lilly squints, confused. She's frowning now.

"Not everyone likes stick insects, some people like girls with proper curves."

Still that squint, suspicious.

"Did somebody tell you you're ugly or something?"

Lilly doesn't want to say. It hurts too badly.

"Like, someone maybe when you went to school?"

A nod, quite tiny.

"Girls are really cruel." Carmine tuts. "They didn't mean it."

"No, they did."

"They were jealous."

"It was all the ones who knew they looked nice. Always calling me names."

Carmine tuts. "Pretty bitches."

"Calling me... " Carmine stops.

"What?"

"No, I can't."

"You can, I won't laugh. Girls used to call me tits. But look, they grew!"

"I know," Lilly says, "they're lovely too. All soft and pointy."

Carmine asks quietly, "What did they call you?"

"I can't."

Carmine's head tilts. "Told you mine."

"They said... " She blushes. "My bum was massive."

Carmine smiles.

"You're laughing."

"I'm not. It's really not too big." Carmine wants to play with that great curvy arse.

"It is."

"I've seen it, remember?"

"It's too big."

"It's real. You've got luscious curves!"

Lilly half smiles. "You're taking the mick."

"Show me," says Carmine. "Lift up your skirt."

Lilly looks shocked. "I can't." she says.

"I saw it in class! Look we'll both do it, right?"

Carmine stands up. Then, coy like a stripper, wriggles her pants down over her bum. "Come on," she says, "show me."

"I'd feel stupid," says Lilly.

"Come on. I'm half way."

Lilly won't move. "But your body's lovely!"

"I'm trying to tell you, so is yours."

"It isn't!"

"It is. Look." Carmine slips her pants back up. "I can show you. I'll prove it. Lots of guys like bums like that. A sign of fertility, childbearing hips. J-Lo. Bubble butts."

Lilly just scowls. It's a term she's heard with cruel laughter attached. "That's not a nice name though."

"It's just a thing off the internet. Bubble butts is just girls with great arses."

"They're laughing," says Lil.

"They're not. Its a genre, whole websites with girls with lovely great bottoms, and men pay to see them!"

"It's cruel."

Carmine tuts. "Come on, take a look." She turns to her laptop and opens up a browser. She googles "Bubble butts."

Lilly's staring. Pages of thumbnailed pictures pop up, image after image of backsides proudly flaunted.

"Which one d'you want to see?"

"Is that... porn?" Lilly asks.

"Of course."

Lilly's shocked. She's staring at the little pictures, her face stuck halfway to seeming offended.

"You look at porn?"

"For God's sake," Carmine says, "everyone looks at porn these days."

"Maybe they do where you come from."

Carmine blinks. What does that mean? "Come on, it's just normal. You might find something out. That people might think you're attractive, yes?" She clicks on a shot.

"You see?" she says. "This girl's proud of her assets."

Lilly's just silent. Carmine keeps clicking. It's that same reaction, nothing doing."

"Oh my God. What's that?"

"What's what? Oh that. Well, what d'you expect?"

"What's that... thing?" asks Lilly.

"You want to see it?" This is going nowhere, Carmine thinks, the girl's just a mess. She's so fucked up it's never going to happen. Carmine clicks on the picture. An image pops up of a big-bottomed girl half suspended above the lap of a man. He's got the biggest, thickest penis Lilly's ever seen. The girl's arse cheeks fill the foreground, her feet are back either side of her head, which is framed above her baby-bald crotch. The girl is spreading her own arse cheeks wide. Completely wide. Her crotch glistens open. But it's half as wide as her bumhole below, which gapes as wide as the massive penis.

"Oh my God," says Lilly.

"Yeah, well. Whatever. The internet's packed with pictures like that. But there's quite a lot of good stuff."

Carmine googles "super models." Kate Moss, Helena Cristensen. "Here's the skinny brigade, if you'd rather see that."

The girl's just staring, letting Carmine click. She tries a couple, but there's no response.

"Why would that girl do that?"

"Do what? Oh, that. Well some girls must like it." Carmine can scarcely believe this girl. "Have you really never looked at porn sites before?"

She hesitates, then shakes her head.

"Well what d'you want to look at then?"

"You mean you're not worried? You... you know. You look whenever you want?"

Carmine shrugs. "What else should I do?"

"Aren't you scared someone else might find out?"

Carmine just stares. "What's to be scared of? Do you want me to show you some sites, or what?"

Lilly shrugs, shoulders tight.

"What kind of thing do you want to see?"

"I don't know what's on there," Lilly says.

There's all sorts. Models posing. Couples fucking. Whatever you want. Fetishes, all sorts."

"What's feshishes?"

"Fetishes? Anything that's not straight sex." Carmine types in a website. Lilly realises with a shock that she knows it by heart. A page with some girls' faces starts to build up. Carmine scrolls down, then clicks on an image. Then the "sample movie" link that's hidden inside. Carmine clicks play. She says, "See, there's a fetish."

Lilly's mouth drops open. "Oh my God," she's saying. "Oh my God, it's so red! Her bottom's so red!"

A girl is being caned. She groans as she's struck.

"Some girls. Do anything for cash, eh?"

Lilly is dumbstruck. "Oh my God," she repeats. "Was that really real?"

"Of course it was real."

Lilly's blinking dumbly at the finished clip. "Why would they do that?"

"Who? The models? Some people like it."

"They don't!"

"Suit yourself."

"Well... what, do you like it?"

Carmine looks her in the eye. She says, "Maybe. I like all sorts."

"Oh my God, I never thought."

Carmine's had enough of this. She closes the browser. She tries to steer the conversation away, but Lilly keeps bringing up what they've just seen.

"Why do you like it?"

Carmine tuts. "Really, it's just a bit of porn."

"But why would they do it?"

Carmine sighs.

"You wouldn't, would you?"

Carmine's patience is wearing thin. Her body might be great, but she's really annoying.

"Why do you think I wouldn't?"

"You couldn't," Lilly says.

"So, how d'you know I haven't?"

Lilly stares. "You've done porn?"

She hasn't. She's modelled the once for a laugh. For her cousin Billy, as a truth or dare forfeit. Then once more after, cause she fancies him.

Carmine says, "Sure. Everyone looking at you. Center of attention."

"What have?" Lilly asks. "Oh my God, what sort?"

"Oh, that would be telling. All kinds, you know. You should try it sometime."

"I just couldn't," Lilly says. "It's all sluts that do that." Her hands shoots to her mouth. "Oh my God. My God Carmine, God I didn't mean it."

"It's OK," Carmine says.

"I'm really sorry, I'm really sorry, it's my mum who always says things like that. I'm not judging you, you can do what you like."

"Yes... I can," Carmine says.

"Oh my God. I didn't mean it!"

"Don't worry," Carmine says. "Look, loads of girls do it."

"You must think I'm really horrible. I'm just really so sorry! God, I called you a slut..."

Carmine says curtly, "Leave it, alright?

"Oh God you must think I'm judging you. Is it... was it... did you enjoy it?"

Carmine's annoyed now. This idiot seems to think she's really done porn, like the gaping girl or the girl getting caned. "It was great," she says. "It was really brilliant. Positive. Just the thing. A life-affirming experience."

"I'm sure it must be really good," Lilly says unconvincingly.

It's the stupid pretence that's pissing off Carmine, that she doesn't think it's wrong when clearly she does. Plus the clear belief that Carmine would let her arse get fucked for money. Or her backside thrashed purple. Little looks of disgust. She really wishes Lilly would fuck off and die.

"You should try it," Carmine says, "you might really like it too."

"Oh... " she says. "I don't know. I might."

"You should." You liar.

Lilly's staring, like Carmine's an alien.

"I'll get you some contacts."

"It's just... I was shocked. I mean... did it hurt? What you did? When you modelled?"

"You just think it's gross. You'd think it's gross that I've done things like that."

"No," she says. "I don't." Fingers half-clenched, lying, "It's great if you want to do that. Really positive." Her words come out flat.

"My friend runs a studio. Uses loads of girls like us."

Lilly looks horrified. "Yeah," She says. "Great... "

"I can get you on his books. Then we'll both be on them."

That slow nod, too delayed. Now Carmine hates her. Lust to hatred, all in five minutes.

"It's really not far. We can go in the morning."

"Oh." A long pause. "Oh. I might like that."

"It's positive," Carmine says. "It could change things. Make you feel really good about yourself. Lots of girls do it. Loads... not just me. They do it to make themselves sexier, really. Be confident naked. Those girls at school, who bullied you. I bet they've all tried it. With some, if you've not, you're just not in the crowd. It's way more common than you probably think."




2: Carmine takes Lilly to meet Uncle Cyril; Carmine tells Cyril what she really thinks


Lilly sleeps on the sofa that night. She wants to go home, but she's not sure where she is, and it's late, and Carmine's not taking her hints about a lift. She lies on the sofa, arms tight, not sleeping. How could she say that? She hears herself say the word, "slut," and cringes. She feels just so stupid. Carmine seemed cold at the end, like she'd been hurt. She just can't believe that she's done things like that! She suddenly feels like she's losing her friend. And Carmine's so bold. So what if she's done some really dirty things? Oh my God, how could she? She can sneak off in the morning, before Carmine gets up. Oh my God, she's done porn.

She wants to take her to a studio. It's stupid. They wouldn't want to film her. If she creeps away though, Carmine will think she really hates her.

She's afraid she won't wake early but she does, before Carmine. She lies there, too cold, staring at the light through the living room blinds. Her bladder hurts badly. She keeps telling herself to just get up and go, but she's got to take a wee. It'll wake Carmine up, she'll get caught sneaking out. She's so scared to offend, she just lies there, worried, spare duvet up to her nose on the couch.

Carmine stops dead when she sees her later, toothbrush in hand, like she's barely remembered she'd be there. "Oh," she says. "Hi. Yeah. You wanted to go to the studio, hey? To see about some modelling."

Lilly keeps telling herself to say no. She avoids it through breakfast. In the car, she just holds her fingers to her mouth as Carmine chats on.

"Hmm," she keeps saying. "Oh, yes... I agree." But she's barely even hearing what the other girl's saying.

Uncle Cyril gets as shock when his niece brings in a girl. Billy's in a lot, but he didn't even know Carmine knew the location of the studio. Then he's totally surprised when Carmine asks him for a camera.

"We need to take some shots of my friend. For your books."

Cyril takes a good look at the girl. Her body's alright. Decent enough looking, but the girl seems so gauche, what can she be thinking?

Lilly has to go to the loo again.

Uncle Cyril's frowning. "Who the hell is she, Carmine?"

"Some girl I met, Uncle."

"And she knows what we do here?"

"Not really."

"What the hell, girl?"

"Can we shoot her?"

"As a model? What, you want to shoot her?"

Carmine thinks. "Tell her she's got to do it. You shoot her."

"Right now I'd only shoot her for the books," Cyril says. "I don't know who she is, do I? Look Carmine, cause it's you, I'll do a few test shots."

"Good. Try and make her do something embarrassing."

Cyril looks. "What the hell, girl?" He asks, quietly, "Did she hurt my favourite niece then?"

"Something like that," Carmine says.

"You want her naked? How far do you want me to get her to go?"

"I don't know. Start her in a swimsuit. She's got one of those in her bag," Carmine says.

He gets out the camera and fires up the lights. Carmine brings the girl in. She's still in her clothes, looking wary and nervous.

"Are you not getting changed, dear?"

Lilly just blinks.

"If I've got to take test shots, you've got to get changed."

"That swimsuit," says Carmine. "Put that on, Lilly."

Lilly stares. "What d'you mean?"

Cyril thinks. "Look, Carmine thinks you'd make a good model. From what I can see I'd agree. But I need to see your figure, girl." He blinks at her slowly. "So go and get changed."

Lilly looks shocked. Carmine takes her to the changing room. "It's just for a test. He can't publish these, not without a model release. I want you to know that an industry professional thinks you're perfectly pretty. That he'd put you in his films and things. Even if you never do it."

"How long's it got to take?"

"Half an hour." She shrugs. "An hour at most. If you like it, Cyril can go off and I'll take over."

Lilly doesn't start to change till Carmine puts her swimsuit in her hand.

"I'll even turn my back," she says.

"In front of a man, though," Lilly says.

Carmine just laughs. "Cyril's seen everything."

Lilly does as she's told and changes into her one-piece suit. It's still wet and cold from last night's shower. Carmine escorts her to the studio.

Oh my God, Lilly thinks, what's she doing here? How's she got here? Standing in a swimsuit in front of some dirty old man. And what sort of things must happen in here? Carmine's standing next to him, telling Lilly what a professional he is... A professional at what? she thinks. They've put her in the middle of the floor on this long white paper coming down from the wall. She's between these two turned-off lights, oh my God. She thinks, why won't I learn to just say what I mean? How have I let Carmine bring me here? Lilly's mother would die if she knew. She'd disown her, have her exorcised or something. Make her confess in front of all her mum's religious nut friends. She can barely imagine the consequences.

"Alright, darling, show us your figure."

She's not his darling. Some strange man giving her orders like that. Lilly stands there like a lemon.

"That means drop your arms," the big man says.

She does it slowly, unwrapping them from in front of her chest. He's one of those men like she notices sometimes. Too old for you ever want to kiss them. But really deep-voiced. You can't read his face, the way he just looks. BIg shoulders, big hands. Face a bit red. His eyes just staring! Looking where he wants, at her breasts, at her crotch.

"This your first time, darling? What's your first name?"

She's not his darling. She wishes men wouldn't call her that, it sounds so sleazy. She says her mane, but it catches in her throat. She can't even say her name first time!

"Lilly," she manages.

"Good. Walk around slowly on the spot then, Lilly."

He talks like he's sure she'll just do what he tells her. She finds herself turning in her clammy wet swimsuit, arms rigid at her sides.

"What do you think of her figure?" asks Carmine.

He says, "Decent. Alright. At first glance, love."

"You see?" Carmine says.

Lilly's turned around. He says, "Do it again love, just keep going round. Slower though, till I tell you to stop."

She feels so stupid, these silly little shuffles. Her feet turn her round like a marionette.

The big man says to Carmine, "Plenty of curves, eh? She could straighten up her shoulders though." Then, "Decent tits from what I can see. Nice hip to waist differential. Very nice, yeah, that's quite something."

Just talking about her bits like that! Like those older men whose eyes strip you naked, even when you're just walking past in the street.

"Not too short then?" Carmine asks.

Lilly feels like she's being sized up for a dog show.

"Well, her legs could be a little touch longer. But no, takes all sorts." He says to Lilly, "Hands on your head, love. Couple more turns."

She hesitates, does lifts her hands. But doesn't start turning.

"Go on." says Carmine. "It's alright, really."

They let her stop, though make her keep her hands up on top of her head. The man's looking through a type of camera Lilly's never seen before. Jet black, wide lens, with a big chunk on the bottom and a wire trailing out. She's not sure if he's taken any pictures yet, then these lights just flash! She's startled, jumps back. A picture of Lilly, standing in a swimsuit.

"What do you think of her face then, Cyril?"

"Alright if she'd smile," he says. "Like a slapped arse at the moment. Smile at her, darling. You smile, she'll smile back."

Carmine beams at Lilly.

"Yeah. Good enough."

Carmine's head tips. "What about her bum, then?"

Cyril says, "Lilly, turn to your right. Keep your hands up."

She feels so embarrassed, being ordered like this, by this man who deals in smut. And she's doing what he tells her!

"Touch more, darling."

She shuffles clockwise. They just stand there, staring.

"Well?" asks Carmine.

"That arse," says her uncle, "would make for good business. That'd go down big. One lovely firm arse, and plenty of it."

"Are you listening, Lilly?" Carmine asks.

Lilly's cheeks jut out from her thighs like a pair of half footballs, with an in-slope at the top. Cyril can see when she moves that they're firm. There's no denying, her arse is big. Just the kind he likes. Young and resilient, plenty of target. An arse like that could take plenty of stick. Not quite so big that it looks deformed, but big enough to absorb some serious abuse. The lines of the swimsuit press in at the back. He takes another picture.

"You think you might use her?"

"I'll tell you after." To Lilly he asks, "Any tattoos darling?"

Lilly's biting her lip. She shakes her head underneath her hands.

"Good, keep it that way. You ever want to model, that's a serious downer. First tattoo, that's half of your clients gone. A second, that's another chunk. It's a law of diminishing returns, my love. Any more and there's hardly any bugger left. No scars then, to speak of? You've not had a baby?"

Lilly, shocked, just shakes her head.

"Alright. Face forward." He nods his head down. "What's under the bonnet?"

She has no idea what he's talking about.

He turns to Carmine. "Is she furry, or shaved?"

Lilly blushes crimson.

"Want to be a model," says Cyril, "these days it's probably best to shave. Find out how first, though. Carmine might know a couple of tricks. Cause the last thing you want is a shaving rash. Now, show me your tits, love. Top down, let 'em loose.

Lilly seems affronted. She just stares, hands clutching.

"It's alright Lilly," Carmine says. "He can't use the pictures. Not without permission."

She's still barely moved. "I can't," she says.

Cyril glances at his niece.

She says, "Please. For me."

No response. Hands clutched tight.

"It's alright Lilly, really it is."

Lilly's digging her heels in now, and shaking her head.

"Please Lil, yes? I want you to."

Cyril's had enough. He says, "Lilly? Look. Whatever the game, you're wasting my time here. I've very little patience, I'm a very busy man. You walked through that door, so now you're on my patch. So do me a favour. Take down your top."

Lilly's looking shocked. Her fingers have unclutched, but they're still down low.

"Put your hands up here, and pull it down."

He's not shouting. He's got quiet, deep and low. She's touching one strap.

"Hold it. Pull it down Now the other one. Stop."

He looks through his lens. Her arms are either side of her bust, one hand each on a strap, pushing up her tits. The flashes respond.

"Now pull it right off."

Her hands are finely shaking.

He says, "Pull your top down. Now."

It's barely an order. Not angry, not barked, but she knows he means it.

"Right off. Now let go."

The flashes flash. She stands there, feet flat to the floor, hands hanging.

"Go clockwise. Now stop."

Another flash.

"Good. Things'll go faster if you do what I say. Now... a proper pose. Put your hands on your thighs and bend forwards. Do it now."

She does. She's so nervous. She hasn't a clue where to look. She just tilts. The pose is ugly, but her tits are great. They're juicy big, Cyril sees. They hang down, good and rude. They've got broad aureoles with lots of small milk glands. Soft, dark nipples.

Cyril makes her turn again. She's obeying now, but her poses are crap.

"Show me your bum, love."

Lilly doesn't understand.

"I'm not going to make you take off your coz. Stick your fingers in the back though, and pull it up between your cheeks."

She's pointing her bum at a man with a camera... a stranger, a pervert. She keeps doing what he tells her. Her hands go half back, then just hover, uncertain.

"Carmine love, show her."

Carmine steps forward. She doesn't hesitate. The middle finger from each hand reaches low and slips under Lilly's costume. They slide down inside, to her crotch, which, to Lilly's shock, they touch, quite distinctly. They pull back and away. The gusset goes with them and stretches back. Carmine tugs, quite strongly. She pulls the costume up and in, pushing one of Lilly's cheeks to one side. The costume wedges in between her buttocks.

"Like that," says Carmine, and twice pats Lilly's cheek.

Cyril shakes his head to himself. His niece is revealing a side he never knew. He's quickly reassessing.

He takes some more snaps, trying to direct her. The girl could be great... her body's quite dirty... look at those tits, look at that magnificent arse! Her face is alright, she's quite pretty, not a stunner. But it's good enough for one of his sites. But she's useless as well... it's clear she's never modelled, and she seems quite reluctant, like Carmine's the one who wants her to do it. And she just hasn't got a fucking clue how to pose. But that's not why she's here now, is it?

He pushes her as far as he can, but he doesn't feel it's right to make her strip naked. He's got some morals, hasn't he? You can't fucking force 'em. So he just tries to get her to squeeze her tits. To pull her nipples... that one takes some work. Then Carmine asks for one with her hands on her bum. that takes a while as well, plus some hands-on from Carmine. Carmine pulls no punches. She's definitely making her part those big cheeks, even if it is behind her costume. He gets in a snap before the girl lets go. Carmine wants to push it, he can see, but he's won't: not if she's reluctant. He tells her to change cause he's got to get on.

The results, though... The poor bloody girl, he can see it in the pictures when he grabs them to the desktop while the girl's still changing. What a state. What a waste. So alright, she's decent looking. A body that would suit his main site to a tee, what with porn taking all sorts.

She's terrible though. She's no confidence on camera, no sense of line, no sense of grace. She looks awkward and uncomfortable and he's sure he'll never be able to use her. What a waste, he thinks. What a miserable waste.

Carmine goes and wangles Lilly's contact details from her. Her mobile, her address. The poor cow doesn't even have an email, no wonder she's never even looked at a porn site. Carmine takes her down to the nearest tube. They're fairly silent in the car. Lilly's feeling fazed.

"Won't tell no-one, will you? What I done in there?"

"God, what are you so scared about? Take a risk now and then! Just live some fucking life!"

Carmine can't dump her off fast enough. She leaves her by the roadside then barely glances back as she drives away.


***


She races back to the studio. She wants to see the pictures Cyril's taken of Lilly.

"Jesus Carmine," he says, "twice in one day? You've never been through my door before!"

"Show me the snaps Uncle Cyril," she says.

So he shows her. Carmine scrolls and clicks. Then she stops at the picture of Lilly bending over, half parting her cheeks.

"Can I print this one off?"

It's the worst of the bunch, her uncle thinks... the girl looks so uncomfortable. But maybe that's why Carmine wants it. Is she getting revenge? Carmine's smirking when she lifts it from his printer. He finds her an envelope to put it in.

"Can't publish that. You know that, Carm? It's not Kosher to stick it on the net with no release."

"That's not what it's for," she says.

He peers at her, eyes narrowing. "So, Carmine," he muses. "Didn't even know you knew where the studio is. What's the score? What's up?"

"I've been here with Billy."

"Oh, have you now? What doing, I wonder?"

She laughs. "Just looking. Did you think you might find some pictures of me?"

"God forbid," he says. "So what was the verdict?"

"On what?" Carmine asks.

"On whatever you found."

She shrugs. "Seemed quite a laugh," she says.

"And you seem like such a good girl, Carmine."

She snorts and says, "Thanks."

"And what did nephew Billy show you? The modelling, was it?"

"Is that what you call it?"

"What would you call it then?"

"I'd call it more like spanking, Uncle."

"Would you, now?" He laughs to himself.

"With rather a lot of caning thrown in."

"He's shown you all that, then?"

"Yes," she says simply.

"And?" he asks.

"I think... each to his own."

"You didn't feel sorry for the models, then?"

She laughs. "Why should I?"

"Some people might be shocked. Some might not want to look."

"Well that's up to them, then."

"So you're not that bothered? Don't think it's too hard?"

"You should cane them harder."

A pause. "Is that right now?"

"Yes," she says.

"As a girl then, you're not bothered that it might be, say, humiliating?"

"That's part of it, isn't it?"

"It is," he says. "Not bothered then?"

"No," she says.

"Ah," he says. "Is it... something you'd want to happen to you?"

She stares him in the eye as she shakes her head slowly.

"But you don't mind it happening to somebody else?"

"Not if it's someone like Lilly," she says.

"Who's a woman. And a man?"

"If he wants."

"Would you watch it?"

"I might. But I can't say I'd fully enjoy it."

"Well well," he says. "So... what about your mum and dad?"

"What about them?" Carmine asks.

"Did you tell 'em? What you think of the site? I thought I was some kind of very black sheep."

"They might think so. Billy doesn't."

"But Billy's dad's a bad lad, Carmine. They've locked him up. I let Billy work here as a favour, so to speak. His mum don't like it much at all, but Billy seems to think with his own bonce."

"And so do I. So I'll think what I like."

"Very interesting, Carmine. The youth of today, no telling what they'll think. So... what about the girl? What gives? What you after with her?"

"She's... well, I thought a friend, maybe. But to be honest with you Cyril, she just started to annoy me. Seems to think I'm some kind of total slut."

"So she hurt you, then?"

"Not hurt exactly." Carmine's face pinches. "Maybe. A bit. She's so fucking prissy though, she's from another planet."

"Prissy's not a sin though, is it? But she thinks my lovely niece Carmine's a slut? "

"She said that. At one point."

Cyril tips his head back. "So... what do you want? We I put her in a film?"

Carmine laughs. "That I wouldn't mind, now."

"Cause I've got to tell you, she's no fucking model."

"She's an amateur, Uncle. Imagine her face."

"Her face?"

"If you caned her."

"And you think you'd like to see that?"

"Yes. I think I'd enjoy it very much."

"And what would you think her face might do?"

"I think it might go through a whole range of emotions."

"Tears, maybe?"

"Tears might be a start, perhaps."

"Just a start? Is that right?"

"Well, she seems to be pretty good at looking stupid. Confusion... panic... shock, maybe. Misery? Whatever."

"Carmine, you shock me."

"So wouldn't that go down well with the punters?"

"The punters, as you call them, would most likely applaud."

"See?" Carmine smiles. "I'm doing you a favour! And let's face it... that arse could just take it, eh?"

He laughs. Laughs again. "Yes, it probably could. So you really don't care what we do to your friend?"

Carmine snorts. "God, no, help yourself! Just do me a favour and give me a key to the site when you've done!"

"I can give my niece access anytime she asks. Send me an email and I'll send you a login. Only do me one favour. Don't tell, alright?"

"I wouldn't pass that on, of course not."

"No... not the login. I mean don't tell your parents. This little chat... your friend... let's keep it to ourselves, Alright?"

"Absolutely," says Carmine.

"My little niece." He laughs. "Well well. So you've got that printout. Would you maybe like the jpegs? I can drop them on a disc for you."

"Oh please," she says. "I'd like that, yes."




3: Cyril calls Dickie, Dickie calls Malcolm; Gaz and Gracie cause a problem


Cyril's next production is scheduled already. He's got a rough script and a director who he's used enough times to leave in charge. The director books in a cameraman who's used to the work, and Cyril hires two models and a bloke he's used before to swish the cane. Cyril can't attend himself... he's off at an industry conference. Then three days before, the director drops a spoke in the works. He can't be there either, he's forgotten his daughter's graduation event.

So Cyril's up shit creek. No shoot means no updates... there's no slack in the system. They're uploading just as soon as work's edited. Cyril's determined not to fall behind, though. He's updated them like clockwork for at least two years.

He calls up an agent. The bloke's provided him with talent before, both models and crew. Cyril explains the problem he's got, and Dickie sets to work. He needs a director. Malcolm's just out of his shower when Dickie calls, still damp inside a big wraparound towel.

"Hello?" he says.

"Dickie. Your agent. I've got you a job."

"Oh... great, yeah. What is it?"

"A bit off your beat. Take a breath," Dickie says.

"What is it? Drama?"

"Sort of," Dickie says.

"You got me a drama? How long? What is it?"

Dickie sucks his teeth. "Small budget," he says.

"A drama's a drama. What's the job?"

"Just don't put the phone down on me."

Malcolm blinks. What's this?

"There's a script, three actors. And one big long cane."

"A what?"

"A cane. Cause it's spanking, my friend."

"Spanking? You mean... "

"Yeah, models. Their posteriors."

Malcolm feels a bit like he's being kicked in the crotch. Only not... he's not sure what he's feeling down there.

"Porn?" he asks quietly.

"Fetish, you might call it. For a friend, name of Cyril. He's been very good to me over the years, a terrific client."

"But... porn," says Malcolm.

"I don't do a lot now. But Cyril was one of my very first clients. And you can't be too proud, friend, not in this game. Just tell me... what's our relationship?"

"Our what?" asks Malcolm.

"Have I not got you jobs?"

"Well of course."

"That's right. And I'll still get you more."

"Well I know. But I mean... "

"Naked ladies, friend. Think about that when you do your next corporate. Some nice nubile models."

"Well... um," Malcolm says. He can still feel that feeling, an odd conflicting pressure, like watching a striptease with his mum in the room.

"Take the job," Dickie says. "Do it for me. I've got no corporates and I need you for this."

"I can't put it on my reel."

"Stuff your reel," Dickie tells him. "Besides it's just spanking... There's a script, they do lines. The girls don't even show their cracks."

Malcolm says, "Oh lord." There's a definite dent at his towelling line.

"I don't hear you saying yes just yet. So, some truth. Are you married?"

"Well... no, you know I'm not."

"Got an interfering girlfriend then? One who'll sticks her nose in all your business?"

"Of course I haven't," Malcolm says.

"So why are you being stuck-up here? It's a drama for Christ's sake."

"With girls getting caned. It is though... not men?"

"Course it's girls, you prat."

"Small mercies," says Malcolm.

"So you'll take it?"

There's a pause.

"So why's there a problem?"

"The industry. I work with people."

"I'm working with you. What, you're scared some bugger's going to find out? Well I won't tell if you won't. I'm out on a limb here Malcolm, I need you. I know your game and the porn game don't often mix. I'm taking a risk for me as well. You might get all offended and slink off to the competition. But I wouldn't make the offer if I didn't think you'd cope. Professional ethics, that's all it takes. But you know what, Malcolm? If I was you, not attached, still free... I'd jump at a chance to direct naked ladies."

"Well... yes. I'm sure."

Dickie leaves a pause. Then, "They're naked. You're not. They're there for the directing."

Malcolm feels his brow start to sweat. His erection doesn't know if it's coming or going.

"Naked ladies," Dickie says. "Ladies exposed for your cool delectation."

"I've just never done a porno," Malcolm moans.

"First time for everything, eh friend?"

"Oh my lord."

"So you're doing me a favour. But you're hardly going to suffer. A man of your talents should breeze through this."

"Well alright... I suppose I'll do it."

"I feel proud. You're the man."


***


Rehearsals take place on the evening before, in Cyril's basement studio down the Mile End Road. Malcolm's worked in more salubrious places. He looks at the script... it's wooden and predictable... but he doesn't have time to start pissing about. He stumbles around with the actors rehearsing, trying to get a performance. One girl's pretty good, the one called Mel, but the other is thick as two short planks and won't stop giggling. Plus the actor, the spanker, turns up late then won't take rehearsals seriously. He starts messing about with the useless girl, who he seems to have worked with before sometime. There's a young lad called Billy who sits watching up on a worktop at the edge. And a cameraman called Clive who seems shocked when Malcolm tells him he's the director.

"Where's Norman?" asks Clive.

"Who's Norman?" asks Malcolm.

"He directs these things."

"He couldn't make it."

"Fucking hell," Clive says, "no-one tells me anything."

Malcolm bustles and does his best, but he's pretty sure this will all turn out pretty wooden. He can't make Spank Man focus. And he can't make Giggle Girl stop sniggering at Spank Man's stupid jokes, which he keeps cracking at Malcolm's expense.

After rehearsals, they head for the pub. Malcolm gets invited, but he leaves just as soon as Clive makes his exit. Mister Cane, whose name is Gaz, knocks back pints laced with chasers with Giggle Girl, Gracie. The young lad Billy is is talking to Mel, all relaxed with one foot up on the chair he's leaning back on. At least he notices when Malcolm says his goodnights though, which is more than Spank Man and Giggle Girl do.

Next morning, Gaz and Gracie are no-shows. Billy's there, but still keeping his distance. Malcolm and Clive get everything set up then sit twiddling their thumbs with Mel till Gaz shows up forty minutes late, looking green around the gills. He clearly has a hangover, and confirms it when he throws up on the patio outside Cyril's kitchen.

Malcolm phones Gracie's mobile time after time. It rings at first, but then it starts diverting to an anonymous machine voice. She's clearly turned it off. So Malcolm resigns himself to calling up Cyril, whose number he's been given for emergencies.

Cyril's phone buzzes in the middle of a seminar. He's mightily pissed off since the bloody thing was actually informative.

Malcolm explains the no-show. Cyril curses models in general. Malcolm tells him Gaz keeps throwing up. Cyril says he'll fucking kill him.

Cyril tells Malcolm, "You're just have to busk it. I'm in Birmingham, fucking miles away."

"Busk it?" Malcolm asks. "I'm missing two actors! There's only three in the script to start with!"

Cyril sighs. This pillock's dumping the problem off on him.

Cyril calls Dickie the Agent. Dickie's trouble is double bubble cause it's him who's come up with Gracie the model.

"And that Malcolm twat, he's just flanneling. What an incompetent pair of wankers. Get me a fucking model. Not tomorrow, not later, right fucking now Dickie, or don't go expecting my business again."

Dickie phones around, frantic. Gracie's phone's off, nobody's seen her. When he tries his models, they're away, or busy, or won't touch spanking with a six foot bargepole. He's panicking now. This has all gone tits-up.

He calls Cyril at last.

"You know me Cyril, I don't give up easy. I've been phoning and phoning, but I'm running out of options. The only girls I had who might do it... one's pregnant and the other's just got married and decided to jack all her modelling in. I even tried a few rival agents, the ones who'll talk to me. But it's Saturday, Cyril. Two of them are midweek only and the other one just laughed in my face. We're fucked. I'm very sorry indeed. All I can say is, my fee for Malcolm is already waived."

"Is that it? All options tried?"

"I'd be phoning now if they weren't, you know that. No luck at your end?"

"I've been calling around but I'm blanking as well. I found one who's willing who we've used before, but she's up in Aber-sodding-deenshire right now. If you think of anything, call me right away."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I, so, so am I."

Cyril calls the studio. Malcolm answers. Cyril bumps him off. "Get me Billy. Get him now."

Malcolm, fazed, hands the phone to the lad. "It's Cyril," he says.

"Hey," Billy says, "Uncle."

"What's it like there? Any change? Has that idiot discovered how to improvise yet?"

"Who, Malcolm? No, mate."

"I've got to have an update for the end of the week. It's important, Bill. If that fucker's not performing, I'm relying on you. You've got my full permission. Use the girl who's still there and make something work. Don't let her go! In the meantime I need a favour from you. Your cousin Carmine. I need her number."

"Carmine?" asks Billy. "I ain't watching Carmine caned. She ain't into it, Cyril, that's a definite no."

"Don't be a fucking lemon," says Cyril, "her parents would burn the studio down."

"I'd burn it down myself, come to that."

"Just give me her number."

Billy fiddles with his mobile. "I can see it, hang on." He reads the number out.

Cyril calls Carmine.

"Uncle Cyril?" she asks.

He tells her that he's royally stuffed. Carmine's noncommittal since she doesn't quite know what he's calling about. A model's gone AWOL, Cyril reveals. Billy and Co are stuck going nowhere.

"That girl you brought in the other day... I called purely on the off-chance that you might be able to get her to play. I know it's not your problem, honey."

"For a minute I thought you were going to ask me."

"That I'd never presume. But that girl, what's the low-down?"

"I did twist her arm a bit."

He tells her he can't drag up a model for love nor money. He wonders if Carmine might consider twisting her arm again.

"What job for, exactly?"

"I'd need her for the receiving end. At least for a spanking... hopefully more."

He talks about Mel, how he's used her in the past but they're maxed out on her.

"Another problem... the dom's this prick who's fucked it all up. He got the no-show model pissed. Plus he's sick... keeps chucking up... so I'd far rather ditch the prick overboard."

Mel he wants to upgrade to dom, if only he can dredge up another model. But he's pulling a blank, and so is the agent.

"So the only prospect who's darkened my door is your girl Lilly. I'm out on a limb here, no way is it your job to provide me with models. But then again... it was you who brought her in. So I figured it can't hurt to ask. Am I right?"

"You'd really use her? I thought you said she was rubbish as a model."

"I don't need her to model. Just to react. I just need some bird who'll take a good spanking. Anything... we're out of updates... five minutes of her over Mel's lap would help. So what do you think?"

"Now that sounds like a challenge. I'm free for a while, I could give it a go."

"If she's game, you can have a nice fat finder's fee. Partly cause I'm desperate, partly to show you how grateful I am. Any favour you like, to be honest."

She asks him when he needs her.

"There's the real catch, Carmine, I need her right now. Your cousin and his crew are just twiddling their digits."

"I couldn't guarantee it though."

"I didn't think you could, my love. After trying to get her to give the other day, I wouldn't put your chances high.

"How long would you need her?"

"Couple of hours. That's in front of the camera, total production."

She asks how long she can have to get her to the studio. Cyril says just a couple of hours. Maybe three if she's sure the girl will perform. "After that we'll just have to go with Mel, drag some fool off the street to crack the cane."

Carmine's game. She'll give it a go. If there's nothing's on, she'll tell him straight away. "Should be fun," she says.

"I'm glad you see it that way. I'm pulling my hair out in clumps over here."




4: Carmine takes her silver tongue out for a spin


Pick up, pick up.

There's no answer at first, but the ringing doesn't click to an answer message. She lets it run on, then peers at her phone and disconnects. "Come on," she says, then calls again. She feels her heart thumping. Come on, pick up.

It connects. The voice sounds so surprised, like no-one ever calls this line. "Hello?

A moment's silence at Carmine's end. "Lilly. It's me."

Silence coming her way, too. "Oh... " says Lilly.

"It's Carmine. Remember?"

"Carmine? Really? Oh my God, Carmine. I couldn't find my phone... was that you before as well?"

Carmine feels good about this. The girl seems so surprised she's called at all. And she's sounding such a dope, she thinks she might just sucker her into this.

"What are you up to, Lil?" She tells herself to take it slow though.

"Doing? Erm... I've just woken up."

"Really? The good life. I was wondering, Lilly... could I maybe come round?"

"Come round? To my place? Oh my God, when?"

"Well... now," says Carmine.

"Now?" asks Lilly, stupidly. "Oh... "

"What's the matter? Got some company?"

"Company? God, no, I just live on my own, I never have visitors. Only... "

"Busy later then?"

"Oh no, no. It's just... "

"What?"

A pause. "My place. It's not like your place, Carmine."

"I didn't expect it would be, lovely girl. Can I come round though? You're free? Nothing on?"

"I never have nothing on. Oh my God, I've got to tidy up."

"Don't worry, we can go out instead."

"No, I've got to take a shower. Or something."

"That's definitely a good idea, But hurry, alright? I'll be half an hour."

"Oh my God," says Lilly, sounding bemused.

"Come on, chop-chop. See you in a bit then."

"You don't know where I live," Lilly moans.

"I do. I took your address down, remember?"

Carmine drops the connection. She texts her uncle: She's in. Going round now. With her in under half hour. Then Carmine makes herself smell nice, checks her reflection, puts on slap and bling, and drives round.

She's there in twenty minutes, sooner than she said she would be. It's a big old house with a dozen buzzers in a twin line. Lilly presses number eight, where "Bellman" is written in scratchy ballpoint pen. There's quite a long wait. She presses again. She eventually sees a figure swooning up to the mottled glass. Lilly isn't fully dressed.

"Carmine," she says. "I'm really sorry... I couldn't get in the shower, someone was in it. You must think I'm a bit really slovenly, mustn't you?" She's dragged on a short skirt and a thin top before she was really ready. She's holding a hand in front of her chest, but Carmine can see a shadow of a nipple behind. Her plump thighs below are glistening wet. This is more like it, Carmine thinks.

"Can I come in then?"

She hesitates. "Alright. Yes, come in. I couldn't tidy up, you'll think I live like a total slob. I only just had time to get in the shower."

"Lead the way then," Carmine says.

The girl has to walk in front of her, up four short flights of stairs. Carmine walks behind and below, far enough back to see flashes of cheeks at the base of the skirt, and peeks of white knickers.

Her room is a state. Carmine sees that the windows are open. Probably needed an airing, she thinks. Unwashed clothes are strewn about. A few manky plates stick up in sink which doubles as a washbasin. The bed sheets are creased and half thrown off, the wallpaper probably twenty years old. The ceiling's stained with tar from past residents.

"God," Lilly says, "now you can see it all." She stands there, uncomfortable. "I never thought I'd see you again."

"You were wrong then, weren't you?"

"Not after seeing me trying to pose."

"You weren't all that bad, hon." Slowly, now.

"I know what you were trying to do though. I've been thinking quite hard."

Carmine takes the one chair in the room, an upright by the open window. There's a garden below, overgrown with brambles and strewn with rejected furniture.

"So tell me," says Carmine. "What did you think?"

"Don't be offended. When you said you'd done porn... I was really really shocked. Just, I never thought girls like you might do things like that. You just seem so nice."

Carmine listens placidly and lets her go run on.

"It's my mum," says Lilly, "she always says those girls are so common. Who do things like that. She says they've got no morals. But you're not like that at all, Carmine, are you?"

Depends how you look at it, Carmine thinks. She crosses her legs, with an elegant toe-point. "Our bodies are for us to use. We're sexual beings. We can use them how we choose," she says. And my God, that sound so convincing as well.

"And I know what you were doing with that man," Lilly says.

Carmine lifts an eyebrow. "Do tell," she says.

"You were making me see how I've got a good body."

"Was I?" Carmine asks.

"Yes you were. And I really appreciate it. I didn't know men might find my body sexy. I know I acted shocked. I've been thinking about it loads though, hard."

"And what have you decided?"

"I know I was wrong. If you want to do porn, you can do it, can't you? Nobody should tell you what to do."

"Do you think you might dip a toe in again?"

"Me?" she asks. "No I meant you. I just wanted you to know, I don't think it's bad. You should do what you want."

"So should you," says Carmine.

"Oh... no, I couldn't."

"What's sauce for the goose."

"Oh I know. Oh of course."

Carmine stops, thinking. Lilly's standing uncomfortably. "I just want to get this straight... it's morally OK if I do some posing... some porn... but it wouldn't be if you did?"

"No. I don't mean that... "

"Sounds like one law for you and one for the rest of us." She knows she's about to be aggressive with Lilly, but she thinks it's worth a shot. "If that's really what you think, then... underneath... you still think I'm a slut."

"It's not what I think. I don't think you're a slut, I don't, I never thought that."

"You said it though."

"It's not wrong! I said! It's my mum," Lilly says.

"So if she thinks some way, you have to as well, do you?"

"I don't! It's not wrong!"

Carmine shrugs. "You're still doing everything your mum wants, though."

"Oh my God," Lilly says, "you must think I'm so weak."

"I don't know. Are you?"

Lilly feels naked. Her hands move nervously. "I don't know. Am I weak?"

"That's for you to tell me."

"I don't know," Lilly says.

"So, let's say... for example... that I'm here cause I found you a modelling job. Where you could show off that great figure that you now realise is so attractive to men. Would you take it? Would you dare? Or are you always going to do what Mummy says? Just live life second hand, too scared to make a splash or stir the pond?"

"You must think I'm such a coward... "

"I don't know yet, do I? You were brave enough the other day."

Lilly blinks at her. "You thought I was brave?"

"Of course I do. That took guts, getting naked in front of a stranger."

"You think I was brave?"

"All those models, all those strippers... you think they're not brave? It takes plenty of bottle to get up on stage. Like I thought you had, last time. But now you're back to... what? Hiding away? Hiding in this bedsit for the rest of your life? Always doing what Mummy says?"

Lilly's got her hand to her mouth.

"If I'd got you a shoot, would you dare to take it?"

"It's just... people might see."

"See what?"

"All those pictures! Of me... " Here she whispers. "... showing my bits."

Carmine thinks. "So you wouldn't have a problem if nobody saw?"

Lilly doesn't answer.

"You'd dare to be brave if your mum never knew?"

"I don't know... I suppose not."

"So what about other people? If it wasn't your mum, or anyone she knew? Just some random strangers?"

"I don't know... " She shrugs, weakly. "If it wasn't anyone I knew at all... "

"You'd really dare to?"

"I might if you thought I was being brave."

"I'm going to ask you a question. Do you know how big the internet is?"

Lilly just looks clueless.

"How many pages? Have you any idea?"

Lilly shakes her head.

"Millions, or billions?"

She shrugs. "I don't know."

"It's billions, Lilly. Thousands of millions. So many, your mum could browse around for a hundred years and never find an image of you. If we sat on a computer and you tried to find some pictures of me... just random searches... I'll guarantee we could never find them. Do you know why, Lilly? First the number of models on the net... it's hundreds of thousands. Millions maybe, Lilly. Model after model after model after model. And the second reason we'd never find them. They're hidden inside a secure pay site. The only people who'll ever get to see them are the ones who pay for the privilege. And one thing I'll guarantee with your mum... she's never going to pay for porn now, is she? Does she even have a computer, Lilly?"

Lilly just blushes. "She doesn't, I know. But my brother does."

"And what would he say?"

"I don't know," Lilly moans.

Carmine thinks it's time to go in for the kill. "You know what I think?" She tips her head. "I think all this nonsense with your mum is just an excuse. I think it's really you. I just don't think you've brave enough."

Lilly's eyes well up with tears. "I am," she says. Her voice is cracking.

"Are you? Really"

"Yes!" Lilly says. "I would. I'd do it! Please don't think I'm a coward, Carmine!"

Carmine's got a faint little smile at her mouth. She says, "There's my brave girl." She stands and comes close, looking Lilly in the eyes, and wipes out the tears. She tips her face forward and gives her a kiss. "I knew you had it in you. Come on. Put a coat on."

"A coat?" asks Lilly.

"That's all you're going to need. Some shoes and a coat."

Lilly looks startled. "Where are we going?"

Carmine winks, takes Lilly's face in her hands. She kisses her lips for a couple of seconds. Then dropping one hand down, she brushes Lilly's nipple. "We're going to take this gorgeous body out for a spin."




5: Cyril calls Billy to say who's in charge; Carmine and Lilly talk in the car


While Lilly panics and runs to the loo, Carmine texts Cyril. It's a go so far. She doesn't know it's spanking yet. ETA prob half hour. Tell Billy be cool, I'll do talking. PS Lilly thinks I'm porn pixie.

You're marvellous... you're the Spanking Fairy, her uncle texts back.

Cyril calls Billy. "Might have you a model shortly. Complete beginner. You'll never guess the source, lest two and two is your strong point. If it comes off Billy, Make Mel the new dom. We're way off the script now. Improvising is obviously not Dickie's director's strong point or he'd have chucked something together with Mel already. Don't let him fuck it up."

"Got it," says Billy. "What about your spanking mate. Chuck-up boy Gaz?"

"Is that twat still hanging about? Give him the boot, Bill. He don't get paid, neither... he can fuck right off. And Billy... important... if it comes to the crunch, son... you're in charge. You're my man on the spot. Alright? Make sure you get me some updates, boy!"

"Got you, boss. So what's the big mystery? Where did you get this model from?"

"I'll tell you in a mo. The girl first, I've seen her up close. Quite a dirty body on her. Nice tits, great big arse. Face alright if she'd bother to smile. She's a newbie though... total beginner, as green as they come. She won't have a clue, hardly even looked at the net before. Astonishing, but there you go. So that could cause some problems. But you never know, it might be a bonus. If she don't know where what's out there, she won't know what we shouldn't get up to, if you catch my drift. Priority... downloads. Second priority, decent stuff. So none of your namby-pamby tip-taps, if you can. Decent length and a solid spanking. Least ways, if you get the chance, cause that's not guaranteed yet."

"How far d'you want us to go then, Uncs?"

"Just use your judgement." Cyril thinks a moment. "But the girl's not coming through an agency. No contacts, not connected. So to put it bluntly, it probably won't matter if she bruises a bit."

"Oh... right," says Billy.

"Though you'd best confirm that with cousin Carmine."

"Carmine?" Billy asks.

"Your very own sweet-featured cousin. Some bird she met at aerobics class. Stunned me silent when they turned up at the studio. Don't think Carmine likes her much though. Called your lovely cousin a fucking slut, apparently. She's bringing her over in her car as we speak. But Bill... important... Carmine's instructions... let Carmine do the talking. Cause the girl doesn't know it's spanking yet."

"She don't?" Billy asks.

"Carmine's got her feeling guilty, trying to make amends. But whatever the girl did, it must pissed your cousin off badly. She was rubbing it in when I took some snaps."

"She fucked Carmine up, eh?"

"Pissed her off mightily, least ways. So like I said, take your cues from your cousin on this. And don't let the hired help get in the way. Mel's the dom though, whatever, alright? I think she'd do well. And even if Carmine's calling the shots, don't let her step in front of the camera. Cause the parents would go ape shit, Billy, and that's really something I can do without."

Once the phone's down, Billy's briefing the others. Then Malcolm and Clive start fiddling again, with cables and lights. Billy takes the ill-looking Gaz to one side, then sacks him.

"You're off the show mate... just talked to the Gaffer. Too big a fuck-up. So I should take your sick bag and piss off home. Plus, I wouldn't go looking for a cheque in the post."

Once Gaz has sloped off, Billy talks to Mel.

"You just got promoted, if you want it, girl. That wanker Gaz is history. Cyril fancies you as dom. That suit you, does it?"

Mel grins, then touches a lip with her tongue, smile growing all the time.

"My mate Carmine's bringing the new girl in. Very green, Cyril says. Only don't let that fool you, she fucked my cousin up. Green on the surface, but apparently she's a cunt inside. My cousin don't take bad to just anyone, so if she says this girl's a cow, she's probably fucking horrible. So no tears from me and Cyril if you don't hold back."

"Is that right now?"

"That's the word. What's your verdict on your part, then?"

"Dom, I think, I should quite enjoy. I've taken enough sticking myself in my time and I wouldn't mind giving it out for a change. She's a nasty piece of work, then?"

"If she fucked my gorgeous cousin up, you can do what you fucking like to her."

"Well," says Mel, "there's a turn-up. Know what, Billy? I've wondered what I'd do if this ever happened. Because trust me, I've worked with some irritating, moronic models in my time. And I've worked on what I'd like to do to them. If she's halfway to those idiots, I'll relish the chance to fuck her up."

"There's my girl. Fully on for dom, eh?"

"Most surely, sunshine."

"Knock yourself out."


***


"Oh my God. Oh my God."

Carmine has lost count of the number of times she's said this. She feels like slapping Lilly but she's driving and she can't. Carmine has geed her up and pretty much harried her into the car. Lilly's sitting in the short skirt and revealing blouse, knickers, pop-socks and semi-sensible shoes. She's sitting with her knees together, seat belt tight between her breasts, gripping her seat edge as Carmine drives to the studio at pace. It's chilly out. Carmine has a coat on and a window down. Lilly's nipples are studding her blouse.

"Oh my God," she says, "I don't know about this."

"Nonsense, you'll be fine."

"I didn't know it was real," Lilly moans.

"Of course it was real. What's the point of being brave if none of it's real?"

"God, what have I got to do? What sort of stuff have I got to do?"

"I dunno. We'll see."

"Oh my God," says Lilly. "What sorts of things though? What have you had to do?"

"I didn't have to do anything, darling. But what have I done? Oh, all sorts. What d'you think?"

Lilly moans, "I don't know what there is."

"Take a guess. What can you see me doing?"

"I can't hardly see you doing nothing!"

"Surely you've pictured me doing something, Lil."

"You might be offended."

"What might offend me?"

"I though of... sort of... blokes. With their dicks. Doing things to you."

"Did you now? What else did you think?"

"I don't know. I don't want to say."

"Brave now," says Carmine.

"I thought... I don't even want to say it... pulling your bits apart. With your fingers, you know."

"Anything else?"

"I don't know."

"Not using toys? Not fetishes... spanking?"

Lilly frowns. "Spanking? Like... somebody doing your bum with their hand?"

"More than their hand, Lil."

Lilly stares ahead. She won't look at Carmine. "Oh my God. Oh my God. Why though?" she asks.

"Why would you think? Cause it's fun," Carmine says.

"Someone doing your bum in is fun?"

"Oh God yes, immense fun. I've never had orgasms like it, Lilly."

"Orga-zums?" Lilly asks. "You can have orga-zums?"

"Orgasms. All the time. Of course."

"From spanking?" Lilly asks.

"Oh, especially from spanking. It's a well-known fact. All that warmth from your bum, it's like fire, it keeps building. That's why people do it, Lilly."

"Oh my God... I never even thought. Is that really what happens? It just thought it looks so horrible... "

"Not when it's happening to you, it's not."

Lilly suddenly pauses. "That film. That girl, with her bum all red... Oh My God, was that you?"

Carmine looks at Lilly. She thinks that was her? "Do you think it was?"

"I dunno... I weren't looking at her face, was I? Was that you? That girl's hair was different."

"I might have been wearing a wig," Carmine says.

"Oh my God, your arse... I mean bottom... God, sorry. I never even realised."

"I know you didn't. I just thought it was so obvious."

"Oh my God, I can hardly believe it! God, you've tried loads of things!"

"Oh yes, plenty," Carmine says. "You've got a lot of catching up to do."

"I don't know if I can... I'm not like you... "

"We'll be like sisters. If you do, I mean."

"Sisters?" Lilly says the word with a sense of awe.

"If we're as brave as each other, that'll makes us sisters."

Lilly falls silent. She blinks at the dashboard. Then quietly, she asks, "Carmine... why did you kiss me? Before?"

"Well... why do you think I might have kissed you?"

"I don't know," she says. "It really surprised me. Was it cause you think I'm going to do what you want?"

"Well... are you, Lilly?"

"I don't know." She sighs. "Yeah. If you really want me to. But... is it cause you, sort of, like me?"

"Of course I like you. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here, would I?"

Lilly sounds so shy. "I mean, like, is it cause you like me... you know... as more than a friend?"

"Would you like me to kiss you as more than a friend?"

Lilly's silent again.

"It's alright to say. If you don't, I mean."

"Oh no, don't think that! I mean... I suppose. I dunno. I think so."

"I might like you like that if you're really brave."

"Oh my God," says Lilly, quietly.




6: Carmine gets Lilly to the studio; Lilly signs a model release


Carmine parks in a dreary back street. Lilly walks just behind Carmine, feeling half naked in the midmorning air. She finds herself stretching to keep up with the taller girl, who leads at pace down two or three side streets, then dives down a dingy alley housing Cyril's studio. There's an old black door at the end made from slats of wood, with a grubby metal plaque which reads JBS Film. Carmine presses a little metal bell in a video entry phone panel.

They wait. Lilly sniffs. "I don't know about this," she mutters.

"Don't worry, honey."

The door starts to scrape, like a bolt's being withdrawn, then the door whines inwards on a heavy closing arm. A young man dressed in denim looks out. He meets Carmine's eyes, then peers down at Lilly. At her face first, then her chest, then lastly her skirt.

"Hey. Carmine. And this is... ?"

"Lilly," says his cousin.

He tips his head at Lilly, then moves aside and waves them in. Carmine leads. Lilly follows sheepishly. Billy eyes up her hips and legs as she walks before him.

The lights are brighter as they turn a corner, then three more pairs of eyes bore in to Lilly. Carmine moves aside and drops her bag, familiar, on a messy worktop. Lilly's left behind in the middle of the floor, not knowing where to stand. Two more men, plus a woman, eye her up.

"Oh, my," the woman says.

"That's Carmine over there," Billy says. "This lady's Lilly."

The woman steps close. She offers her hand to the worried-looking girl. "I'm Mel. Pleased to meet you."

Lilly says under her breath to the woman, "I didn't know all these people would be here."

"Just the crew dear," says the woman. "That tall feller's Malcolm, the other one's Clive."

Their eyes blink away eventually.

Carmine says, "Lilly, would you like to wait in the changing room for a mo? Just through here, hon."

Lilly does as she's asked, looking grateful.

Carmine whispers, "Five minutes, hon. Just have to find out what the score is, OK?" She closes the door, leaving Lilly alone.

Billy says, "Fucking hell, Carmine."

Carmine laughs.

"Dark horse, or what?"

"Surprised as you are. What d'you think then?"

"Of the girl or you?"

She shrugs. "Either."

"I'd give it one, yeah."

"I'll bet you would. How about the girl?"

He snorts. "Not wearing much, is she?"

"Yeah, that was me hustling her out before she was ready. Lied, said it was just round the corner, we'd got to get on, chop-chop."

"Where the fuck did you find her?"

"Picked her up at aerobics class."

"You picked her up? Oh yeah?"

Carmine shrugs. "So I wanted to get in her knickers."

Billy sniggers. "Work, did it?"

"Went off her first."

Mel has wandered close. Billy waves her in. "Carmine... Mel." he says. "She'll be dom, yeah? Cyril's sort of insisting."

Carmine says, "Well I wasn't planning to do it, Bill."

"Good job then, innit? So... know yet, does she? What her turn's supposed to be?"

Carmine shakes her head. "I've dropped hints. But no, I've still not told her."

"Be really fucking useful if she'd do it, Carm. Up shit creek, girl."

"Cyril said. I can probably twist her arm. That's the plan. For some strange reason, she thinks I'm on her side."

"And you're not?" asks Mel.

Carmine looks her in the eye. "How honest would you like me to be?"

"Honest as you like, love."

Carmine blinks. "She's never modelled. Least, not before I got her to. Ten minutes with Uncle Cyril, that was it. Just topless. Knickers up her bum crack. She's pretty fucked up. Her mum sounds like a religious nutter, probably disown the poor cow if she found out."

"All's fair in love and porn," Billy says. "Con her into taking a caning for us, will you?"

Mel asks, "And she still thinks you're her friend?"

"Completely," Carmine laughs. "That give you a problem?"

Mel shrugs. She says, "Not a problem from me, no."

"Me either," Billy says.

Carmine says, "I took that for granted."

"So she's gullible?" Mel asks.

"Not a lot going on, no."

"Super," Mel says.

"That suit you then, does it?"

Billy says, "Easy, Carmine, all on the one team. The bird though... think it's about time you told her what's up?"

"Yes, alright," Carmine says. She starts to turn away. "Only one thing though, so nobody gives the game up. She seems to think I've done a lot of modelling."

"Heard she thinks you're a right slut, Carmine."

"She did express that opinion." Carmine nods. "So it might be best if no-one disabuses her."

"So as far as she's concerned... you definitely are."

"As far as she's concerned, doing a bit of porn now and then is good for the soul. Liberating, like burning your bra. And that's why I do it, to stuff convention. Besides, everyone and his wife's doing anyway."

"They are round here, anyway."

"I also told her that being spanked gives the best orgasms ever."

Billy snorts. Mel says, "I'll believe that."

Billy says. "Best let the bird know why she's here then. Oh and Carmine... " He takes a sheaf of paper from a worktop nearby. "Get her to sign a model release, alright girl?"


***


Lilly is staring at clothes hanging up in a wardrobe. Schoolgirl outfits, police womens' uniforms, nurse gear, maid gear, the usual suspects. Her head turns quickly when Carmine enters.

"Are you alright, honey?"

Lilly nods unconvincingly.

"You're going to be brave, yes?"

"If you want me to be." The girl sounds so miserable, Carmine wants to slap her. "I think I know what I've got to do."

"Do you? Do tell, I'll tell you if you're right or not."

"It's like what you done before, isn't it?"

Carmine cocks her head.

"That thing you showed me. With your bum really red. Like, with canes and stuff."

"If it was, would you do it?"

"It is though, isn't it?"

"Well well," Carmine says. "Aren't you clever to work that out?"

Lilly just looks. "You'll like me if I do it?"

"I like you anyway, honey."

"I mean like me like... you know... "

"Aha. Like this?"

Carmine puts the papers Billy's given to her down. She puts her hands round Lilly's face. She kisses her.

"Or maybe like this?"

Carmine's hands drop and stroke Lilly's nipples. Then she cups her breasts and squeezes them.

"Or maybe like this, I wonder?"

She lets her fingers trail down Lilly's sides, all the time looking her straight in the eye. Her hands stroke over Lilly's skirt, then gripping, hoik it up. They settle down cupping her generous buttocks. The squeeze, then fingers slip inside the knickers... one at the back and one at the front.

"Oh my," she says, "where's all that growth of hair gone? Smooth as silk."

"That man said I should shave it off."

"And you took his advice?"

"I used this stuff I got in a chemist's. Cause of what he said about rashes and that."

"That shows proper initiative," Carmine says.

Her fingertips stroke Lilly's smooth pudenda. Then one probing finger slips inside. There's no resistance... Lilly is wet. Carmine kisses her once more, full-on, letting her tongue flick. A second finger follows the first down below. Lilly barely makes a sound, just a tiny squeak.

"Now you're a proper model," Carmine says. "And Billy and his friends have a film to make. Just do everything they tell you. Then afterwards... "

One more quick kiss and a trailing finger, and Carmine pulls away. Lilly stands, skirt still up, feet together and pigeon-toed.

"That girl Mel... she'll spank you, alright? Billy and the others, they'll be filming you."

Lilly nods meekly.

"They asked me to get you to sign this, hon."

She takes the release and hands it to Lilly. Lilly looks at the front of it, blankly. "What is it?" she asks.

"Just some legal gubbins, darling. There's always nonsense like this to scribble on."

Lilly sounds bemused. "An I supposed to read it?"

"It's really up to you."

Lilly just blinks.

"You sign it at the back, I should think."

"Did you have to sign one?"

"I was modelling for Billy. I've known him forever. Look, d'you want a pen?"

Lilly just seems blank. Carmine takes a pen from her purse.

"Last page, darling."

"I write my name, then?"

"Your signature."

Lilly writes her name in neat schoolgirl script. "And I've got to put the date then?"

"Yes, probably. Whatever. It's the fifteenth, honey."

"It says what's my address?'

"Does it? Better put that in then, eh?"

Lilly pens her address between the lines. Carmine's looking over her shoulder.

"Who's the witness?" Lilly asks.

"Best be me, hadn't it?"

She signs, scrawls the date, then scribbles the address of the studio below.

"All done." She flips the pages closed. "Now then, hon. What you didn't know up till now... and they didn't either... is that I've got to run for a little while. All this came up so fast and, believe me, I'd much rather stay. But I had this lunch with some friends lined up, and I really shouldn't miss it, particularly as we're sorted out here. So you be extra brave... do what everyone says. I'll be back before long!" She moves her face in, and kisses Lilly once on the lips.

Lilly looks bereft. "You've got to go?"

"It's tragic, I know. But I'll not be more than a couple of hours. I'll hop right back! Be good, my darling! Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Which is practically nothing, of course, so... well. Enjoy the experience. See you later!"

She quickly backs out of the changing room, waving once and shutting the door. Lilly looks mortified. Her skirt's still not fallen down where it should, it's still rucked up at the back. Her hand darts to her mouth. Under her breath she says, "Oh, my God."

Outside, Carmine hands Billy the model release.

"No probs?" he asks.

"She's all lined up. I stuck this address on when I witnessed... alright?"

"She know it's spanking then, girl?"

"Yep, she's going to be a good girl. Anyway, I've got to run... appointment!"

"Get out!"

"Cyril didn't ask me what I had on today! I'll be back in a couple of hours I should think. See if you can't keep it going till then!"

"Fuck, Carmine. So let's just get this straight... she's not like, your mate? Is she? If we give her, like, a good old time."

Carmine pauses. "Don't kill her, you know. But no. She isn't my mate."

"Just checking. Shame you can't stick around. Later, Carmine... "

She backs out, waving.

Malcolm and Mel both stroll up. Malcolm asks Billy, "How's this going to work, then?"

Billy watches his cousin go. He says, "You and him... the feller... if you man them two cameras, I'll do hand-held with mine. Mel, she can tell Lilly what to do. Right, darling? Whatever she says, that's what what's-her-name's got to do. So she'll more or less direct, you follow? Makes your job a bit easier, dunnit?"

"I deal with the lights and so on, though?"

"Most definitely your department, that."

Clive wanders up to the huddle as well, waiting on its edge like he's not sure if they'll let him in.

"Who decides how much she gets?"

"Who gets?" Billy asks.

"The model," Clive says. "Has she any experience at all, then?"

Billy turns his face to the man. "What does it matter what experience she's got? She's signed a release, she's up for it. Everyone's got to start somewhere, don't they? Mel here, she'll busk it. Won't you, girl?"

"Well I do know what hurts and what doesn't," she says. "From personal experience. And I'm pretty sure what'll look excellent on camera."

Clive doesn't smile, he looks sourer if anything. But he sniffs to himself and slopes away. Billy, Mel and Malcolm watch him.

"Well there you go," says Billy at last. He looks at Mel, then at Malcolm.

"I should maybe talk to the girl, eh? Sisterly chat? Change with her maybe."

"Yeah," Billy mutters.

"Sounds positive," says Malcolm. "I'll, er... shall I?"

"Lights. Whatever. Think I'll have a chat with Cyril."

They separate.




7: Mel mentors Lilly; Mel updates Billy


Lilly is sitting on an upright chair with her hands between her knees, rocking slightly. She looks up at Mel, eyes wide.

"Hello, darling," Mel says. "Aren't you cold there? You look a bit shellshocked, actually."

Lilly smiles weakly.

"Are you nervous, then? This your first time, is it? Gosh, I remember what it was like for me, I was petrified!"

"Did you have to do a spanking too?" Lilly asks.

Mel blinks. "No, modelling. You know, for a photographer. I heard you did that too. It wasn't long after though, my first spanking shoot. Oh yes, I was in quite a state. But in the end... well, I won't say it was easy-peasy, but I coped alright. I remember, some of it was such positively fun! So I'm sure you'll do fine. You might even find yourself enjoying it. It's a change from the humdrum, after all!"

Lilly tells her candidly, "I'm really scared I won't know what to do."

"Oh that's not a worry. I'll tell you all that."

Lilly's looking like a little lost puppy. "Is it you who's got to... you know... do my bum?"

"Yes," Mel says, "that's me."

"For all two hours though?"

"All two hours?" Mel asks.

"Carmine says I'm here for two hours. Before she comes back, and she said she hopes it'll still be going on by then."

"Still be going on?" Mel asks.

Lilly produces a scared little smile. "Is it all with the cane? It seems like really loads."

Melanie says quietly, "That does seem a lot."

"It is though, isn't it? Why her bum looked so red!" Lilly's face twitches like it's planning to cry.

"Oh my," says Mel.

"Oh my God," moans Lilly. "It looked really bloody hard, an' all!"

"Well... yes, it is. But we all have to do it. All us models. It's what's wanted, really."

Lilly's eyes look moist.

"Goodness," Mel says. "I tell you what though, lovely. Stand up for a moment."

Lilly stands, nervous.

"Turn around. Lift your skirt up for me."

When Lilly hesitates, Mel just takes the sides of the skirt and waggles it up.

"Have you not watched many spanking films before?"

Lilly shakes her head. "I never seen hardly nothing," she says.

"Hardly nothing? What was that?"

"I only seen this bit of one. Carmine showed me. Wiv her in it. Just this clip."

"And what was that like?"

"Oh God," Lilly says. "Her arse was just so mashed, all lumpy."

Mel sighs. She places a hand on Lilly's bottom and squeezes it gently. She says quietly, "The human bottom is very resilient. I should know, mine's taken enough in its time."

She puts her spare hand on Lilly's other cheek. She says, "I just want to do a little test, alright?" She squeezes, recups, and squeezes again. "Well well," she says, "what an absolutely perfect bottom you have. So big, but so firm."

Lilly looks hurt. She's trying to see down over her shoulder. "So big?" she whines.

Mel starts to pat a cheek. "Are we a little self-conscious of our bottom, perhaps?" The pat becomes a gentle slap. Mel watches the ripples and holds her breath. "Oh my lovely, you shouldn't be worried. Not about this one. A star is born. Looks like you were specially built to start in films like this."

Lilly's straining her head back.

"I know it sounds a lot. Two hours... It still seems a lot to me, every time I bare my behind. But if any bottom can take it, this can." She squeezes, hard, with both cupped hands, then slaps Lilly's cheeks simultaneously. "I've never seen a bottom so made for spanking. Whatever we dish out, I promise this beauty can take it, honey."

"But two hours," Lilly says. She turns to look at Mel but leaves her skirt still hitched up high.

"I think we might not spank you every moment," Mel says. She tips her head. "I'm sure there'll be time for other things. If I choose the right scenario, to give you some breaks."

"So it's not all the time?"

"You'd have to work hard between times, of course."

"I don't mind. If it's not all the cane all the time."

"A sort of... modelling scenario?"

'What's a scenario?"

"Like a little play. That we're pretending together. Maybe you're a model and you're late for a shoot. Or maybe you've got to pose... but I think we've established you don't really know what you're doing as a model. So I might pretend to be impatient. I've got to find a reason to spank you. Then, in-between, I could... give you a break... by having you pose."

"Oh," says Lilly.

"If you're posing... well I'm not spanking you, am I? Not at that moment."

"What... like I just do a position or something?"

"Something like that. Then I'll spank you for not knowing what you're doing. You know... for being slow, perhaps. Have you looked at much posing on the internet, lovely?"

"I don't know," Lilly says.

"Don't know?"

"You mean like, dirty posing? Like when Carmine's Uncle made me pull my bum cheeks apart?"

Mel dabs a tongue to her upper lip. "It might be like that."

"I just feel so guilty if look at dirty pictures."

"You don't look much at all, then?"

"I ain't got a broadband. I never even got a computer for it."

Mel shakes her head sadly. "Not looked with friends, then?"

Lilly shakes her head as well. "I wouldn't look at stuff like that with friends. I'd be scared somebody would tell."

"Yes I see," Mel says.

"Just, it wouldn't have to be all bad posing, would it?" Lilly has such a hangdog expression.

"Bad posing? Rude?" Mel just looks at her for the longest time.

"Is it though? Has it got to be rude?"

"You've never seen, have you? On the internet? It's all rude, my lovely."

"All rude?"

"You just don't know. You've never looked. Oh my dear, you're an innocent. Out of your depth."

"Oh, God," Lilly says. "Oh fuck, I'm so stupid."

"You know they're all expecting it? Carmine, Billy's Uncle, everyone out there. It's all just so standard, lovely."

Lilly's face is dissolving into upset. "Was it in that in that thing I signed?"

"You signed? What thing?"

"A model something."

"A model release?"

"I done it before. Carmine got me to do it before."

Mel asks her, "Didn't you read it?"

"Carmine just said sign it, so I thought I'd got to."

"Oh yes. We all have to."

"I asked if she done it though, she just said that bloke out there... Billy... was her mate."

"Did Carmine not read it?"

Lilly shakes her head.

"I wonder if she knows what's in it? You signed without reading any of it?"

"Was we supposed to, then? Was I supposed to read it?"

"Oh my, you've let yourself in for such a lot... "

Lilly's mouth is dry as a bone. She feels her wrist shaking.

"Please say you'll be prepared to do all this, lovely. We need you to do this."

Lilly's lower lip is trembling.

Mel says gently, "The thing is, darling, if you've signed your contract, you've agreed already."

"I can read it now. Can't I?"

"The point... what you should do... is sign it before. Once you've signed it, you've signed it."

Lilly's chin trembles. Her torso gives a silent shudder.

"Can I give you instruction with confidence, lovely? Knowing you've already signed up to do them?"

"I didn't know, I didn't know."

"I can see. I believe you. But now it's too late. That's the trouble, my love. And Billy's Uncle... well he's not a man to take breach of contract lightly. Gosh. What a pickle. I think you'll just have to... well, do it all, honey."

Lilly looks so upset.

"But don't worry, darling. It's all so common, you won't have to do things I've never done. Or Carmine, your friend, I understand she's done... well, all sorts. So all you have to really do is follow my instructions. It's just acting, really. Like I said, pretending it's a modelling assignment. Which it is, isn't it? But because it's spanking... well, I'll have to pretend to be angry with you. Although really I won't be, not underneath. But I'll have to pretend it convincingly. So anyone who watches later can believe it's real. We'll say you're a model, and you've turned up late. But all you have to do is just this, Lilly. Whatever I act like, however you're feeling... you just always do what I tell you to. Just do your level best to follow my instructions. All the way through... every thing I tell you. That's all you have to do. If it's going well, Lil... if we're getting great footage and everyone's really pleased with you... that's when it'll carry on for a little bit longer. Then Carmine can come back and see you perform. You're prepared to trust me, aren't you, lovely?"

Lilly nods, once, her hand to her mouth.

"You have to, you know. You just have to be brave. We're starting soon, we've got to start filming. It's just such a good thing you're such a sport. You're OK with this, aren't you?"

Lilly hesitates, then she just nods. Mel strokes her hair. She clasps her close and gives her a hug. "My poor, sweet girl," she says. "Be brave. I promise you this... you'll not be doing anything I haven't done a hundred times. Oh, well done, Lil. Well done, you brilliant thing! Just follow my voice. It'll all work out fine."


***


Cyril asks Billy when he calls, "She showed up with the goods then?"

"Good as her word, Uncs."

"What d'you think of the girl?"

"Who, Lilly? Well you're not going to see her on a catwalk, are you? Little short thing, isn't she? Might get a nice few reaction shots though. Funny round face, eh? First you don't think she's up to much, then you look at her again and she's not half bad. Dirty little body on her, too. Carmine had her come in half dressed, just this white shirt and a denim skirt. Enough curves for a bird twice her size, ain't she?"

"You don't think she's too awkward?"

Billy thinks for a moment. "No, I don't. Cause it's spanking, innit? That's what it's about. Take a pretty girl, strip her down and whack her arse. Humiliating, yeah? Bit of awkwardness in there, should go down a treat. Proper reactions. Genuine article."

"Your cousin's been a godsend."

"Yeah, might have a nice little partner there. Proper model scout. Come here my little darling, some unscrupulous gents await... Hang on, Mel's come out. Want me to call you back when she's filled me in?"

"Not unless it's really necessary, no. For fuck's sake, let me see a bit of this show. Just deal with it yourselves, get me some sodding updates. Whatever it takes, Billy, you're in charge. Show me what you can do. We'll catch up tomorrow."

Billy clicks his phone closed. "How's she doing?" he asks. "She playing ball?"

Mel says, "She's incredible. She hasn't a clue! She knows absolutely nothing. She's the least informed model I've ever met, and I've met some fucking stupid models. She'll believe absolutely anything. She thinks we're going to cane her for two solid hours."

"You told her that?"

"Course I didn't, she just thinks we will. She's never seen a spanking film, barely looked at the internet, seen almost no porn... nothing! She has no idea what we'll expect her to do. The only clip she's seen, Carmine showed her, and apparently the model's arse was in a horrible state. She thinks, by the way, that it was Carmine's arse. I don't think I'm being stupid here... It wouldn't be, would it?"

"No, it's a wind-up. Carmine's never done nothing like this."

"No, I didn't think so somehow. But Billy, I've been wicked in there. She said she never read the model release. Not a word, nor did Carmine apparently. I think I've got her thinking it's legally binding."

"Binding her to what?"

"That's the whole point, mate. To anything you want. She just signed some piece of paper. Say you've filed it, or you've posted it to Cyril."

"He's only at the N.E.C."

"She doesn't know that. She's not asking to see it. She just thinks whatever's in it, she's agreed to. She's so fucking clueless, it's like stealing from a baby. So long as no-one gives the game away, that contract can say whatever we like. We just make it up. Look... go and tell the others she's this cracked case or something, who just wants to do whatever as a fantasy. Don't tell them I've just conned her. All they have to know is, keep an open mind. Have you got enough for two hours in every camera? I told her if things are going well, we're keeping her on for longer. Till Carmine's back, she's expecting that."

"We've got fucking loads of stock," says Billy.

"Tell them they to let me get on with it. She's been fantasising half her life and she's just got up the courage to try it. Alright? You'd better tell them something, cause she's halfway to tears for most of the time."

Billy tells Clive and Malcolm that the girl's agreed to go fairly extreme. Malcolm is clearly not sure how to react. He starts fidgeting uncomfortably. Clive just keeps shtum, eyeing Billy through narrowed eyes.




8: Mel and Billy practice their patter; Lilly's career as a model begins


Mel goes into the changing room again, to help choose an outfit for Lilly. When they're done, she asks the girl to wait five minutes. The others will film Mel outside, then when Lilly knocks, they'll turn a camera on her door. Then Lilly's on.

Mel briefs the others. She wants the action to just run on, whatever. Just keep filming. So Malcolm picks which camera should focus on what. Clive will take Mel. Malcolm will get the master of Lilly. "I'll do a bit of hand-held," Billy says.

"He'll get in the way," Clive says to Malcolm.

"You will," Malcolm says.

"So?" says Mel. "Leave him in your shots then."

"He'll get us in," Clive says. "I'm not having my face on screen."

""I'm not that fucking stupid," Billy says. "I want the girl on screen, not your miserable mug."

"We'll just pixelate the faces if we're in a shot we want to use." Malcolm's trying to be diplomatic. "I'm not having my face in this either."

"Well I don't give a fuck," says Billy. "Leave me in if you want to go gonzo."

Mel says, "Gives me someone to chuck some lines."

She leans against a worktop at the back. She nods to Billy to lean there next to her, tells the crew to start filming. She shouts, "Two minutes, Lilly, then knock! Alright? Then wait till I tell you to come in, honey!"

Malcolm and Clive let their cameras run. Mel just sits there with the lenses pointing at her. She looks at Billy. He looks her back, laughs, then looks back down. He thinks they'll start again, but Mel just carries on sitting there. She turns to him again and says, "Amateurs."

Billy nods his head back.

"So bloody slow," says Mel. "You end up wasting so much time."

"Oh right," Billy says. "The model."

"Models are pain enough anyway. But amateurs. I've not got enough patience."

Billy looks sideways at Mel and giggles.

"And this one's the worst. She's completely clueless. One of these days I'm just going to snap."

"What, snap her elastic?"

Mel laughs now.

"Do worse than snap her arse," Billy says. "Fucking hell, have you seen the size?"

Mel laughs again. "Shall I spank it for you?"

"Don't think spanking would make a lot of difference to that one. You'd need, like, a bat or something."

"There's canes in the back. I'm not kidding, there are. There's a good big long one."

Billy looks at her then giggles again.

Mel has found herself an SLR stills camera. She reaches behind to pick it up. "Let's get her to pose a bit, like we planned. But I'll guarantee she's rubbish at it. Shall we have a bit of fun with her?"

"What... spank her if she gets it wrong?"

"I'm serious. I'll have a go. She's so green, she won't know what's wrong and what's right. I'll bet I can get her to take it. Go on... bet you."

"What's the stakes then? Who gets 'em in all night, how about that? You get her to do it, I'll buy till you fall over. Only if she blanks on you, you buy."

"Worth that, is it? We're serious... I'm going for it, am I? I spank her... "

"Spanking's nothing. You cane her."

"I cane her and you film it. Alright?"

"I'll have a go, yeah. You're evil, you."

Mel rubs her forehead. "There are bumps here, I can feel them."

They stop talking. They wait for the knock at the door.

"Fucking hell," Billy says, "she takes her time, don't she?"

Mel stares too. "Lilly," she calls, "are you coming, or what?"

In a moment they all hear a tiny knock.

Billy shakes his head, then hams it, "Did one perceive a knock, perchance? Weren't much, was it?"

They stare at the door. Nothing else happens. Then another knock... if anything, quieter than the first

Mel calls, "Lilly? Come in, lovey!"

Lilly tries to smile when she comes into the room. Mel has dressed her in a short flared skirt, white socks, schoolgirl shoes and a white, buttoned shirt, and, Mel knows, clean white knickers. Lilly's smile is paper thin though. Its edges quake and tremble. Billy lifts his camera to his eye straight away. He catches her stance then gets her face in close-up.

Billy knows his camera well. His uncle... indulgence or business plan, one or the other... let him have it when he was just sixteen, after Billy's dad was put away for aggravated. And, kid with a toy, he's used it till he's mastered it, till it's second nature. He's worked it out... hand is steady. He's as good as, if not better than, Clive.

Mel pushes off the worktop and steps up close to Lilly. Billy and the others record their whispers, with Billy, in camera, prying up close.

"I'm so glad you've come out. We do have to get on now."

Lilly doesn't know where to look. She's staring all around, at the studio, at Billy, at Clive and Malcolm's cameras.

Malcolm interrupts. "Sorry... just a quick one. The girl should look in Billy's camera. That one." He's got their attention. "But never at these two. You understand, Lilly? You can look at his camera whenever you want, but never look at ours. It's a technical thing. It'll really help. Billy can be seen in our cameras here, so he's an actor on screen. So the viewers will expect to see shots from his camera looking at you. These two back here are observers, not participants... like flies on the wall. It's like they don't really exist, understand? So far as you're concerned, just pretend you can't see them. And the same goes for you two, Mel and Billy. If you have to look this way, just don't look in these lenses. But Lilly and Mel, it's always OK to look at Billy's camera. In fact, if he's intrusive like now, it might help. Hope you didn't mind that interruption. From a technical perspective, it was necessary. As you were, then, and thanks."

"Nice one," says Billy. "Good call, yeah."

Mel takes this in. Lilly nods to Malcolm, then looks down at the floor.

Malcolm says to Clive, "Let's go hand-held as well. Fake documentary, sort of off-screen observers. Like N.Y.P.D. or Galactica."

Clive lifts his camera off its tripod, as does Malcolm. Mel wait till they're ready. Then she looks back at Lilly.

"I'm so glad you've come out, finally."

Lilly takes a moment to register that they're starting again.

"Cause the thing is," Mel says, "we've got to get on. I know it's your first time. But we can't afford to be ever so slow."

"Really sorry," Lilly says. Then looks up as if to ask if she's meant to speak. Stares straight at Malcolm's camera, then remembers she shouldn't. "Sorry," she says, "sorry."

"Look, we've got to get started. Just... come and stand here."

Lilly looks, but doesn't move. Mel touches her elbow and guides her forwards. She takes the stills camera, checks it over, makes technical adjustments and, focusing on Lilly's face, clicks to record a photograph.


***


"Right," Mel says, "hands on your head, darling."

Lilly's movements are quite hesitant. She starts to raise her arms, pauses halfway, lifts again, halts with her hands just touching her hair, her fingers not yet contacting.

Mel looks through her camera, says, "Properly together dear."

Lilly joins her fingers. Mel takes a snap. She gives Lilly small instructions... head back, hands on hips, feet together, feet apart. Lilly responds to each with a clear lack of insight into what would be required of her if they truly did want a stills model. She's slow, uncertain and has no idea what to do with the attention directed at her from four quarters.

Mel says to Billy, "Are you getting anything useful here?"

"No, dead airtime. Can you get her to move on a bit?"

"Ok," says Mel. "Right. Lovey, we've got to start seeing a bit of flesh. Take a bit of that skirt in each hand, there's a love."

Lilly does as she's asked, but keeps looking from Mel to Billy, since Billy is tracking around her.

"Just lift the skirt hon, just raise it up a bit."

Lilly is standing with her feet separated and her knees locked. She lifts the skirt up several inches.

Mel clicks. "Bit more, hon. Up more, yes." Click. "And, you know, right up."

Lilly's white pants are revealed. They are pulled up, cleanly, evenly, so that Lilly's crotch shape is showing as angles and faces reflecting different levels of brightness.

Lilly's head follows Billy with small uncertain movements as he crouches low behind her and records images of her prominent bottom with the white pants creasing evenly in a smooth curve up each buttock. Mel crouches next to him, frames up and takes another snap. Malcolm's camera registers Lilly's embarrassed head movements as she tries to work out what Mel and Billy are seeing.

"Feet apart, darling," Mel says.

Lilly steps each foot wider by an inch or two. The effect is somewhat inelegant, clump-clump.

"Yes. Bit more, lovey."

Clump.

"No, both feet darling, properly apart."

There's real hesitation, then first one foot stretches wider, then another.

"I suppose that'll do," says Mel and takes a snap. "Lean forward at the waist dear. Bend forward, that's it. Lift the skirt higher, yes."

Mel looks, moves, takes a picture, comes round to the front.

"Can you smile, baby?" Mel asks Lilly.

Lilly tries, but she can't. Her mouth stretches in the general direction, but with nervous twitching at its corners.

"Yes... not really working," Mel says to Billy.

Lilly is drifting out of her pose. Her hands, holding her skirt, have lowered, and her back has returned to a near upright position.

Mel says, "Lovey, I don't know if it was uncomfortable in that pose, but the thing is... the thing is, as a model... particularly as a beginner, dear, I'm afraid you should be staying in place unless I ask you to move. Do you follow?"

Lilly blinks at Mel. She starts to raise her skirt again.

"Yeah," Mel says. "Let's leave that for a moment. Can we see a bit of chest, dear?"

"Chest?' Lilly asks.

"Boobs darling. I want you to unbutton, what... two, do you think? No three buttons. Yeah, go on. Just, you know... "

"Unbutton?" Lilly undoes three buttons slowly, but with no sense of tease.

"Yeah, and pop... you know, over the top."

Lilly looks confused.

"Pop 'em out, dear."

Lilly says, "You mean... what... in the bra?" She's been dressed in a white brassiere by Mel in the changing room.

"No," Mel says, "look... No, just hang on,"

She steps up to Lilly, with Lilly making odd reactive movements, and, putting one hand on Lilly's left shoulder, pushes her other hand inside Lilly's blouse and scoops the breast, still in its cup, up and out, so that it rests, restrained, above the last sealed button. She swaps hands and does the same with the second breast.

"Hang on," she says, and pulls the two halves of Lilly's blouse together for a single button, which she reseals. Lilly's breasts are pushed upwards and together, making a milky white cleavage. "Alright, lift that skirt again. Both hands, go on, right up. And now, keeping it up with your elbows more or less, place your hands on your bum cheeks dear."

Lilly doesn't get this. Her skirt slips down before she's positioned her hands.

"Yeah," Mel says again, "not really working." She turns to Billy. "Think if I give her one instruction at a time?"

"Why, she not doing what you want?"

"All a bit hesitant," Mel says. She turns to Lilly. "Thing is, darling... well I know we've just started, and you're quite a new model. But I think things might go a bit faster if I set some rules. OK? Thing is, I've put you in a pose, and you moved out of it, only I hadn't asked you to. So, lovey, rule number one. Stay in pose unless I ask you to move alright? And rule number two is simple, really. If I ask you to do something, I want you to do it. Alright? So. Good. Right, you're in a position, feet apart, keep that. But now, lift your skirt. Lift it right up, dear. Yes, higher. Now bend forwards. Yes... yes, you see, you've sort of done what I asked, but only a bit. Let's try it this way. Start bending forwards, and just continue doing it till I tell you to stop. Yes? OK, go ahead and do that. Start bending. Start... yes, keep on bending, keep on, keep... God this is slow, go on, quicker, dear, and... stop! Now dear, just... without letting it fall back... let go of your skirt. Yes. Both hands, let go. OK? Good, so now, leaving that where it is... reach your hands back and place them flat on your bum. Flat dear, Christ... that means palms down, dear. Like you're grabbing your bum with your hands. OK? Ok, stop. Good. So now that you're in position dear, and we're going to take some photographs, we want you not to move. OK? Don't move. Don't move at all until I ask you to move again. OK? And that's the rule."

Mel starts to step around Lilly. She points her camera, clicks, moves, points, clicks. "Smile," she says.

Lilly tries but she feels like an idiot. Her smile doesn't feel right even to her. Billy tracks around her as well. He points his camera at her face, lifts it up over her back, down between her legs at the back to see her bra-held breasts.

Mel is at Lilly's front again. She says, "Smile, dear." She points, she clicks. "Yeah. Smile properly, dear."

Lilly tries, but she's a churning mess of insecurities. She's intensely embarrassed, there's a lad with a video camera looking up between her legs, and two other men are pointing expensive-looking cameras at her. Each time she tries to smile, she feels her mouth tremble. This is bad... she feels it... but she knows there's much, much worse to come.

"Once more. Give it a go."

She's really trying hard. She tries to smile, fails, shuts her eyes, tries again, and each time knows she's further from producing one than ever.

"Yeah," Mel says. "Not happening, is it?"

Billy tracks around to the front.

"What d'you think?" Mel asks him.

"Well she ain't smiling, is she?"

"Fuck," says Mel.

"I'm trying," says Lilly.

"Yeah. Unfortunately, trying's not doing the trick. Got to be real or nothing, hasn't it?"

"What d'you wanna do?" Billy asks Mel.

"Fuck knows," Mel says. "Looks like this session is turning into a bit of a waste of time. I can't use a model who can't smile, can I? What good's that?" To Lilly, she says, "Look, just... try once more, will you?"

Lilly tries, hard. Her mouth stretches like a real smile, but it clearly isn't one.

"Crap," says Mel. "Look, one at time, OK? Think of something sweet, something you'd really like to be doing. A really lovely present somebody gave you. I dunno... fairies at the bottom of the garden. Something, just please try and smile."

She looks Lilly right in the face and makes a partial grin to prompt her. Lilly, genuinely trying, makes a grimace in return.

"Oh bloody bollocks," says Mel. She sighs. Tilts her head. Stands, walks around to Lilly's behind, and says, "Don't move position darling, except to take your hands off your bum and... well, just let them hang down, I suppose."

Lilly does this, tentatively.

"Eyes front," Mel says. "I dunno, look at... look at the video camera. Get her looking," she says to Billy.

He parks his camera in front of Lilly's face, framing it in the lower half of his picture, looking down across her back in the upper half.

"She looking into the lens?" Mel asks.

Billy nods.

Behind Lilly, Mel lifts one hand and and measures its distance to Lilly's backside. She mimes bringing her hand down a couple of times. Then, suddenly, does so. Quite hard. There's a gasp and a grunt from Lilly.

"What did that do?" Mel asks Bill.

"What, to her face? Made her look a bit surprised."

Mel brings her hand down hard on Lilly's other cheek. Then she steps around to the side and bends to look at her face. Lilly's eyes twitch once towards Mel, then lock back into the camera lens.

"What d'you think?" Mel asks Billy. "Does her expression sort of make sense now?"

Billy nods. "Yeah," he says.

To Lilly, Mel says, "Problem is, darling, you've got a face like a slapped arse, and can't seem to make yourself look any different. So the only way to really give that a context is... well... to actually slap your arse. Do you follow?"

Lilly nods, staring uncomfortably into the lens,

"Thing is, it's quite common for models to get spanked. Like, for the video, for spanking magazines, you know, that sort of thing. So it's either that, or we can't really use you, and I'm sure you'd rather we did use you having made the effort to get here. And so far as we're concerned, having gone through all that fuss to get you here, I think I'd say we're rather keen to get at least something out of it. So I'll be... you know... taking pictures aimed at a particular spanky type of stills market, and Billy here will be trying his best to get a sort of spanking movie together, which I'm sure we can find a market for somewhere. So if you wouldn't mind being a dear about this, I'm rather requesting that you grin and bear it. Well... more like, not grin and bear it, if you see what I mean. If only you could produce that smile on demand, we'd be in an entirely different situation. But as it is... What do you say, lovely, do we have permission to spank you?"

Lilly doesn't know whether to keep on looking at Billy's camera or not. Mel puts her hand forward and places it on Lilly's jaw, then turns Lilly's head towards her own.

"Do we have permission?"

Mel prompts Lilly by nodding her own head. Lilly finally responds. Eyes moist, she makes small nods. Mel lifts her camera, points it at Lilly's face, and takes a picture to record the moment.




9: Clive gets uncomfortable; Lilly's spanking escalates


Mel says loudly to the others, "Great, let's just take two minutes, alright? Did everybody get that? Seem like a decent set-up? Bordering on the believable?"

"Looked good to me," Billy says.

"Yes, I got that, no problems," Malcolm adds from his more remote spot. "Though we're going to struggle with all the different sound levels in the edit. I was asking Clive if you always shoot without dedicated sound and he seems to think you do."

Second cameraman Clive grunts.

Malcolm asks, "Picture alright for you, Clive? Camera working OK?"

"Alright," he says.

"What, there might be a problem?"

"No, camera's fine." Clive doesn't sound enthusiastic.

Malcolm is waiting for more. "Right," he says eventually, turning away. "Good."

"So are you just going to leave the poor girl like that, or what?"

They look where he's pointing. Lilly is still bent double, hands dangling, skirt flipped up and with her in-bra breasts squeezed out over the buttons of her white blouse. Mel glances at her, then looks at Billy.

Mel bends close to the girl and says, "Stay where you are just a moment, darling, we have one or two things to discuss."

She motions Billy, Malcolm and Clive to come into a huddle.

"I have a sort of idea," Mel says. "Though I suppose this is out of my control if I'm outvoted. The thing is this, though, and please don't jump down my throat. I've come across some know-nothing models in my time, but this one takes the biscuit. She's extraordinarily clueless. And I don't know how anyone else feels, but I, for one, don't mind exploiting it."

"Like how?" Billy asks.

"I just think we can squeeze a lot more out of the situation than a standard spanking shoot. I mean, look at her. She's there on her own now, still in that ridiculous pose. Now if I were to tell her, for instance, that she has to stay in that pose for continuity reasons, then the poor girl is not going to know any different, is she?"

"And just how would that benefit the production?" Malcolm asks.

"Well you're already doing a fly-on-the-wall thing, as you pointed out before. Which means there's this documentary-style thing going on. I'm just thinking... not very P.C. this, obviously... but I think we can exploit the silly cow for comedic reasons. You know, say we keep filming her, surreptitiously, between these apparently real takes. Say we were to be filming this conversation, or a similar one between me and Billy, with her in the background, in that ludicrous pose."

"Just rip the piss out of her," Billy says. "Gets my vote, yeah."

"What, just exploit that poor girl's ignorance?" This is Clive. "Isn't that just... sick? I mean, listen to yourselves."

Mel sighs. "We're exploiting her anyway."

"But the comedy you're talking about is you and the audience laughing at her. It's sick. She has no choice in that, does she?"

"Aren't you exploiting me when I'm getting my arse walloped with a cane? I've never seen you have a problem filming that. What's the difference?"

"The difference is," Clive says, "you know what's what. You choose to be there. She's got no choice."

"I didn't see anyone strong-arm her in."

"You said it yourself, she's ignorant. You're setting her up for the punters... you... whoever, to laugh at her." Clive turns to Malcolm, "Do you really think that's right? You're the supposed director on this thing."

Billy jumps in. "She's here so we can do her with a big fat cane, then stick it up on the internet. We are exploiting her anyway. I think Mel's thing sounds fucking brilliant."

Clive ignores him and stares at Malcolm, who seems distinctly uncomfortable. "Well... " he says.

"Well what?" Billy asks.

"Well it does bring up some ethical questions. Is it right to exploit the poor thing any more than she's being exploited already?"

Billy says, "How about you think about it this way, son. Cyril, right? He's close to not having any uploads to release. He's out of material. And here we've got this falling-over easy chance to get him more uploads than he's dreamed of from a single shoot... " He measures a length between his fingers. "Here's what it is. We can either get him this much. Or... " He doubles the length. "This much. So what's he gonna be happiest with, a director who gets him an alright bunch of uploads, or this clever bloke who for the same budget, gets him twice as much? Who's he gonna want to use next time? Who might he even be tempted to give a bit of a bonus to?"

"I do see your point," Malcolm says. "Quite."

"They've always been exploited, models like her. Par for the fucking course, innit?"

"Yes. I suppose they have. I'm... well." He looks sheepishly at Clive. "I must say, I'm inclined to throw my hat in the ring with the others. I mean, I do admit that it does seem rather cruel. In a way. But it's cruel already, isn't it? You must have worked on dozens of these shoots."

"Not that many," Clive says.

"Well... several, anyway. And... are they not always about causing pain to some poor young lady and... you know... extracting entertainment from it? I'm sure there's always an inevitable element of schadenfreude for the observer. Are you not frequently being invited to laugh at her in these things? To get a thrill from what she's being made to suffer? This is surely just a qualitative extension of that."

"It's still fucking sick," Clive says.

"But then, by the same token, so are all those shoots you've filmed in the past. The whole genre must be sick from your perspective. Though apparently, it's not stopped you working in it up till now."

Clive looks furious. He mutters, "Doesn't mean I have to agree with it."

Billy says quietly, "If you don't agree, you can always fuck off." To Malcolm, he says, "Nice one mate."

They meeting breaks up. Mel watches Malcolm go. She says to herself, "An inevitable element of schadenfreude?"

Clive, outvoted, takes his camera up once more. Malcolm gets him to set it temporarily on a tripod and train it on Lilly. Malcolm checks the stock situation with Billy... if there's to be more filming, he needs to know if there will be enough tape. Billy shows him the stock cupboard. There's enough spare tape for all three cameras to film for a week.

"Cyril scored himself a little deal," Billy says.

"Great. Sets my mind at rest," Malcolm says.

"You know your stuff then, don't you?"

"Though I've never worked on a production like this."

"Don't feel sorry for the girl, then?"

"Of course I do," Malcolm says. "But actors, actresses, the talent... squeezing a performance out of them isn't always easy. You have to be pretty ruthless to be a director, particularly in any kind of drama. If an actor can't or won't come up with a performance, you just have to do whatever's necessary to drag it out of them. Cajole them, flatter them, shock them, shout at them, threaten to sack them, play emotional tricks... anything that will let you move on. This is a different set-up, but there are parallels. If we do what Mel suggests and exploit the poor girl... well, that produces a better situation for the production as a whole, for your boss, for everyone else but the girl I suppose. I mean, I've not been asked to make too many decisions of this kind in my time. But I was rather swayed by your bonus footage argument. A second documentary level to the drama. I mean, don't kill the poor kid or anything, I wouldn't condone permanent damage being done. But, you know, from the production's point of view, a compliant star is all to the good. I'd have killed for the odd actor willing to put up with indignities like that."


***


Mel is close to Lilly. It's Clive who's recording their quiet conversation, in a shot with both their faces in screen.

"Thing is, darling," Mel is saying, "on the more expensive productions, continuity's not such a problem. They have people whose job it is to mark out the actresses' positions. They even have what's known as stand-ins, who take over from the actresses between shots, and hold their positions till the crew are ready to go on again. But even there... and Malcolm will tell you this if you ask him... everyone's days are very long and gruelling. If they're doing a water scene, they have to hang around in cold water tanks all bloody day, for days on end. Seriously. They've got to work in hot situations, in smelly conditions, in dangerous situations. It looks glamourous to an outsider maybe, but they work bloody hard for their money."

Malcolm is close to being set up again. Billy has swapped out his camera battery and is charging his the one. He comes close again.

"So you see, lovely, having to hang about here between shots to maintain the continuity is... well, a little tough on you perhaps, but from our point of view it's terrifically useful. Otherwise we'd probably have to go back and film everything we've already filmed. To make sure we get the edit right, you follow? And I'm not sure any of us want to do that again. Thing is, we've got to get this production in the can, as they say, and we've such a lot to get through. So... well, just brilliant, thanks for being such a trouper. Though do bear in mind you'll have to do this sort of thing... well, rather a lot throughout the production. It's just terribly important for us. OK? Good girl."

"Are we ready to carry on?" Malcolm asks, even though he's already been filming. He gets three nods back... Lilly just twitches her head towards him. "Back in positions, everyone," Malcolm calls.

Billy shifts around to the front, to point his camera at Lilly's face. Mel picks up her stills camera and returns to Lilly's side. She says to Lilly, "Look here. Smile!"

Lilly tries. Mel takes a photo.

"Right," she says. "What I want you to do is... staying in position, yes? Reach behind you and pull your knickers to your knees."

Lilly looks shocked. Everyone's suddenly paying very close attention. She's started to reach back, but has sudden vertigo at the precipice she's being asked to step into. Her mother's morals, her brother's reprobation, rear their virtual heads. She stops with her hands barely touching her pants.

Mel looks on. She smiles, and leans close. Three cameras can see her speaking to Lilly. "Thing is, darling," she says, "we have a little problem here. I've asked you to do something. Well... really I've told you to do it. And what did I say before? I said we had some simple rules to make out lives easier. The first rule is, if I ask you to do something... really, of course, I'm telling you to do it... your job is simply to do it, remember? Because each time you don't, you're causing us a problem. Slowing us down, giving us editing problems, that sort of thing. So I think you need some incentive. How about if I tell you to do the odd thing, and if I think it's taking you too long, I'll spank you? Sound like something that might help? And, you know, for the purposes of practice, we'll have you do the actions that you would been doing had this shoot been working properly in the first place. Sound fair enough, lovely? So, when I tell you... move immediately, alright?"

She steps behind Lilly. Malcolm moves to get a better shot, Billy looks at Lilly's face and body from below, even Clive's camera seems interested in the proceedings.

Mel says, "Keeping your general position, lovely... pull your knickers to your knees. Now."

Lilly's hands twitch and move back. She's fumbling for the sides. Then three sharp slaps are landing on her right cheek. Lilly's hands jerk away.

"Hands down as before," Mel says, "and let's try again. OK? Keeping in your general position... put your hands on your breast!"

Lilly is reaching back for her knickers, has even grabbed and dragged a little, when she registers the altered instruction. And as she redirects her limbs, Mel is smacking her other cheek.

"Hands back to the start, quickly," Mel orders.

She notices that Billy has taken his camera around to see Lilly's behind.

"Hang on, stay there for just one second my darling." Mel says and strolls to the back of the room. She returns carrying a bamboo cane. It's long, half as long again as standard canes, with a straight handle at one end made from closely wrapped black insulating tape. "Think I might be getting in the way of the camera," she says as explanation. "Also, you know... added incentive?"

She flexes the cane. Lilly is trying to see behind her without moving too far out of position. Mel takes the cane and touches it to Lilly's knickers. She saws it slowly against her cheeks.

"Are you ready?" Mel asks. When I say, "now," pull your knickers to your knees. Now!"

Lilly's hands scramble back and, grabbing the first piece of cloth they touch, yank down her knickers. But her scrambling arms knock her skirt backwards. It falls across her just-revealed cheeks, just above the skewed white pants.

Mel tuts. "Well well," she says, and cracks the cane in against Lilly's arse. The girl grunts. She looks involuntarily at Clive and Malcolm.

"Alright, pull those things back up."

She doesn't move at first, the shock of the first stroke preventing her from registering the new instruction. Mel doesn't hesitate. She flicks the cane once, then a second time, into the skirt near the base of Lilly's buttocks. The skirt rim twists. Lilly has started to move, and drags her knickers up from her knees. They catch the skirt and pull it unevenly upwards, so that half of her buttocks are covered by skirt, the other half by just white pants. Mel makes a humming sound and saws her cane against the girl's backside.

She says, "Hands on your head, please."

This time there's just a slight hesitation, but Mel still flicks the cane in, landing it mostly over the hanging skirt.

"Better," she says. "Now, lovely, stand up straight." But she hasn't given the instruction clearly, and the final word just drops off as "stray... "

Lilly's head turns to try and catch it. Mel pauses a moment, then lands the cane hard across white pants and grey skirt cloth. There's a partial straightening on Lilly's part. Mel lands the cane twice more before Lilly jerks upright, moaning, "I didn't hear!"

"Oh, didn't you?" Mel asks.

"No!" Lilly moans.

Mel punctuates her next words with strong cracks of the cane. "Well, that's (!) for not (!) listening (!) properly (!)"

Lilly's hands shoot behind her protectively. The fourth crack of the cane catches a knuckle. Lilly hisses and hugs the hand between breast and upper arm. She shoots a hurt look towards Mel.

Mel says, without blinking, "Hitting that was unintentional, lovely. Show me."

Lilly holds a trembling hand out to her tormentor.

"But interfering is really not allowed. Remember the rule? Don't move unless you're told to move. If you do that again, I won't hesitate... I'll just hit it again, and next time I'll do it deliberately."

Lilly's face looks stung at the callous severity being shown to her. She looks to the others... to Billy, who like a vulture smelling misery is zeroing in on her mortified expression, then to Clive, who just keeps his head down in his viewfinder, and lastly to Malcolm, who blinks straight back at her, his expression unreadable. Finding no sympathy, she looks back at Mel with the same hurt face, nursing her sore knuckle in her other hand.




10: Mel tells Lilly the modelling code; Lilly's turn on the job continues


"Right," Mel says to the room in general, "sorry, just want to talk to the model for a moment. Don't know if you need to move position or anything, you lot, but now might be a good moment."

Billy backs off a little way but keeps recording. Malcolm has a quiet word with Clive, but mostly he's telling him to keep recording too.

Mel comes in close to Lilly. "Listen," she says, "I could see you feeling hard done by just now. Hang on, lovely, stay in position, remember the continuity thing, OK? Anyway. I have to tell you that it's really not personal. See it's the difference between me acting, then, and me now, you know, just giving you advice. It's my job, I have to take on a character, that's just the way it is. These things are harsh. Because, my love, it's got to look right. The viewers... the people who ought to be buying this product... have generally seen lots and lots of similar products before, and they're simply expecting that degree of severity, because that's what they see all the time, you follow? It's ot personal, it's just the industry.

"But within that... really... genuinely... I do need you to do what I tell you to do. So don't put your hands in the way or you'll just get them clipped. Hurts like buggery, doesn't it? I know what it's like, it's happened to me enough times, I promise. But I've got to tell you, it happens an awful lot less now than it used to, because I've learned to do just what's expected. There are no ifs or buts or maybes in this, it's a hard and fast rule. If I tell you to do something, you really have to just bite the bullet and do the bloody thing. OK? Don't think about it, lovey. Don't hesitate. Whatever it is, you've got to just get on and do it!

"And baby, listen to me... you have to do it sharpish... that's just good practice, that's a model's responsibility. Like when I told you to pull down your knickers? Remember? And by the by lovely, as a model that'll be the least of your worries. But when I told you to do it, I expected you to do it. Not do it once you'd thought about it... not do it in a minute, when it took your fancy. Do it means, bloody well do it!" She snaps her fingers. "Like that! I mean, generally in a modelling situation, the photographer will be paying for your services. He's paying you, yes? You're costing him real money, just as you're costing us money now, and at a rate quite a lot higher than minimum wage, thanks very much. So that photographer is going to need you to respond quickly, just as we do, because not everything he tries is going to work. He may take dozens of pictures before he gets that perfect one, the one where the lighting is right, where the pose is just-so, where he's found that brilliant angle that makes everything look so sexy. That's why he need you to listen to the order... " She snaps. "And carry it out. Then, as I keep saying over and over, once in position, don't move unless he tells you to move. Even if he does something absurd like he goes away to make a cup of tea, or to phone his mum, you, as a professional model, do not move till he tells you you can move. It's into-the-pose, hold-the-pose, into-new-pose, hold-new-pose. Yes? Like that, again and again, for the entire session, like clockwork, without a pause, unless he gives you specific leave to relax. That's just your bloody job as a model. And when you're posing, don't start asking him questions. Don't get in his way, just, for God's sake, do what he tells you! And, lovely, even if he sound like he's asking you to do something, even asking your permission to ask you to do it... he's really telling you to do it. OK? That's just what he has a right to expect from you as his paid model. You pay him, it's a different matter, but he pays you, you do what he wants! He pays, you do, you pay, he do, yes? He pays, you do you do you do, every single time, you always, always, do what he wants. Because you're not seeing what he's seeing through his lens. You agree the parameters of the job beforehand, as we have in there, then you bloody well perform right up to the absolute limits of those parameters! OK? No questions, no arguments, no ifs, buts, ands or maybes. It's your job to do the work he's paying you for.

"And lovely, look... we're on a spanking film, yes? Now, it sounds a bit ridiculous to me to feel I have to say this... but spanking means spanking. Good, proper, hard and long. So don't act all offended when you really get spanked, OK? If I cane you, I'm caning you because I'm supposed to cane you, because it's a spanking film, and in spanking films, the girls who are supposed to get caned, really do get caned. The cane, or whatever else they're using, comes down, hard, on the model's nether regions, again and again and again, for as long as it takes to get whatever the film crew have to get to make up that precious spanking film they've all been planning so hard and so long for. OK? When I'm in your position darling, I really do get caned. Really, properly, caned, with a long, hard, whippy cane. OK? That's why I'm caning you today. Not as a vendetta. Not because I don't like you... and I really do, by the way, I think you have great potential as a spanking model... but because it's necessary to get the bloody job done! I've got to cane you, I've got to seem mean and spiteful and cruel and vindictive. It's just my job, like taking all that punishment is yours, like doing everything I tell you to do, every time, to the letter is yours.

"Right, very good, and... don't move, darling, remember the continuity. Now, one final thing. I know it may seem, from your perspective, like we've just started. So far as you're concerned, I suppose we have... but on any production there will always, inevitably, be long and painful delays. We've had horrendous delays on this one already, even though you've not been around to see them. We're having a pretty long delay now, which I'm having to spend explaining the bloody basics to you in. But the truth is this, honey... the model before you just never turned up. The poor cow will probably suffer for it later, like I hinted to you in the other room. You know... suing her, and suchlike. But there it is... we've been horribly delayed already today. And lovely, that is precisely why I need you to react extra quickly for us. You've got to move like greased lightning so we can get through all the bloody work, all this work that we've barely begun. And I've got to tell you, love, that even if it may seem to you like you're going fast, to us it feels like you're swimming through fucking syrup. Honestly. Lovely, you're just so... so slow! So we're starting to get to the stage where I'll have to take some extra measures to speed things up. I'll give you one more chance... I'll try you out with a few more instructions just as soon as we start up again, to see if any of this has sunk in yet. But, darling, if I find then that you're still not reacting quickly enough... you know, just not getting into the poses quickly enough, or not staying in position, or not understanding my instructions properly... then I'm terribly sorry, but I'm just going to have to start posing you by hand. I'll have to move you from position to position myself. Understand? And you see the problem with that is, because it's spanking, I'll probably have to make it look really rather rough and heartless, just to keep what I'm doing in context with all the rest of the bloody thing. And I'm positive neither of us wants that to happen, do we? Me pushing and pulling you about like that. But if you're still hesitating and going just... so, so slowly... well it's the only option left to me. Because if I fail to take you in hand, we'll never get anything done and this poor bloody crew will never get home. We'll be here all night, won't we? I'm terribly sorry darling... harsh as it may seem, that's just the way it is... "

They've all been recording every word, catching Lilly's face, her stiff pose, the looks of shame and dread around her eyes. Clive just stares, red-faced, into his eyecup. Billy's erection makes him move oddly. And Malcolm is shaking his head to himself... this is definitely different to corporate work.

"Everybody back in position," he calls. "Lilly, you've done well, just keep holding till Mel starts up again. Then... you know... do what she tells you and we'll all be back in the swing in no time."


***


Mel goes back to her former position, as much as she can be bothered to recall it.

"Rolling!" Malcolm says.

Mel walks around Lilly. She has the cane in one hand, the camera in the other. She goes behind, looks at Lilly's one white cheek and one skirt-covered one. She says, "Take your knickers down." It's quiet... just said.

But Lilly reacts instantly. She grabs her pants, yanks them to her knees. They fall further, catching on a calf lopsidedly. The skirt drops over her hips.

"Lift the skirt up, high."

Lilly grabs at the rim of her skirt on either side and lifts it high. She's standing nearly upright. Her knees turn in together though her feet are apart. Her hands are holding her skirt high up at the sides, parallel to her breasts. Which, still in the bra, are pushed together over the high-buttoned blouse, white cleavage lifting and dipping as she quickly breathes.

For the first time, she's exposed from the waist down in public. She has a slim waist... at least, her waist to hip ratio is dramatically wide. Her quick-sloping hips flow down at the back in twin pear shapes to her globular cheeks with their prominent in-curve to her thighs. At the front, her belly slopes in a convex curve before rising in a saddle towards her pudenda. This is like the prow of a tiny boat, turned upside down then pointed to the ground. Labial lips can be seen between her legs, a miniature keel. The skin surface is white and smooth as silk. She's not just shaved... she's crisply depilated. Billy dips his camera low in front of her. He continues forward, pushing it between her knees then reaching around with a free hand and lifting it out the other side to study those impressive cheeks.

Mel says, "Tuck the front of your skirt in under your bra."

Lilly takes moments to work this out. Mel slides her cane in across Lilly's buttocks. Lilly has poked the skirt in, but not far enough. It drops again under its own weight. Mel flicks her cane back and clips it down sharply. Lilly's buttocks are shocked, beneath the falling skirt, in a wave which reverberates out and back.

"Tuck it in again."

Lilly is scrabbling, pulling up the skirt front, stuffing it in place. Mel strikes again, this time on top of the skirt as it still hangs part way over Lilly's buttocks. This drags the skirt from Lilly's fingers. As she scrabbles again, Mel pulls back and whacks the middle of Lilly's skirt. Lilly pulls up once more and stuffs the rim in between her breasts and the top button of the blouse. She keeps on stuffing, pulling more material out of the way. Mel lands a quick-flicked stroke on naked skin.

"Hands on your head, lovely."

Lilly's hands shoot upwards.

"And elbows out."

She's not so sure about this. Mel reaches in and pushes one elbow back.

"Legs further apart."

Lilly hesitates, looks, then stumbles one foot sideways. Her dropped white pants stretch. She clunks the other foot wider too, stretching them further, but not before Mel has clipped her again.

"Bend forward," Mel says.

Lilly hesitates once more, then tips her torso thirty degrees. Mel steps forward. She places her cane hand in the small of Lilly's back and pushes. Lilly tips further. Billy brings his camera up to see what's been revealed. Mel lets him take his time. He moves it between her legs, then pulls back and lifts it over. He goes fully wide on Lilly's broad behind. He looks down over the top of her back, drops beside her to record her hanging breasts, then looks at her face, close-up and intrusive.

Mel says quietly, "Pull up your panties."

It takes several seconds for Lilly to react... she's being distressed by proximity of the camera. Her attention is snatched away by pain striping across both cheeks and curling around her haunch.

"Pull up your panties." Mel's voice is higher, more insistent.

Lilly's head looks down and she's grabbing, pulling up. They're at her knees when the next stroke bites, fully up when the third flicks in. They've settled loosely, not quite tight.

Mel says, "Take your panties right off. Now."

Lilly's moving again, but she's so panicked, she gets them tied up around a foot. She's bent double, trying to work them off, staggering and stumbling as Mel sings, "Quickly!" and flicks the cane in repeatedly. It's not that hard, but it's being capricious, tip flicking from spot to spot. Lilly's struggling to get the pants over her second foot, but the whipping is tipping her off-balance and adding to her panic. She stumps and clumps and nearly trips up before she has them in her hand.

Mel steps close up and lays a hand on Lilly's right cheek. She says, punctuating the words with slaps, "That's just... not... fast... enough."

"I can't go any faster," Lilly whines.

Mel slips her head close to Lilly's ear. "Not true," she says. "Now this time when you pull them on, make sure they end up tight!"

She doesn't recognise this as a new instruction till Mel steps back.

"Come on!" she's singing.

The cane snaps into Lilly's broad behind repeatedly, sending shocks through the girl as she tries to orient the crumpled knickers and manhandle one pants leg at a time over clumpy heels. She's hopping and staggering off-balance, breasts shivering, reddening backside thrumming with shock waves.

Mel calls out in a high-pitched, schoolteacherly monotone, "Wrong way round! Back to front!"

The bent-over girl has to stop, mid-pull, look at the knickers halfway up her legs, then try to take them off again. This requires such concentration through the sensations of Mel doubling the speed of her cane flicks, that she's forced to stop dead still at her most bent and vulnerable, gripping fingers touching the floor on either side of first one foot, then another, before standing nearly upright to try and find, with blurring eyes, the correct orientation for the undergarment. Mel now flicks her cane low into the overhang of Lilly's full cheeks, knocking them upwards. It takes several seconds for Lilly's trembling hands to find the label and work it to the back. The moment she has it, she's bending again, kicking a foot through a hole. Mel lands an extra hard cane stroke as she lifts her second foot. Lilly pulls upwards, but the pants have snagged her heel. She lifts the foot and tries, three times and extra clumsy, to kick up the heel and land it inside the stretched knickers. She has to ground her foot again, crouch double, and waste painful seconds working the pants over the heel as Mel wallops her with the cane. Then Lilly is pulling up, straightening, with rucked-up material rising up thighs and snapping over buttocks. A final cane stroke whips in. Lilly releases the pants in panic. She stands there, not quite fully upright, twitching lest another stroke falls, trying to see over her shoulder through wide, panicked eyes like a spooked and stall-trapped pony.

Mel steps forward and says quietly in her ear, "Have you... any idea... how long that took you?" She steps away for a moment and places the camera on a worktop, then returning, says, "Something that should have taken you no more than a moment took you a minute and a half. And you didn't even get it right."

"They're on the right way round, they are," Lilly pleads.

"I gave you an instruction to pull them up tight. Remember?"

Me takes the sides of the pants, then with sudden violence, yanks them upwards. For a very brief moment, the girl is partly lifted.

"You're clumsy and inaccurate. You can barely follow an instruction. And you're... desperately slow!"

Mel just takes her elbow. It's quite a rough grip, her hand's grabbed it hard, and now she's leading her. Lilly's feet move involuntarily, up to a wall.

"Go on, bend over."

Billy tracks this with his camera. Mel pulls back on the arm. Lilly's feet look clumsy, clunky, she's frightened and stressed.

Mel bends her over. She does this by gripping Lilly's hips first and pulling her backwards, then pressing on her head. The girl bends.

"Touch your toes!"

Lilly's arms drop, dangling loose towards the floor. Her feet just stop randomly, skew-if, both pointing the same way, away from the line of her body. Mel takes one leg and drags it sideways. She slaps the small of Lilly's back saying, "Bend your knees." Lilly does this. Mel takes a thigh and drags that, too, sideways. Her hand pushes Lilly's head down further. Then with all the manhandling, lilly's skirt pulls loose from its purchase between her breasts and her blouse, and slips back in place.

"You just can't get it right, can you?"

The cane in Mel's her hand flexes, then pulls back and suddenly lands. Lilly's like a rag doll, arms dangling limp and pathetic.

Billy walks closer and zooms in on her arse. He's been exposed to spanking material for years, and he knows what he likes. He doesn't like productions where the girls just get tapped. And he doesn't go for models who are finding it funny, or even getting off on it, or just doing it for the money. It's not P.C. what he likes, not a bit. He likes the girls looking vulnerable. He likes them looking stressed. He loves those rare productions where the girls are really frightened. He likes them upset and out of their depth. But most of all, he hates it when the fucking thing stops. If you've got a good set-up, milk it, he thinks. They always seem to stop just when they're really getting good. When the girl starts crying. For Christ's sake, you're trying to make them suffer, make them cry! Why stop when they actually start to suffer for proper?

He steps back. Goes wider. Mel cracks the cane in over the top of Lilly's skirt, then thumps it in again, quickly. It's the length of the cane that's doing it, he can see... the longer the cane, the easier it is to get velocity. Mel connects lower, cracking in just below Lilly's skirt, though the skirt spins and hides it. Lilly lets out this slow, prolonged groan. Billy know from her reaction that it was a killer. He's laughing inside. The girl puts a hand back to clasp it to the pain. Mel yanks it roughly, pushes on her head again, then pulls her hips to make her walk backwards, turns her, steps back and cracks in the cane once more.

She's on a roll, she flicks one in higher, moving the aim of the tip about. Then she whacks one in so hard, it makes Lilly stagger forwards. Mel just leaves her where she ends and takes fresh aim. Poor Lilly tries to look behind, to see what's coming, but she's still not interfering, she doesn't act to defend herself. Mel smacks in the cane, Lilly staggers, Billy records.




11: Clive's objections; Billy calls Kinks


"Cut!"

It's come from the back of the room. Mel turns and glares at Malcolm, but he's staring in turn at Clive.

Mel says, "Why? What the fuck's happened?"

Clive says to Mel, "Just step aside and look at yourself."

"Do what?" says Mel.

"Tell the girl to get up. You should be ashamed."

Mel looks behind. She says, "Lovely, stay down."

The girl, who's halfway up, hesitates.

"Stay exactly as you are. I'll sort this out."

She's walking to where Clive and Malcolm are holding their cameras. Clive has turned his off, Malcolm seems uncertain. Billy steps behind Lilly for a close-up of her face as she hesitates. He's also getting Mel, Malcolm and a sour-looking Clive.

"What the hell is your problem?" Mel asks the cameraman.

"I told him, it's too much. It's too hard, you're hurting her."

"Jesus," says Mel. To Malcolm, "Who's he to tell you?"

"He did say something." Malcolm shrugs. "To be honest, I ignored it, you were clearly in the swing."

Clive gives him a filthy look. "Anyone can see it's too hard," he says.

"Decent footage coming in. Do we have to debate this?"

Mel asks Malcolm quietly. "Should the flunky tell the boss what is or isn't too hard?"

Malcolm blinks at Clive, then Billy. "Well I don't really know. Is it too hard?"

Billy's coming forward. "Looks alright through here," he says.

"She's just a fucking kid," Clive says. "I just think it's too hard. I've seen more of these shoots than any of you."

"Please keep you voice down," Malcolm says, "or the talent will hear."

Clive says, "What fucking talent? She's an ignorant kid."

"I said quiet," says Malcolm.

Clive's look burns but he lowers his voice. "She's just some bloody kid who doesn't know anything."

"Have you taken a caning?" Mel asks Clive.

"No of course I bloody haven't. I've seen enough though."

"Well I fucking have. So hard it's split the skin on my arse and left me bleeding. And that, I guarantee, won't happen to her."

"What, just cause you're not making her bleed, you're not being hard?"

"She should know," Malcolm says.

"It's just not bloody right," Clive says. "The way you're pushing her about like that."

Behind the group, Lilly is holding, bent and awkward pose. She's look over, but she can't quite hear. She flexes her knees. She's trying to make the pain go away by stretching the skin. The panties, where they've been pulled up hard, are cutting in. She's hoping the flexing will loosen them too.

Malcolm says, "Your Uncle's the boss, Billy. What do you say? "

Clive tuts at him.

Billy's walked around the group, his camera held in one lowered hand. He's pretty sure Lilly is visible in it, and Mel as well. He notices Malcolm's camera is on and pointing at him, just as his points at Lilly. "Nah, not too hard, that," he says. "Seen plenty shoots harder. Try the European stuff."

"This isn't bloody Europe," clive says

"I think you'll find it is," says Malcolm.

"That German market though," goes Billy, "American, Czech, it's all harder than that. Besides, she knows what she's in for, don't she?"

"Does she? Really?"

"Course she does, what d'you think all the jawing and stuff's been about? You want to complain mate, complain to Cyril in your own fucking time."

Clive looks really angry. He says to Malcolm, "Do you really think it's right to put decisions like this in the hands of a boy?"

"I could call him now though," Billy says, holding up his phone with a grin.

"I think we should all just take a breather," says Malcolm. "Alright, Clive? And then... well. I mean, we still have more to film I should think. I mean it strikes me that we're not about to come to the end."

"God's sake," says Clive. "Why the hell did Cyril put you in charge? Norman should have told him, for Christ's sake. Use me."

There's a telling silence. Mel tips her head, "Is it you should be directing?"

Billy laughs to himself. Malcolm flattens his lips. Then Clive's turning crimson.

Malcolm says to Clive, "Let's fix up the lights so they catch the model properly. She's moved away from center and they ought to drop down."

He steps quietly away. Clive clamps his jaw. He stares at Billy, then stomps away.

Billy says to Mel, "What a fucking wanker."

"A sulky one now." She checks to see that Lilly is in place, then says, "What do you make of the content we're getting?"

"It is choice," he says, "wicked. You think you can carry on doing her like that?"

"Doing her?" Mel laughs. "Is that how you see it?"

"Doing her dirty. You should see the poor little blessing's face."

"Not feeling sorry for the talent then?"

Billy looks. "Don't be daft, course I ain't. Some cow who fucked up my lovely cousin?"

"So I'm not too rough? How far do you think I should take it, then?"

"Far as you fucking like, my love."

"I'm not pushing her too hard?" She raises an eyebrow. "Not too much humiliation?"

Billy just laughs. "Not nearly enough, not nearly enough. Which is making me think. Might put in a phone call to a like-minded friend. Take five, do you mind?" He nods towards Clive. "Might help solve a little problem."


***


Billy slips into the models' changing room and makes the call. It's to his mate Kinks. He's known Kinks for years now, since secondary school. Billy is into what his uncle produces partly because of Kinks. Billy and Kinks used to sit in Kinks' room and hunt for dodgy websites, made possible because Kinks' mum never came into his room and because Kinks knew far more technical tricks to cover their tracks than the rest of his family ever would. Kinks showed Billy all kinds of things they weren't supposed to know was out there. Weird sites, normal sites, straight porn, kinky porn. Billy's pretty sure that what Kinks likes best is bondage. He didn't try to hide his enthusiasm the first time he showed Billy a girl restrained and wearing a ballgag, and he especially seemed to relish her tight-bound breasts turning purple.

"Be fucking great that, wouldn't it? You could keep her in a cupboard and bring her out when you fancied a fiddle. Then if she got on your tits, you could just plonk in the gob stopper back and hang her back in the toy cupboard."

But the fun was limited... they didn't have credit cards to get them in these great looking sites. Then when his dad got banged up, and Billy looked like he was heading the same way, Billy's uncle took charge of him. Billy sussed it out pretty quickly... his uncle had a site like the ones he'd browsed with Kinks. He told his uncle he'd sussed it out too, and his uncle, not prone to dissembling, just shrugged and told him, "It's a business, boy. Whatever you might think, there's money in it."

Billy told Kinks, though his uncle wasn't keen on any more junior fans at the time. Billy had him over at weekends anyway, and showed him uncut footage from previous productions that he'd found. Quite possibly filmed by Clive's own sweaty hand. Kinks even had a go at editing some footage, since Billy had been taught the basics by his uncle. They called their short production, "Dirty birds get some stick," and edited it to music. All the best impacts, over and over. Kinks had a particular eye for out-takes with the model looking like a right prat, and cut those in too. They used comments like:

"Fuck me, see that one?"

"Christ almighty, what a state... "

"What a sorry tit you look, my lovely."

And the frequent, "Go on my son, do her harder!"

Their enthusiasm spilled out into their edit... they infected each other with ungenerous thoughts, so that Billy just found it normal to laugh at the models by now. Images from spanking and bondage material made up some of his earliest sexual thrills. He'd shown the odd clip to other mates, with mixed reactions, but Kinks was special... they both knew they loved it. Billy worked with his uncle now, and Kinks knew the social scene from networking sites. He'd even taken Billy to clubs.

Billy says, "Mate. You'll never believe it."

He's got Kinks on the blower.

"What?" says Kinks.

"You any good with a camera, mate? What you doing at the moment?"

"Fuck all," says Kinks. "What's the beefy stew?"

"Doing this shoot, man."

"What, a rude shoot? Is there dirties happening?"

"I kid you fucking not my man, I've never seen a fucking shoot like it. Better than them oldies, son. There's this model, Mel, and she's playing the villain. Oh Christ, she ain't half mean. There's this other bird though, Lilly. Total newbie son, she just don't have a clue. And this bird Mel is just fucking her up."

"Fuck off," says Kinks, "it's a wind-up, right?"

"Straight up Kinky boy."

"Where's your Uncle, Bill?"

"Fucked off to some show at the N.E.C. He'd arranged this thing before and it's all gone tits up. His director fucks off, then this model gets drunk and never shows up. Spanky boy has a fucking awful hangover and Cyril tells me to sack the twat. Then guess what, Kinks? You know Carmine? My cousin, yeah?"

"She's the model?"

"No you prat, she ain't even here. Not now anyway. But apparently she come round Cyril's last week with some new bird she's dragged out of some fitness class. This bird don't know nothing, she's never even looked at the dirties before. It's fucking unbelievable, she's so completely clueless. And Carmine's showed up with her this morning and dumped the poor cow in the hands of the villains. So this new bird's getting some right stick off of Mel the meany, we just been filming, yeah? Only fate's struck again and this twat of a cameraman's started objecting. He's getting in the way, man, we've got to swap him out."

"So Uncle's not there then?"

"No mate, no, it's your perfect opportunity. You come in and out goes the twat. Cyril gets his updates, we're totally legit and you're in, my son. Hero of the hour, yeah? So what's your verdict?"

"What, about me doing camera? I'm having trouble walking, boy. Where are you then?"

"Mile End mate, the studio."

"Yeah. Fuck though," says Kinks, "I'm in Kentish town and I ain't got two bob."

"Petty cash. Give it you when you show your mug."

"Not kidding though Bill, I'm stony broke."

"Use your Oyster."

"Running on empty. Ain't got no coin, ain't even got a stamp."

Billy goes quiet. "Can you borrow it?"

"I'm travelling by foot, mate, I'm that boracic. No hang on." He's silent for a moment. "Remember that bird with the spiky hair? From the club that night?"

"Oh yeah," says Billy. "Why?"

"Well I'm shagging her. We come back together."

"We don't need any more models, Kinks."

"No mate, no. After the Garden. Got a ride in her car, she only lives local. I can tap her for a lift maybe."

"Some bird you just shagged?"

"No she's cool mate, cool. She's into it. She could make us the tea."

Billy's silent, thinking for a second. "You sure? She's not some silly tart who just does the clubs for the fashion show?"

"She's proper, mate. She's alright. Solid."

"Oh," says Billy.

"Only transport I can think of, mate."

"Yeah alright," Billy goes. "You vouch for her though, anything goes wonky  it's on your head. Oh and mate... fill her in. This bird we're doing here, we've got her thinking all kinds of rubbish. Like, Carmine does porn. Honest, she believes it! This bird's never watched the dirties and I swear to fuck, she don't know squat. This bird Mel's just fucking her up, it's hilarious. She'll believe practically anything, like all this continuity bollocks. But mate, you really can't give the game away, and neither can your fumble tart. It's normal, right? Whatever we tell this bird, whatever we're making her do, it happens all the time, alright? We're not conning her."

"You are though, yeah?"

"Yeah, course we are. Only she can't know it, can she? So brief your tart and don't let her squeal. There's dirties galore if we don't fuck up, right? The game is, Kinks, models do all sorts. Like, full-on all sorts, all the time. You seen plenty of birds get fucked up for hours. Everything's standard in filth sites nowadays, even if they ain't."

"What you mean like, bottles up their arses?"

"We ain't told her that yet."

"Should though eh, if she'll believe anything. Oh mate yeah, rubber bands round their tits. What's her tits like, Bill?"

"You dirty fucker." Billy laughs. "Ain't seen 'em out yet, we ain't had her naked. Look big enough from what I can see though, and Cyril says they're dirty, and he likes a bit of dirty tit. Her arse though... that's classic."

"I can bring the shag's hot water bottle."

"Bring her what?" asks Billy.

"This bottle with a hose. This enema kit."

"Your shag's been giving you enemas?"

"Not me, you tart! Her mates. Whoever. She's into all this alternative bollocks. Good for your energy, your chakra-whatsits, cleaning out your passage and that."

"Fucking gross man. What the fuck?"

"Nice and squeaky up her arse, Bill."

"Kinks my man, you've done spiky up her arse?"

"No I ain't. Not yet."

"You're sick, Kinks. Anyone told you that?"

"You tell me all the time, my man. I think it's why you love me really."




12: Malcolm says what he really likes; Billy and Malcolm both mentor Lilly


Billy comes back. Clive's sulking, pretending to service his camera, but Malcolm sees the lad and decides to talk. He nods towards Lilly, still bent double, looking sore and embarrassed.

"Does she really have to stay like that? Surely it's just humiliating for her?"

"Oh totally, yeah." Billy says this like it's a good thing. "Should be getting it on camera."

"Well I am. From a tripod, you know, just in case, like we said. Only Clive's stopped playing ball."

"You got the same problem as fuck face then?"

"Well, he's got his opinion. I've never worked on these jobs before."

"Too cruel then, are we?"

Malcolm looks. "Well it seems a bit harsh on the poor thing, yes. It is cruel, I suppose... must be horrible for her, I can barely imagine. I suppose the question is though... do I really object?"

"Well do you?"

Malcolm rubs his chin. He tips his head. "The problem is... " He brings his head close to Billy's. "While part of me feels sorry for her, there's this other part that's... well... enjoying every minute. I've never really said this to anyone before... but I don't always have the most generous thoughts. When the agent told me, I was floored... I mean, what? From a professional viewpoint, this could do me some real harm. I just can't use my director's name, if I'm credited. It's suicide. But the agent insisted, and I needed the cash. And this other response... "

"Your todger's letting you know what it thinks?"

Malcolm nods a little. "You could say it like that."

"Well that's not new round here mate, join the club mate. That's his problem I should think, Clive there, he's not really into it. Does it for the dosh and bugger all else. Shirt lifter maybe, or he just likes missionary. So you'd stay on then, would you, if he fucked off?"

Malcolm touches his chin again. "Professional ethics. Never walk off a job."

"And your todger fancies a little bit more? If he went, you'd not object then?"

Malcolm shakes his head with tiny moves. "You think he might walk?"

"Might encourage him a bit."

"You should pay him for his time though."

"You think?"

"Don't want him kicking up waves."

"Yeah alright. Though really I'd like to just boot him up the arse. Anyway, don't tell him, but I've got this mate coming over in a bit. Least I hope he is."

"Unreliable, is he?"

"No mate, sound as a pound. He's just shy of said moneys and he's stuck back of Camden. He might not be great, as a cameraman. But at least he'd be up for it. Can't have some fucker sticking spokes in the works. Such a beautiful set-up, innit? The dom's fantastic, the model's a corker... looks dirty as fuck and she's perfectly happy just doing her job. And you're not bad... professional, you are. Bit of the technicals and that, should go down a treat. Just that tit over there who's opening his big fat gob. Know him before, did you?"

"Vaguely. Not really."

"Married, is he?"

"Looks it... I should think so."

"Wonder if his wife knows what kind of productions he's working on?"

Malcolm just stares. "Just in case you've wondered, I've never been married."

Billy peers back. "Let me test you out a bit. You're enjoying this, aren't you? You said you were."

"Yes that's probably true."

"Probably true? Commitment, that."

"Well alright. Yes then."

"So what if we got her to do other stuff?"

Malcolm just swallows. "You mean more than... you know... what's happening?"

"How might that go down?"

"Depends, I suppose."

"Watch much porn, do you?"

Malcolm blinks. "I've had a look the odd time."

"At what? What's your bag?"

"At all sorts."

"Oh right. Mister daring. So what would you want her to do? This other stuff?"

Malcolm looks shocked. "You're asking me?"

"You got meat and two veg. Why not you?"

He swallows again.

"Let's start... you know... simple. D'you like naked ladies?"

Malcolm rocks his head in a figure of eight. "Well, obviously."

"On their own, or with blokes?"

"Well... to be perfectly honest, on their own I suppose. It's the men. Their... you know... tackle."

"Their big hairy backsides put you off your lunch?"

"That's... yes, that's true."

"Just checking, cause I ain't into that either. So you've got this naked bird there. What d'you want to see her doing?"

Malcolm's blinking at Lilly.

"Is she being all coy?"

"Well... no, to be honest."

"She's being quite rude?"

His head bobs. "I suppose so."

"So, what? She's just spreading?"

"Spreading?" asks Malcolm.

"Her bits. Apart."

"Oh, bollocks... I suppose so, yes."

"A bit or a lot?"

Malcolm's hands move intensely. He tuts. "Well... fuck... Yes, she's spreading. A lot, alright? About as wide as she can, if you really want to know."

He says this just as Mel comes up behind him.

Billy tips his head to her. "Malcolm was just saying what he thinks we should get our Lilly to do."

He turns. He blinks and looks up to the roof. "Fuck," he breathes out.

"Well well." She puts a hand on his chest. "Naughty man. But I'm sure she can be persuaded." She winks at Billy.

"This set-up's just priceless," Billy says. "If we keep her on the boil, we'll get uploads till the cows come home. You just keep the lights right, mate, keep the cameras stocked. But just do us all a favour... make sure that pillock keep his mouth clamped tight till my mate turns up. Cause he nearly blew the fucking game. We got updates coming in here and if that cunt don't spoil things, there's lots more to come. If he starts chucking tantrums though, we're fucked, she'll cotton on. All them lovely updates go up in a puff, and lord Cyril shall not be mightily pleased."

"You've got someone coming?" Mel asks this.

"Replacement for killjoy. A mate, he's alright."

"About bloody time. He's the only suck." She puts that hand on Malcolm again. "I thought you might call time, but it turns out you're more on the team than I though. Bit of extra wide for Malcolm, then, let's see what the chef can conjure up."

"Mind if I talk to the girl for a mo?" Billy asks Mel. "I'll not screw things up. What you said about the Model Release, before, yeah?"

"She thinks it's a binding contract," Mel tells Malcolm. "She never read a word."

"When I chat her up, can you do us a favour? Keep cunt boy occupied. Malcolm, you and all. When I chat to the bird, can you get us with the hand-held? Make sure you get her face in, yeah?"

Mel says, "Sure."

Malcolm takes up Billy's camera.


***


Billy strolls to Lilly and crouches down in front of her face. Malcolm follows to her side with the hand-held.

Billy says, "How you doing, love?" All very soft spoken and conciliatory.

"I'm alright, suppose," she says. "I know I got to stay here. I'm sore though. Can't I just sit down or something?"

"Can we let her sit down, Mal?"

Now Malcolm's on the spot. "I don't know," he says. "If there's chalk, maybe. We could draw around her feet."

"Ain't seen any round here though."

"Well... oh," says Malcolm. "Well I wonder if there's something else?"

"No mate," says Billy.

"Well no... It might be best if you stayed there, I suppose."

She looks pained as he says this.

"Can you cope?" Malcolm asks.

"I'll try," she says.

"Oh good girl. We all appreciate it. You're doing us, you know... proud."

"Yeah you're a treat," says Billy. "Some of them models are a pain to work with. Complain about everything. We'll just use them girls once then they're out on their ear though. We can't be having with useless models. Very strict around here, Mel will tell you, a model's got to do a proper job. So it makes it really easy when we get a trouper like you, love."

Lilly's glancing at the camera then away again. "It's just... I feel a so stupid," she says.

"They all do," says Billy. "Only when they're like Mel, then they realise we need 'em to. Continuity, innit? Like Mel says... sorts the men from the boys. More professional, innit, using proper stuff like that? That's why we've got a toff like Mal here to direct, so our stuff pops up a bit above the average."

Lilly looks to Malcolm. "So is it all the models have got do this?"

Billy just grins and lets Malcolm speak.

"Thing is," Malcolm starts hesitantly, "without... proper continuity... well it's hard to link all your shots together. So you shouldn't feel stupid."

She turns slightly teary. "Cause it's only me got to do this, isn't it? And I don't really know what I'm doing, do I?

"I know, it must be hard. Is this your first time?"

She nods, a lost puppy.

"Well you're terribly good. It's clear you're starting out, you know, you're clearly a beginner. But you're coping very well."

"All those things I've got to do though," she says. Her voice drops to a whisper. "Taking my pants down. In front of everyone."

"It's the job, though. That's modelling."

"But that caning, it hurts. And I'm trying really hard, I'm trying to do it... But she just keeps saying I'm loads too slow, then caning me for it! And I can't go any faster!"

"Yeah. Trouble is, you are slow," Billy says. "In a way it ain't your fault, you're a start-up. But you're still that slow, we're scared we won't finish."

"But I can't go any faster!"

"Think you can. If you try. Cause we're giving you lessons on our time really, innit? Cause you ain't up to speed with modelling. Proper models... Mel... they go blinding fast, it's all pose to pose to pose, like that. They know the routines, right, backwards, don't they? Only with you though, everything's first time, innit? I'm sorry darling, but you're grindingly slow."

She looks mortified, like she might even cry.

"I don't mean to hurt you. Not trying to be mean. It's just the way it is, innit?"

"I'm sorry," she says. "I'm really really sorry. But I've never had to pull my pants down before. And with everyone looking... "

"But we've loads more to get through. Pulling your pants down? That's hardly starting, it's massively tame."

Her eyes jerk to the camera, intensely embarrassed.

"We've hardly got going. That... what you've done so far... we've been taking it easy. Ain't we, Malcolm?"

He's put his eye to the cup of the camera. His head pops up. "What?" he asks.

'What Lilly's been up to. She's hardly even started."

"Oh," he says. "Yes. I suppose so. Just starting."

"Tell her what's next, man."

The older man blushes. "Oh... yes," he says. "I suppose it is tame. Compared to... you know."

"To what?" he asks.

"Well, nowadays. What the standards are. Like... spreading," he says.

"Yeah?' Billy asks. "Tell Lilly about the spreading, Malcolm."

He's blinking quite fast. There's a clear tinge of red around his ears. "Well, when I was a boy," he says, "well... some girls didn't really... you know, spread. At all. I remember it starting... just magazines back then... seeing things... between the legs, you know... just gradually starting to open up. I mean, that's what I thought. It's opening up! Look, it's really coming open... And that was, you know, well, years ago. And it did go further... then it sort of went back... till, well, nowadays, if a girl can't really open up wide... I mean, really, properly wide... " He swallows. "Both holes, sort of. Well... " He blinks, looking Lilly in her horrified eyes, compounding the lie, which he's just really noticed is a con as well, and adding in his voice to serve his erection, and so as not to lose what he now badly wants to see... "Well, I think she'd find it hard to get pretty much any work at all." He looks at Billy, then back at Lilly. "I'm shocked to find a girl who didn't realise that, actually."

Billy straightens Malcolm's camera, which has started to drift.

Lilly's lips are pressed and trembling. She asks, "Even when there's a cane as well?"

Malcolm blinks. Billy wonders how he'll deal with this. "Oh God, especially," Malcolm says at last. "Yes, of course. I mean... well... you cane the girl, then she has to spread. I mean, doesn't she, Billy? It's completely standard."

"If she wasn't getting a caning,' says Billy, " a bit of spreading wouldn't count for a lot."

Lilly looks from Billy to Malcolm again. "But that girl I saw wasn't doing that, though. The one in the film."

"Oh my lord," says Malcolm. "Did you watch it all?"

"No," Lilly says." I know I didn't watch it all. Carmine didn't have it all."

"Well there you have it," says Malcolm, relieved. "You just didn't see where that all started happening."

She's shaking her head. Her voice drops to a whisper. "Have I got to do that here? Have I got to... spread my bits and stuff?"

Malcolm says, "Bloody hell. Didn't you realise?"

She's shaking her head, little tears squeezing down.

"Oh my God... I'm so sorry."

"Why, though?" She's choking. "Why do they have to spread their bits?"

Malcolm feels so sorry for her. He reaches out and pats her back. "It's the set-up," he says. "The modelling set-up. When girls come to model... you know... they spread wide."

"Stick different things up them an' all," Billy adds.

Her head does a jerk. Her face dissolves more.

Malcolm's speaking quietly, a lump in his throat. "It's quite often about that subject really. Girls... you know, caned, just because they're being sluts."

"Oh my God," she says.

"They cane them... you know... to show them it's wrong. Like aversion therapy."

"Or sometimes the photographer's angry with the model. So he makes her spread wider. Cane's a bit of an incentive."

"To provide a bit of story," Malcolm adds. "To give it an excuse. These kinds of films, you know... quite often they're about things like that."

"Proper excuse, that is," Billy says. "So you can cane the girls, only still make it dirty, like in proper porn. Cause you got to compete with it, haven't you? Mel back there, she said you don't know much. She said you've hardly looked at porn."

Lilly jerkily wipes her face. "I always feel guilty if I look at dirty pictures. I only saw that short bit when she showed it me. And I didn't even know it was going to do that!"

"Mel's done loads and loads of shoots like that. All the girls on my uncle's website have, it's par for the course. Do all sorts, all sorts, some o' them girls. Bit of spreading... just for starters, that, I swear to fuck. What the punters expect now, every time. Cause if everyone else is doing it, you got to provide it as well or you're fucked. Got to match 'em or beat 'em, or no-one buys your product. So much fucking competition. You get some high and mighty model too proud to do a bit of proper spreading when you ask her politely, you ain't gonna use her again now, are you? Not when there's hundreds more out there who will. I'm sorry, girl. It's just totally normal. Just cause you ain't seen it don't mean it's not standard, do it? I mean, God's sake, it ain't just models now. It's your standard modern girl, like your mate Carmine. If a girl's not tried a bit of porn, she's not in the club with her mates now, is she? Have you not asked your friends? It's why Carmine's so keen. Like a rite of passage nowadays, innit? The liberated woman, your proper ladette, half the girls in the country have done a bit of porn."

She's shaking her head, face clearly upset. "I just can't believe it."

"Even if they never put it out, they done it as a treat for their boyfriends, innit? It's a get-to-know-you nowadays. Like them networking sites, your My Sites, your Face Aches. It's here's my face, here's my hobby, here's my poem, here's my fanny. Like an arms race, innit? Got to go one better than your rival next door. It's the same in full-on porn as well. One producer does it, you've all got to do it. Like I said, with your spreading... that's your starting post, innit? That's entry level. I mean... nowadays, inserts... that's stuff up your privates... well it used to mean things up your fanny, right? Just little things. Pencils. That went on for years, apparently. Then you started getting bigger bits. Just vibrators at first, your dildoes and so on. Then it's carrots, bananas... other bits, fingers. Then it all changed again. Your anal inserts started up."

Lilly clamps her hand to her face. Her eyes are like saucers.

"Soon as that started... well all that previous vaginal stuff just dropped off the radar. It was anal or nothing after that. And the girls who wouldn't do it, they got replaced by a hundred more who would. You might still find a but of fanny stuff sometimes... just for added, you on-the-sides, for the people who like it. With your double penetrations, your multiple jobs.

"Your advantage with anal though, over vaginal... the more you stretch your anus, right? The more you'll get up it. Then that leads you onto your gaping shots. That's spreading where your holes start opening wide. Well it happened before, your vaginal phase... but different girls' twats stretch in different ways, don't they? It's not always gaping, cause there's not so many girls can gape with their fannys. Nearly every bird gapes with her arse hole though, with a wee bit of prompting from regular inserts.

"Then another thing with your fanny is, till a girl's a bit older and done more blokes... more big-toy masturbation... " He mimes with his hand. "Really pumping it in, fucking ramming it in... well she can't gape her fanny that wide at all, even if she does it a little bit. With your anus though, right? Well your average anus can stretch wide already. Sort of has to, if you think about it. Stuff loads of stuff up their anuses, girls, they can really pack it in nowadays. Oh God yeah, all sorts. So that... you know... and your gaping fashion... that's thing now, innit? Like I said, girls won't do it, they can't get the work. It's pretty universal. It's expected now."

Lilly's looking more horrified than ever. Bent over, one arm dangling, but horrified, with a fist at her mouth.

"We'll go easy on you," Billy says, winking. "We can work you up slowly. Bit of spreading do you for now, alright? Only, darling... just keep doing what Mel there says. She knows her stuff, she'll bring you on. And try and make it fast, alright? Blinding fast, cause we've got to get shifting. All these delays, right? They're getting us behind."




13: Billy gives Clive the old heave-ho; Lilly is worked on by Mel and Malcolm


"How long before your friend gets here?"

"How long's a piece of string?" Billy says. "No idea, darling."

"But d'you think we should get some more in the can? Before the poor girl wilts on her feet?"

Billy calls Malcolm over as well. They've been idling their time, doing little bits of preparation. "Mel wants to get going," Billy says. "Think the prima donna might toe the line? Or I could give him the push."

"I'll have a quick word," Malcolm says.

He walks to where Clive is sulking with the camera.

"They want to crack on," Malcolm tells him. "The others. Are you happy to come back on side for us?"

Clive looks up. "Norman would never let this shit stand. He'd not leave a boy in charge."

"Aha. Who's the boy then? Billy or me?"

"I didn't mean you, course I didn't. That boy," he says. "What Cyril will say... well, I don't dare think."

Billy wanders over when he sees them looking.

"You want to watch it," Clive tells him.

"How so?" Billy asks.

"You're not treating that model right. It's too much. She's got rights."

"She's made her choice."

"She's an ordinary girl."

"Right, an ordinary girl on a spanking shoot. So what are you planning on doing about it, son?'

Clive juts his jaw out. "I might tell someone."

"Like who?"

"Like your uncle."

Billy laughs. "It's him who's told me who's in charge, and it ain't you. Don't fuck with my Uncle."

Clive stares. "I could tell someone else."

"You work this one out yourself then? Someone else. I'm scared."

"Authorities," Clive says.

Billy eyes him up/ "Wicked," he says. "You tell them and I'll tell your wife."

Clive just blinks. "My wife is none of your business."

"Uncle Cyril, right? Bound to know where you live, ain't he? And whose side do we think he might he come down on? Some random cameraman? Your missis is gonna be in some coffee morning and she'll get a message. Might even be addressed to one of her friends. Might list all them films you've been cameraman on. Show pictures from your camera, mate. Snaps of you and some model getting thrashed, there's all sorts back there. Always use multiple cameras on these, as no doubt you're aware. I've got pictures on this one in my mit with her in front and you in the back. Yeah... Now there's a thought, I wonder what your vicar's address is? Anyone religious in the family, Clive? Or your kid's favourite teacher... Next door neighbour... Or... and here's an alternative... we could slink out to the petty cash back there and pay you for your time thus far. And I'd strongly advise that you take the money option. Then just bugger off, please. Cause if any official presence, so to speak, should darken our door, I'll bring your wife some piccies round in person. Some off here of you filming Mel whacking Lilly with a cane, and apparently, condoning it."

Clive's shaking his head. "You nasty little shit."

"Temper, temper," Billy says.

Clive purses his lips, looks with hatred at the lad, then picks up his bag and shuffles to the office. Billy follows with the key to petty cash.

He asks, "What's your normal rate?"

"Sixty quid an hour."

Billy scratches his head. "Sounds a bit overpriced, son, but there you go. Let's say two hours, shall we? Since that was what you was booked up for."

"I've been kept here longer."

"Don't push your luck, son."

He peels some twenties off a roll and holds them out. But when Clive reaches for them, Billy snatches them back. He drops an invoice book on the table and says, "Best just sign this then. Date it an' all. Print your name, son... there. Paid in cash, job complete, for services rendered."

Clive just scowls at the boy, then he opens up the invoice book and writes quickly. He stamps a full stop at the end.

"Jolly good," says Billy, handing him the money.

Clive has to exit through the studio. The girl is still there, still bent and pathetic. He starts to walk towards her. But Mel sees the move and triangulates towards him. He diverts away and heads for the door.

"Ta ta," says Billy.

Clive feels himself bottling it all inside. He feels weak, he feels useless, because he knows he'll just go home. He kicks himself for his moral collapse. But he's never agreed with the industry. He's been cameraman on Cyril's films, and for other companies, for years. He's watched the films get steadily stronger. Seen six taps become six whacks. Six whacks become twelve. Twelve become eighteen, then quickly expand to twenty-four. It stuck there for a year or so, then crept on to thirty. And there it sat, till one film had sixty, and the girl didn't even really seem to mind. They got harder and longer. Used restraints, mixed in spankings and strappings as well. The canes strayed from buttocks onto thigh backs, even thigh fronts, sometimes even palms of hands. There'd be brief pauses in this relentless slide, then it always jerked to life and ground on more. The internet let in the Eastern Europeans. They went very quickly harder and harder. But this production here, this was too much. An innocent girl being whacked like that, made to stand there just to shame her. Taking the piss like that just for the sake of humiliating her, for some sick sense of amusement. All along he'd never said a word. He just filmed it, taken money, then turned up next time. Till he'd finally snapped. A boy in charge, for Christ's sake. And that little shit had just threatened him with something he really feared. He wants to feel good about walking off, but he's leaving that poor girl on her own, at the mercy of bastards. He half imagines going back to rescue her. She'd be grateful. She'd probably stick close to him, need him to comfort her afterwards. An image passes unbid as this through his mind, how that comforting might look. And his wife wouldn't like that much, either. He continues walking away, one step after the other, around one corner, down another street. He passes shops, passes people. They have no idea how culpable he feels. He feels shame. He hasn't even warned the girl that they're conning her. She's still standing there, or they're caning her again, or doing something worse. He tries to cut it out of his mind, to tell himself he's done the decent thing. But his disgust with himself himself is biggest of all. And that, more than anything, is why he keeps on walking.


***


Mel says to Lilly, "So, now that's a bit more intimate, isn't it? And I'm glad to see you're still in position, more or less. Jolly good. Keep up the good work."

Billy scrolls an image from Clive's abandoned camera. He shows Mel the girl's last pose. He plays her some tape of the last bit of action.

"Great," she says. "Well I'll have to make adjustments, she's not kept it quite dead on."

They're gathered round Lilly. Malcolm sets a tripod up to use Clive's camera for a master shot. The room seems smaller... just the four of them now.

Mel looks up at the other two. "We'll carry on how we left off, eh?"

Billy says, "Sure," and Malcolm nods soberly.

Billy freezes a shot and holds it where Mel can see it. She gets down on her knees and takes Lilly's foot. She twists it into the position it's in on the tape. If they've lied about continuity, they'd better make the lie look real. Lilly's other foot gets moved, then Mel presses her back down and positions her hands, her head, bends her knees, and arranges Lilly's skirt.

"Just show me what I was doing again."

She reviews the video, then Billy sets the camera on Malcolm's tripod. He swaps in a new tape... the used ones have all been labelled with camera, shoot and date.

Malcolm's set the tripod low. It's looking up at Lilly's side, with its lens peering wide. Billy takes his own camera behind the girl, in a similar position to the last piece of action. He frames, puts his thumb up. Three cameras start rolling.

Mel says, "Ready, lovely? I've got to get us started again. You've gone cold... you're not breathing like you were before. Do you follow? So darling, I need you to be good. You'll have to hang on tight while I get us up to speed. "

Lilly nods her head tightly, then Mel just starts attacking her with no more preamble. She swipes with the cane over Lilly's skirt. Not once or twice either... she starts with a rhythm. They're not killer strokes, but they clearly hurt, and they're coming close together. Lilly tries not to, but she has to react. She starts groaning, sucking teeth. Her back comes up, a leg clunks out, she twists around.

Mel steps in and grabs Lilly's elbow. She pulls her back the way she was facing then slaps the middle of her back to push it down. Then she moves the girl's overall position. She grips her hips and manhandles her backwards, turning her to face the camera on the tripod, then flips up Lilly's skirt.

She's all hands-on this time, all actions not words. She grabs the girl's knickers at the top of her cheeks and tugs them tight. She puts her cane aside in the knicker-holding hand, then starts to spank Lilly's generous arse. Not quickly... slowly. She's hitting her cheeks with reasonable force, so the slaps cause rippling explosions of flesh. The girl's cheeks had lost redness; now they start to roast up again.

Lilly is breathing much faster. She glares at the camera which is capturing her renewed ordeal. She rocks and lurches as the slaps thump in. The force of the slaps are pushing Lilly forward, but Mel's grip on her panties are snapping her back. Lilly's knees lock straight, her feet clomp and thud. Arms dangle, elbows bend, fingers clench convulsively. Her breasts, still pushed through her blouse at the front, rock and wave as they dangle, still just inside their bra. Her hair shudders, her mouth pinches, her face is steadily turning red.

Mel switches the cane to her spanking hand. She holds it at three-quarter length... she's too close for the full length... and whips it onto Lilly's globular cheeks. Not that hard, but repeatedly, moving her aim from flick to flick. And she just keeps on. Not five flicks, not ten, but twenty, thirty, forty and more. They flicks criss-cross Lilly's fleshy globes, which quiver and dance like party jellies. But the strokes aren't even. They're capricious, uneven, weight varied, timing staggered. They revel in their unpredictability. And they're blatantly performed for a sexual kicks... kicks being taken at this poor girl's expense, which are meant to make her squirm. It's a bragging, self-consciously stochastic rhythm, dominating and wilfully taunting. And the longer it lasts, the more Lilly can be seen to suffer. Her hands clench tight, her arms jerk tensely with suppressed defensive urges.

Mel lets the knickers go, stretched and off center. They don't even cover Lilly's labia now, but are twisted to one side. The woman lengthens her cane so she's holding it at the handle. She pulls it back then cracks it in. It hits Lilly low down on her in-curving cheeks. The girl gasps, then moans. The woman pulls it back and strikes again. It hits higher, whips around the poor girl's haunch. Mel draws it back a third time.

The cane cannons in, but it misses Lilly's buttocks entirely. It strikes her thighs with a nasty great crack, more audible than any before. There's a slight pause from Lilly. Then she gargles a groan. Her lips draw open, but her teeth stay clenched solid. Her arms have jumped back spontaneously, gripping both thighs with protecting hands. She's not trying to look elegant... she doesn't know how... she wouldn't care right now even if she did. She's bobbing her hips, stamping a foot. She releases one grip and takes up a fresh one. She's crouched low in pain. Her crotch is getting accidentally stretched, with her labia parted to show glistening pink. She rocks on her heels, stamps one foot down, then jumps up and down on the spot, holding tight.

Billy's mouth sits open as he films from behind. His erection is telling him he's falling in love. He's just watched the very thing Kinks would have picked, an out-take among out-takes, a spontaneous inelegance so marked his friend would be crying as he laughed at the monitor.

Mel is about to tell Lilly to keep her arms down when she catches Billy's face. He's miming, "That was fucking great." She checks Malcolm's reaction. His eyes are blinking slowly, he's been licking his lips unconsciously.

Mel grips the girl's wrist and pulls it away, but she doesn't admonish. She takes both elbows from the front and pulls them downwards. Then she steps behind. The line on the girl's legs is turning red and livid. Mel pretends to whip with the cane, but she's really just swishing empty air. Lilly's arms flinch back convulsively. Mel snaps a real stroke down from above, on the backmost edge of Lilly's globes. The girl groans, her arms jerk, but she clenches her fists and rides the pain. Then Mel canes from behind. She hits buttocks square on. Lilly shudders and stamps a foot, she bangs clenched fists against her thighs. The torment is obvious in her eyes... she's staring at the stationary camera, it's a natural spot to focus on. The cane swishes with a ghost stroke. Lilly reacts as if this is real, she jerks her elbows in false anticipation. Another pretend stroke follows it, then a third. Lilly realises she's being toyed with now. The woman want to make her think the worst, make her jump, make her flinch. She stares at the camera, eyes stressed, tense face rigid.

The cane strikes her legs at speed. It's a moment before it sears her nerves to life, then their terrible signals make her clench her eyes fast shut. Tears squeeze between their lids. Her hands reach on their own for the back of her thighs. Her toes curl inward. Her mouth is wide open in a silent scream. She starts to shudder, bobbing and dipping as she cradles the pain, her stomach and thighs pressed tight to each other.

Malcolm records. Like Billy, he's holding his camera in his hands, and if Billy's filming in a close orbit, he's filming in a wider one. He feels himself conflicted. A professional man, with career and prospects and standards to maintain. He's filming a girl who's being stripped systematically of whatever semblance of dignity she had. He's party to her suffering, culpable in her gross humiliation. But the images he's getting... He's crouching at her level, seeing her react. He's sculpted the lights, creating the mood his camera can see. He knows his stuff, he loves his work. And he can't get enough of what he's seeing through the lens.

The girl has staggered forward, too close to the static camera. He catches Mel's eye and mimes, "Pull her backwards." He's indicating with the flat of his hand, then he adds in a gesture like a fist gripping cloth, and jerks it up twice to suggest an action. The woman gets his meaning. She reaches in and takes the girl's knickers. She pulls up hard. She drags the girl backwards. Lilly rocks on her heels, then a foot clumps back and her hands are jerking out to steady her balance. When she stumbles, she's held up by the straining material.

Malcolm knows he's directly responsible. He's made the girl specifically suffer this indignity. Mel looks to see if he'll contribute more. Will the girl see him do this?

He mimes, "Cane her. Slowly. More upright."

Mel nods and readies the cane.

"Make her jump. Make her flinch." He holds up his thumb.

Mel nods, steps forward and manhandles the girl. She poses the model precisely by hand: this foot here, knees like this, body thus tilted. She pulls Lilly's arms out so they're pointing slightly forward. She rolls the girl's skirt up and stuffs it in her belt, then pulls at the knickers so they failing to cover much of anything. Finally she reaches round Lilly's body, slips a hand inside her bra and pulls out a breast. She does the same with the second cup. She lets the breasts flop down on top of the bra, which is rucked underneath them uncomfortably.

"Don't move now, pretty girl," says Mel.

She shivers the cane up and down to make it whistle in the air. The girl makes nervous head movements. Mel then makes it crack the air violently. Once, twice, three times. Lilly's torso shivers, her head position stutters as she tries to look back. A small, quiet whine escapes her throat. Mel pretends to crack the cane with a whip-and-back. The girl's elbow jerks. She whimpers again, high-pitched and short. There's another false stroke.

She's got her where she want her. Trembling, spasming, whimpering, frightened. On display and exposed. Out of her depth, half a mile from shore.

The threat becomes real. The cane whistles fast, landing up high close to Lilly's padded hips. The girl's hands clutch tight and end back behind position. It's followed by a fake stroke, which slices empty air viciously fast. A quick double whimper slips high from Lilly's voicebox. Her torso now judders with periodic shivers, not from pain but from fear.

The woman swipes her cane in hard. A straight stroke, catching Lilly low on her big globed cheeks. It staggers the girl. Her trembling fingers reach back now slowly, barely touching the livid new rawness. The woman lets the girl's self-touching linger on, then lightly clips the fingers with the tip of her cane. Lilly jerks her hand away.

Mel stamps a foot back, whips the cane in the air. The suffering model lets a sharp, high whine escape. She's being tortured by her own anticipation, by her inability to predict which stroke will land and which will not.

Pain explodes at the juncture of thigh and cheek. Then her hands are cradling and protecting once more, her torso tilted forwards at forty degrees. Feet apart, pointing strongly inwards, knees almost touching. Exposed breasts jut unevenly forward, pressed up and together by restricting buttons. Shudders run through her body. The cane whistles strongly and her covering hands jerk, but fail to move away.

Mel puts down the cane. She clamps her hands on top of Lilly's. The girl thinks they'll be yanked aside, but instead, they're stretched slowly backwards, extending their current line and making Lilly's shoulders strain.

"If you insist on placing your hands there," Mel says, "at least you could do something useful with them."

She forces the hands together. She clamps them fast onto Lilly's bare flesh. She makes the hands pull outwards and upwards. Lilly's cheeks and labia separate, strongly stretching. She feels cold air reach places which have never been exposed in public.

"Fucking hell," whispers Billy, right behind. There's a not-so-hidden giggle at the heart of his words. "Fucking hell," he says and shakes his head.

Mel grips one wrist hard and pulls once more. Then she takes the flesh under it and draws it tight to one side, before clamping the hand back firmly in place. She repeats this with Lilly's other hand. The girl is fully, obscenely on display.

Mel says in Lilly's ear, "Just like that.". Then she bends the girl forwards to sixty degrees. She presses on her back so Lilly's knees are bent a little more, completely touching. "What I now need from you," Mel says, "is perfect posing. I need you to stay exactly like that. In fact, it's absolutely vital that you don't even move a single muscle. Do not, under any circumstances, loosen your hands. Because we have to change set-up. We have to do some very technical things. But continuity demands you stay exactly like this."

The girl's chin is starting to quiver strongly, but she nods her head.

"You're going to be a good little model, and not going to move a muscle. Aren't you?"

Lilly nods slowly, with an added judder.

"For just as long as it takes us. Understand? You... will not... move till I tell you you can move. Because what we just got was... well, reasonably good. Not great you understand... not perfect... but acceptably good. Enough that we can probably use it. Look, Malcolm is nodding. But... if you change position lovely, you've just blown the link, and we'll have to go back and film all of that again. And I promise, if you move from this position, I will. So don't fuck up now. I'll be watching. I'll know."

She leaves the girl in her miserable pose. Billy shakes his head. He takes his camera and places it behind her, low down and pointing up, like the fixed one pointing straight at Lilly's face. He goes off with Mel towards the kitchen.

It's Malcolm who stays watching. He waits till they're out of sight, then he starts to walk around the girl. He walks behind. She's starting to shudder, starting to cry. He comes round and frames up a side shot of her face. He witnesses her face dissolve in quiet tears... chin trembles, lips quiver. He records her with the best composed shots he can conjure. He's in awe, in a way. There's so much to see. It's a special performance, with all the veracity of reality. It beats acting anytime. He moves to look at her face from the front. Her eyes won't look at his lens. She looks off to the side, she blinks down at the floor. Her body is shuddering fully now.

He says, "Lilly. Show me."

She doesn't at first. Then her head looks up. There's so much to see. Eyes blinking tears, torso quivering, facial muscles all in spasm. She's looking at his face, above the frame.

"In the lens," he says quietly. "Look into here."

She looks straight in its center. Malcolm knows he needs it. He needs her to connect directly with his viewer. He needs all that anguish to be pleading with them. When they watch, they'll connect. They'll be doing culpable too. Her perfect anguish will make them feel pity. They'll suffer with her. She'll suffer for them. preserved forever- she'll never get old. She'll suffer forever, captured in time.

He keeps the camera very still until he knows he has enough. Then he draws the camera slowly back. Her eyes still contact. He drops the lens down and pushes in. She tracks with liquid eyes. Then he tilts the camera to look straight at her breasts, and her throat gives a whimper of anguished betrayal. When he pulls back next, she's looked away, and won't reengage. Just tiny flickers as she judges him with sidelong flickers.

He lifts the camera up right in front of her, till the lens is pointing downwards. Then he walks around her other side, pulling away to see her from a three quarter view, partly behind. He walks till the girl is much smaller in his frame, till he sees her in context... small, awkward, desperately humiliated. He comes fully behind her then tracks his camera in towards her gripping hands, and twists the zoom to full wide angle. Her bottom fills his frame, pointing up and out. All the skin in between her claw-gripping hands is stretched fully wide. There's a prominent ridge in the middle of frame. Below the ridge is a small pink cavity. Her vagina is open an inch at least. There's a slit below. It's glistening faintly. The lips are stretched wide, the tiny hole of her urethra exposed. Above the ridge, the girl's anus stretches. It's not welcoming the air like its companion below, but its brown rim is stretched wide enough. There's a central core of pink. As the girl 's body shudders and spasms, it reacts, sucking in.

Malcolm steps a short way back. His camera rises up. In this wide-angle lens, her bum seems enormous... the angles he chooses makes this inevitable. He lifts more, pointing down, objectifying her, dominating and gloating. Livid marks are visible. Red patches, ruddy goose-bumps, welts and spreading bruises to either side of the long, ridged cane marks. The edges of her buttocks are pressed back by her arms in unnatural bulges. She looks dreadful. He marvels at her awkward, compromised, extreme indignity. He drops down again to look between the top of her legs, where a small gap reveals her dangling breasts.

Every view he captures is as cruel as he can make it. He keeps hunting for framings that will make her look worse, make her seem more ridiculous. He walks round her again. She won't look at him at all. He completes his circuit till he's come back behind, then he holds the camera with a single hand. His other hand stretches forward into shot. It cups the girl's pudenda with a creepy familiarity. It pats, like it's patting an animal's head. It squeezes, too familiar. It settles, pats again.

"Good girl," says his voice.

The hand lifts and settles right between her cheeks, with the fingertips covering the girl's stretched anus.

"Good girl," he says again.

He lets the fingers pat and rub.

"Good girl, Lilly."

The hand lifts off. It taps back in slowly, and taps again. Then it slaps down, hard. The girl's fingers tense and clutch, but don't let go. Her torso is shuddering visibly.

The hand cups the girl's pudenda once more. It settles there, possessive, but doesn't slap again.


_____



THE REPLACEMENT MODEL

by Smackmagnet


Secondary Part

:: Holding Open ::


14: Billy, Mel and Malcolm discuss Lilly; Lilly is parked


Billy and Mel have a cuppa on the boil. They share a quick look when Malcolm wanders in.

"Oh great," Malcolm says, "I'm gasping."

Mel asks, "What did you make of that little lot then?"

Malcolm glances at each in turn. "Well, you know," he says. "On one level... poor thing, I mean she's being subjecting to such an ordeal."

Mel and Billy laugh between themselves.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing," Mel says.

"It's the way you tell 'em," Billy says. "You ain't half posh."

"Posh?" he asks. "I'm not posh. I've met posh people."

"You're posh to us, mate."

"Such an ordeal?" Mel says. "You think it's too much?"

"Well it is rather cruel I suppose," he says.

She's peering at him. "Too cruel, you think?"

Billy is staring intently as well.

Malcolm looks at the floor, tilting his head as he searches for words. "Yes. On one level it's terribly cruel. I mean, I know it's cruel conceptually, I can even see it written in the poor thing's face. All that shame, incomprehension. But she's just so..."

"Gullible?" Billy asks.

"Well, she is that, yes. Remarkably so. No. She just seems so... unwilling to say no to anything. I mean I see her suffering. It may look very cruel. But... fuck, you know. It's a bugger to admit, but I'm really just having a ball out there. Dickie, bless him... that's the agent, you know... he had to twist my arm." His voice drops to a whisper. "But it's the best bloody job he's got me in years. I know it must be dreadful for the girl, I mean, imagine if that was you out there. But the thing is, it isn't me, is it? It's this silly girl who, to be honest, I'm not even sure I even like."

"Christ," says Billy, "got hidden depths you mate. I'd have sworn you'd want to rain on this parade. Like our mate Clive, yeah?"

"Oh yes, I was thinking about him," Malcolm says. "How he tried to make out like he was standing up for the girl. But when it came down to it, did you notice? It wasn't the girl he felt sorry for at all. It was him. He thought he should have been director. The bugger felt slighted. The girl was just his excuse, a convenient high horse."

Billy's grinning. "I really thought you'd be someone else. Probably just the way you talk. You're a shit load more useful than I figured you'd be."

"Easier without Clive there though," Mel says.

"Fucking right," Billy says, "him glowering at every fucking thing. But fuck me, it's fun now... I think it's dynamite what's happening out there. Mel's got her so she don't know if she's coming or going."

"Is this as good as your other productions?"

"No mate, not as good, I reckon it's better. Total laugh this one. Her reactions, what?"

"The twitching? All that jumping and anticipation? I love that too. I mean, I'm looking through the lens and she's not pretending anything. Everything's raw, you know she's really feeling it for real. You can't say it's not compelling. It looks wicked in the camera, it's terrifically intense."

"So we're agreeing then?" Mel asks. "It's not too much? We carry on?"

"What you asking?" Billy asks. "Course we carry on. Cyril's gonna be creaming his pants."

"Oh God, I thought I was too," Malcolm says.

Billy giggles. "Liked that bit of spreading, did you?" He sniggers to Mel.

"Oh my lord," Malcolm says.

"Got your todger stirring, did it?"

"Hum," he says.

Mel asks, "You don't think... well, humiliating her like that's too much, then?"

Billy giggles. Malcolm says, "Too much? Most definitely. At the same time though... well it's terribly entertaining."

"Terribly, terribly," Billy says. "Would sir like some spreading with his spanking today?"

"So we milk her for more?" Mel asks. "We carry on the same then? Thing is, I've been on shoots with a lot of truly ignorant models. I've had a lot of time to think this out. But I honestly think there's mileage in us not admitting what we've just been saying. That really, we think we're getting brilliant work. We could give her little bits of encouragement now and again maybe, but really, I think we should be exploiting what she doesn't know a lot, lot more. In fact, I want us to start spinning it like she's getting things wrong. The joy of her is that she's such an amateur, right? She has absolutely no idea what she ought to be doing. What if we make her think that's starting to be a problem? Because the thing is, we wouldn't have to be specific, we wouldn't have to tell her exactly what she's wrong. Just all act a bit pissed off with her. I mean look at it this way... she'll only be this gullible once. If we want squeeze the most out of her while she's totally ripe, we've really got to do it now. I mean, Billy, your friend Carmine pointed out, this is a no-consequence girl. She's got no representation, has she? No agent in her corner. Plus, she's so obviously ashamed about the whole thing that she's clearly not going to tell anyone about it. I mean it's cruel as you like, but she's a total sitting duck. So let's exploit her now. Because what I'm thinking is, if we make out that her amateurishness is causing us terrible problems, we can keep her jumping through hoops for hours. Like with the speed thing I've introduced. If we get her to repeat things we claim she's doing wrong, we could keep her here all afternoon. I mean God, I know it's cruel, it's evil... but we could get her doing the most ridiculous, the most ludicrously idiotic things, over and over till she just doesn't have any dignity left."

They look at each other. Billy's eyes are blinking with a sultry slowness.

"What," Malcolm asks, "consciously invite the viewer to laugh at her? Deliberately take the piss?"

"I fucking love it," Billy says.

"And aren't we really doing it already?" Mel asks. "Is this really much more harsh?"

Malcolm says, "Well it is harsh, it all is. It is a bit strong, yes. But I mean, while I feel for her on certain levels... I just keep noticing that next moment I'm thinking... go on Mel, do it again. You know... hit her harder so she jumps up and down like an idiot again."

"Do her proper," says Billy.

"Yes, do her good and proper."

"Thing is," Billy says, "she looks like an idiot at the best of times. Piece of piss to make her look worse. What a laugh, eh?"

"Don't let on though," Mel says, "not a hint, either of you. The straighter we play it, the more she'll believe us. I wanted to ask as well, how much more punishment?"

"I am of the considered opinion," Billy says, "that that girl's arse can take it till the cows come home."

Malcolm says, "Don't you wish we had a slow motion camera? That bottom's just  rippling all over the place. So big, but so firm and springy."

Mel says, "She's got a such funny body, hasn't she?"

That is a dirty, dirty body," Billy says, "She'll never go up on a catwalk, but every time I look at it, I just want to do things to it. Like it's begging for it. Her tits are dirty, her arse is dirty, the way her cunt opened up looks dirty. Then you look at her face. And she's pretty, she is, yeah? But it's not your normal kind of pretty. She's unusual pretty, she's quirky pretty, like you're not sure whether she really is or not. And by the time you've decided, you've already done something dirty to her, something of a most disgusting kind. There's something about her that's begging for abuse. Perfect bod for spanking. No girl, let's fucking do her, then just keep on doing her."


***


They wander back into the studio one by one. Billy first. He stands looking at Lilly, sipping his tea. Then Mel comes out and busies herself with some papers on a worktop. It's the original script, back from when she and no-show model Gracie were intended to take the punishment. Billy walks around Lilly at a distance and clicks his mug of tea down by Mel.

She waves the script. "Bit of a waste, this."

"Don't miss it, do you?"

She makes a one-noise laugh. "Course not. How do you think I'm doing on the other end, then? You know... me on cane, not the other way round?"

"Best I've seen," he says.

"You think so?"

"Know so. That wanker Gaz is hammy as fuck. Cyril only used him cause he used to be a mate. I think there might be a very strong chance that he'll have you back. He will if I've got anything to do with it. Prefer women as doms, me, then there's no ugly wanker blocking up the screen."

Mel nudges his elbow. "How do you think the new girl's doing?"

They turn and stare. Billy picks his tea up. "Alright, I suppose," he says. "Still a bit slow though. Not that fast picking up instructions, is she?"

Malcolm emerges with his own mug of coffee. He starts to busy himself with wires, the mains leads feeding the lights. He takes some tape and binds them together then tapes them to the floor. Then he's working with the lights themselves. He uses them to sculpt the areas of shade and brilliance around Lilly. The others come close.

"You still want to keep her in the same spot, yeah?" Billy asks.

"Just making sure the set-up is coping with the model being in low positions like this. Billy, would you oblige? Stand next to her please. You too, Mel. For the lighting set-up."

They stand either side of the double-bent girl. Malcolm moves his lights. "I need to check with some stills," he says.

He's working behind Lilly, lighting her back end. There's a static movie camera pointing up at her which Billy left there, still recording. Billy and Mel come in and stand to either side of her hips. As Clive lifts the stills camera, Billy poses with his mug just over the small of Lilly's back, like he's using her as a table. He has a fat grin. Malcolm moves to the front. Mel and Billy turn to face him. He kneels in before the trio, just behind a second video camera which is recording a view of her face.

She's been posing continuously for nearly two hours without a break. She's had her torso  tilted and her arse stuck out for more than an hour. She's been tilted more strongly forwards and made to bend her knees, with her hands clamped back spreading her bum cheeks fully wide for more than twenty minutes. She's been told by Mel not to move until instructed. The effort is showing. She's trembling. The backs of her thighs are quivering with muscle strain, Her upper arm muscles are causing her elbows to tremble, and shivers periodically thrum down her body. She's not a girl who poses elegantly at the best of times, but here she looks strongly, even forcefully inelegant. The camera points at her and the others.

"I'd like you to look at the lens, Lilly," Malcolm says.

"Come on, Darling." Mel encourages her by tilting her chin up.

"Smile, everybody."

The lad and the woman oblige without a care. They start mugging together for the camera. They pose cheek to cheek above Lilly's back. They change positions, pose again.

"Smile as well please, Lilly," Malcolm says.

"Is she not?" Mel kneels next to the girl so that her face is alongside. She puts two fingers at the corners of Lilly's mouth and pushes. "Smile when the nice man asks you," she says.

The girl tries, but can't.

"Come on darling, make an effort."

Lilly tries. The results are pathetic. Her cheeks bunch, her mouth moves, but the result look more like crying than smiling.

"Look lovey, just smile, alright? It won't kill you."

"I can't," the girl whines quietly.

"Course you bloody can."

"I need..."

"Need what?" Mel asks curtly.

"I need a wee," Lilly says.

Mel looks directly at the girl, then tuts.

"It hurts," Lilly says.

Mel whispers under her breath. It's a drawn-out f: "Ffucking hell."

"Please," Lilly says.

Mel sighs, quickly. "A little bit of bladder pain, really..."

"What's up?" Billy asks.

Mel stands up. "She says she needs a bloody piss," Mel mutters fairly loudly.

Billy makes a laughing face. He mouths the word, "Excellent!"

Mel Mugs with him for the camera once more.

Lilly sounds close to tears. In her low position, she can't see them making fun of her. "Please," she whispers, "I'll come back the same."

"What?" Mel bends low beside her.

"I'll do it the same."

Mel glances at Malcolm. She appears to be asking him a question. Malcolm, taking his cue from Billy and Mel, quietly shakes his head.

"A tiny bit of bladder pain," Mel says, "and you're prepared to ruin twenty minutes of hard-won continuity for us. You're wasting our time. So no lovey, it's out of the question. It's completely unprofessional. You'll just have to do what a proper model does, just grin and bear it. Do you think the Queen complains when she needs a pee? All those endless walkabouts, embassy dinners, garden parties? No, she just smiles and gets on with her job."

She gets up, leaving the girl in her unhappy pose. She stands back. Malcolm continues to adjust. Billy watches as well. He picks up the spare camera, Malcolm's, which has been parked on a tripod to one side of the girl. It's also been recording during the break. He keeps it framed up on the girl.

Malcolm asks, "Listen... do we think it might be possible to shift Lilly's position a touch? I mean, not her pose. Absolutely not that. But I wouldn't mind seeing her a little further forward. Got some awkward shadows, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, sure," Mel says unfazed. She bends towards the girl again. "Lovey darling, you heard what the man said. You absolutely mustn't change position, right? Keep your body, your legs, everything in exactly the same pose as now. But we need you to move forward a couple of steps."

Lilly is bent nearly double already. Her knees are together but her feet are apart, turned inwards. Her arse is in the air and her arms are clamped back around its cheeks, pulling it so wide that her labia is parted and a half inch hole visible at its heart. Her fleshy cheeks are pushed strongly sideways and forwards, with twin creases at her hips.

"Go on darling, forward a bit. Keep your knees together dear, feet just as they are now. Except... you know... walk."

Lilly's head is looking at the woman. She tries to do this. She moves first her right foot, then her left. With her knees almost touching, this has the effect of rotating her upper half like a waddling duck. She ends up close to the camera on the floor in front.

"That alright?" Mel asks Malcolm.

He looks. He walks around the girl. He glances at Billy.

"Again," Billy mimes behind Lilly's back, holding up a thumb.

"Oh. Yes, quite. Can she go back a bit, Melanie? Try her in the other direction?"

"Same as before, or... no, a bit further? Well come on lovey," Mel says, "you heard the man."

"What... backwards?" Lilly asks pathetically.

"Of course backwards. Come on, get on with it."

The girl's head makes small darting turns to look between their faces.

"Come on lovey, stop wasting our time."

She starts. She edges a foot backwards, makes contact with the floor, then moves the second foot.

"Two more steps, darling."

The girl clunk-clunks again, close to the back camera. She looks remarkably silly as she moves.

"What do you think then?" Mel asks Malcolm.

"I can't really tell," he says. "Look, tell you what. Can she go back to the start? We'll mark her spot with something. I mean, God, I don't want her to lose the pose or anything, that would be too counter productive. But to tell you the truth, it would really help to have her out of the way for a few minutes."

Mel prompts the girl forwards again. Lilly clomps more or less back to her original position. Malcolm finds a yardstick and places it between her feet.

"That's her orientation," he says. He hunts around for something else. He takes various objects like papers and cartons and arranges them around her feet. "That should do it," he says. He marks the forward camera's position as well, then picks it up and looks through its eyecup. "You can move her off now."

"Alright," Mel tells the girl, "let's walk on a bit, eh?"

"What... you want..."

"Come on, get on with it," Mel says.

Lilly looks around at the cameras pointing at her. Her face is unhappy, even disturbed. Mel pokes the girl twice in her back end, quite sharply, just above where Lilly's fingers are gripping. Lilly starts to lumber forwards. Knees bent and together, feet splayed, hands clamped. Billy tracks along behind her, recording, as Lilly waddles, idiotic, towards the end of the studio where lighting wires lie on the floor.

"Stop," Mel says. Then, "Back a bit. Bit further. Alright, turn to your left... No, your other left... Stop! Forward. Slowly... Stop. Left a bit... Left a bit more... Forward slightly. More... and... Stop!"

The girl has been manoeuvred out of the way at the back of the studio, down between a stack of scenic props and a stack of tables. Billy props his camera on a chair to keep an eye on her. Malcolm, who's recorded her stupid walk as well, gives his camera to the boy, who tilts it on the floor behind her legs, looking up as before. It's like she's a bike that's been parked out of the way.

"Keep the pose darling," Mel tells her, "you know the routine."

She walks away. Billy does as well. He and Mel stand watching from a distance. They can't see Lilly's face, and Lilly can't see theirs. But as they watch her back end, the girl, in shadow, starts to bob her body and make tiny, quiet moaning sounds. Trying to maintain her desperate grip on her bum cheeks, she dips her hips in short, pained jerks, curls her toes, stamps a heel. Longer keening sounds are escaping her, high and whimpering.

"Is it just too cruel?" Malcolm asks.

Billy giggles. He says, "Cruel, yeah. But it's really fucking funny as well."

"What's cruel?" asks a voice beside them.




15: Kinks and Co; Malcolm comforts Lilly


"Ay aye, matey! How are you, son? That the bird? Oh fuck me mate, alright darling?"

It's Kinks, carrying a heavy plastic bag, and it's Mel he's calling the bird. Billy and the others turn. Kinks jumps in close and rubs his knuckles on Billy's head.

"How did you get in?" Billy asks.

"Through the door, son. Who's the lady?"

"That's Mel," says Billy.

"You the model or the villain?"

"Villain," says Billy. "Means dom," he translates for the other two.

"You know your door was left open, don't you?"

"Open?" Billy asks.

"Gaping mate. Wedge in it."

"That fucker Clive's never working here again." Billy has turned towards the entrance. He stops still, staring.

"Oh yeah," Kinks says, "sorry matey. Ever such a slight divergence from plan."

Kinks, it seems, is not on his own. There's this spiky-haired goth girl who Billy's met before.

"You know Nicks, she give us a ride," says Kinks. "You remember Cal and all? Dressed in all that frayed-up leather at the Garden? Well Sammy there, That's Cal's bird, yeah? Sorry mate, I know it weren't scheduled. They was all at Nicks' gaffe and Nicks is the only one wiv a car. Come in all the way from Hounslow West. They're all alright Bill, super cool and rightly chilly. Serious, son." His voice drops quiet. "All briefed, yeah? Everyone swears they won't let on, I told 'em you got some tart who don't know her tits from her arse, and I told 'em you lot are doing her. Dead fucking keen mate, the lot of 'em. Alright having an audience, yeah? Like on the telly, canned laughter and that."

"They can't laugh or jeer or nothing," Billy says. "Kinks man, I never give permission. What about Cyril? He'll go bonkers."

"No mate, no, Nicks couldn't leave 'em, could she? Cause Cal's this mate of hers, they known each other forever man. Into all kinds of weirdies, Nicks is. Fucking cucumbers that lot, cool as, yeah? Speaking of which..."

He tips the lip of his plastic bag. It's heavy and loaded.

"Had a rummage like you told us son."

Billy is looking at Mel and Malcolm. Malcolm seems aghast. Mel tilts her head.

"Had no idea, sorry," Billy says to them.

It's Mel who replies. "I don't know though," she says. "Not such a disaster really, is it? Some audience reaction could spice things up."

"Like the lady says, Bill," Kinks nods.

Billy gets the impression that Malcolm wishes he wasn't there. He keeps blinking back to where Lilly is hidden, in shadow.

Kinks wanders over to his mates. They've standing at a distance, just inside the entrance corridor. They're looking around. They evidently haven't spotted Lilly parked in her corner in flagrante delicto. Nor, Billy thinks, has Kinks.

"Malcolm mate, would you watch the tart?" he asks. "We got to talk to this lot, find out what's up." He says to Mel, "Want to help us talk to them then?"

They go towards the others. Kinks is saying, "Won't be a problem, Billy's cool."

"Is the door shut, Kinks?"

"Took the wedge out. Clicked locked now, son."

Billy nods to spike-haired Nicks. "Let's go in here for a minute," he says. He indicates the changing room.

Mel smiles at everyone and ushers them in. The insides are untidy. Cupboard doors are open, modelling clothes are strewn in tatty heaps. Black and white photos of models hang in cheap wooden frames. There's a faint musty smell of mildewed cloth.

"Yeah," says Billy. "Got to make sure like, bit of a briefing. Only Kinks here never told us you was coming. Just you," he says to Nicks the goth.

"So we just thought we'd give you a briefing," Mel says. "Before... you know."

"Honest, I briefed 'em Billy," says Kinks. "Didn't I, Nicks?"

"The thing is," says Mel, "we really ought to check. You know, such a mixed group."

"We seen loads of spanky stuff at the Garden," Nicks says. Her voice is monotone and nasal. Billy isn't sure he even likes her, his impression from before is, she's kind of thick. She's entirely dressed in black, with pale white skin. Billy has noticed that a lot of goths have too many curves, but this one doesn't. She's skinny, her cheeks seem sallow and sunken, her eyes a bit glazed like she's taken too many sedative drugs. She's not Billy's type at all.

"They all know there's this bird here getting naughties done to her. Everyone's cool, Bill."

"The thing is," Mel says, "well..."

"She don't know her tits from her arse," says Kinks.

Mel blinks. "Well there's that, I suppose."

"You got her jumping through hoops," says Kinks.

"Sounds like a total laugh," Nicks says in her nasal drone.

"Yes. Well that as well, but... here's a hypothetical. What if she's out there and I'm, say, caning her? And she starts to cry. What do you do?"

The lad Cal, who's dressed like he thinks he's a pop star, snorts. "What d'you think we'll do?" he asks. "We'll watch her, won't we?"

Kinks says, "They all know not to interfere, yeah? Expecting more naughties than caning an' all."

"Kinks raided my fridge," says Nicks.

Cal says, "We don't give a fuck, do we Sams?"

This other girl Sammy, Mel sees, is watching silently, just moving her eyes when the others speak. She's been looking at the spilled clothing, flaring her nostrils at the smells, quietly checking out the tacky black and white glamour pictures. She's dressed the most normally of any of them, in a stone washed skirt stopping partway up her thighs, and a tank top with a bright blue interlaced celtic design. She's a natural blonde and looks like she ought to be self-possessed. Right now though, she's being the quiet one.

"The bottom line is," Mel says, "that you might think we're being somewhat cruel to this model. Not just with spanking. It's the genre, yes?"

"Least she thinks it is," Kinks says. "I been telling everyone, you got some tart here who you're fucking up. You're doing her arse and you got her doing dirties. And she don't know her tits from her arse. I told 'em and everyone's cool, they all fancy a gander, don't they?"

"If any of you think you're likely to have a problem though," Mel says, "then it'll be best for everyone if you leave right now. Otherwise you'll just be getting in the way. The thing is, we need updates, and this session has potential to give them to us." Her voice drops to a quieter level. "Your friend here is right," she says. "It's a set-up where the model is pretty green and she doesn't really know what's what. For our purposes though, that's convenient, even if it is a bit cruel. She's doing everything we tell her to, she's agreed to it all, you follow? And right now, we're raking in the footage, and it's really not convenient for that to stop. So it's pretty important that you don't interfere." Mel turns to Billy. "Your friend here... Kinks? He's agreed to man a camera, has he?"

"Mister cameraman, me," says Kinks.

"Billy as well," Mel says, "but that raises a question. I've agreed to appear on camera, in shot, and Billy has as well. What about you?"

"I'm holding it, aren't I?"

"Yes, but what if Billy points his at you?"

"Then I'm in the movie. Whatever."

"Well alright," Mel says, "but what about the rest of you? I suggest, if you don't want to appear in Billy's Uncle's updates, that you stay quietly at the sides, out of the light, and make as little noise as you possibly can. Then if later, you decide that you don't really care, you can come into the light. But like I said, please don't interfere, or if you think you'll have a problem, leave now."

She looks at Nicks. "What?" Nicks asks.

"Are you alright with that?"

"Kinks is going on camera?"

"Apparently her is."

"I don't care neither," she says. "If Kinks is in it, I'll go in it. You want to point a camera at me, Kinks, I'll do it if you do it."

"Good girl," he says.

Mel looks at Cal. He just shrugs.

"What does that mean?" she asks.

"Do what you like, no skin off my nose."

"We don't point any cameras at you?"

"See later," he says.

"Stay on the edge." Mel looks finally at the pretty Sammy.

"I'm not in it," she says.

"Are you sure you're not thinking you might have a problem?"

The girl hesitates, then shakes her head. "No. Fine," she says.

"Sure now? I might end up being rough with the model sometimes. It's not P.C. in here, you follow?"

The girl blinks back.

"I'll be making her do some stuff which is pretty close to the knuckle," Mel says.

"I said fine, didn't I?" Sammy sounds defensive now.

"Like, very unfeminist. Humiliating even."

The girl shrugs, quite sharply, like she doesn't like being picked out from the crowd.

"Well, OK. But don't come complaining when it's everything I just said, alright? In fact, same goes for all of you. The film's got to be how the film's got to be, and I'm going to be... well, quite firm with the girl sometimes. Just remember it's just how this one's got to be. Oh and one more little point. The other feller out there, he doesn't appear on camera, OK? He's here for technical reasons, so don't get in his way."

Billy lets them out. "Best sit over there on that worktop," he says.

"Think they'll be alright?" Mel asks him when they've filed away.

"Fuck knows," Billy says.

"Your mate Kinks has dropped us in it."

"I could fucking kill him."

"Right," Mel says. "But... well, why not just use it? Like I said before, it's that extra frisson. And let's say the girl feels disgust... what then? Do we change our behaviour? Because frankly, I don't plan to."


***


Malcolm is fazed. Four more people? What the hell are they doing here? He's already taking enough of a career risk, and he fancies that he might one day make proper movies... might appear in interviews, on DVD extras. Four more people who've seen him involved with smut like this is four more people to spoil his party. He hardly wants to look at them, to show them his face. Especially the blond girl, she looks so... normal. How the hell is she attached to Billy's scruffy, lank-haired friend? The goth girl he dismisses almost immediately, she looks too thick to cause problems like that. But the other lad, the one wearing the leather cap and posing clothes, and especially the blond girl... why are they here?

"Malcolm mate, would you watch the tart? We got to talk to this lot, find out what's up."

Billy, next to him, goes towards the people standing by the entrance corridor. For a moment Malcolm imagines himself just packing up his things and leaving.

"Let's go in here for a minute," Billy says from the other side of the room.

They're all going into the changing room, even Mel. They're leaving him alone. If he wants to leave, now is his perfect moment.

The changing room door clunks shut. He stands watching it. He can't believe, in a way, that none of them appeared to spot the girl. He blinks at their door. He bites a lip, trying to remember where he's put down his coat and his bag. He's looking around the room. He sees the shadow of the girl, hidden in the corner. He's pacing towards her, as silently as he can. He stands there looking. He's sure she can't see him.

Oh God, his erection is rising, it short circuits his business brain. He hears her whimper. He sees her hands are having trouble holding on to their grip, they've slipped sideways with the strain. Her thigh-backs are trembling terribly now. He feels himself swallow. The girl dips her hips, once, twice, three times, then shudders them up and down, trying to shake the pain out of her bladder. Dear God, it's so dirty. She has no idea he's looking at her. Her movements are in no way meant to make him lust like this. They're a product of pain, of suffering, of the gross humiliation she's being forced to suffer. He licks his lips. He imagines inserting himself inside her. She performs her desperation dance. It's unconsciously dirty, but dirty nonetheless.

He bends down and silently pauses first one camera, then the second.

"They're talking in the changing room."

The girl freezes in the middle of her dance.

"I know it must seem harsh," he says.

He walks in close, almost directly behind her spread backside.

"It won't last forever. Look," he says, "I think I should tell you... I don't mean it personally. I know Mel has said that, but I wanted to say it myself as well. These things do seem quite harsh sometimes. A little bit... you know... humiliating. It's not personal, you understand? It's not about you. You're a cypher, a stand-in for ex-girlfriends. Divorced wives. Girls who rejected us. You're helping us feel good about our general fear of women. Not personal, you understand?"

He sighs.

"Not specifically about you, you know. You're just... the one who's here. Look, I think... well, don't feel bad, but your... well, your grip is slipping. Here."

He touches her right wrist. She jerks, a squeak escapes her throat. He lifts it away. He turns, puts his left haunch against her left side, slightly facing away. He takes a grip on her full, cane-striped bum cheek. Brings his right arm around the front of her body and grips her left wrist. With his left, he's kneading her buttock, with his right he pulls her wrist firmly backwards so her arm is strongly stretched. He does as Mel did, squeezing her buttock upwards and outwards, pulling the flesh between her legs apart. Then he clamps her hand down to hold it in place.

High pitched whimpers escape her. Her thighs begin trembling crazily.

"You're such a good girl," he says. "We're all very grateful really."

He shifts his position to its mirror on the girl's other haunch. Takes her wrist, pulls it away. He places his hand on her inner thigh. He's surprised at how cold her flesh seems. His fingers slide sideways and cradle her mound. Dragging upwards, they take a strong grip on her second buttock. This time when he kneads, he also squeezes the flesh together. He pinches it, drags it. Lets go, takes a new grip, pulls again. Pulls it strongly sideways in more moves than one, scooping, dragging, gripping more to stretch her as wide as he can. He strongly pulls her wrist and clamps her hand down on the cheek.

He glances at the door. It's still closed. Then he smacks her pudenda. Lilly startles. He looks back at the door, shocked by the sound his hand has made, but the door stays firmly shut.

He smacks again, harder. "Good girl," he says. Then he does it once more.




16: Kinks talks Nicks into giving him a ride; Kinks and Co get to the studio


Why is the woman picking on her? She's not picking on Cal or the Nicks girl. Sammy's clamped her jaw tight. She wishes Cal had just said no, she barely knows what she's doing here. She's not even sure she likes Nicks, Cal's friend, she just finds her annoying, only Cal insisted on coming with her and Nicks seemed dead keen to go with this weird bloke Kinks.

She wasn't even sure about Cal at first. That first night, yes, she was kind of smitten. But she thought the clothes were just for the performance, maybe for the clubs. Then he showed up in them in the middle of the day. Does he really have to wear them all the time? Her friend Victoria knew him that night in the pub, that's why they went. And when he sang he did sound like a proper pop star, like he knew what he was doing. Open Mic Night yes, but he was better than anyone else, she thought. She was flattered when he showed interest in her. Cal the performer. He looked at her when he sang one of his songs, she barely even caught the words. His eyes fixed on her so long she had to look away. When she looked back up his gaze had moved on, but he came to their table afterwards. She asked Victoria what she thought of him.

"Brilliant," Victoria said. "Oh God yeah he's a bit gorgeous, isn't he Sams?"

She's seen him a few times since. He's OK in bed. A bit self-obsessed at first like he seemed to think she should fall at his feet, but she wasn't having that. Then he calmed down when she didn't give him encouragement, and he started giving as well as taking. Then later when he slept, she thought she was falling for him. With the lights out and his attitude evaporated, he looked so sweet and boyish.

"Come and meet my mate Nicks, and we'll go to a club late on."

The long haul down the endless Piccadilly line. Nicks shares this flat with a couple of girls and their mothers mustn't have taught them how to clean. A health hazard of a kitchen, dirty pots and pans dumped any which way on the worktops, disgusting. Nicks' room is not much better, but Cal seems at home and kicks off his shoes. She's never seen him this relaxed.

Kinks shows up unannounced an hour or so later. Lank-haired and frankly weird, he looks like he's done too many drugs in his teens. He seems taken aback at Sammy and Cal though.

"Nicks, I need a ride. I'm boracic babes, got no money. Billy needs us. From the Garden, yeah? It's urgent, darling."

"Cal's here," Nicks says.

Kinks stands in the doorway, half in and half out. He's got half a dozen crappy rings on his fingers and looks like he's self-tattooed his knuckles. Sammy squints at him then peers at Nicks. She can see the attraction. They're both as weird as each other, she reckons.

"No I mean it babes, I got no coin."

"I got my best friend here!"

Kinks squats down and talks quietly into her ear. Sammy only catches snippets.

"Bill needs a geezer on camera, darling."

Cal's turns round to Sammy and asks, "How you doing babes?"

"Fine," she says.

"Like I showed you," Kinks says, "that site... yeah?"

"Long trip down, weren't it? From out west. That Piccadilly line's fucked, Sams."

"It was fine," says Sammy.

Nicks asks her bloke, "I dunno what site."

"You cool then, Sams?" Cal asks. "Not pining for the fjords?"

"You said, yeah? Brilliant, yeah?"

"Nicks is alright, isn't she?" says Cal.

Sammy wishes he'd just shut up. He's ignored her since he got here, now the minute Nicks isn't looking at him, he wants her attention instead.

"You'd like it babes," Kinks tells his weird girlfriend. "That dom side around girlies. Give that a go, yeah babes?"

"Cal," Nicks says loudly, "Kinks wants to go to his mate's place."

"Yeah, cool," says Cal.

"Only he wants me to drive him. Some girl's getting her arse whacked by Kinks' mate Billy."

"No, babes," Kinks tries to say, "don't..."

"Some bird's what?" Cal asks.

"Sounds like a laugh," Nicks says in her monotone. "They're filming this girl."

"Caning her," Kinks says with a twisted grin and an awkward nod.

Cal snorts. "His mate's caning some bird? Fucking hell Nicks, what? You hear that, Sammy? Fucking hell."

"Only I ain't leaving Cal behind," Nicks says to Kinks. "He's my best mate from school."

"Yeah," says Kinks. "Only Billy, like..."

"Sounds like a laugh, dunnit?" Nicks says without inflection to Cal.

Cal snorts again. He looks at Sammy. "What think, Sams? Bet you never seen some bird getting her arse whacked."

"You wanna go then, Cal?" Nicks asks.

"No babes," Kinks says

Cal laughs. "Fucking hell," he says. "More than we bargained for eh, Sams?"

Nicks says, "Cal and Sams can come as well, can't they? Cause it ain't fair if they can't."

"Thing is," Kinks says, "it's Billy's Uncle. He don't want me around."

Nicks asks, "Billy's uncle? What's some uncle got to do wiv it? How comes you're going?"

"Well he ain't there, is he? The uncle, it's his gaffe. Billy says he needs me, it's my in."

"Well if he ain't there, what's the problem?"

"Billy," Kinks says.

"If he wants you on camera and I'm giving you a ride, he'll have to take Cal and Sams."

"Yeah... It's not just him, there's other crew. There's the girl having it done."

Nicks says, "She'll be busy with her arse on fire. Besides, models want to be looked at, don't they?"

"I dunno babes."

"Well I ain't even driving if Cal can't come."

Cal takes Sammy's hand.

"And Sams is with Cal, yeah?"

Kinks is cornered. He says to Cal, "You want to come for a look-see then?"

"What d'you think, Sams?" Cal asks the girl.

She shrugs. "What do you want?"

Cal shakes his neck loose and rotates his shoulders. "Sounds like a laugh to me," he says.

Sammy stays silent. She wishes Cal would drop her hand.

"Down to your Sams then," Nicks says to Cal.

They're all looking at her. She's not sure what she thinks. She shakes her hand away from Cal's. She shrugs. "If everyone wants to."

"MIght be quite hard though," Kinks says.

They just look at him.

"Might be naughties as well. Like, Billy says this bird don't know too much."

"So?" says Nicks.

"Yeah," says Kinks. "Listen, Nicks..." He puts his head close. He whispers something.

"What?" Nicks says.

Sammy hears, "Amma kit."

"Say it proper."

"Fucking enema kit, Nicks. Billy says bring your enema kit."

"Your what kit?" asks Cal.

"Enema kit," Nicks says without apparent embarrassment.

"Can we look in your fridge?" Kinks asks.

"You what?"

"Fridge, babes."

"Do wherever you want," Nicks says pulling a face.

"I need a plastic bag, babes."

"So?' She shrugs.

"Where would I find a plastic bag, Nicks?"

"I don't fucking know, do I?" says Nicks.


***


The car ride is uncomfortable. She's crammed in the back with Kinks because Nicks insists on Cal riding shotgun.

"He's my friend, he's come down to see me," she says nasally. Cal accepts both accolade and seat.

It gets worse when Kinks has to lean forward to direct his girlfriend, which seems to be the case for most of the ride. The car is so noisy Sammy can barely hear what anyone's saying. Just Kinks' directions and arguments with Nicks about how to get around the congestion charge. Sammy spends a lot of time looking at the back of Kinks' untidy head. She sees with ungenerous satisfaction that the middle of his limp locks has a small, spreading bald patch. She could ruin his day by pointing it out.

They get caught in traffic. There's nothing to look at, just dreary damp streets, pedestrians hugging buildings to try and stay dry, tail ends of lorries. It's cold in the back since, despite the crappy weather, Cal insists on having his window open, and Nicks' car doesn't seem to have heating. They grind around the edge of the city. Sammy watches the buildings outside getting poorer, the shops cheaper. Then finally Nicks is parking, off the main road in a terraced street. Cal gives Sammy a minute of attention while Nicks and Kinks fiddle in the boot, then they're off tramping the backs streets. Sammy doesn't think she'd feel safe here on her own. She doesn't have a clue where she is.

Her sense of insecurity gets suddenly worse when Kinks leads down a dark, fetid alley between buildings at the corner of two back streets. It looks like the sort of place tramps might piss in. Rubbish sacks line the edge. The alley bends, then at the end there are a two black doors. One's even propped open.

"This is it,"  says Kinks.

He takes out the door wedge to let it shut, then leads them in, down another short corridor lined with tacky page three style glamour shots. They emerge into a larger room. Here, bright lights illuminate a group of three: a woman in her early thirties, a lad about Kinks' age, a tall balding older man dressed smart casual and dark. Sammy can't see any model.

"Just too cruel?" the tall man asks.

The lad seems to giggle. Sammy hears, "Cruel, yeah." Then, "Fucking funny."

Kinks is jumping forwards towards them. "What's cruel?" he asks. He pounces on the lad and rubs his knuckles into his hair.

They all get shuffled into the messy changing room and lectured by the lad and the woman. Sammy is still annoyed that it's she who's been singled out. Why do they think she'll have the problem, not anyone else?

They file back out when the woman's said her piece. The tall baldy bloke who wasn't in the meeting seems to jerk when they emerge. He looks guilty, like some secret has just been discovered, but all Sammy can see is that he must have been fetching something from this messy corner.

The four of them, Kinks and Nicks, Cal and herself, just aimlessly drift towards some worktops near the lights. Sammy doesn't feel welcome, doesn't feel at ease, and isn't really clear what she's going to see.

Nicks asks, "When's it happening then?"

"Dunno babe," Kinks says.

The balding bloke is taking a wire off the floor and wrapping it in repeated loops. Mel goes past and mumbles something to him. He's got a long face anyway, made longer because, apparently, he's not happy either. She even lip-reads the words, "Not happy."

"They're just kids," Mel says.

He mutters, "Yeah. Well."

"Look, we've got to get on. Haven't we? We go with the situation that presents itself."

And off she trundles to the secret corner where baldy bloke was looking so guilty before. A minute later, the Billy lad follows.

"Might be where they've got the bird," says Kinks.

"Alright, darling?" Cal says to Sammy. He's sat himself up on the worktop beside her. "Bit cold in here, innit?"

He leans around her to give her a kiss. She lets him, but she's not really responding.

He says, "Nicks is into weird stuff sometimes. Fuck knows if this'll be a laugh or not. We can always piss off if it gets to be a drag."

"Thanks," she says.

"Yeah," he says.




17: Mel invokes the model release; Lilly is shown to Kinks and Co


Mel looks at the girl. She's come up behind her quietly. Lilly is still in her pose, but she's clearly suffering. There's a constant trembling in the girl's right knee. She's bobbing her hips down every few seconds, apparently in bladder pain, like she's trying to jerk the pain away.

All to be expected, Mel thinks. But Lilly's fingers, if anything, appear to be pulling her wider, which surprises Mel, since the sheer length of time since Mel put her in her pose ought to have weakened the girl's grip by now.

Mel luxuriates in gazing at Lilly's exposed undercarriage. She's seen some girls looking so ragged down here. But Lilly is the opposite. Her arse cheeks may be big and full, but the kit between her legs is fresh and neat. Her labia has parted squarely to reveal pink, glistening flesh, which frames a clearly defined clitoris and a tiny gaping urethral hole. The vagina is also opened up to the air, with a dark space the shape of an outlined wild rose. The distinct ridge of the girl's perineum is bunched above, making a twin edged isthmus between vagina and anus. The latter is spreading slightly, showing a clean pink entrance to a still sealed cavern.

Billy approaches close behind Mel. "Malcolm's nearly ready by the look of it," he says. "We gonna get the bird back out on her spot?"

Lilly has tensed at the sound of his voice. Mel places a hand high down on the girl's hips. "Are we ready to carry on soon, darling?"

"There's people out there," Lilly moans.

"Oh,'" says Mel. "You heard them, then?"

"Oh my God," says Lilly. "There are. Oh my God."

"Well... alright. But in a sense, so what?" says Mel. "We've already got plenty of tape we could release. Which could probably be seen by many thousands. Millions, for all I know."

Lilly's sounding so pathetic. She says, "Please, I don't want to. I don't want to go out there." She says the next words quietly. "I just need a wee."

Mel sighs loudly. "Well you know that's impossible Lilly," she says. "What was all of that effort for if you're just so prepared to piss it all away?"

Billy's picking up his camera off a chair. A second camera is on the floor behind Lilly, looking up between her legs. Billy checks the stock in the first one. There's still time left to run. He's recording their talk with the camera hand held now.

"Please. Please let me wee first, then I'll think about going out again..."

Mel just tuts. She says, "Absolutely not. You can put that one straight out of your mind."

"I can't go out. It hurts."

"It'll take your mind off it once I start to use the cane again."

There's a pause. Lilly doesn't change her pose. But when she speaks, she says, "No. I won't, I can't. Not in front of all different people, it isn't fair. It's not right. You can't make me do it."

Mel looks at Billy, then back at the girl. "There's no use whining. You have to," she says, "you know you do."

"No. You can't make me."

"Think my Uncle might say different," says Billy. "She signed," he says to Mel.

Mel says, "Quite. Of course."

She motions to Billy to turn off his camera. He does it, then pauses the one by the floor.

"Problem is, lovely," Mel says, "that paper you signed. The model release? You see, Billy's Uncle - he's not that nice really. Something of a hard-nosed business man. He's spent a lot of time and effort building up this company. And from what I understand, things have not been going well. So when one of is employees agrees to something, then refuses to produce... well he's not best pleased these days. Is he, Bill?"

"Thing is," Billy says, "I faxed him the contract."

"He'll have filed it by now. And the real problem, darling, is the money he's already forked out for today. He'll want to get it back, you can bet your bottom dollar. You're not aware, I expect, of just how much preparation goes into these things. And the thing is, with that contract signed... well he's got every right to come after you for it. When you signed it, you see, you agreed to provide some specific services. And frankly, I doubt if it says you should only provide them just when you feel like it, lovely. My God, I should know. Us models have to work in all sorts of conditions. Posing for photographers in studios, that's the absolute least. Demonstrations for investors, that one took me by surprise. I'm professional though, so I just get down and do the bloody thing. I've done this sort of thing in pretty big conferences. At private shows. I've had to pose on a farm in front of a herd of bloody cows. Posed in a shop window with a crowd gathered round."

Billy looks at her quizzically. "Have you?" he mouths.

She shakes her head. "Course not." To Lilly she says out loud, "Try getting caned in front of a crowd of jeering, drunken football fans. I've posed outdoors on a public street. Full frontal as well, and you try legging it from police with a dildo up your twat. For God's sake Lilly, this is absolutely nothing. These people out there, do you know why they're here? We needed to replace Clive when he walked, remember? So Billy's friend has kindly agreed to stand in for the fool. And he needed a ride. His ride was entertaining two other friends. They all agreed to come and give him some moral support. And you as well, lovely, in case you hadn't realised it. So that's who's here, four more people more or less your age who have to a one come here to help. I'd have thought you'd be glad of an audience, frankly. Most girls your age are desperate to be famous, or so I'd thought. Isn't that right?"

"Not doing this..." Lilly's barely audible when she speaks this time.

"Oh for fuck's sake," says Mel, "we're not asking much, are we? Just swallow your pride and do the bloody work you've signed up for. Because in case you hadn't noticed, when you work, you get paid. If you get on some ludicrous high horse instead, what happens next is Billy's Uncle coming after you for compensation. Breach of bloody contract, darling. And if you can't pay him... for the full production expenses mark you darling, my wages, Billy's here, all the preparation costs, the stock, the camera hire, the studio costs, the loss of revenue when they run out of updates... When you can't pay, which you presumably won't be able to, he'll be tapping on your mother's front door."

Lilly's head freezes.

"My mum?" she asks.

"Of course," says Mel. "Just cause you can't pay up doesn't mean he'll stop looking for his money back. Who else would he try?"

"My mum can't know. Please. She can't, she just can't. She can't know, not ever."

"You don't want her to know? Then you'd better buck your bloody ideas up, honey. Bite the bullet. Do the work. And please, stop all this pathetic whining."


***


It looks like something's happening. Nicks is sat up on the worktop next to Cal, with Cal's bird Sammy on his other side, knees to her chest. Kinks is in front of Nicks. She's got fingertips touching his untidy locks.

The baldy bloke stops fiddling with wires on the floor and goes to the corner where Kinks' mate Billy and that woman disappeared. She can see his shiny round crown poking up from between these tall leaning boards.

"What's in there, Kinks?"

"Dunno," he says.

"Props and sets," Sammy says.

Nicks looks sideways at her, past Cal, who's stuck his shades back on. She's not sure how much she likes Cal's bird. "How do you know that then?"

"All those tall boards, they're backdrops. Like sets in a theatre. It's a storage area, it's obvious."

Obvious, is it? Hoity-toity cow. Nicks looks back towards the corner. Now the bald bloke's coming with a camera in his hands and trailing a mains wire. He gets close. He looks awkward, like he's trying not to face them directly. She doesn't know why, she's never spotted his ugly mug before.

"You're going to be using a camera, yes?"

The bloke's asked this of Kinks. Kinks shrugs and pushes off towards him. The tall bloke walks away. He starts lecturing Kinks with his back to them.

"Thought something was properly happening, me."

Cal goes, "Nah. Drag this, innit Nicks?"

"Dunno yet," she says. "What do you think, Sammy?"

Cal answers for her. "Easy you, aren't you Sams? Sams don't mind long as she's with me, yeah?"

Nicks looks. Sammy's turned her head away. Nicks can't see her expression. Out in front, Kinks is nodding. He's got the camera in his hand. He's pointing it around.

"Here, Nicks," he calls, "come out here a mo." He's nodding his head back, inviting her over. She slides off the worktop.

"Nicks don't mind being in picture, do you babes?"

"Don't point it at me though," the baldy bloke says. Or your friends over there. Its just polite. We could edit it out, but it's best if we don't have to."

"Look at the camera babes," Kinks says to her. "Give us a kiss."

Nicks puckers her mouth up towards his lens.

"Show us your tits, babes."

Nicks lifts half her upper lip. Kinks starts to walk around her.

"Steady as you can," says the tall bloke. "Every little jerk could mean more useless footage. If you imagine there's a line... a pole if you like, coming out from the lens. The further away the subject is, the longer the pole. Each time you twitch the camera, you're twitching the pole, so a tiny twitch at this end makes a great big jerk at the other end. Twitch here, jerk there. So keep it as still as you can, alright? Move your body instead of turning your head, it all helps to cushion."

"Oh yeah right," says Kinks. To his girlfriend he says, "Show us your knicks, Nicks," as he sinks his body down behind her black-clad bum. The most she does is hook her thumbs inside a belt tie.

"Watch the readout too, in the viewfinder. There's two hours of tape. We'll swap the tapes in all three cameras before we get there. Anyway, stand here till that happens. If your girlfriend would like to go back, the model will be coming out from the corner. Just keep your camera trained on her. Don't do anything elaborate. Simple shot, caught from where you are. he master shot.

"You want me going back, yeah?"

If you would, says the man. He's posh as well, Nicks thinks. She goes back and hitches herself up on the worktop.

She says to Cal, "Model's in that corner apparently. Where Sams thinks it's props or whatever."

They look in that direction again.

"Slow though, innit?" Cal says to Nicks.

"Yeah," she says, "I know."

Then the tall git makes picks up a camera from a tripod and moves halfway round the back of the studio. He pauses, checks the camera's leads, then looks to the corner. He nods, then makes a signal, like he's waving out a lorry. The three of them look from him to Kinks to the backdrops corner. The next movement is Billy. He's holding his camera low, crouching as he backs out into the room. Then Mel's head is visible. She's standing tall, walking very slowly.

This shape comes out just in front of Mel. Nicks can't make it out since that side of the room is almost in shadow. It's low, lower than BIlly, and it seems to be coming on three legs, not two. Waddling like a duck.

Sammy is lifting her hand to her mouth.

"What is it?" asks Cal. His shades are still lowered.

"What the fuck?" mouths Nicks.

It's a girl, she can see now. Bent double. Head down. Waddling backwards. Where's her arms? The figure stops, starts to turn round. The Mel woman puts her hand on her back.

"Don't bother with that, just go backwards," she says.

There's a pause. The bent figure starts rotating back again.

"And for fuck's sake lovely," the woman says. "Can we please get on? Come on, faster."

Another short pause.

"Move it!" says the Mel bitch.

Then this awful crouched thing is lumbering towards them, blind and backwards. It clumps into the light.

"Oh my God," mutters Sammy.

Nicks glances at Cal. His glasses are up now, held against his forehead. Kinks is doing his new job, standing looking into his camera. Billy's gone round to the front of the girl.

She's coming towards them, blatantly ridiculous. Nicks has never imagined such a thing. The girl's hands are behind, like they're glued to her backside. The first thing they're seeing of this girl is her arse. Spread so wide the flesh of her cheeks are  squashed wide to the sides. Nicks can even see her tits dangling down, right between her legs.

"Oh my God," whispers Sammy.

"What a fucking state," says Cal.

The figure half trips as it clumps its way towards them. It barely recovers.

"Right, stop," says Mel crisply. "Forward, lovely. Good. Go to the side. Back again." She looks up at the others. "How's she doing? Back in place?"

"Off her mark," says Billy.

"Yeah. Right. Alright lovely, I need you to come forwards again. Alright, come on. No don't just stop. Did I tell you to stop? I say come forwards, just come and keep coming. Alright stop. Now shuffle to your right. Bit more, yeah, and stop! Now good, go back when I say, and, lovely? Don't hang about this time, I want you doing everything fast now, alright? Right, now... go backwards!"

The girl looks so stupid. Bent, spread, clumping too fast, being treated like a thing not a person. Nicks looks at her friends again.  Sammy seems like she wants to be sick, Cal's face is frozen with its mouth half open.

The woman makes the stupid girl go forwards and backwards another two times. Then she finally lets her stand on these marks. She refers to an image on a camera she's holding. She bends and moves the girl's feet with her hands. She seems to be getting her into some special shape from the photograph. Feet pointing together more, hips a bit up.

"How's she looking at the back? Same as before?"

"More or less, yeah," says Billy.

"Jolly good," says the woman. "Now, where was I?"




18: Sammy's view; Nicks' view


Sammy's knuckles are in her mouth. She expected something, but never this. She doesn't know what she feels, isn't sure what she's supposed to think. She just stares, jaw open, as the girl lumbers along like some prehistoric monster.

She looks to the side at her boyfriend. Cal has stuck one foot up beside him on the worktop and he's leaned his head back so its crown touches the wall. He's tipped up his sunglasses.

Sammy's not sure when she picked it up, but the woman Mel is holding this massive long cane. She's pretending to swish it, but for show, Sammy thinks, for the sound of the thing. She never believed Nicks' bloke Kinks when he said they'd be seeing some poor girl get the cane. She thought it was just something he was saying because of his stupid name, as a joke. Actually she thought he was called Kinks because Cal's thick goth friend was called Nicks. Nicks and Kinks, ha ha. But this... the cameras and that wierd balding bloke and that pathetic girl making an utter tit of herself. Exposed like that, demeaned like that.

The cane swishes again. Will she really hit the girl with it? Sammy thinks she can see cane marks already on the stupid girl's arse and even on her thigh tops.

"So if you must insist on touching your arse, at least do us a favour and do it like that."

It's the Mel woman speaking, apparently to the stupid girl. The girl's head jerks but she doesn't speak.

"Well?" asks the woman. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

Still no response. So the woman touches her cane to the back of the girl's right thigh. She flicks the cane in. Not hard, Sammy thinks, just little taps.

"Speak up," the woman says.

"What?"

"Speak, girl, what have you got to say for yourself?"

"I don't know," says the girl. It's barely a whisper, her voice sounds strained and cracked.

"You don't know. Well that's enlightening. Go on, get your hands off."

Again there's confused hesitation from the girl. The woman puts her hands over the girl's. She vibrates them in place, apparently trying to pull the girl wider, though Sammy barely thinks that's possible. She's filled with revulsion at the sight of the girl's stretched private parts. It's a cruel reversion of convention. What should be hidden and private, spread like butter over bread.

"Hands... off."

The bitch woman drags the girl's hands to the sides, still pressing them into the flesh as she does so. She keeps this going right to the edges of the girl's great wide cheeks, then finally the girl's hands are off. The bitch lets them go. all this has loosened the model's skirt where it's been rolled out of the way under her belt. The woman holds it up out of the way, then she quickly spanks the model's right arse cheek, bringing her hand in with its fingers facing down in big meaty slaps so they jerk the girl forwards. Sammy sees that the stupid model has just left her own hands where the bitch released them. The bitch responds by grabbing her wrists one at a time and pulling them down towards the floor.

She says, "Come on lovely, you know the routine."

She stands back. Whips the cane back and forth so it waves in the air, whistling. Sammy thinks she'll cane the girl now. She doesn't seem bothered that the skirt had slipped down over her cheeks. The woman stands back, takes aim. And canes.

She's really hit her with it, hit her over the skirt, hit her harder than Sammy ever expected. She stares, and the woman does it again. Lifts this fat long cane right back  over her head and whips it down hard. It's got to have hurt the girl, she can see it has by the way the girl's arms have jerked and started to go back to defend herself.

Sammy looks at Cal, to see how he's reacting. Cal has tipped his sunglasses up and out of the way. He's still got his head back against the wall but he's definitely watching. The cane makes another thud and see sees him mouth the words, "Fucking what?"

Another crack. Cal glances once at Sammy, then the cane cracks again and he's looking back. She's close enough though that when he whispers a comment, she can hear it quite clearly.

"Christ," he says at one point. At another point, he sucks through his teeth. When he glances at Sammy, she thinks she sees glee. It's fleeting though, then his eyes have dived back. There's another mighty crack and Sammy hears the model groaning, sucking breath in sharply.

"Go it, girl," she thinks Cal whispers. Two strokes later, he looks up again. Whatever expression is on Sammy's face, he doesn't seem to see it. He's all glee, hidden laughter. "Fucking what, eh, Sams?"

A minute later she swears she hears, "Fucking hit her, girl."

She stares at him with her eyes pointed sideways. He's flipped his shades down once again though. Sammy looks back to Mel and the girl. The three cameras are circling like vultures. The model's pain is obvious. The model looks to Sammy quite unutterably stupid. Why's she letting them do this to her? Mel turns her back on the audience, cracks a stroke in right under the model's skirt, right on her legs. It looks like it's just caused excruciating pain. The model bends her knees, clenches her hands and moans, "Fucking bloody hell."

Cal has tapped his goth friend's shoulder. He says, "Fuck, Nicks, what?"

"What a stupid cunt," whispers Nicks.

Another crack. Sammy notices Cal's hands clutching, making quiet fists. It reminds her of a football supporter, each crack accompanied by a faint little clenching.

"Christ, I bet that hurt," he mutters. To Sammy, he says, "Poor fucker, eh?"

Mel has flipped Lilly's skirt back up. She takes the girl's twisted white knickers and pulls them sharply up. The pants spread taut across bum cheeks. Mel stands back, flexes the cane, then peppers faster shots into the newly stretched white. Capricious, flicking her aim around. But even though the strokes are lighter, the length of the cane means they still must be hurting. Then the woman steps even further back, takes aim, and powers in a big one.

The girl staggers forward. When she stops, she looks, if possible, even more awkward. Billy, Kinks' mate, is up close to her face. Another crack, another stagger, and he has to jump back to stop her hitting his camera. It's her stupid position, Sammy thinks, it's not taking much to make the girl lose her balance. So why doesn't she change it? Why's she letting them do this to her anyway? Sammy can barely believe what she's seeing.

The bitch is slapping the girl's arse with her hand now. Not taps either, big, meaty, upper body thumps. Sammy sees in the woman's face that she's getting off on doing this. Breathing through her nose, mouth pressed tight, a lopsided half smile imprinted under the strain of the exercise. She grunts with the effort like a tennis player. She doesn't seem to show any empathy for the model. She grabs a handful of elastic which pulls the girl's knickers up and skew-if, so half her arse cheeks are exposed again. The girl is looking pretty red back there.

"Stand up!" says the bitch. "Go on, take off your skirt!"

The girl is all hesitation and twitches. She stands, knees not quite straight, darting stressed looks behind at the audience. Her hands are shaking as she tries to open the clasps of her skirt.

The bitch is going, "Come on, come on."

The skirt comes off. Then the tall bloke, the posh one with the monk's baldy head, has a quiet word with her.

Next thing, the girl's having to put the bloody skirt back on again, then she's back bent over with the woman spanking her arse, skirt flipped up. This time when she tells her to take the thing off, she's chivvying her to do it faster. The girl's hands are shaking like leaves, Sammy sees. The bitch makes it worse by cracking in the cane, high up on the girl's backside.

"Get on with it!" she's saying.

So off it comes again... they cane her... and again they make her put it back on. This time, the bitch is going at the girl almost from the moment she tries to stand up. Another high one. The girl spasms, hands quaking and inoperative, trying to protect herself by tiny twists of her hips, staggers of her feet, jerks of her wrists and arms. One side of her knickers are right up her bum crack. She looks so pathetic.

"Why they keep making her do it over?" Nicks is asking Cal.

"Dunno doll," he says. "What a laugh though, eh?"

On the floor, the woman says, "Hold the skirt out."

The model does so. The bitch cracks the cane into her upper arse. The girl convulses her arms back defensively.

Mel goes, "Do it again, hold it out. With both hands."

The stupid girl does this. The woman cracks her arse, cane stretched full length and whipped it in at speed. Again, the model jerks her arms back.

"Keep them stuck out! Don't cover with your arse with your hands like that or I'll just get them with the cane. Another crack on the knuckles you don't want to feel."

She make her do this three more times, and each time the stupid model gets the cane hammered into her upper arse cheeks.

It's the woman's face which is most shocking Sammy. When she canes the girl like this, she's showing the effort, clearly putting in some power, but her look changes just as the cane strikes home. There's gleeful satisfaction spreading underneath her tensed facial muscles. The way she moves her legs as well, Sammy guesses that there's more going on than just heavy breathing. Her hips move oddly, like there's friction with material in sensitive places. She's causing this pathetic girl suffering and it's obvious to Sammy that it's turning her on.


***


Bell End, fuck. If she'd known it was going to be Bell End she'd have called her mates from school. Lilly Bell End Bellman, she's sure it's her. The older kids used to take the piss. Bell End, that's what they called her, and it's obvious why. What is she, two years older or three? No it's two, she's nearly sure, same year as that Carol Pearson who went out with Chigger for a bit.

Here comes that Mel again, doing a voice like some woman boss off the telly, that actress, what's her name? Making her pull her knickers up and stick her skirt back on. At least we've not got to look at her arsehole any more. Oh my God I've seen Bell End's arsehole.

Here comes Kinks with his camera, he looks really funny. Only why's he looking at Cal's Sammy like that, what the fuck's she to him? Wet blanket, that's what mum would have called her. Girls who look like her, they're so stuck-up, they really think they're somebody. What's Cal doing with her? He's with her because he can have her, because Cal's so cool he can have anyone.

There Kinks goes again, looking at bloody Sammy like he's asking her permission. Mel telling the girl to get on with it, oh fuck look at Bell End's hands! Christ she can hardly control them, what a state! Trying to get that belt done up, oh my God. Oh fuck, and that Mel's cracked her in the arse again to make her go faster! Stupid Lilly Bell End just does everything she tells her, like she thinks she's her friend and she's doing her a favour. Anyone can see she's just taking the piss, ripping it straight out of her.

Stupid cow can't get the buckle done up and here comes big Mel fucking hammering her, telling her to go again. Here it comes off again, now stupid Lilly's just standing there shaking, holding her skirt in one hand with just them stupid big white knickers on, while Mel just wallops her! Learn to do things quicker, she's going, only she can't, can she? This is really funny, she's so fucking terrified she can't make her hands stop shaking.

Do it again, put it on again. She's snivelling like a baby now, sniffing the snot back up her nose. Christ, the look on that Sammy's face, looks like she'll burst a blood vessel. Cal's just snorting, he's so fucking cool.

I could do Bell End. I could do her in front of them, in front of my Kinks, he'll think it's really funny. In front of Cal. Make Cal laugh, make him do that snort he's doing. If Sammy doesn't like it, Cal can just tell her to fuck right off. Tell Bell End to do whatever I feel like, then cane her with that big fat cane till she can't stand up. Do it on her legs so it really hurts.

Kinks and Cal could piss on her, I'd even do it myself if they was watching. Drink loads of beer and every time we needed a piss, we could send her to the toilet and do it on her. Cause I wouldn't mind Kinks doing her, not if I was there as well, not if I'm telling him what to do. Cal can do it as well. I bet he's got a really nice thing. He could do her up her arse then make her suck it, stick it all round her mouth and in her nose and on her eyes and she'll have to just like it tasting of shit.

I'm going to do her, ask that Mel if I can do her, they said they don't mind me going on camera. I can do her like in them pictures Kinks likes, them pictures of girls with their tits all tied up and swollen and going purple, ballooning he calls it. Tie her tits to one of them bars in the ceiling then stick a gag in her mouth so she can't make that stupid moaning noise. Her big dirty tits holding her in place so my Kinks and Cal can do her however they want.

Mel's just brilliant the way she's got her acting like that, she ain't even got to tie her up, oh my God what's she telling her? Oh my God she's making her think it's her fault, and Stupid Lilly Bell End just believes her! Here she goes again now, got her skirt off, holding it out. Mel mashing her cane into Bell End's massive arse. Bell End, what a state. It's her, I know it, it's got to be her. Oh my God I know where she lives, where her mum's got that shop. Cal's got to recognise her, I've got to ask him after. Bell End, oh my fucking God what a state.




19: Kinks and Co huddle, Mel and Co huddle; Lilly in a retake or Lilly in practice?


"What do you think?" Mel asks Malcolm.

His face pops up over his camera. "About what?"

"You know," says Mel. "Continuity. All that bollocks. How's it all looking?"

Malcolm motions her away from the others. He waves Billy over too. Billy puts his camera on the ground, pointing up at the trembling Lilly. Kinks starts walking round her. He points his camera at her tits. Then goes round to the back and points it at her juicy great backside. Left alone, Lilly is closing her eyes and blowing through her nose. She's making odd hip movements, trembling her buttocks. Staccato breaths and pants are escaping her mouth. She clenches buttocks tighter, dips her hips, makes a small whine.

Behind her, Nicks says to Kinks, "I've got something to tell you. Not here, after."

He looks round, shrugs and grins. "Laugh this, innit?"

Over in the meeting, Mel asks the huddle, "How are we doing do you think? How are your friends reacting, Bill?"

"It's Kinks, he's the mate. They look alright to me. From what he says, his bird won't mind much."

"What about the other girl though? She doesn't look that happy."

"Nah," says Billy. "Not said nothing though, has she?"

He waves Kinks over as well.

"Alright mate, how you doing?" Kinks asks. "Yeah, what a buzz, fucking hell. Nice cane action, girl." He's said this to Mel. He sticks a thumb up. "Fucking brilliant, yeah."

Mel asks him, "How do you think your friends are taking it?"

He looks around, at the three of them bunched around the worktop, past Lilly.

"Pigs in shit," Kinks says.

"What about them others? Your girl Nicks' mate Cal, that other bird?"

"Dunno Bill," he says. "Want me to ask 'em? They was alright in the car."

"Sound 'em out," says Billy.

"Alright... yeah. By the by, how's my camerawork looking then? Doing alright, am I? You want me in the frame?"

Mel says, "Might bring you in closer, yes. Probably use you a bit."

"Brilliant," he says. "You can stick me in vision anytime."

"Well you could try to keep your camera steadier," Malcolm tells him. "If you make it calmer than you think you need to, you'll probably be doing it just about right."

"Right mate, tips, yeah." The thumb goes up again before Kinks slopes off towards the others.

They see him coming over to them. He nods, bobs his torso, makes a show of pointing his camera at the girl. She's still holding her arms out with the skirt hanging loose. Her arms are trembling. He moves his camera right up to her face, intrusively.

"How you doing, alright babes? How's it feeling?"

He's asked this of her quietly. She's looking in his lens. She whimpers.

"Alright, yeah," he husks. "Nice one, yeah."

He strolls up to his friends.

"Fuck," he says. "What?"

Cal just giggles.

"What d'you fink?" Kinks asks generally. "All that and more, yeah?"

"Large, mate," says Cal.

Nicks asks, "Why they just leave her with her arms stuck out?"

"Continuity, babes," says Kinks. "Yeah. All proper, all that bollocks."

"State though, ain't she?" Nicks has said this quietly.

"Yeah. Looks good in here though."

"She don't half look stupid though." Again the hushed voice. Cal makes half a snort.

"Yeah. Fair enough," Kinks says. "Them others was asking if you're all, like, happy. It's a gas though, this, innit?"

"Gas," says Cal and tips his head back.

"You alright, darling?" Kinks has asked this of Sammy.

She looks. She blinks, then shrugs. "Alright," she says, keeping face muscles static.

"Brilliant, yeah. Everyfing I said, all that."

Nicks says to Kinks, "Didn't half look funny when you stuck that in her face."

She's nodding at his camera. Cal just snorts.

"You going back to work?" Nicks asks him.

The crew, behind, are stirring from their huddle.

"Right," he says. "Yeah babes. Got to go back to the office. Give us a kiss and I'll see you after work, alright?"

He leans in. They kiss, mouths open, right in front of the other two. Sammy watches for a moment then turns her head away. They're made for each other, these two, she thinks, but she wishes she weren't exchanging body fluids a meter from her.

On the other side of the room, Mel asks in a whisper, "We still on the right track? Am I still doing the right kind of thing?"

Billy blinks back. He says, "You've got her so she don't know if she's coming or going. Absolute fucking dynamite, girl."

"So you think it's OK? Not too much?"

"Brilliant. Her reactions are ace."

"What do you think, Malcolm?"

He says, "Well you know it's not something I'd have ever thought to work on. But I can't say it's not compelling. I mean I'm tempted to feel sorry for her. I do, it is a bit much, of course. Though, you know, it's also... if you suspend any thoughts about how the poor girl herself must be feeling... well it's really good film, it's terrifically intense."

"So what, we just carry on milking her? It's not too much?"

"Nah," Billy says, "You should rub it in. Tell her she's useless, go for it. She won't know, will she? Hours of usable stuff in that girl. Old Cyril's going to be creaming his pants."

"Malcolm?" Mel asks, "no qualms about the girl if I push it some more?"

"Oh, he says, "oh well yes. The girl. She's not the one I was worrying about. The other girl, the blond one on the side. She did look rather upset. I mean, it's cruel I know, did you hear those one or two comments? I mean, those others may be threatening to laugh, but it does rather show whose side they're on. That they're not about to complain, you know. It's the blond one, yes. Looks like she'd rather be somewhere else."

Mel is just nodding.

Billy says, "Kinks reckoned she was up for it though."

"Maybe you should sound her out yourself. Best just make sure. Prevent any problems before we go on."

"Wilco, darling."

He goes towards the group by the worktop.

Mel asks Malcolm, "Are we really getting good visuals then?"

"Oh yes," he says. "Every time I try a close-up, she's just so upset."

"Close-ups of the front, or close-ups of the back?"

Malcolm feels like he's actually blushing. He clears his throat. "Well I can't say I didn't appreciate... you know..."

"The spreading?" she asks.

"Well, yes," he says.

"Got your todger stirring, did it?"

"Hum," he says.

"Shall I carry on the same then?"

"Oh," Malcolm muses, "I do think it'll contribute to the overall frisson. So I won't be objecting. Yes, lots more... spreading."

"And you think it's alright... humiliating her like this?"

"Well," he says, "you know... um... I shouldn't perhaps admit to it, but I'm rather enjoying it as it happens. One side of me does feel quite sorry for her. Then I look through the camera... especially when you're caning her... you can feel how much it hurts... and I think, poor thing. And the next moment, I'm thinking... well... go on Mel, do it again. You know... hit her harder, go on."

"Do her," says Mel. "Like Billy says."

"Yes, do her. Do her good and proper."


***


When they come back from their conference, they don't waste much time on preliminaries.

"Put this on again, lovely."

Mel's pointing to the skirt.

"Like lightning now, chop-chop."

The cameras are positioned. Mel goes close to Kinks.

"Everything alright, is it? Your friend not too upset?"

"Fink you're worrying for nothing, darling. All brilliant. They're having it large."

"Alright," she says. "So... just so they know not to get in the way.

She turns back to the others. Nods to the cameras. Waits for Kinks to find a position. Then Mel grabs the girl's elbow and makes her bend down.

"Wasn't right yet, we reckon," she says out loud.

"We'll have to go again darling," Billy says to Lilly.

Mel's got her dangling her arms again. The girl's face looks stressed, she looks very unhappy.

"It's a problem," says Mel. "I'm sorry, Lilly, but we're having a problem. The thing is, you're such an obvious amateur. We had to talk. It's the footage, you see. There's just not very much that these fellows can use. Is there, Billy?"

"How much have we got then?" Billy asks Malcolm. "Like, what we can use?"

"I don't know," he says. "Five minutes? Maybe. I think it's probably a good idea if we... you know... go again. I mean, when I look at the tape, it just seems a bit weak."

"Problem is, darling, my uncle needs two fucking hours."

"And I'm not even sure about five minutes, to be honest."

"What's the verdict then?" Mel asks. "Partial retake or the whole thing again?"

Billy says, "I'd say the lot."

She looks at Malcolm.

"I'm afraid I'd have to agree," he says.

"In bits, or all at once?"

"Oh all at once I should say," Malcolm tells her.

Mel approaches Lilly, stoops, speaks quietly to her. As she does this, Billy wanders in with his lens.

"Lilly," she says. "I'm really sorry but, as you can hear, we've got to go again. I know it feels hard, trust me I know what it can feel like. The problem is, on camera, it just doesn't look... well, really that hard at all I'm afraid. I'm sorry, but I even think I might have to try going a bit harder. Do you follow? It's a thing that the camera does you see, it makes cane strokes, any kind of spanking really, look really rather softer than it actually is. It's happened to me so many times I've just got used to it. You get a bum like a rhinoceros hide after a while. Bit mean on you though, you know, first time... Thing is though, even if that's a bit annoying for you, it's also really annoying for everyone else. It's absolutely desperate, we've just got to get something decent for the cut. See, the market's so tough that producers have a terrible time trying to get their stuff to sell. There's so much competition. By the time they manage to get anything to market they've normally had to spend rather a lot of money. They used to be able to get away with much softer stuff, you know, but they just can't get away with that anymore, the market just sees it as second-rate. Czech republic, all that Eastern product, it's terrifically raised the bar of what the customers expect now. And the problem is, we're all after such a niche market, and the customers are so clued-in, that nowadays there's no option at all but to make things look really, properly hard. Which in reality has got to be even harder, because of that awfully annoying thing the camera does. Otherwise the customers just can't believe what they're watching at all. I mean, Billy's uncle here has been stung so many times that he's barely keeping his head above water. He absolutely insist on us producing something that looks convincing. He really does, and he's not a man to try bargaining with. So I'm afraid there's no just other option. You've just got to be brave my dear and try your absolute best to bear it."

Billy's getting all this on tape. Malcolm too, now.

"Kinks," Bill goes, "we need you mate, got to fucking go again. Sorry, what we done before looks so rubbish."

"Yeah?" Kinks asks.

Billy winks. Lilly can't see. "Expert eye here, Mel and this bloke Malcolm really know their stuff."

Mel says, "Lilly, I think I'll have to cane you probably quite a bit longer this time as well."

She says this breezily whilst walking away, as if this is a perfectly normal thing to tell a model. She drops a paper hankie in a bin, then stands with her weight to one foot as she talks.

"Thing is, not every stroke's telling, if you catch my drift. It's your reactions in a way, it's so obvious you don't know what you're doing I'm afraid. In an ideal world I'd just call in a more experienced model, but as you know there just isn't one available, so I'm sorry but we're buggered my dear. So like I said, you'll just have to grin and bear it. No don't move darling, stay exactly where you are for continuity, there's a good girl."

Mel stands there in full flow, gesturing, talking from across the room.

"And I'd try and give you some advice as to how to react, you know, give you some tips and hints, how to do it properly. But in a way I can't. Thing is, it's always entirely individual to each girl, each one develops their own style, so to speak, comes with experience I suppose. All I can say is, you're just not doing it right yet. And it's so absolutely imperative that we get a decent film in the can this session, isn't it Malcolm?"

Malcolm's head twitches at mention of his name. He changes his expression to one he thinks is stern but in reality isn't, and says, "Mister Fuller..."

"My Uncle Cyril," says Billy.

"...was surprisingly insistent."

"Yes. He can be very insistent indeed," Mel says, "which I know to my personal cost." She mimics swishing a cane with her hand. "I mean, as you know, I was meant to be modelling myself today, but that would only have left you as the dom, and that would have been a fucking disaster my dear. I mean you're having enough trouble modelling as it is, and all you have to do is just stand there doing nothing." She thinks for a second. "Well, other than follow instructions. But I mean, all you really need to know about that is, as I've said before, do whatever you're told to do. And the best way for that is, don't even think about it at all. Yes indeed." She turns to the others. "I tell you what, can we try an experiment? Try and give her some clues? Yes? We'll get back to the retake in a moment, I promise, but trying this now might help speed things up later."

"Knock yourself out darling," Billy says.




20: Mel teaches Lilly some industry tricks


"Right," Mel says. "Alright Lilly, you're going to move. Continuity's fine if you know what you're doing but you obviously don't, and we've got to do the whole bloody thing again anyway. So come back here a bit, come towards me where everyone can see you properly, and we'll see if I can't show you a trick or two. Come on darling."

Lilly hesitates, then starts to straighten up.

"No no stop!" Mel orders. "No you've really got to listen to me carefully, haven't you? And if you think about it dear, I really haven't given you any instruction to stand up."

Everyone, absolutely everyone in the room is watching Lilly with the fullest attention, frankly staring like she's a prize cow at market.

"Come into the middle of the room," Mel says with exaggerated patience," but stay in the position you're in while you do it."

Lilly starts to turn towards the middle.

"No you're doing it again," Mel says quickly, "I didn't tell you to turn either, did I? All I said was, come into the middle of the room." Her voice takes on a sarcastic lilt. "Stay in the position you're already in, stay facing the same way, but..." quickly now, "come-into-the-middle-of-the-room."

Lilly hesitates, as if trying to work out how to do this.

"And the other thing which is absolutely imperative," Mel adds, "is that you really must try to do these things quickly. We're so tight on time, dear. I mean, maybe you haven't got to be anywhere, but the rest of us have, and to be honest my lovely, it's you who's the problem, it's you that's holding everything up."

"She's fucking useless mate, honest," Billy whispers loudly to Kinks.

"So... no don't move yet dear, not while I'm talking... the thing is, it's always a good thing for any model to do what she's told to do quickly, it's just good policy, but in this case, as you are completely holding everything up, you really must do your best to do whatever it is I tell you... well, very quickly indeed. In fact I'd go as far as to say with absolutely no hesitation whatsoever. This is all costing a lot of money now, isn't it? I mean, you might not be getting paid much, but the rest of us all cost a pretty penny."

She moves her hands with each thing she lists, and her voice rises at the end of each phrase.

"There's the hire of the studio, the cost of electricity, the heating. Malcolm's transport, payments to Malcolm's agent, the cost of post-production. And as for editing... well the editor's going to have a hell of a job getting through all this useless bloody footage we've shot, fucking hours of it most likely my dear... just goes and on and on and on, really it's endless. I mean, even this lot"... she points to Cal, Nicks and Sammy, "now that they're here, even if it wasn't planned, might have to be paid for performance rights, should they wander into frame. And all of it for so much longer because you simply don't seem to have the tiniest clue. But the thing is, darling... and to be honest I'm letting you into a big trade secret here, this is gold-dust, really, in fact it was years before anyone bothered to tell it to me... and I cursed the buggers for never having told me sooner... is that a model must always follow all of the instructions all of the time. Absolutely every single one at this stage of your career my lovely, including even tiny, apparently insignificant, even irrelevant instruction that you can barely believe we can truly mean... to the absolute fucking letter. Alright? Every single time, Lilly, including whether it's me giving it to you or Malcolm giving it to you or BIlly or... well, since we're practising now, at least later on anyway, by any of this lot as well. We might get to them later, for a bit more of a serious practice, we'll see. But for now anyway, to make things simple, just listen to me and do what I tell you! So we're going to give you some practice, just so can learn what I mean, alright? So... wait... at the end of the instruction I'm about to give you, I want you to... come into the middle of the room, while staying in the position you're already in, and not changing orientation or anything stupid like that, but remembering that you have to do it very quickly so that nobody has to waste any more of their time on you than is strictly necessary... you must, " with a flourish, "come-into-the-middle-of-the-room!"

There's hesitation, extraordinary embarrassment on Lilly's part.

"Now!" Mel shouts.

Lilly is shuffling backwards, suddenly and fast. She trips over her own feet, staggers and almost topples, recovers by ducking her hips down with bent knees, loses it again, and thumps backwards onto her arse.

Nicks and Cal laugh out loud. Cal holds his ribs and tips his head back against the wall. Sammy has her jaw clamped fast, her face looks crimson.

"Oh get up," Mel says annoyed. "Don't look at them, ignore them, they haven't got anything to do with this, alright? Get up and try to fucking concentrate."

Lilly stumbles with extreme awkwardness to her feet and, torso shuddering, drops back into a similar position. Her knees are now bent slightly and her back is curved, unlovely, so that she looks like she's waiting to be kicked in the arse. Her fingers curl, as before, but much more tightly.

"Back into the middle of the room," Mel says. Then, angrily and on one high note, "Hesitation!"

Lilly clumps her way backwards, chin rucking, torso shuddering.

Mel says to Billy, "Look, since we're practising, do you think it might be an idea for your friend with the camera to get in some practice as well? I mean I know this is a bit off the beaten track and it's probably not anything you can use, but you never know, there could possibly be a moment here or there for the out-takes or something. That tumble for a start, it's possible there might be a couple of laughs in that. And it might help get Lilly more used to the camera. Must be a bit daunting the first time, don't you think?"

Billy says, "What say Kinks, up for a bit of practice? Probably be complete bollocks all this, but whatever."

Malcolm says, "I might as well join in as well, don't you think? Just for the sake of the model and all. To make it more like the real thing."

"Alright, good then," Mel says. Then to Lilly, "They might as well play about a bit as well while they're at it. I mean, don't be surprised if they do something like push one of the cameras right up in your face, you know." She says to the others, "It'll get her used to it all a bit quicker. You know, don't feel you have to spare her blushes or anything. Since it's purely for her benefit, you might as well throw caution to the winds and go the whole hog. It's imperative she gets used to it as quickly as she can. So... yes, well good, shall we go again then?"

She stoops close to Lilly, the reluctant center of excruciating stares.

"Now I'm going to give you just a few strokes of the cane first, just so it's in the same context as the proper film, alright? But the moment I'm finished, I want you... instantly... to straighten up and take your skirt off. OK? And to show you that you know how to do these things in sequence, I want you immediately to pull your... I tell you what, turn your bottom a bit dear, so these others can see a bit of what's going on behind you as well. Bit more. No, the other way actually dear, changed my mind. No, right round, right round, bit more. And, stop. Shuffle a bit this way... yes, towards me, yes, that's it, a bit further... stop. Very good. Bit slow though, remember I want speed. Anyway dear, the instant you've got the skirt off, drop it and bend down into exactly the same position, and... what else then? Oh, yes, I know, right, just to make it a bit more real then... I want you immediately... and I mean, immediately, to reach around your bum with... yes, try it now, just over your skirt, yes... yes, further, reach as far as you can, there's no point doing things by halves at this point, you know how the camera always makes everything look so much smaller... reaching as far as you can, no stinting, alright? Then," with emphasis, "grab your bum cheeks for all you're worth dear, and pull 'em as far apart as you can. Alright? We'll stop there for now, don't want to make things too complicated for you. But remember Lilly... it is Lilly isn't it? All of it dear, as fast as you possibly can. So, ready then are we? Just a little bit further this way dear, you need to give me a bit more room to properly swish the cane, you know how long it is. Alright, good. Now remember, it's going to be several strokes, OK? I'll do them as quickly as I possibly can my dear, just so you truly know when I've stopped, so you can judge when it's your turn to do your actions. And..."

She lifts the cane right back, then whacks it home over Lilly's skirt, in a blur, putting her body into it, and continuing immediately, stroke blurring into stroke, till she's landed five, then ten. She seems to double her effort for the next few, turning her body and hammering the cane in over Lilly's skirt.

Lilly has been convulsing, staggering, clenching her fingers. Her head vibrating as muscles tense against the pain, her arms jerking back reflexively.

Mel shouts in a single high tone, "Come on, come on, get on with it Lilly!"

Then she's moving, jerking more upright, remembering to look down for her belt, clutching at it and losing grip, clutching again and missing altogether, and all the time with Mel chiding her with, "Hurry up, hurry up!"

Kinks takes Mel at her word and shoves his camera right up under Lilly's chin. This has the effect of making her stagger backwards and hesitate.

Mel shouts in another high monotone, "Don't pay him any attention Lilly, get on with it!"

Behind Lilly against the wall, Cal is snorting. This makes Nicks laugh as well. Sammy glares at them, jaw still clenched.

Lilly's hands are shaking as she pulls at the belt of her skirt. She gets the feeder edge detached, tries to pull at it but can't clutch the pin to get it out.

"Oh, come... on!" Mel chides, and hammers in a cane stroke.

Lilly finally has it. She tries to lift the skirt away but loses her grip and the skirt just slumps down her legs. She bends to pick it up. Mel cracks in a blinder low on Lilly's arse.

"Leave it, leave it! Knickers now Lilly!"

The cameras all focus in on her. The new boy has his right under her face, inches away, Billy and Malcolm are pointing as well. And she's sure there are people laughing at her.

"Knickers!"

She reaches and pulls. They just drag down. she feels air on her buttocks.

"And hands, hands!"

She's really hesitating, she knows she is. Her hands start to reach but refuse. Her fingers clutch convulsively together.

"Reach, reach!"

She wants to die. She's never felt so stupid in her life, and she's someone who makes a habit of feeling stupid about herself.

Mel shrieks in one high tone, "Reeeeach!"

Her hands jerk back. Her wrists press against her haunches.

"Further, Lilly, further, all the way back!"

She tries to make them go further. Her feet stagger and readjust as her torso tries to curl tighter.

"Further, bend your knees!"

She staggers her feet wider, knees buckling, she looks unbelievably ungainly.

"And,  grip! Grip girl, grip!"

Her fingers partly uncurl but still won't straighten.

"Griiiip!"

They're straight, shuddering with tension, flush against the skin, still resisting.

"God, get on with it girl," Mel shouts with far more variation. "Just... pull your bloody cheeks apart, it's not like anyone here hasn't seen it all before."

Her hands are pressing, fingertips pointing into the flesh, parting her buttocks. She feels cold air between them.

Mel says, apparently exasperated, "Oh for god's sake wider, wider!"

When she's not satisfied, she clips her heels forwards, clamps her hands over Lilly's hands and pulls them backwards, jamming them onto her big, trembling cheeks at full stretch, then makes the hands pull sideways, jerking them apart several times, rhythmically.

"Pull" she's saying, "pull your bloody cheeks apart!"

With real pressure, making Lilly's hands pull the flesh as wide as her cheeks will stand.

"Properly," she's saying, "like this..." pulling hard, "with some bloody effort," relaxing then stretching, "for God's sake just do it properly." Pull... pull... pull. "If you don't put in a bit of proper effort, it won't look like you're doing it at all."

She steps back, releasing the replacement model's hands. Lilly is trembling all over and whining rhythmically. Her skirt is slumped round her ankles, her knickers sit pulled and skewed in a twist over her knees. Her feet, in sensible shoes, are far apart and her knees are buckled towards the floor and turned inwards unevenly. Her torso is curved with the effort of reaching, her arms clamped so far back that her shoulders feel like they're about to leave their sockets. And she's exposed. Rictus fingers are parting her big globe cheeks. Not low by her pudenda, but high, to either side of her puckering anus. The pudeda itself juts down distinctly between her juddering thighs. Her breathing is shallow and frequent, her whines of misery short and quavering. Cameras point straight into her face, and move around her. She sees, between her legs, the pretty girl looking stiff, pressing a hand to her mouth like she's about to be sick. She's sure that the girl with the spiky black hair is trying not to let her see her laughing. Beside her, the leather boy with the sunglasses rucks down from his perch and, elbows on knees, strains forwards, unabashedly staring between her legs.

"Oh my God."

As the goth girl says this, an involuntary giggle escapes.

"Oh my God, look how fucking red her arse is!"

Mel lets them stare. She says to Kinks, "Might as well have a practice for a mo, look for some decent angles. What do you think?" she asks Billy.

He says, "I can hardly tell you, girl."

"I know, I know," Mel says. "She's incredibly slow, I know she is."

Billy says to Kinks as he goes round behind, "Sorry mate but the girl's just so rubbish."

Kinks starts to laugh at the look on Billy's face.

"How long do you think this might take then, Bill?" he asks in a low but audible tone.

"Fuck knows," Billy says. "Tell you the truth, I ain't never seen a girl this crap before."

"I know," says Mel from the side, "I know. We're absolutely buggered, aren't we? But there's no choice, no choice. We just have to go on for as long as it takes."

Malcolm steps over. Mel nods her head and pulls them all further away.

Kinks goes behind the girl with his roving camera. He points it. He pushes it inwards. To splutters from Nicks, he says, quite distinctly, "God, her arse just looks fucking enormous in here!"




21: Lilly in a retake; Mel throws it open to the audience


The crew's huddle is quick, then they're straight back to the model.

"Right lovely," Mel says, "general opinion is, we try straight away for one more bloody retake of the skirt off thing. Alright? But please do try to concentrate. So quickly, one last time, skirt back on. Then follow every instruction, alright?"

The traumatised girl releases her cheeks. She bends, pulls up her knickers slowly, then retrieving the skirt, begins to stand up. As her bladder throbs, she cringes back down. She fumbles with the skirt belt. When she favours her bladder by not pulling tight, Mel steps in and pulls at it more. The girl's face is close to hers for a moment. There's whimper as Mel pulls the belt tight.

The woman says quietly, "For God's sake, don't fuss so."

She steps back. All the cameras are in place.

"A bit of the cane, alright? Then the moment I stop, you know what to do. Stand up, skirt off quick as you like. The sooner the skirt's off, the sooner we can get through this silly tiresome retake."

The girl bends, drops her arms. Mel fires off a blur of cane strokes. She goes quickly. When she stops, Lilly rises with a jerk. Her hands scrabble for her belt buckle. They barely work at all now, the right hand's vibrating like a broken motor. Each time she starts to get a grip, Mel cracks one in and she loses it again. And the strokes are so hard. She desperately wants to make the hands work, but they just won't. They clutch uselessly in front of her. She stands there, quaking for an age it seems like, unable to move as the blows thud in.

She hears Mel shouting, "Get on with it Lilly or I'll just keep on caning!" Reflexively, she's scrabbling at her belt.  She can't even see it through blurring eyes. Her hands work blind, and she doesn't know how, but the outer buckle's free.

That single high pitch again, "Concentrate!" like a gym teacher.

She starts blowing through her nostrils, puffs of concentration, painfully slowly starting to raise the belt buckle and grip the pin with her fingertips. She ignores the thudding and stinging, holds and prizes, and pulls the two strands of the belt apart. Hand out, she drops it. Her feet feel rooted, her knees are too loose and unstable to move.

"Hands! On your head now!"

It's a new instruction. Her hands stretch up. Her whole body is quaking and it won't go straight... the pain at her bladder is far too great... she's standing with knees bent and trembling. And it's a struggle to make her arms go on top of her head when all they want to do is defend her body. The strokes come in fast, high up on her bum, into the knickers which are rucked in such a mess.

"Hands!" from the gym teacher. She didn't know she'd moved them, she couldn't help it. With an effort, trembling hard, she raises them to the top again. They're barely touching each other or her head.

The pain sears in, this time low where her bum meets her legs. It's hitting reverberating flesh, raw and puckered and marked. The knickers ride up.

"Hands! Come on!"

Again she has to lift them.

"Oh for God's sake, you can go quicker than that, girl, surely..."

They jerk on top. She waits there, cringing, her hips bobbing forward every time she thinks the cane will land again. Then the strokes are cracking, around the side of her bum. Her hips jerk but her hands stay up.

"Knickers down!"

She means to tell her arms to move, she's sure she has. But the pain is searing, a stroke has landed cleanly on her thigh. Her arms jerk down.

"Down to here girl."

More new pain at her thighs, halfway to her knees. She drags down her pants.

High again, single toned: "Feet apart, grab your bum!"

She can't react, she's too traumatised. Pain hits her legs again. She jerks one foot wider.

"Grab, girl! God's sake..."

She stays upright, reaching clumsily behind, cupping one raw, dimpled cheek in each trembling hand. She feels welts there, fat stinging ridges. She doesn't recognise her own flesh.

"Come on, get a grip, girl, for goodness' sake. Upwards and outwards, yes? Then bend... Go on, bend. So you stretch between your legs. Bend your knees. Get on with it!." She's peering behind at Lilly's crotch. "Go on, I can't help you out every time... You know what it felt like before, surely. You should feel like you're starting to split apart. Jolly tight, remember? With every pose, what you aim for is always this. No point bothering with half-measures, you know the camera shrinks rather than exaggerates..."

"Not in here it don't," Kinks mutters.

"Just ignore him, he's a silly boy. What this feels like, where you are now... well it's the absolute minimum expected of a model. Half-measures just don't cut it anymore. So next time you're in a shoot, and a photographer... any photographer... asks you for a bum shot, what he's expecting to see is this. Half-measures waste his time and money. Big, juicy handfuls of bum cheek. Lift, and spread. Bend as far forward as you possibly can. Now then Lilly, you're still not quite right for the light. Walk a bit forwards, yes? Just a few steps, darling. Go on, don't lose the pose."

Lilly tries to move a foot, but her feet are so far apart, she waddles like a duck.

"No too far, come backwards a bit. Now, turn clockwise darling."

Lilly staggers in a circle.

"No the other clockwise, dear."

Lilly whines quietly, "I am going clockwise."

"No you're not. Back the other way."

"I am! I know what clockwise is!" she says.

"She is," says Malcolm, "she is going clockwise."

Mel blows out a puff of breath. "Well really," she says, "go ahead Lilly, just... embarrass me in front of everyone, why don't you?"


***


Mel turns to the other crew.

"How was it?" she asks. "Is she ready to go on or does she still need more practice?"

Billy and Malcolm exchange quick looks.

"Still slow," Billy says.

"I dunno," Malcolm says. "We might be able to use it, yes."

"Definitely needs more practice," says Billy.

"Yes, I thought so myself. Really, I'm pretty much at my wit's end here. How the hell do we get through this?"

"Throw it open to the floor, babes," says Billy. He's grinning. Kinks is nodding vigourously over his camera. Malcolm shrugs.

Mel sighs. She takes out a hankey, wipes her nose, then walks up to Lilly's face. She bends herself down so her head is close.

"Look," she says, "I'm trying my best. I really am darling, for God's sake I am, but you know what? I'm really struggling here. I'm trying to give you the help you need. I really am, I'm giving you tips of the trade, I'm giving you chance after chance."

She looks Lilly in the eyes.

"But our biggest problem is, darling... well, performance we've talked about, and I'm of the opinion that... maybe your style really is... well, whatever it is you're doing. But the speed, Lilly. I dunno what's going on in there, you're just getting slower. It's just desperate, lovey. It's so blatantly obvious that you need more practice following instructions. So look, I'm going to try just one more experiment to see if it will help. Alright? I'm going to throw it open to the floor. I want the instructions coming thick and fast, to really give you a proper workout. So here's the thing, darling. You've just got to learn to follow instructions. Immediately. To the letter. So for the next few minutes these good people here will get their chance to contribute, to see if they can't help the message get in. OK?"

Lilly is looking Mel directly back. Her eyes stare wide, her face is rigid, her jaw is locked.

"All you have to do," Mel says, "is do what they tell you. It's really simple. It's not rocket science. When you hear an instruction... follow that instruction! And Lilly, this is very important. Every instruction, no matter who it's from, is as important as every other instruction. You hear it, you do what it says, OK? Are you ready for this, Lilly?"

The girl doesn't answer. Her face looks so stressed. Mel blinks at her.

She says, very quietly, "Do you really want Billy's Uncle going after you for breach of contract? All you have to do is do what we say. Be a good girl now. Tell me you're not going to cause a problem. Just be a good girl and do what we tell you."

Mel stands up. She swishes her cane.

"Right," she says out loud, "instructions, anyone?"

She looks at the audience. The blond girl's face looks like thunder. The lad in leathers puts his head back and breathes the words, "Fuck me, what?"

Malcolm and Billy have Lilly framed but are quietly waiting. Kinks fills the space in front of Lilly's face recently vacated by Mel.

It's Nicks who speaks. She asks, "What do we call her?"

"Lilly," says Billy.

Nicks' eyes open wider. Her mouth parts a little. "Fucking hell," she says. "Yeah. I fink she should jump."

"Jump?" Mel asks.

"Yeah. Like, how she is. Jump up and down."

"Great," says Mel. "OK, Lilly, everyone, here are the rules. The model has to stay in exactly the position she's in. Except she adds whatever action you tell her to do. Alright, Lilly darling? This girl wants you to jump up and down. So you stay in the position you're in, but... you know... jump up and down. And darling, everyone... remember, if she gets an instruction like this, she should do it, and carry on doing it, until or unless she is told to stop. Got it, everyone? Now my love, I want you to say what you want the model to do directly to her, as a clear instruction. And Lilly, when she does it, I want you to carry the instruction out. Immediately she says it. Right. Give the instruction."

"Yeah," says Nicks, "yeah, model Lilly. Jump up and down."

Lilly twitches her body down. Mel steps behind her. She cracks the cane in low on Lilly's leg. The model doesn't respond. Mel cracks it harder. The model dips her hips. She lets out a little keening sob. Then she jumps. Her thighs, her feet, lift her bent body an inch into the air. Mel taps in the cane again. The girl jumps once more. It's a slow, heavy, awkward action. She looks like an idiot to start with. Jumping like this, she looks ludicrous.

"Fucking hell," Nicks says, "do it faster, for fuck's sake."

Lilly's mouth muscles bunch in. She looks intensely stressed. Mel cracks her cane low into the girl's leg. And Lilly doubles the speed of her jumping. Up on her toes, back down onto the flats of her feet with a thud.

Cal, head back against the wall up high on the worktop, says, "Get her feet wider, Nicks."

"Yeah," Nicks says, "stick your feet wider, model Lilly."

Lilly, starting to breathe harder, thumps her feet further apart as she jumps. The result is that her knees can't go any wider when her knickers, at her knees, are stretched to their fullest. Instead, she tries to separate her feet. She's now jumping from, and onto, her insteps. Her face contorts with the effort. There's disgust showing on a severely down-turned mouth. Her dangling breasts lift and distort, stretch and lengthen. Kinks is pointing his camera at these. He says, "Oy, model. Carry on jumping right? Only get your shirt off."

When the girl hesitates and tries to look behind at Mel, She feels a sharp pain on her thigh again. She snatches hands forwards and scrabbles for the shirt buttons. This is hampered by her trying to jump. Clawing fingers try to locate little discs but refuse to work.

"Too slow!" Mel says behind her.

She fires her cane at Lilly's exposed backside. The girl tries to make her fingers work. She ends up pulling first one, then another button open by force.

"Nah," Kinks says, "she's got to do it proper with the rest. Undo 'em proper."

The girl tries to do this. She gets one button undone, unintentionally pulls another open with a pop.

Mel finds Nicks standing next to her. The goth girl says, "Can I do her arse?"

Mel stares at her. Then she hands her the cane and stands back. Behind Lilly, Nicks says, "Oy, model Lilly, don't pull them buttons open."

She canes the girl. Not very effectively, but she stands further back and does it again. The model's full buttocks, livid red, faintly cellulite dimpled, with prominent goose bumps and scored by marks, thrums under another impact. Nicks is proving none too accurate though. She turns the cane to another angle and whips it down from almost above. The top of the cane curls in over the model's upper right haunch, where there's insulating flesh to the top of her hips.

Lilly has the last button undone. Her hands jerk to the sides.

"Get your shirt off," says Kinks. He's fully into this. He's got Nicks in frame behind Lilly. Lilly thumps up and down once more. She's trying to work her top off while jumping, bent. Her arms get locked behind her back. As she jumps, she feels a searing pain where none has been before. Nicks, standing too far to the side, has whipped a fast stroke in so its tip has clipped her labial lips.

Behind her, Cal sucks air in over his teeth, then he sputters a giggle and says, "Go it, Nicks!"

Lilly's shirt is caught at the cuffs. She's trying to work it off, but each time she jumps, she's destabilising her hands. Behind her, Nicks is standing too far back. Mel has got out of the way. Nicks is swinging her entire arm around in an arc. The cane, already long, snaps around with very little aim. One stroke lands low, tracing a line all down a thigh. Another lands high, across the very top flesh of Lilly's hips, barely missing her struggling hands. Lilly is getting into all kinds of trouble. She's almost tied her arms behind her back. The shirt slides down across her generous cheeks. Nicks takes the tip of the cane and pokes it into the girl's backside, then flicks the shirt up with it. She taps in a quick one with the very end. The shirt falls down.

"Fucking hell," she says, and jabs the cane tip straight into Lilly's cheek. She flicks it up. It falls back across. She pokes again, harder. Flicks the shirt up so the cane scores the big round globe. When it falls across again, she stands back and deliberately pokes the tip into Lilly's arse, repeatedly. Jabbing till the cane bends and jabbing again.

Cal, behind, is snorting, "Classic!"

The model thumps up and down, arms quaking, breasts bunching then stretching, backside on fire. The goth girl pokes her cruelly in the arse like she's sticking a pig.

Nicks looks about. Nobody's stopping her. She takes the cane in both hands so she's shortened its active length. She jabs. The cane tip contacts the top of a thigh. It scrapes the inside curve of a buttock close to the girl's anus. It gets the outside of her left cheek so the cane scrapes away. It pokes and pokes as Cal snorts behind and Kinks shoves his camera in close to Lilly's tortured face.

A wrist tugs through a shirt cuff. Lilly's arms are free. She pulls the shirt down under her body. She can't get it off her other wrist. She pulls and pulls. She jumps weakly. Feels the poking of the cane. Then the shirt tears off. Her hands drop, trembling. She's surprised that that camera has gone from in front of her. She continues to jump, weakly.

"Get your knickers off, model Lilly."

That's Nicks again, behind. Lilly reaches down and starts to tug them free.

"Only don't stop jumping."

She's doing it, pulling them to her ankles, weakly lifting her feet off the ground, trying to work them over her heels, bent completely double. The cane pokes in on one side of her labial lips. Then she bumps down on her bottom as the knickers come off one foot. Nicks jabs her low between her bum cheeks, where they contact the floor.

"Go on," Nicks is saying, "get off your fat arse."

The girl stumbles forwards onto her knees, one trembling arm back to pull the pants over her other foot. Lilly's face is bright red, she can barely see through the sweat and tears. All she's got on is a pair of shoes, white socks, and a bra which is pulled down under full, dangling breasts. Nicks jabs her in the backside once more. The girl just starts to sob. She lets go of the knickers, still wrapped around one ankle. Nicks jabs again and lilly tries to put her hand back, but the sobs are incapacitating.




22: Mel pauses the shoot; Malcolm liaises with Lilly again


Mel has withdrawn behind Malcolm.

"I should never have given her that cane," she says.

"You can always take it back," he says.

"Think I should stop it? I'm going to stop it."

Malcolm shrugs. "It's still good film."

Mel just makes her mind up. She says, "Alright, pause there for a minute everyone!"

Lilly stops with her fingers reaching back around her bum, off center on splayed knees, her other hand supporting her weight. She's still sobbing silently with shudders running down her torso. Nicks looks pained, she was really getting into it.

"Why we stopped?" she asks.

"Um... think we need a sofa," Malcolm says to cover up. It's reminding him of Clive's interruption.

"A what?" Nicks asks.

"A sofa. In the corridor. We want it for a prop, me and Mel. We've just decided."

"What for?" Mel asks him loudly.

He says to her quietly, "Look at Billy." Out loud he says, "The girl looks like she's about to drop. You can put her on it, give her a break."

Billy's up close now but he's clearly annoyed. "Kinks," he says, "can you get your mates to be a bit useful and get in that sofa from the back room there?"

"Need a change of set-up you see," Malcolm says.

Kinks looks at Nicks. He nods to the others. They slip from the worktop and go out in the corridor all in a bunch.

"What the fuck's that about?" Nicks asks all nasal.

"Dunno," says Kinks.

Cal has slid off the worktop without a word. His girlfriend waits before she follows. Kinks, Nicks and Cal slope out. Sammy holds back, watching Billy frowning at Mel and Malcolm, cornering them, asking, "What's up?"

As Sammy passes the model, she pauses. She leans in close.

"Why are you letting them do this to you?"

Lilly, in her cowed, frozen pose, doesn't answer, but she's clearly heard what's been said to her.

"You've got rights," Sammy says. "Stand up for them. Don't let them treat you like a thing like this."

She sees Billy turning, Mel frowning towards her.

"Just put on some clothes and bugger off, you stupid girl." Once Sammy has said this she follows the others out towards the back.

"So what's the problem?" Billy asks.

"Just the way that girl was poking her. It's not standard, it's a bit off the map." Mel is glaring back at the lad.

"You've been whacking her arse for half the afternoon."

"I know," she says.

"So? What's different? Some other bird's holding your cane and now you aint for it?"

Mel looks at Lilly. "Don't you think she's had enough?" she asks.

"She'd had enough the first time you whacked her backside."

The model is trembling on her spot, ducking her hips down to try and ease her bladder pain.

"That girl. Her friends. I don't know what they'll do. I'm not up for the poor kid ending up in casualty."

Billy just glares. "We don't talk about it here," he says. "In the changing room, not around the model."

They stalk away. Malcolm follows their angry progress. "What's happening? What's the matter?" he asks in the room.

The stare at each other with their mouths locked tight. They're gravitating to different sides. A small difference is becoming a widening gulf.

"Um, why don't we just... you know... finish the film off. How does that strike you? You know, put her on this sofa, give her a caning, show her another pose or two, finish the film and send her packing."

Billy glares away.

Mel asks him, "What do you say?"

"It'd be great if we could really go on, obviously." Malcolm is trying to mediate. "We've got masses of footage already though. I mean, great though it is, it's got to end some time."

"Kinks aint seen that much," says Billy. "I've hoiked him out here. He should get to see some decent action."

"He's seen enough already," Mel says.

Malcolm watches the pair of them. He sighs. He realises Lilly is alone again. His head darts to the door.

"Look," he says, "while you're bashing it out, I'll just go and see how the girl's getting on..."

He slopes out of the room and shuts the door quietly behind them. When he's gone, Mel says to Billy, "I think it's getting out of hand."

"No more than when you was smacking her."

"It's not right," Mel says. "Your friend with the cane now, she's grazing the girl. You bring a cane down, you don't deliberately graze."

"You're pissed off cause someone's took your toy away. You're out of your pram."

Mel stares at the lad. "Don't start saying things you'll regret," she tells him.

"I'll say what I fucking like. It's my gaffe."

"Your uncle's place, Billy, not yours."

"Today it's mine. They're my mates out there... Kinks is, anyroad. You done a good job, right? But I want my mates to have a laugh as well. We aint finished yet."

"It's too much. No."

"It aint too much. She's doing what she's told."

They've polarised. "There's a limit," says Mel. "That goth tart's just crossed it."

"You crossed it yourself, babes."

"Not like her."

"Aint following, is you? Crossed it with me, darling." His nostrils flare. He says, "Sling your hook."

Mel's glaring back. She shakes her head. "You stupid little boy."


***


Malcolm shuts the changing room door behind him. He looks around, finds nobody there, and listens out for any sounds. There's a spirited conversation going on, in the back room he thinks, where the sofa is. He slips up to Lilly, camera in hand, and squats down in front of her. Lilly's face is still half in tears, her cheeks are still wet.

"How are you doing, love?" he asks.

"She said I should go, but I can't," she says. "I didn't read it, I didn't read it..."

"Read what? Your contract?"

Lilly starts crying, little panting sobs two seconds apart. "I didn't know, I didn't know."

"Classic beginner's mistake," says Malcolm. He takes his camera and walks around the miserable girl. "Just a quick favour," he tells her, "both hands back and... you know... open up."

The girl sobs anew, her chin starts to tremble.

"Just for the sake of the video," he says.

She reaches back, defeated, hands around her buttocks, and starts to pull.

"Bit further," he says. "You know... as Mel says, some decent effort."

The girl separates her knees. She can't reach far though.

"Tell you what, kneel up."

She lifts her body.

"Good show. Reach from there. Jolly good, really get them under there, grab a couple of nice big handfuls. Fingers further in, that's it. Oh yes, jolly nice. Now... yes, bend forwards, that's the stuff. Bit further. Hips up. Right now... your contract, yes. Well what a shame."

She whines, "I didn't know."

He shakes his head. Here this poor thing is, he thinks, reduced to confiding in some bastard who's happily abusing her.

"Might seem harsh. But you sign it, you mean it."

"But everyone knows I didn't know."

"No, not fair, is it? Oh lord. Well I don't know how much they could sue you for. A lot, I should think. I've got no pull with him whatsoever I'm afraid, I'm a hired hand like yourself. Dear oh dear. You'll just have to grin and bear it I suppose. Well. Grin and spread it, ha ha. No, sorry, inappropriate. But I'm sure you'll get used to it in no time, thousands of girls have before, and so many of them really jolly like it. You will too, I'm quite certain, once you just settle down and let things happen. In fact, a lot of the girls say they find it liberating. It's hard to credit, I know, what with suddenly having to do so many uncomfortable things you've never done before. But there it is, that's what they say. Liberating. To be so, you know... opened wide. Exposed, sort of, utterly. In front of everyone and everything. "

She's sobbing again. The sobs, Malcolm sees with a thrill, are even translating to her undercarriage.

"I just can't even believe how stupid I've been!"

"They say you discover your inner slut. You know, like now. Um, just try touching your chin to the floor? While we're waiting, bit of practice."

"Oh God," she says, attempting to lower her head, "why am I always so fucking stupid?"

"You'll get used to it," says Malcolm.

"I just feel like such an idiot."

"Yes, well..." he says,

"Look at me... bent over like a stupid prat like this. In front of you. In front of those girls..."

"Quite," Malcolm says. "Well that's porn I'm afraid. On this kind of production, things are not so salubrious. Everyone's got to chip in all they can. But you really shouldn't worry. It's perfectly standard to do things this way. And I suppose it might seem like models have to put up with... well, rather a lot... and perhaps they do... but really, truly, every model does it, as everyone's told you already I should think. You see it so often from my side of the camera, you just take it for granted. Hardly look at the girl at all. Bit of a shock for the model I suppose... for first timers, anyway. But we're terribly grateful when the models are so game. You know, so willing to do the production a good turn. The thing is, it can throw you out terribly if they won't fully play the game. And it's an absolute life saver when they do."

Lilly seems to know she's being taken for a ride. "I just can't believe I've got to do all that. That girl poking my... bottom.  My other bits. Why was I so stupid?"

"Yes. I mean, this shoot does seem particularly harsh. We do know you're a beginner, and it's obvious you won't know what you're doing. I mean ideally, if things were normal, we'd be through this by now. With a proper professional model, we would. But in a way, we're doing you a favour here. You're really on the modelling fast-track here. Just learn from Mel, from all her advice. Well... got to really, haven't you? As we've said so many times, you're the only model we've got. And of course, as you point out yourself, you did sign that contract. And it really does cover rather a lot."

He looks around. There's still no-one else present. He reaches forward and cups her pudenda. He rubs it, slips his thumb inside her slick pink hole. Lifts his hand up, touches a finger to her bumhole. Looks around once more and points his camera away. Then he pokes her, quickly. Not that hard. A little sob tickles her body. He pokes again.

"You really are such a good girl," he says, "putting up with everything so well like this."

He pulls back his fingers, then jabs them in strongly. And harder. And again.

"You really mustn't worry," he says. "If you can't get something right the first time, we'll just shoot it again till we've got what we need. You're seem such a nice young girl. The last thing we'd want is for you to have to suffer the consequences. Agreed?"

She sobs. He jabs her.

"Agreed?" he asks.

She nods through her sobs.

"You see?" he says. "Say thank you, now."

Her sobbing is full again. He jabs her twice. Three fingers slip inside.

"Please," she says. "I didn't know..."

He pulls out his fingers, then prods them back in. "We'll shoot, and we'll reshoot, then reshoot again until we have something properly useable."

He looks around. There's nobody there. So he takes his second hand and pushes a finger from that inside Lilly. Then another. Two fingers from either hand. He pulls them apart as much as he can, but Lilly is tight.

"Good girl," he says. "Say thank you now."

She sobs. He pulls strongly. She sobs again. He pushes in deeper with one of his hands. A finger to her anus. He slips the second hand away, pushes in further with the first.

"Say thank you, now."

Inside a sob, she faintly croaks, "Thank you."

Mel is watching. She has her coat on. She's agreed to be paid in cash by Billy. Now she's watching Malcolm abusing the girl. When they went out before, angry and silent, all Malcolm was doing was talking to her. They've gone to the cash box, and Billy's asked her to step out for a moment. She's watching from as far back as she can. The scene looks so creepy. He's got her pulling her back end apart, he's put down his camera, now he's acting like this revolting creep. She can just about see him impaling the girl with fingers up her snatch and a thumb inside her bumhole. She sees the girl jerk back an inch, like he's pulling on the flesh between pussy and anus. There's a furtive look around again, but not in her direction... towards the changing room which she isn't in, then out to where she hears the kids still laughing. Malcolm's free hand reaches under her body. He seems to take a breast before squeezing it. Then he's pulling at her back end. Yanking her back by her perineum. Then yanking on her front end, tugging her forwards by a grip on her breast.

She hears stirring from the kids. Malcolm gives one last furtive look, drops the breast, pulls his fingers out. Then he points the fingers towards her anus. She distinctly sees him jabbing her with them, straight at the hole.

"However long it takes," he says.




23: Kinks and Co fetch a sofa; Nicks and Cal taunt Lilly


When she joins her boyfriend, Sammy finds Kinks waxing lyrical.

"Fuck me, what a blinder! My mate Billy..."

"Yeah, different," says Cal, back behind shades. He leans against a radiator, hands in  pockets.

"What d'you think, Nicks?"

"Yeah," she says. "Alright, yeah. Why's she stop us?"

"Dunno," Kinks says. "What a laugh though, eh? Don't see that on every corner."

"This what your mate does?" Cal asks.

"Billy? It's his uncle's gaffe, Billy's Uncle Cyril. Billy just does what he wants round here. Fucking laugh this, innit babes?" he says to Nicks. "You was enjoying poking that bird."

"Fink that's why she stopped me?" she asks, nasal and monotone.

Sammy's in the room now. She sees Cal and the others in this tight little click. "So doesn't anyone think this is cruel?" she asks.

Nicks just glares at her. Cal snorts, but keeps what can be seen of his face looking straight. Sammy looks hurt. Around his friends, Cal always does this, goes secretive and hidden, playing a part. The sunglasses indoors, the leather like he thinks he's a pop star.

"Bit too much for you, babes?" Kinks asks.

Cal does that tiny snort again.

"Me and Bill," Kinks says, "we get the run. Weekends. Billy's got the keys to the safe, more or less. Codes and that. Helped out on edits, haven't I? Uploading to the server. Ain't for everyone, what they do here."

Cal says to the ceiling, "So there's more tits out there like this one, is there?"

Kinks slips back into mate mode, laughing, "Way more!"

"What a state," says Cal.

"Tit," says Nicks.

Kinks says, "That bird Mel was really murdering her! She's right into it, ain't she?"

NIcks asks, "Who's that baldy bloke?"

"What, old monk's patch? Director, supposedly."

"Thought that was the lady."

"Don't do much for a director, does he babes?"

While they're talking, Cal turns his head to Sammy. He says to her privately, "Just go wiv it."

"What, just let it happen?"

Cal shrugs.

"What does that mean?"

He shrugs again, turns his head away. "Whatever," he says.

"You certainly seem to be enjoying yourself."

There's a pause, then, "Fucking hell."

"You can't keep your eyes off her. Under your glasses."

"Off who?' he asks. "That tit getting caned?"

"I'm sure she's got a name."

Nicks says, "Lilly Bell End."

Cal seems to be staring at Sammy. She thinks it's the first time he's looked at her properly since they got here.

"Christ Sams," Cal says, "don't be a suck."

Sammy stays silent.

"Bit of fun, innit?"

"Not for the poor bloody girl it's not."

Cal tuts. Looks at Kinks through the shades.

"Alright, mate." Kinks says.

"Yeah, a right laugh," Nicks says.

"Fucking hell though," Cal goes to Kinks, "what a state..."

"Tell me about it!"

Nicks says, "Stupid slag."

"Slaag," says Cal.

NIcks says, "Lilly Bell End, slaag."

Cal says, "Slaaag."

Nicks says, "Lilly Bell End Bellman."

Her voice grates on Sammy, the nasal thickness of it.

"Pretty sure I know where she lives," says Nicks. "You remember her, Cal?"

"Who?" he asks.

"The model, dumbo. Lilly Bell End. Know her mum, don't I? She runs this shop. You know her bro, Cal."

"I don't," he says.

"You do! Steven Bellman."

His face changes behind the shades. "Steven Bellman? Older, what, twenty five?"

Sammy hears him sound like himself for a moment.

"Classic!" Kinks says, "you know that bird's brother?"

"He'd fucking die," Cal says.

"What a laugh," says Kinks. "Fink you'd tell him, mate?"

Cal snorts, loud.

Nicks pipes up, "Don't tell him, tell her."

"Tell who? Her mum?"

"No," Nicks says, "course not."

"Who?" Kinks asks.

"Tell the slaag," says Nicks.

Cal says, "Oh yeah... sort of like, power, innit?"

Sammy's staring at them in disgust, but she's not speaking up and they seem to have forgotten her.

Nicks says, "Bell End... the slag... she lives in this place with all bedsits in it, my mate used to live in it. She don't live wiv her mum."

Kinks says, "Oh, what?"

"You fink she wants her mum and her bro finding out?"

"Fucking wicked, Nicks," Cal says, tipping back his head and snorting his laugh.

Sammy has her jaw clamped fast. She's been seeing her boyfriend in a terrible light, all his faults growing rancid like swelling boils. She feels angry and betrayed.

Nicks says, "Know what? We could really fuck her up."

Cal leans forward in a mock whisper. "We could go down the pub with Stevie Bellie. Fell like a piss on the way home, it's all round her place and do it on the slaag."

When Cal says this, Sammy just knows. It's gone. She's repulsed, she feels sick.

He snorts, "Make her bend over and do it up her arse..."

It's like he's just died, like all this hope she had has petrified into a big lump of deadness. She feels like she wants to thump him in the head.

When they come back inside, Billy looks angry, like there's been some argument. Mel is nowhere to be seen. That baldy git Malcolm's still keeping his back turned. Kinks, Cal and Nicks heft the sofa between them. It's brown and old and it creaks when they move it.

Billy hardly seems engaged. He's staring at the exit. Then as they come in further, Sammy spots the balding bloke. He's right behind the model. He's been making her spread her cheeks, she sees. He jumps when he sees them then picks up his camera. She thinks he must have been fiddling, the way he's pretending he was filming all along. The others put the sofa down facing their spot on the workbench, just in front of Lilly. She's there on her knees, hands back, pathetic, still rooted to her spot, cringing and cowed.


***


The balding git picks up his camera and backs away. Goes into the shadows, away from the kneeing girl, then turns on his camera and cautiously watches. Kinks picks his own camera up, checks its leads are attached, then stands in front of the model. He's far more blatant than Malcolm with his camera. The others sit one by one on the sofa. Cal first, by the middle of the kneeling model's side. He pulls out a tobacco pouch and starts rolling himself a cigarette. Nicks plonks down near Lilly's back end. Sammy looks on from a distance, feeling estranged, then quietly approaches and slides in next to Cal. Not close though, not touching. She perches on the sofa edge, with a clear view of the model's head. Lilly is on display in front of them, just three feet away.

"Alright, darling," Kinks says, moving his camera in close. "How you doing, girl?"

Lilly won't look up. She's stopped sobbing, but instead she's gone almost static. She's followed their progress from the corner of her eye. Feeling mortified they've put the sofa down right next to her. Feeling horrified when they've sat on it. She wants desperately to stop all the posing. The degradation, herself as an object of ridicule, on display and stared at like a freak show in an old-time circus.

"Alright, yeah." Kinks answers himself. "Not bad weather, is it? BIt cold, yeah. What a laugh eh, girl?"

Cal leans back. He gets so relaxed, he's almost lying flat, just his head tilted up by the back of the sofa. Feet out in front, well separated so his leather trousers stretch from knee to knee.

"Foot rest here mate," Nicks says beside him.

He snorts, flicks his head to the side. Then he lifts up a boot and puts one nonchalant heel down on Lilly's upper hip, the highest part of her body right now. His other foot follows and crosses over the other at its ankle.

"Classic," says Kinks.

"I know," says Nicks.

Cal drags at his roll-up then tips his head towards the goth girl. "Do her wiv your enema kit."

"Oh I know," Nicks says.

Cal says, "Stick stuff up her arse."

"I know. No shit left, loads of room."

"Bottles and stuff."

"Yeah," Nicks says. "Peel some bananas, shit  like that."

"Stick the peel up her arse as well."

Sammy leans forward so her head is close to the shivering girl's.

"Just get up," she says quietly, right by Lilly's ear. "Just get up and go home. Tell us all to fuck off and die."

Cal snorts behind, saying to Nicks saying that they should try sticking lard up Lilly's arse.

"Stand up for yourself or they'll just get worse."

Lilly whispers, "I can't. You don't know what it's like."

"Maybe not. But whatever, it can't be worse than this."

"It can."

Nicks has the cane in her hand. She's playing with it so its tip is bouncing near Lilly's back end, under then over where her hands spread her cheeks. She starts pointing with the end.

"Like fishing for slag," Cal quips beside her.

"Slaag," says Nicks.

"What is it?" Sammy says louder to the girl. "Are you enjoying this or something?"

Lilly doesn't speak but she faintly shakes her head.

Cal takes one foot off her back. He stretches it under Lilly's body and flicks a dangling breast with the tip of his shoe. Sammy turns her head and gives him a withering stare, but Cal just giggle-snorts like she's egging him on. He probably can't see her expression, she thinks, not stuck behind his stupid bloody shades.

"Do it again," Nicks says to him.

Cal tilts his head to the goth. "How you want me doing it, darling?"

"Like this," Nicks says and jabs her cane close to Lilly's bumhole.

Cal does his snort. Sammy is starting to hate this sound. He pulls his foot back then twangs Lilly's breast. Nicks pulls the cane back and whips it under Lilly's spreading hands, down low on a thigh.

"That enough?" Cal asks his accomplice.

"It's a start," Nicks says.

"You first," he says back.

Nicks lifts her cane up and twangs it down onto Lilly's hips, up above her hands. Kinks puts the tongue of his shoe right under Lilly's dangling breast. He flicks it up so it lifts and falls like a hanging jelly.

"Go on," Nicks says, "do it harder."

"Fink I should?" Cal asks.

"Yeah I do," Nicks says.

Cal kicks upwards. Not hard, but like his accomplice's poking and grazing with the cane, his actions are no longer spanking material.

"They won't stop," says Sammy, leaning close in again. "You're acting like a doormat. If you act like a doormat, they'll treat you like a doormat. Why won't you just defend yourself? Stand up for yourself..."

Malcolm watches through his distant lens. This is different from before, a different feeling. Much more like a horror film. He wonders if he can flash the image so it looks much starker, blanche away some colour for that cold, harsh feel. His lights work well he sees, they're lighting the kids on that sofa pretty nicely. He hadn't imagined they'd sit on it, he'd thought Mel would use it to make the girl take up poses on... diaper position or head between legs or shoulders on the edge with feet splayed out in front. Instead, they're using it to sit close enough to mock the girl in a personal way. That fool in leather pants and shades, using the model as his personal footstool. Playing his foot against Lilly's breast.

He's plugged an earplug to the boom mic on top. He hears the blond girl say, "Is this all you think you're worth then, eh?"

The goth girl says to the leather boy, "Slapper."

The leather boy says, "Slut."

He takes his other foot off her back, scrunches back on the sofa, then stretches both feet out and under the girl. He traps one teat between his shoe tips. He seems to tug down. Malcolm hears Lilly whine. The boy tugs harder. The blond girl is staring at leather boy's face. Malcolm clearly sees a look of revulsion.

The last boy, Kinks, is walking around the scene with his camera. Malcolm likes how he clearly comes across as an amateur, zooming in and zooming out, overactive. He'll use Kinks' shots for short bursts, he can cut them in between his own.

"Billy, go closer. Go in halfway."

The lad is still frowning. He comes up to Malcolm. "Mel's gone," he says. "I've paid her off. She wanted us to stop. I fucking hate that, stopping just as you're getting going."

"You paid her? She's gone?" Malcolm asks.

"Give her cash. She's sloped off."

"Bollocks," says Malcolm.

"Yeah," says Billy.

"Better if she'd stayed for the arc of the thing."

He thinks. He looks through. Thinks about the footage of the kids on the edge. He can make it work if he wants to make the segments link up. It's the story of things getting out of hand. It's the chaos of the shoot that can be his thread. These kids, they're something else.

Malcolm says to Billy, "The goth can take over Mel's caning role. Let them run it. See what happens. Keep your camera stocked up. I'm liking this, Billy."




24: Sammy tells Lilly to defend herself; Nicks works Lilly till she starts to cry


"What's up, Bill? Where's the villain?" asks Kinks.

"Fucked off," Billy says.

"She's gone? Get out, what?"

"Stone cold," says Billy.

"For why, son?"

"Paid her off." Billy doesn't look happy when he tells his friend this. "She'd started saying we was out of order."

"Get out. Fucking why?"

"Gone on too long apparently. Stepped over some line."

"She was prime, that bird. She was up for it, Bill."

"She was, now she's not. Your Nicks can be villain if she feels like a punt."

"Nicks is boss now? Fuck off, no kidding? Can I tell her, Bill?"

"Knock yourself out, mate."

Kinks shuffles up to his girlfriend on the sofa. He whispers loudly, "Nicks, over here."

He's jerking his head to the side... come with me. She gets up and follows.

"You're villain, you're dom," he says. "Do your worst, girl. The slag, you can fuck her up, yeah? However you like, doll. That bird Mel's fucked off. Brilliant, yeah? We're starting back filming with you as villain."

Nicks stares back. "I can do what I want?"

"Yeah babes, stone cold."

Nicks turns back to the sofa. "Cal." She gestures. "Cal! Over here."

The lad lets his shoes give Lilly's breast a final tug, then he rolls up and off the furniture.

"What's up?" he asks.

"Kinks says I can do her. That other bird's fucked off, that Mel. I'm gonna fucking do her good."

Kinks turns to Billy. "It's right this, innit mate?"

"Yeah," says Billy. "Just us, us in here. Malcolm don't mind, he's just happy pointing cameras." He says to Cal, "If you don't want in the picture, better fuck off to the side."

They're looking at Malcolm, who's standing right back, carefully nursing a camera and its running wire. He's holding it steady, still pointing it at the girl on the floor. The blonde on the sofa is also in his shot. He picks up their words.

The blond is saying to the kneeling model, "Stop being such a fucking doormat. Stop being such a ridiculous bint."

"I can't," says the model. "You think I must be doing it cause I want to. But I'm not. I don't even want to be here, do I?"

"So get up and fuck off."

"I can't," she says.

"What's stopping you then?"

Lilly sobs. "I just can't..."

"Jesus," says Sammy. "You fucking loser. You fucking loser."

Cal has come up and leaned behind the sofa. "Sams," he says, "if you don't want them putting you in the edit, you'd better get up now. It's kicking off, doll."

"Hear that?" Sammy asks the kneeling girl. "Kicking off. Starting up. So stand up for yourself, or stay here and suffer."

Lilly's just started crying again.

"I can't do it for you, you stupid tart."

"Please don't," says Lilly.

"Don't what?" asks Sammy.

"Call me stupid. Please. I don't even want to be here, do I?"

"Then for fuck's sake tell 'em by getting up. Nobody's stopping you. Get up, get dressed, take your things and go." Sammy's staring at the girl, waiting for some reaction from her. "Well?" she asks.

Lilly's not speaking. The glances sideways at the blonde but can't keep her gaze there. "You've got to tell me." She's whispered this.

"What?" asks Sammy.

Voice breaking, she manages, "Got to tell me."

"I've got to tell you what?"

"You've got to tell me to get up and go."

Sammy's making a face. "You can't get up till I tell you to? Did you really just say that?"

"I can't. Not less you tell me. Please."

Sammy turns angry. "For fuck's sake you pathetic excuse, tell your fucking self. Don't lay it on me."

"I can't," Lilly moans. "I'm not allowed to."

"You pathetic fucking excuse for a woman."

"Sams," says Cal, "they want to get on."

Sammy stares at the girl. She says, "Well? Is that it? Is that all your fight?"

The girl just sobs quietly, still on her knees, still parting her cheeks, submissive to a fault. Sammy slaps her hands on her knees. She seems to be waiting for the girl to move. When there's no response, she pushes up.

"You fucking loser, you pathetic fucking loser."

She walks out of frame.

Around the kneeling model, cameras and tormentors circle like vultures.

"Go on babes, you're on," Kinks tells Nicks.


***


The goth girl steps up. She looks around at leather boy, gives him the thumbs-up, then grins at Kinks, who's in front of her. Then Nicks steps behind the replacement model. Once more, she looks at everyone looking at her. She's excited, feels special. She turns to the model.

"Oy, slag," she says, "get up off the floor."

The girl tries to look behind at Nicks.

Kinks in front says, "Don't want her taking her hands off her arse though."

"Oh yeah right." Nicks nods. "So... get up, yeah? Only don't take your hands off that big, fat arse."

She looks around again once she's said this. Her mate Cal snorts, then repeats, "Big fat arse," to himself. Nicks meets his look and fires him a grin.

"Yeah, classic," says Kinks.

Lilly is trying, but she just can't do it. She can't get upright, can't rock herself onto her feet from her knees. It's the hands attached to the bum that stop her, they're clamped in so tight, she can't find room to move her knees. She's puffing and panting, whining with bladder pain, trying to get one foot down flat.

Cal says, "Fucking state eh, Nicks? Wanna try summink I just thought of? She could maybe get up if she plonked her head on that sofa first."

"Oh yeah, classic," says Kinks.

"More support, innit? Cause her head can take her weight."

Nicks nods at this. She feels slightly annoyed that they want to join in. "Yeah," she says, "fink I get it." She bats at the sofa with the tip of her cane. "Go on slaggy," she says, "stick your head against them cushions here."

Lilly tries to turn her body, walking on her knees.

"Fuck me," Nicks says. "Faster though, what? Anyone would think you was a fucking snail."

Nicks clips down her cane. The knee-clumping quickens. Lilly gets her head to the edge of the sofa, puffing through her nose with the strain and effort. She puts weight against her head, tries to stumble to her feet. The sofa shifts away. Cal snorts, Kinks giggles, shaking his camera. Lilly tries the manoeuvre again. She gets partway up so she's making an arc. The sofa slips a second time.

"I'll hold it," Billy says. He goes around and leans against the upright back of the piece, pointing his camera down at the girl's spine.

She goes for it again. She cranes herself up so her head is on the cushion and feet on the floor.

"Jesus Christ, she looks so fucking stupid," Cal says behind.

"I know," says Nicks. "Oy you, stop," she says to the girl, "don't move now, alright?"

She swishes her cane, making it sine wave. She points it down low. She cracks a shot into Lilly's thighs.

"Look at the state of it," Cal snorts behind.

Nicks clips the tip of the cane over the top of Lilly's haunch. "You're a fat arsed tart you, aren't you?" she says.

There's no response. She pokes the cane tip low at Lilly's pudenda. She pokes it home.

Cal snorts behind, "Make her jump up and down, she'll look classy then." He's laughing at the image inside his own head.

"Yeah alright," says Nicks. "Alright Cal, yeah. Oy slapper, keep your head down on the sofa, yeah? Only jump your arse end up and down."

The girl bends her knees. A whine escapes.

"Go on, you fat ugly cunt," Cal sniggers.

He's come closer so he's standing just behind Nicks. Kinks, meanwhile, kneels in right beside the girl. Looking under her body, he can see her stressed face.

The girl whines again. Nicks pokes her leg almost casually with the cane, then pokes it again. Even Sammy is looking in at the scene. Though part of her horror is seeing how far Cal is from the person she'd dreamed he was. Her red-faced rage of earlier has sunk to tight-jawed, secret hatred now. Each time he speaks she dislikes him more. She can barely believe how she felt before.

Cal is saying, "Go on, cunt."

The bullied girl tries to make herself jump. Her head stays on the sofa edge. Her feet pace to get themselves flat. Bent knees partly straighten, her hips flip up, and she bobs in the air like an idiot frog.

"Fucking classic," Kinks says.

Nicks says, "Go on fat arse, higher, yeah?"

The girl thumps down, bends her knees, pushes up with her toes, thuds down, repeats.

Nicks kicks the girl's feet wider with an instep. "Oy you slaggy, spread 'em out."

Lilly widens her feet as she thuds and thumps. Her hands are slipping now, they can't keep up the contact. Nicks taps one of her hands with her cane.

She says, "We wanna have a look at your arse proper, slag. Your enormous, disgusting, giant fat arse."

Lilly's quaking hands try to get a better grip. She's walking in her fingers, puffing and grunting, thumping up and down with her head as a fulcrum, feet ridiculously wide apart, being leered at by the jeering group.

"What a stupid fucking tit," says Cal.

"She don't look happy," says Kinks underneath.

They just let her do it, like they're mesmerised. She jumps up, she thumps down. They let her carry on for a minute or more. Cal and Nicks bend lower to stare between her legs. Cal gives her a wave, then snorts and grabs his goth friend's arm.

Cal says, "Alright, slag?"

Nicks asks, "Feeling like a tit yet, fat arse?"

"Her arse is fucking massive, innit babes?"

"I know," says Nicks. "Oy, fat arse, take your hands away!"

Lilly creeps her hands aside so her generous cheeks are fully revealed. But true to Mel's instruction from before, she keeps on jumping up and thumping down. Her quivering cheeks are ruddy and marked. Goose bumps seem to stand proud and raw. There are cellulite dimples, score lines, ridges, colours ranging from red and blue to the the dirty yellow of developing bruises.

Cal, behind, says, "Fucking what? That's the single fattest arse I've ever seen."

Nicks steps back. She lifts the cane back. "Mind out," she says. Then she thrashes it into the model's rear. "Go on, keep on jumping, you stupid fat cunt."

The girl's quaking hands support her weight on either side of her tortured face. She continues to jump, legs quaking with the effort. Her back end lumbers up and down. The goth swings back so her friends have to scatter. She canes in hard. The rod batters down. The goth develops a cruel rhythm. She waits for Lilly's flesh to vibrate when she lands, then smashes in the cane. Lilly's flesh parts in waves from the impact points. She jumps... lands... quakes like a jelly. Then she's struck with new force in separating waves across her giant globes. Lift... thump... swish-crack, lift... thump... swish-crack. Nicks is trying to hit her as hard as she can. She's grunting with the effort as she hammers in her cane. Lilly's cheeks splash and dance. Nicks tries to copy Mel's technique, aiming for a spot, but her strokes are much wilder. She gets the model low on a thigh. Next, too high with a cruel whip over. New stripes appear around the girl's hip fat.

"Is her jumps getting weaker?"

"Yeah," says Cal.

"Oy slaggy, jump higher!"

She punctuates her words by poking the cane tip directly into the model's broad back end.

"Go on slapper, faster, yeah?

She pokes again. Cal snorts out his laugh. The girl's thumping feet pick up in pace. Lilly takes her cane in two hands and holds it closer, halfway down its length.

"Faster, slag," she says as she pokes the girl in a quick stabbing sequence.

As the thumbs get close together, the girl makes sounds between grunts and whimpers. Nicks swings again, two handed, close in, bashing the cane with all her force. She looks manic, demented. Her black hair whips in sweaty lengths. She canes low, then higher, with the tip, further in. Then she's standing back once more, giving it the full swing, swiping it down onto Lilly's right cheek, bashing it harder, bashing on her legs. The girl, head in the sofa, grunts and moans and whimpers and puffs.

Nicks suddenly stops. She says, "Oy you, slaggy. Open your back end up wide again, yeah?"

The girl takes a moment to react. There's a final thump, then, steadying on her head once more, she starts to reach back with tired, sore arms. Nicks reaches over and pulls the girl's hair.

"Only stick your head back here," she says.

Lilly stops, confused. Nicks tugs on the hair. Then she leans right down and half lifts the girl, forcing her head to the back of the sofa. The model ends sprawled on her front, face mashed in the material.

"Yeah Nicks, make her stick her feet up," says Cal.

"I know," says Nicks, "I was going to, weren't I?"

She's handling Lilly, pushing her shoulders up against the sofa back. She manhandles her hips, pulling up roughly then banging a palm heel in the middle of a padded mound. The girl is trying to lift a leg up. Nicks grabs a thigh and hauls on it, grabs the girl's ankle and jams it down on the lip of the sofa. Lilly's other foot comes up. Toes touch the sofa edge then slip back off. Nicks sticks a palm against Lilly's crotch. She heaves against the girl so her hips are touching the back of the sofa and Billy has to jump away. With Lilly fully up, Nicks takes an ankle and tugs it sideways. Then she does a Mel and pulls Lilly's arm back for her. She drags the girl's wrist around her bum. She forces the bum cheek back under the arm by smacking her palm down on the girl's wide rear. Nicks is standing up on the sofa as well. Billy supports it when it starts to tip over. Nicks gets a knee on the girl's broad cheek, kneels against it, pulls the wrist back. She clamps Lilly's hand down.

"Fucking hell," she's going, "there's enough arse here to feed the starving."

Lilly's other arm is flailing to get the required grip till Nicks grabs that as well. She forces Lilly's second cheek wide with a leaning knee. Then the  wrist is yanked and the cheek is wedged.

Lilly, naked but for shoes, socks and bra, stares out at her tormentors, upside down. She hasn't been able to see them for a while. She sees four, then five. They're staring at her. Hands up to mouths. Heads shaking. Voices laughing.

"What a fucking state," one says.

"What a fat-arsed cunt," says another.

A face comes close. It's waving a hand. It says, "Alright, darling? enjoying yourself?"

The face retreats, a camera intrudes.

"Give us a smile, darling. Give us a grin."

There's a pain in her groin, the stabbing of the cane tip. The black haired girl says, "You heard my bloke, slag. Smile for him, yeah?"

The pain again, then a second by its side.

"Smile, you silly cow."

Lilly tries. Her face muscles try to move when she tells them. They won't though... they can't. Her face can't lie. She tries to make it. They're all leering, laughing, pointing, snorting. Video cameras suck up all of her anguish. The leather boy has a phone in his hand and he's snapping pictures as fast as he can. She feels a vibration run through her body. Her face dissolves. Her eyes blur in tears.

Then the sobbing starts for real. Full, body-wracking sobs are shuddering through her in panting short breaths. Her face muscles spasm, her chin muscles crush. A camera shoves right in on one side of her face, wide-angled, recording. The cane cracks cruelly down on a thigh. She can't see. She can't breathe. Her throat is wailing without her volition. She's never felt this bad before. The cane cracks in.

"Defend yourself," the blond girl is saying. "Why the fuck won't you try to defend yourself?"

She barely hears it between her own sobs and her shivering body. The crying grinds through her.

"Just tell them to stop. Just once, you moron. Tell them to fucking leave you alone."

She sobs, she shudders. She knows she can't speak. Her hands lose their grip, then pathetically try to regain it again. Fingers try to claw her cheeks back wide. Slowly, walking, automatic.

"Just tell them to stop, you ridiculous bint."

"Go it Sams," the leather boy says to the blonde.

The cane cracks in on her other thigh. It's casual, accompanied by a laugh. The goth girl turns and mugs to her friends. She's caning the model without even looking.

"Fucking state," says leather boy.

Lilly's entire body quivers and spasms. Knees, wrists, torso. Blows come on her haunches, quickly, from the top. Lilly's hands can't hold. The right one detaches. It's trembling at the wrist.

Her arse is truly generous... great chunky cheeks stand out, joining her thighs at almost a right-angle to the ground. She has curves galore, big and dirty. Now the hands have detached again, the cane makes them splash and dance. She's trembling, far beyond dignity. Everyone laughing. Everyone mocking. Everyone hating.

"Lilly Bell-End Bellman," says Nicks up close.

The voice is right there, she can feel its breath.

"Alright Bell-End? Bet you didn't know we knew your name. Want to know a secret, yeah? My mate Cal knows your bro. Goes in the pub wiv him, Queen's Arse, aren't it? Oh yeah sorry, Queen's Arms."

Nicks bangs a fist on the girl's tortured arse.

"You stupid fat cunt. Me, I go in your mum's shop, don't I? Down London Road, all swiss rolls and tins of beans and crap. Think I'll tell your mum what an idiot stupid fat slag you are. We all know here, I've give out your address. Cause you know what else, slag? Me and my mates, we all know where you live."




25: Lilly loses bladder control


Nicks is right there, in close, when she senses something wierd around her shoulder. It's hot and it's spreading. She jerks her shoulder, like a giant twitch. She has a sudden fear that she's covered in blood. She jumps back. Puts her hand down. Staring, squeezing. No pain, no vivid red. She looks up at the others.

Sammy's saying, mouth open, "Oh... my God."

There are sounds like splashing. She looks at the sofa. She sees yellow liquid streak and fall in little spurts. Sees a line of wetness down the idiot's leg. It comes in fits and bursts, in dribs and drabs. The sobbing girl even looks like she's trying to stop it. There's tortured concentration all over her face. The spurts keep pausing, then they squirt out again.

"Oh my God," says Sammy.

A spurt shoots out sideways. It dribbles down the model's thigh. The leather boy laughs with an uncontrolled splutter. His laugh seems infectious. Kinks joins in in a lower register. Lilly tries to move her wet leg sideways. She bobs her piss-soaked crotch up and down.

The boy snorts again. "Fucking no," he giggles, "can't take anymore..."

Lilly's face is splashed by her own urine. She's keening, crying in high pitched, painful squeaks. She tries to make the pissing stop. She shakes her hips wildly up and down. The piss hits Kinks' camera, gets him in the face.

"Oh God," says leather boy, "fucking hell!" He sputters uncontrollably.

They watch Lilly shake her hip again. When she does it, they laugh together... there are snorts and guffaws. Even the blond girl is laughing now. As Lilly bobs, the piss splashes in arcs. Their laughter is cued by her movements, like they're all with the comic at a comedy show.

Lilly's bladder just lets go. Full and uncontrolled, wide and thundering. Nicks swats the cane in straight through the piss stream. Thundering piss hits Lilly's ankles, sprayed around by her bobbing hips.

Cal snort-laughs, "Get her in her crotch, Nicks!"

The goth takes the cane and flashes it down towards the girl's labia. It's none too accurate, gets one side more. Piss streams down the cane length towards the goth's hand. She tries again, goes down low, starts doing it quickly, gets a rhythm interrupting the giant thread of piss. Lilly's gushing her load in a cascade she's quite unable to control.

"Crack her it in her hole, Nicks!" Leather boy has started holding his ribs.

Nicks tries. She can't get it. The leather boy's snorting starts the goth girl off again.

Nicks tries poking. "Fucking get in," she says. She jabs down several times.

The leather boy goes, "Fucking hell Nicks, you nearly had it!"

The goth dissolves in laughter... she's laughing so hard, she can't control the cane. In the pause, Lilly staggers her hips down again. She lifts one leg, tries to shake off the piss. They pause as they watch this, like they're waiting for the punch line. Then the model squeals as she jerks down her hips. Piss flicks in an arc, then her arsehole opens up, completely wide, and sighs out a fart.

As a group, the watchers explode in laughter. They're crying with it, not holding back. Big guffaws, falling over. The goth laughs so hard she slips into the model and gets a streak of piss all down her clothes. The model, pushed aside, tries to jam her leg down to stop falling over.

It's Billy who reaches down and pulls her back up. At first, he can't get her. He drops down his camera. He grabs a thigh from above and pulls it up. Lilly becomes up completely up-ended, legs in the air, her piss flow, held back so long, still going. With her hips in the air, the piss spurts straight up then lands back down on Lilly's arse. It flows to either side, down the front and over her belly, down the back between her globulous cheeks.

"Lilly Bell End Bellman, fuck me sideways!" Cal is on the floor. He's laughed so much he's lost his footing. "Lilly Piss Arse Bellman."

It catches Lilly's throat, the hate from the past and the shame from the present. Her throat feels like she's swallowing thorns.

"Fucking hellers," Billy says. He's got one thigh under either wrist. He pretends to put his head down to drink, to sputters from the rest. He's parted her thighs so she's doing the splits. The slowing piss pushes out from her crotch.

Kinks says to Nicks, "Babes, I got some bands. Stick 'em round her tits!"

"Bands?" Nicks asks. She's almost insensible in front of the sofa.

"Round her tits and that."

Nicks looks. Kinks is scrabbling in his pocket, pulling out a mess of elastic bands.

"Stick 'em round her tits, doll."

With Billy holding the girl's hips high, her tits are exposed and draping down. They flop upside down, white undersides falling away towards her head. Piss streaks drip off from one of her nipples, which look swollen, milk glands standing proud from a prominent, dark aureole.

Lilly's weight is supported by her head and hands, which are jammed down into the cushion. Nicks gets off the floor and kneels in front of the piss-soaked girl. She's taken the bands from Kinks.

She says, ironically "Alright, Bell End?"

Then she reaches with both hands, grabs a tit and pulls it outwards. she takes a band and opens it up with her other hands. She scrunches it over the prone girl's breast.

"Take her bra off babes, it's pissing me off."

Nicks takes a handful of bra and just pulls. The bra stretches, tugging on the girl. Then Nicks lets go.

"No babes, take it off proper."

As the laughter dies away, the attention has focused on Nicks once more. Nicks pulls the bra around Lilly's body. She unbuttons the back and slides it out. Red lines are prominent underneath the bra's old contact points. Nicks looks around at her friends once again, then grips Lilly's tits, taking big handfuls. She squeezes them. Pulls them apart from each other. Squeezes comically with the tips of her fingers.

"Bung the rest of the bands on, babes."

Nicks takes a few and stretches them around her fingers. She takes the same breast as before. She roughly pushes them over it and lets them snap off. The bands don't reach to the back of the breast, so Nicks pulls one side up and drags them back. Her fingers are pushing far into the upended girl's breasts to do this. Skin gets trapped, but Nicks just ignores it. Nicks pulls and snaps till the bands sit round the base of the breast. She takes some more, stretches them around her fingers again. Gets the other breast in a nasty grip, pulls it long, cups her other hand over and lets the elastic bands snap off. Again she tugs at them cruelly, till they're worked to the back. The breasts stand out now, prominent.

"You got any more, babes?" Nicks asks Kinks.

He fishes a final few from his pocket. Nicks, with no apparent concern for Lilly,  jams them over her secont tit any old way. By now they're bothj ballooned, crushed tight at the base, blood flow constricted. Nicks puts one gripping hand around either breast, cupping them. They're almost too big, her hands barely cover them. She squeezes, presses, pulling back, before slowly milking the ends like a cow.

Nicks grips hard onto Lilly's nipples. She pulls them up towards the girl's waist, then pulls them down.

She says, "Bet your mum don't know you're a such a slaag."

Nicks' boyfriend says, "Pull her tits again, Nicks."

"Yeah," says Cal, who's picked up Billy's camera and making out like he's Mick Jagger. "Give 'em a yank there, Nicolaa."

Nicks grips harder. She shakes Lilly's globes.

"Go on, girl," Kinks says.

Nicks looks at her boyfriend. He takes one hand off his camera and mimes jerking Lilly's tit down.

Nicks asks, "Yeah?"

"Go on Nicks," says Cal, "like your bloke says, do 'em proper."

Nicks pulls outwards. Lilly's torso jerks.

"Go on, girl."

Nicks is looking back at her boyfriend's face. She yanks the breasts harder.

They've all stopped laughing. "Go on babes," Kinks says, "do 'em again."

Nicks takes another firm grip, right around the neck of the breasts. She stands in front of Lilly. She gets her hands right around the girl's breasts... The girl starts to squeal in high pitched, terrified anticipation.

Lilly pulls up, hands clamping and crushing. The girl's head is partly lifted, but Nicks' hands slip off. Lilly staggers back. Cal does a half laugh. Nicks takes a different grip this time. She pinches the front of Lilly's breasts in fierce crushing fists. She stands up straight and pulls upwards. Lilly's head is lifted clear.

Nicks says, "Come on, Bell End, up you get!"

"Go it babes," says Kinks is husking.

Nicks grips again, then leans backwards. Lilly is pulled outwards, up and off the sofa so only reaching hands are left in contact. At the back of the stretch, Nicks lets go. The girl flops back.

Nicks goes back in and scoops the breasts up like two sacks of potatoes. Squeezes the nipples, twists them, tugs, then grips them like two mugs of ale. She pulls Lilly up again.

"Come on you silly cunt," she says, "be a good slag now."

"Slaag," says Kinks.

"Slaaag," says Nicks. She gives a sudden jerk to Lilly's breasts, quite vicious.

"Do her," Kinks husks.

Nicks gives one more vicious jerk, then lets go and gives one breast a solid slap. The breast rebounds before settling back. The girl's whining is rhythmic, pulsing quickly with her shallow breaths.

Behind her boyfriend, Sammy says clearly, "Just tell them to stop. Just tell them once, you stupid cow."

Lilly's chin instantly wrinkles and rucks and her torso shudders.

"Yeah, Nicks," Cal says. "Don't hog the slag all to yourself girl, let Sams have a bash."

"She won't," says Nicks. She slaps at a tit. "She keeps telling the slag to tell us to stop."

Billy lets go of the model's legs. "No, let her," he says. He's eyeing Sammy. She's the only one who's been seeming in the slightest bit reluctant. Billy feels like putting her on the spot.

Lilly has collapsed, released by the lad. Her head is still underneath, but her body has slumped over the top of it, her big globed arse now her highest point. Her knees rest on the front of the sofa.

Nicks says, "Yeah. Better give your Sams a proper view."

She grabs the girl's wrists and pulls them around her arse once more. Manhandles her hips up so she's back in her original pose. Mashes her bum cheeks under Lilly's weak hands. Exposes her undercarriage fully once more. Then she turns and steps aside.

Cal has his arm on his girlfriend's back. He's urging her forwards.

Nicks says, "Like a bit of the back end, Sams?"

Sammy doesn't move. Cal says, "Hang on a minute, fink I'll do a prequel." He hands the camera behind the sofa to Billy and steps up to the model. He stands looking down at her crotch, glances at his girlfriend, then quickly looks back to the model's mashed-up arse. His fingers reach down, then pull back in. Another glance at Sams, then he pushes one thumb inside Lilly's vagina. His other thumb sticks in beside it too. He pulls the rim of her fanny open. Snorts, pulls again, then lets it close. He grips her labial lips and works them. "I'm a stupid cunt," he says, like her back end is saying it for her. Then he curls up, sniggering. Sammy stares. What a creep, she thinks, what a total wanker.

"Fancy a bit then, Sams?" Cal asks.

"Go on Sammy," Nicks is saying. "Bet you'd like to really... bit of cunt, yeah?"

"Yeah go on babes," Cal snorts, and tips his shades across his eyes.

Nicks reaches in. She squeezes Lilly's tits alternately. Cal makes a stupid honking noise.

"Try her, Sammy," Nicks says, "came and feel up the slag."

"Yeah Sams," Cal snorts, "lick her out!"

Nicks licks her lips, looking straight at Lilly. Then reaching between the model's legs, she takes a grip on one of Lilly's tits. She yanks her hand up. Lilly jerks, letting out a squeal. Nicks does it again with the other breast.

"She don't dare," says Nicks. She jerks hard on Lilly's tit-ends, grips and jerks again. Her face looks manic, the contempt transparent under spiky black hair.

Lilly starts to cry again quietly, a soft, silent shuddering running through her body. Her hands barely grip her broad, bruised cheeks. Nicks gives a tit a nasty pull.

"Hands," she says, and slaps one with her own. Lilly starts walking her fingers in, pulling her generous cheeks back apart, digit by digit. Kinks sees through his camera that she's not even opening her cunt this time. She's spreading her cheeks either side of her bumhole.

"Go on, Sams," Cal says, "lick out her arsehole."

Sammy glares at in complete contempt. Stares back at the poor girl's tortured arse. Sees how ungainly, how utterly without dignity she is. Pathetic. Cal gives Sammy a small shove, which staggers her forwards. The blonde clamps her jaw tight. Cal pushes again. Sammy jerks her arm out, hitting his hand off.

"Fuck off," she says. Her jaw pushes down but his lips stay sealed. There's tension in the way she stands, in her face, in her hands.

"Can't, can you?" Nicks jibes.

Sammy steps forward. She touches a hand to the model's bruised cheek. Strokes it, taps it.

"Give her a lick, babes."

Sammy turns on Cal. "Shut... up!" she yells. "You fucking wanker, you wanky fucking moron!"

The room falls silent. She turns to the girl, looking down on her marked and open crotch. A hand pats down on a cheek, unsure.

"Just tell me to leave you alone," she says.

There's no reply.

"Please, tell me not to do this."

"Go on Sam girl, do her," whispers Kinks.

Sammy creeps her left hand around the girl's right thigh, at the top where it joins her bending hip, almost as if to pull the girl toward her. Billy has his camera trained on her face.

"Tell me just once, you silly fucker. Say no. Just say no."

She hears a noise from down below. She can't make it out.

"You what?" she asks.

"I can't," she hears.

It's barely a whisper. The voice sounds broken, rough and sore. Sammy feels a shudder of crying through her arm. Then it happens again.

"Just tell me," Sammy says.

"I'm sorry," she hears. "I'm sorry. Sorry. Sorry I can't, I'm sorry." There's snivelling as well. A crying jerk. "I'm sorry," says the girl. I can't, I can't say no."

Billy catches the change of expression. The sudden, pure hatred on Sammy's face. It's overwhelming and bitter. She pulls her free arm back. They think she's going to spank the girl hard. But the hand makes a fist, and the fist, accelerating, hammers down into Lilly's crotch.

Lilly twists, held in place. They hear her grunt.

"Fuck," says Kinks.

"Fucking fuck," says Cal.

Sammy turns and looks. Every face in the room seems frozen in surprise, every mouth is open. There's silence except for Lilly's high squealing.

"Go on Sams," Kinks whispers.

All eyes stare back, No-one else speaks. Lilly's face looks different as well. Her mouth is a slit as she squeals between breaths, like she's caught in the middle of a panic attack. Nicks licks her lips.

Cal says, "Fuck, Sams. What the fuck?"

Sammy turns. Her fist hammers down.




26: Carmine returns; Lilly does the bunny hop


Carmine is standing near Kinks and Cal, looking quite unsure. They're looking at her.

"Where's Lilly?" she asks.

The two boys don't answer. They look around them, unsure where she came from.

"Where's Lilly? Where's the model?"

"Bog," says Cal.

Carmine stares at him. "Bog, yeah. Girlie stuff."

"Where's Billy then?"

Kinks shrugs. "Dunno. With the bald bloke I fink, in some room back there. Stuff with cameras."

Cal says, "Might be finished for the day."

"So Lilly's in the toilets?"

She hears noises. Carmine darts her head. She's marching off before anyone stops her. She opens a door and stands looking in.

Three girls are frozen in a tableaux. The central one has her back to the door. They've made her kneel up on a basin, knees wide. There's a dressing gown around her shoulders but her buttocks are exposed.

Guilty eyes look around at Carmine. Two under blonde hair, two under black hair. The third head turns. It has mouse brown hair. Its eyes stare back, wide.

"Oh God," the head says. "God, Carmine... Oh God."

Her face seems so puffy, mascara streaked. It looks red, it looks shellshocked.

Carmine's reaction is instant... she looks such a fucking state. My God. She shakes her head. She can barely believe it.

It's her arse though, that's what really gets her. That generous backside she lusted after, that glorious flesh she first saw in the Gym. A tube is running into its center. Above, there's a stand. The black-haired girl has been squeezing hard on an object hanging from it. A second object lies wet in a sink, a third is being held at the ready by the blonde.

"Carmine," says Lilly. "Oh God, oh God..."

Carmine understands. They're filling her to bursting. She bets this process has been happening for some time.

Carmine is staring at Lilly's broad bum cheeks. She can barely believe it's the same one she remembers. They are multicoloured. Livid weals and marks criss-cross this way and that. There are purples and browns, yellows and reds. Patches of bruising extend from the center, surrounding clusters of impact points. Marks extend high to hr upper haunches, low down below her chunky hanging cheeks. Her thighs seem battered. There are thick lines, thin lines, long marks and short marks.

"Oh my God," says Carmine. "Lilly. Oh my God."

Billy is behind her. He touches her arm.

"Kinks told us you was here."

Carmine turns and looks up at her cousin.

"Billy," she says, "my God. Who are they?"

She turns her face back towards the girls. Eyes wide, expression shocked. The blonde has screwed the cap in the newly filled hot water bottle. The goth girl has let the hanging one run empty. Lilly's face looks mortified, pleading.

"God," she says, "Carmine. Oh bloody hell. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Carmine's jaw falls even wider than before. She's blinking, astonished. She suddenly turns and clasps onto Billy. She pushes her face into his chest.

"Take me out," she says, "take me out of here..."

Billy looks down. He feels jerking from his cousin's body, feels trembling like she's starting to cry. He strokes her head clumsily, tries to pat her back.

"You alright?" he asks.

He puts one arm around her shoulder, guides her out. She's covering her face. Little shudders rack her torso. Outside, he holds her out a bit and tries to get her to look at him.

Carmine isn't sobbing, she's holding it in. One arm clutches her ribs, the other arm holds her hand to her mouth. Snorts of laughter are sounding from her. She sees her cousin's face, the concern, the guilt. She can't hold it any longer.

Inside the Ladies, Lilly hears her laughing. It's big and unstable, full and whooping. Her fluttering of hope turns to mortified shame. The blond looks at the goth. She hands her the new hot water bottle. The goth detaches the empty one and feeds in the new one.

"Whose is this one?" Nicks asks.

"That's the bald git's," says Sammy.

"Fucking full enough," says Nicks. "Who's left after this then?"

"Just me," says Sammy.

"Go on then," says the goth.

The blonde takes the empty bottle. She goes into a cubicle and lowers her trousers. She unscrews the bottle top and squats down over it. It takes her a moment. It feels alien. Then the piss starts to flow. It dribbles into the top of the bottle, then runs, then gushes. She hopes there's enough room in there for the lot. Sammy groans. She sighs. She bottles up her piss. Dabs her crotch with some tissue, then zips up her trousers. Outside, she hands the floppy bottle to the goth, who's been squeezing the one on the rig till it's empty. Lilly is groaning. Where the tube goes inside her intestines, an inflatable ball keeps a nozzle in place. They've pumped it up to maximum capacity. Nicks is adept at working the seal to let liquid in but nothing out.

The blond girl looks through a camera on a tripod, to check that a recording is still being made. She hands the goth the final bottle.

"Fink you should do the honours, girl. It's your piss after all." She turns to the model. "Alright, lovey? Everyone's piss up your arsehole feel good? Nice and warm though, innit?"

The goth attaches the bottle to the rig. The model just groans.

"Here Sams," says the goth, "she ain't answering again. Give us a hand, babes."

The blond goes around one side of the girl and reaches a hand under her chest. The goth reaches in from the other side. Underneath the model, her generous breasts are ballooned and swollen. Dark red, almost brown.

"What d'you fink, babes?" the goth asks. "Pull 'em about or give 'em a thump?"

"Poking and pinching," the blond girl says.

"Oh yeah, sounds like a laugh."

She sticks her thumb up and stabs it into the model's breast. The blond does the same to the breast nearest her, then viciously pinches a nipple as well.

"If I ask you a question, you should know to fucking answer. All yours now, babes."

The girls swap places. The blond goes to the enema rig.

"Can I take it down when I squeeze it, hon?"

"Be my guest," says her friend.

"I want her down on the floor as well."

They make the groaning model climb down off the sinks. Sammy makes her kneel in front of her.

"Get the camera," she says to the sniggering goth.

Sammy takes the bottle. She puts it on the floor. She climbs down, puts her hips over the bottle where she can sit on it.

"Get her front. Her face and over the top, babes."

Then she sits. She bounces. She squeezes the bottle as fast as she can. As Lilly groans, the blond girl laughs. She puts all her weight down onto it and lifts up both feet. She kicks forwards, straight into the model's massive cheeks with both her shoe heels. As she kicks, she bounces her bum up and down. Piss squeezes with force inside the model's already full intestines.

She laughs as she kicks at the girl's giant globes. She falls backwards, legs apart in the air, sits back up, bounces, kicks again. The goth laughs too. The model kneels between them, groaning and grunting and never saying stop.


***


They've gagged her mouth with her own used knickers. She waits behind the ladies' toilet door. Nicks is out already with a rope in her hands. Sammy stands inside, behind the unfortunate replacement model.

The rest of the crew wait outside in the studio. It's the final act... they've agreed that Carmine can take her home in just a few minutes. They think doing this might be funny though, might make a decent final update for Billy's Uncle's website. The three cameras are held by Malcolm, Billy and Kinks. Cal has his phone in his hand, plus Nicks' phone and even Sammy's, since they all want a record. They've told him all about how to use them. The last of the watchers, Carmine, holds a digital SLR.

"Ready?" Nicks asks.

"Ready," says Sammy.

Nicks pulls on a rope, which opens a door. Then she gives it a tug. Her lips fake a fanfare.

The model jumps out. She's naked except for shoes and socks. She hops her way forwards like a human kangaroo. Her wrists reach down and over her backside. They all know instantly that she's holding her undercarriage apart.

Something protrudes between her legs, a stick of some sort. It's green... a cucumber is held in place by a rig of string which wraps up around the model's waist. It's big enough that she can't close her thighs even if she tries to.

As she jumps her way into the room, it's clear that something is trailing behind. From her front side comes the rope, held by Nicks, who gives it a tug when the model lands to encourage her on. It's attached to Lilly's breasts, which look swollen and sore... nearly purple in colour. They're protruding like balloons, these great round bumpers.

Behind, the enema tube drags low. It emerges from lilly's behind, but when she jumps, it stretches like it's dragging a weight. As the model hops further, its secret is revealed. A full hot water bottle is attached.

Nicks sees them looking. "Not piss," she says, "all that's inside her!"

The model hops into the room between waiting cameras and jeering people. Sammy follows behind, cane in hand. She drives the model on by flicking it left of one thigh, right of the other. She grins for the cameras. Nicks yanks her tits, Sammy canes her thighs. As she bunny hops, the detached bunny tail drags along the floor in watery jerks.

"Yeah, nice one," Kinks says.

Cal snorts. "Brilliant, yeah babes."

Malcolm gives a wave to the struggling model when she looks in his direction. Billy stands with Carmine. She sees the model coming towards them. She turns to her cousin and kisses him, mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue, so Lilly can't mistake what she's seeing.

"Fucking hell, Carmine," Billy says, surprised.

"That's for her. Don't get any ideas," she tells him.

Nicks gives Lilly a little yank. At the back, Sammy stands on the dragging bottle. The girl, caught between them, stumbles to her knees.

"We've had a bit of a talk," says Nicks, "about whether we should tell your bro and your mum. You know what? We fink we might hold back for a bit. Yeah? Only what I done is, so you know why we're being nice, I give everyone here your address. I wrote it on them little cards and I give it out so they keep 'em in their wallets. So, you want us to keep our mouths shut darling, you better let us in when we ring your bell. And Billy back there, he's kindly agreed to give you more work modelling. He might get you in live and batter your arse. Might make a bit of a business at it, yeah? We could do, like, parties. Get you out and give everyone a laugh. Whatever," she says. "Sure we'll fink of something."

Carmine puts here hand up. "Could I say something here?"

Nicks stops and shrugs.

"As Lilly's agent, I'd just like her to know that she's really done pretty well today. Although... I must point out... that she's been a bit more pioneering than she possibly thinks. Just in case you still think I've modelled for porn sites, darling. Well... sorry. Bit of an assumption on your part, that was. I once posed for half a dozen snaps by our Billy here..." She strokes his arm. "But really, love, they were terribly tame. My knickers came off, but... well, sorry Lils, my legs stayed together." She shrugs. "So next time you look a the internet, darling, just think... you've gone further than most girls on it. A lot, lot further when I Iook at you now. But I think I might speak for others here... you've not done badly today. Billy says they can use a few minutes. So... well, we should give the girl a round of applause. If she'd do us the favour of jumping up and down."

Lilly starts to clap. Nicks tugs Lilly's tits, Sammy snaps at her a thigh. The model, full to bursting with everyone's piss and in obvious pain, begins her awkward, demeaning bunny hop. The others join in ironically. As they clap, there are jeers.

"Go it, Slaggy."

"Nice one, fat arse,"

"Go on, higher, Bell End."

She doesn't have tears left... she's used to it now. And as she hops in pain, guts cramping, shape ridiculous, she notices everyone is watching her. They may have trussed her like a turkey, may be laughing at her, not with her, but she has their full attention. All day she's had it.

Photos snap. Cameras roll. Seven people can't take their eyes off her. She's never had such constant attention like this. She stumbles to her feet and starts hopping with more vigour. She doesn't care anymore. She throws caution to the winds. She chooses to go faster, bend further, make her legs go that bit wider, turn her feet to a more ungainly angle. As she hops, she lifts her hands away and slaps her own arse. She feels it springing, splashing, bouncing back. She lets herself start to groan and grunt. She can't appear more ridiculous now, she has no more dignity left to lose. She knows what they want... they want her looking stupid... idiotic and ridiculous. They want to be able to laugh at her, to externalise their own fear of ridicule, to project it away onto somebody else. If they're laughing at her, no-one's laughing at them. She improvises. She hops on one foot... she hops on the other. She slaps her arse harder, pulls it wide, makes her hands jerk the flesh from side to side. There's the pulling on her breasts now. She deliberately resists it to make it look funnier when she stumbles forwards.

She feels pressure at her back end too. Looks around, sees the blond has picked up the water bottle. Sees the goth with the rope in front. They're pulling at her from either end. She stops jumping and groans at them, loudly, through her gag. Feels the big fat cucumber squidge between her legs. She walks her fingers as far as she can, then she starts to pull quickly. As she pulls, she jumps... as she jumps, she grunts. They're all looking, all jeering, all laughing and shouting their insults at her. Clicking with their cameras. Cheering her on and staring, mouths open.

As she jump and pulls, she feels pressure building... a hot flood of pressure there between her thighs. The warmth sears hotter. She groans and groans and slaps and pulls and stamps her feet down. A release is building, intense and overwhelming. Sensation floods out... heat and pleasure and fire and pain, charging up her nerves and looping with her brain, writing its feedback into permanent circuits which will always remember, always respond.

There's cheering in there mixed with the jeering. For all she knows, it's entirely in her head, but it makes no difference... it's cheering still. She feels tugging from behind. She turns her head.

"You can stop now," she says.

They don't hear it. They just hear a muffled oo-aa-o-eau, since the words are blocked by her underwear gag.

It doesn't matter. She doesn't care. She's gone beyond anything they'll know for themselves. They can't humiliate her if she chooses it herself. She feels free, she feels strong, they can't hurt her anymore, now she knows what she's doing for the rest of her life.


_____

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