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Earning Her Tuition

by Frenulum

Copyright © 2008 Frenulum. All rights reserved.

State University freshman Ann Bailey was in a pretty good mood as she swiped herself into her college dorm on a Thursday afternoon. Only one more class before Monday. Excellent odds of finding a decent party, maybe some music, maybe some cute guys, somewhere on campus that night. No current romantic entanglements, so if she happened to feel like flirting a bit there was nothing to stop her.

The mood changed in a hurry, though, seconds after she entered her dorm room. Her roommate, Corinna Walker, was there, slumped on their futon — and Corinna was obviously unhappy: eyes swollen, tear tracks on her cheeks, her usually tidy hair mussed. And there were a few dozen tissues crumpled around the wastebasket.

As outgoing and empathetic a person as you would ever hope to meet, Ann abandoned her party dreams in an instant and flew to her roomie’s side, dropping her books unheeded and wrapping both arms around her friend.

“Corinna, what’s the matter?” she cried. “What’s wrong?”

Corinna sniffled. She wanted to cry, but she had cried herself dry already and she simply didn’t have the strength for more. “My mom called this afternoon,” she said.

Ann knew from their many talks that Corinna’s father had been having some health problems, and that was the first thought that came to her. “Is it your dad? Is he ok?”

“No,” said Corinna. “I mean, no, it’s not him — he’s fine.”

“What is it, honey?” Ann relaxed her hug and sat back so she could look at her friend’s face, but kept a comforting hand on Corinna’s shoulder.

“My mom said, last Sunday the furnace died. Um, boiler, I guess, not furnace — I don’t really understand the difference. And, you know, it’s, like, below zero this time of year back home, and, so... I mean, they had to replace it the same day or, you know, the pipes...” Her voice trailed off and Corinna grabbed a fresh tissue to blow her nose again.

“Sure, I understand,” said Ann, not really seeing where the saga was leading, but wanting to offer sympathetic support.

“So, you know, that’s like really expensive to begin with, plus they had to pay a lot extra for people to work on the weekend. And, and while they were putting in the new furnace — boiler — whatever — there was some problem with, I don’t know, some new building code or something. So they had to replace something in the chimney. I didn’t really follow all the details, but anyway, something else expensive.”

“Oh, that sounds awful,” Ann agreed.

“So anyway.” Not quite dry, after all, Corinna’s eyes welled with tears. “Mom says. Mom says they can’t pay their share of Spring Semester tuition, and I’ll have to cover it myself or, or, or I’ll have to drop out.” The devastated girl’s usually pretty face contorted in grief. “That’s six thousand dollars, Ann! I don’t have sixty. It’s due in less than a month!” Sobbing, she buried her head on Ann’s welcoming shoulder.

Ann stroked her roomie’s hair, seeking to comfort her, as the poor girl wept in her embrace. “There, there, honey. Relax. Take it easy, there now. Shhh. We’ll figure something out — I’ll work on it with you, there’s a way, you’ll see, there now honey. Relax now, ok? It’ll work out, c’mon, I’ll help you.”

After a few minutes, Corinna got sufficient control of herself to sit up straight. She dabbed at her eyes with a soggy tissue.

“I’m already working two jobs,” the co-ed said. “Even if I could handle three, I already checked the U-Works web site and there’s nothing better than eight dollars an hour. So that’s, like, a hundred sixty a week if I worked insane hours. Nowhere near six thousand.”

“What about a loan?” Ann asked. “There’s all kinds of programs — the college has some, there’s some Federal loans —”

“Too late. I checked that too. For Spring Semester I would have had to apply by about a month ago,” Corinna said mournfully.

“What about your folks?” Ann asked. “I mean — look, sorry, I know it’s none of my business, but couldn’t they borrow six grand? Against their house or something?”

Corinna shook her head sadly. “No. I asked, but — that’s why Mom didn’t tell me about it until today, they were trying to work something out with the bank. See, last year, we had yellow vein virus —”

“That’s what’s making your father sick?”

Corinna was too distraught to laugh. “No — you city kids, I swear. Beet necrotic yellow vein virus — it causes rhizomania. So the sugar yield is low. So my dad got less than half what he’d counted on when he sold the beet crop last year, so, like, my folks are already stretched way out to the limit.”

Ann thought for a while. “Look, the Financial Aid people have been pretty nice to me — well, I should say, to my father, he’s the one dealing with them — but he says they’re reasonable. Why don’t you have a talk with someone, explain what happened. Maybe they’d... I dunno, put you on maybe some kind of payment plan, a little bit a week or something.”

Corinna nodded. “I made an appointment to go in there. But it’s not until next week — the lady I need to talk to is out of town. And the guy on the phone didn’t give me a lot of hope — said they didn’t do stuff like that but she’d at least hear me out when she got back.” Her shoulders slumped; the poor girl looked completely defeated. “Oh, Ann, I can’t drop out. I’ve dreamed of this forever.”

Ann well knew that Corinna was the first in her family to make it as far as college. And while Corinna’s mother viewed her daughter’s college goals with less than complete understanding — seeing nothing wrong with a career waitressing at the IHOP or typing and filing at the Ford dealer — her father, who had entered the workforce after eighth grade, was fiercely proud of her. It must have been awful, she thought, for the Walkers to confront the repair bill and know what it was going to mean to their daughter.

From stories around campus, Ann knew that there were two ways a co-ed with Corinna’s looks could make big bucks in a short time: stripping and hooking. She thought for sure that the latter was not an option. Corinna had arrived the previous August a virgin, and her boyfriend Jake, who relieved her of her cherry early in the Fall, had been her only partner.

Stripping, though. Maybe. Corinna had the body for it: she was slender, very leggy, curvy in all the right spots if not as busty as most men seemed to prefer. People didn’t refer to her face as beautiful, they called it pretty — but pretty would sell, Ann thought, pretty had an air of innocence and freshness about it, and men would like that. Wouldn’t they? There were some clubs in town — Ann didn’t know exactly where, but she had heard of girls who earned tuition by dancing and saved quite a bit as well.

What Ann didn’t know was how Corinna would feel about the whole idea. She seemed a little on the shy side, sometimes, but the roommates hadn’t ever actually sat down for an earnest discussion on the theme: how would you feel about dancing naked for money in front of strange men? Or maybe not so strange — she’d heard one girl complain that professors from the University practically had a monopoly on the front row.

“Corinna,” Ann said, “I have an idea but I have to do some research — talk to a couple girls I know who might know a way to make some money. Let me go find them and see what I can find out.”

Corinna nodded dully. She felt hopeless, but she knew her friend was trying to help, and she could find some comfort in that. She tried a smile, and was weakly successful. But Ann saw the expression and grinned back. “Don’t give up now, honey,” she said. “You sit tight and I’ll be back later with some good news, ok?”

“I’m supposed to go over to Jake’s,” Corinna said.

“What’s ‘supposed to’ supposed to mean?” demanded Ann. Jake was ok in her book but not quite marvelous enough for her friend. “He gets to order you around now?”

Corinna shook her head. “No, no, it’s not like that. It’s just, he has the room to himself until Sunday, so... I mean there’s plenty of times we can’t, you know, do stuff because there’s no privacy, so, like, when there’s an opportunity, I don’t like to disappoint him.”

“Girl, you are in no shape for The Deed right now. You need hugs and backrubs, not some heaving hairy ape.”

Corinna smiled at that. “I’ll be sure to tell Jake you were thinking fondly of him.”

Ann shook her head in mock exasperation. “Well, you do what you think best. But I’m going to go beat the bushes and see if I can’t find you a way to make some serious money.” She picked her jacket up off the floor, leaving the scattered pile of books, and slipped it on. “Take care of yourself, honey,” she said.

“You too, Ann.”

The door closed behind Ann and Corinna automatically walked over to lock it. She looked dazedly around the room. “I’ll do anything,” she thought to herself. “I can’t drop out. Anything.”

She thought about tidying up the place a bit, but felt drained and exhausted. Corinna slumped into her desk chair, staring sightlessly at the stacks of junk on her desk. Papers, exams, books. Flyers, pizza coupons, playbills. Today’s State Daily newspaper.

The newspaper. Classified ads. Help Wanted!

With sudden energy, Corinna sat up and flipped pages of newsprint. Campus news, world news, cartoons, sports... Classifieds. Roommates, rentals, used cars... Help wanted. She grabbed a highlighter and began to scan the ads.

Four minutes later, she found it.

College Co-Eds Earn Big Bucks

Great opportunity for open-minded college women to earn money for rent, tuition, a car, or just a shopping spree! If you’re hot, sexy, and in shape, Handprint Films would like to cast you in its next adult movie. First quality, above-board, high-class company with a respectful attitude to our actresses. NO SEX ACTS* ARE INVOLVED. 18 years and older absolutely enforced. Call 555-1212 to schedule an interview. Call today, earn cash tomorrow!

* as defined by former President Clinton

It seemed to have been written expressly to catch her eye, Corinna thought. Big Bucks. Earn Tuition. Cash Tomorrow. The highlighter fell unnoticed from her fingers. But — adult movies? She was revolted at the thought. She had never seen one, but she had caught glimpses a few times of the box covers in the video store back home, when some man opened the door to the “Adults Only” back room, and she certainly knew what kind of movies the advertisement meant. Nudity. Sex. Women as sex objects. Women used for the gratification of men. Women defiled and debased and degraded, not loved and respected and cared for. She shuddered in disgust.

But all the same... Cash Tomorrow. Corinna was conscious of her own voice inside her head: I can’t drop out... I’ll do anything...

She realized that the desperation that had gripped her ever since her mother’s phone call had a single factual root: nobody makes six thousand dollars in less than a month for unskilled, part-time labor. Not legally — and she would drop out rather than following that train of thought.

Her eyes were drawn back to the advertisement. High-class, they said. Ok, anybody could say that, even some scummy, sleazy, disreputable business. But “respectful to our actresses” — that didn’t sound to Corinna like a random come-on, it sounded like something the company was sincerely proud of. And “No sex,” with an asterisk. She remembered that there had been some sort of scandal in the Clinton administration, but she’d been too young at the time to pay much attention and didn’t understand the reference.

The pretty co-ed tapped her laptop into life and typed “clinton president sex act” into the search bar. A few minutes’ reading refreshed her memory: the President’s “I did not have sex” assertion was based on his judgment that oral sex didn’t count. So... “No sex acts, asterisk, are involved” seemed to mean: oral sex is involved, but nothing else.

Corinna was still developing her attitudes and feelings about sex. She was in her first sexual relationship, trying to figure out what she liked and what she was comfortable with. Jake was reasonably patient with her, but it had been clear from the outset that sucking him was something he just plain expected from her, and she had learned to do it. It was not high on her list of favorite ways to make love, but the only really awful part was if Jake wanted to finish in her mouth. The rest of it was not so bad, maybe even a little bit more romantic than the regular way, sometimes.

Could she do it in a movie, though? With a man assigned to a part, rather than her boyfriend? In front of people? Corinna had no idea how crowded a movie set was, but there had to be at least one person working the camera.

Her head spun, fragments of thoughts and conversations echoing and swirling through her mind, each one clamoring for attention, fighting each other within her.

Defiled. Debased. Degraded.

I’ll do anything!

Sex objects. Used. Disgusting.

I can’t drop out!

Lights, camera, blow job!

I’m so sorry, dear. You’ll have to cover it yourself. Or you could come back home, your room is always ready for you.

Take your clothes off. Show off your naked body. Suck this stranger’s cock. Go on, wrap your lips around it while everyone’s watching. Let everyone see what a cheap easy slut you are, sucking the hard cock of a man you don’t even know. Make him cum in your mouth. Go ahead, Corinna, make this strange man shoot his slimy sticky yucky sperm right into your mouth while we all watch you.



Corinna closed her eyes, and in the silence of her dorm room whispered, “Anything.” With trembling fingers, she opened her cell phone and dialed.

One ring. Two rings.

“Hi, um, I saw your ad in the State Daily... Yes... Well, um, I don’t know, uh, could you tell me more about it first?... Sure, no problem...” While she waited, Corinna thought seriously about hanging up. Her fingers, as if they had a will of their own, began flexing the lid of the cell phone. If they pushed a little harder, it would snap shut and the call would end. But then what?

A new voice answered: a man’s voice, warm and friendly. Corinna released the breath that she had been unaware of holding. “Hi, uh, I’m calling about the ad in the State Daily, for, um, films... No... No, never... Um, to be honest with you, I’m not really sure... Hot? Um, I, uh, have, you know, a pretty good figure and all... Well, I don’t exactly know... Well, first, could you give me some idea, you know, just in general, how much money —... Really? And you said that was for one scene? Well, um, how much time does that take?... Uh-huh... Um, is there a lot of work — I mean, if I wanted to earn more than that... Mmm-hmm... I see... Um, your ad sort of implied there was, um, oral, you know, oral sex involved?... Yes... Yes... And what?... Are you serious?... I, uh, I, that is, I, like, didn’t know people, you know, did that... Now I’m really not sure... Well, yeah, I saw the part about open-minded, but... Ok, I guess so... Tomorrow? Hang on a sec.”

Corinna grabbed her planner and flipped to the current week. “Hi, um, any time after two o’clock... Three? And where are you?... Yup... Yup... Got it... Ok, and, um, I don’t think I caught your name... Thank you... Oh, sorry, it’s Corinna, Corinna Walker... Thank you, it’s my grandma’s name... Ok, well, then, I’ll, um, see you tomorrow at three... Yes... Bye.”

The lovely eighteen-year-old snapped her phone shut, then re-opened it a second later. She fingered the keys with practiced speed. “Hey, Ann, it’s me... Listen, I found something... Yes... No, I want to talk to you about it... No, don’t bother with that, could I just please talk to you now... I meant in person... Yes, it is... Thank you, and thank you for being so worried about me, and thanks for letting me cry all over you... Ok, soon, bye.”

This time Corinna left her phone open. She tapped another speed dial code. “Hi, Jake... Sure, but a little later, ok? I have some stuff to take care of... No, I’ll eat at the caf, I’ll come over around nine, ok?... No, that’s ok, we can just, you know, stay in... Well, maybe that’s exactly what I mean... Well, maybe, if you play your cards right... Now, now, hold your horses, I’ll see you in a few hours... ’Kay, bye...”

Ann stared at her roommate and best friend with undisguised shock. “Fetish films? You? I can’t believe I’m hearing this! Corinna, you’ve had sex with one guy in your whole life, for what, three months now? And look at you, I just said two words about your sex life and you’re blushing like a virgin.”

“Well, ok, I’m still a little... private about it,” rejoined Corinna.

“Yes! Exactly! So all of a sudden you’re going to get naked in front of a film crew, and —” Ann had been avoiding a certain word ever since Corinna had explained the theme of the films, as if by not naming it, she could avoid thinking about it. “And do, you know, that, like, fetish part. And then you’re going to suck off some guy you were introduced to that day?! For money?! I can’t believe you!”

Corinna, who had told herself that she needed advice from Ann, had in fact been seeking support and validation. That she was hearing incredulity and opposition was beginning to make her rather angry with her friend. “Well, tell me how that’s so different from the little scheme you were trying to get me into, without even asking me? How come you can picture me, like, pole dancing while a hundred jerks drool at me and wave money at me? Don’t tell me those girls don’t ever have to put out. But I guess that’s ok, ’cause you thought of it. I guess sucking off one guy who’s at least a, a, a professional is disgusting and wicked, but sucking off whoever pays the boss, that’s all goody-goody in your book.”

The friends glared at each other for as long as they could. But their friendship was true and deep and neither girl had the will for a protracted battle. Ann relaxed first, lowering her shoulders and her eyes. “No, honey, you’re right. And I should have talked to you before I went chasing my bright idea. It was just all I could think of that paid well enough.”

It was Corinna’s turn to yield. Softly she replied, “I know you were just trying to help. I appreciate it — lots of roommates would have just shrugged me off and said ‘not my problem’.”

There was a pause in the conversation. Then Ann said, “I guess... it’s not really the sex that keeps buggin’ me out. It’s... that, uh, fetish thing. I mean... can you really do that? Could you let some guy, well, you know —?”

Corinna’s face took on a look of determination. “I don’t want to, don’t get me wrong. But... if I can just go through with it, somehow, just three times... That would be enough money. I figure, no matter how much I don’t like it, it’s only three times — and by the time I know how much I hate it, there’ll only be two times left. And I’d have enough to make up the rest of the tuition bill, and I could still be with you and with Jake and all the rest.”

“Jake,” Ann said, eyes widening, “Oh my god, Jake, what are you gonna tell him?”

Corinna sighed. “I thought about him a lot, about being unfaithful. Which it would be, I’m not trying to lie to myself about that. But... if I don’t do it, I have to go back home, so either way, he gets hurt. But if I go back home, he gets hurt for good, and if I just do this movie stuff, well, he doesn’t have to know. And if there’s pain about that, about having to keep a secret from him, at least it’s my pain.”

Ann reached out and patted her roomie on the arm. “You just aren’t getting a lot of easy choices today, are you, honey?”

“No, but — this is completely crazy, ok?, I know what it sounds like. But, if I do this, I can stay in school. And I keep thinking about my dad, and how he looked when I got the acceptance letter. He... he doesn’t ever say a lot, but that night his face sure did, and the way he hugged me. So it’s crazy but... I can go through with it: I can make a porn movie, so my dad can still be proud of me.”

Ann shook her head and laughed softly. “Sometimes, girl, you do think in twisty little ways.”

“Oh, baby, you feel so good,” moaned Jake, as he rapidly stroked his cock in and out of Corinna’s clinging cunt.

Corinna lay beneath him, legs spread wide, her arms around his back, as Jake’s thrusts filled her again and again. She had been in his dorm room less than ten minutes, but her impatient lover had stripped her, bedded her, and mounted her without wasting even one of them. As Jake’s erection pumped away in her pussy, Corinna felt the familiar tingle, a flush of heat that seemed to center not so much between her legs as deep inside the core of her body, that she labeled in her mind as orgasm. It was not what she had expected an orgasm to feel like — she had read more than one comparison to explosions and fireworks, not at all the right description for this gentle glow — but since it was all she had ever felt, and since it was pleasant enough, she had dismissed that climactic imagery as false.

She heard Jake moan and felt his hips pressing hard against her; felt the pulsing of his cock where it sat buried deep in her cunt; felt the queer internal tickle of sperm jetting inside her. And then he was stroking her again, slowing, slowing, until he collapsed panting into her embrace. Corinna felt the tension ebbing from his shoulders, and stroked her lover’s back as he rested above her, while the hot tingling flush at her center began to fade.

The young lovers rolled apart. “Babe, that was awesome,” breathed Jake. “It was good for you, too, right?”

“It’s always good for me,” Corinna responded — truthfully, as far as her inexperience went. “I love you, Jake,” she whispered, looking into his eyes.

Jake was still a little uncomfortable expressing his feelings in those terms, but he managed “You, too, babe” in reply. The couple snuggled together, kissing, caressing each other lazily, with nothing particular to say. Jake’s idle thoughts were mainly of Corinna — of how fortunate he was to have the hottest of the freshman girls for a girlfriend — and dimly of the possibility of starting round two in a while. Corinna, showing nothing of her apprehension on her face, thought about her job interview, now less than eighteen hours away.

When she was a little girl, Corinna had been taken to the doctor every year for a checkup, right before school started. The one thing she dreaded, as do most children, was getting an injection. But nobody — not her mother, not the nurse, not the pediatrician — ever said ahead of time, “This year you will get a shot.” So there was always the possibility of not getting one, a possibility that she could cling to and believe in right until the moment she saw the needle in the doctor’s hand. And there were just enough years without an injection to keep the hope burning.

That same feeling of slim, helpless hope came back to her as she lay cuddled with her boyfriend, contemplating her coming interview. She imagined that, before hiring her to appear in a pornographic movie, somebody would want to see her in the nude. Corinna was a shy girl and the prospect of disrobing for a stranger filled her with fear — a fear that seemed silly in light of the kind of work she was interviewing for, but was nevertheless real. For whatever reason, she was far more at peace with the idea of appearing nude in a film than of stripping off just to be... evaluated. Appraised. Judged. But just as with the childhood vaccinations, she didn’t absolutely know what was going to happen.

She became aware that Jake’s kisses had grown more passionate over the last few moments, and let a hand trail up his leg until she found firm evidence of his renewed interest. Corinna thought about what she was prepared to do, with a stranger, for money, and decided that Jake deserved no less.

“Want me to suck you?” she whispered.

Jake usually had to bring up that possibility, so he was pleasantly surprised. And not dim enough to have to think about it. “You know I love that,” he said.

Corinna slipped down the bed until her head lay pillowed on Jake’s stomach, his stiff cock pointing toward her face and dancing gently with his pulse. The position was not optimal for cocksucking, but Corinna did not know that; it was the only way she ever approached the act. And if Jake knew that there were better techniques available, he steadfastly heeded his personal law of the blow job: all head is good head.

Corinna parted her lips and, guarding her teeth, took Jake’s prick into her mouth. She stroked his shaft with her hand as her tongue licked his cockhead. There was little penetration, and not much friction from Corinna’s lips, but Jake was young and horny and something of a speedster, so after a few minutes of her gentle ministrations he felt his sap rising.

“Babe, I’m, uh, gettin’ pretty close,” he said, knowing that Corinna usually preferred that he switch to her pussy. But she kept sucking his cock, and Jake, feeling that he had done his duty with the warning, relaxed and let himself go.

Corinna felt the cum bubbling from the end of his prick and splashing into her mouth. She despised the bitter taste of it, but what really repelled her was the slimy stickiness of the fluid. “If I can do it to pay the tuition, I can do it for my boyfriend,” she thought, willing herself not to gag as the salty jizz coated her tongue. When the spurting stopped, Corinna let Jake’s prick slip out of her mouth, pressed her lips together, and swallowed the load, glad that Jake would not be able to see the disgusted expression on her face.

After a moment’s pause, Corinna wiggled back up to lie in Jake’s arms. The taste of cum was still strong in her mouth and the odor of it was stuck in her nose. She knew it would linger for a long while, unless she got something to eat or drink.

The young couple lay together in the narrow bed, talking sporadically, until Jake, sedated by sex, drifted off to sleep. Corinna cast her thoughts back to the man she’d talked to on the telephone. He had sounded nice, genuinely friendly. This would work out. She could do it. She could get through the interview, and land the job, and make a movie. It would be ok.

But deep inside her apprehension lingered, waiting for the self-reassuring thoughts to fade away.

On Friday afternoon, Corinna stepped off the Town-Gown shuttle bus, reconfirmed her destination address for the ninth time, and walked two blocks off the main street to a quiet business district.

She had spent a good part of Friday morning fretting, with Ann’s help, over what to wear. After going through most of her wardrobe, the girls had returned to Corinna’s first idea, which was to dress as she would for an interview with any other business. She wore a slim, knee-length black skirt, a simple man-tailored blouse in dusty rose, and black pumps with a two-inch heel. The question of whether or not to wear hose had been settled, ultimately, by the last-minute discovery that neither girl had a pair left without a run.

And thinking it more than likely that she’d have to undress, Corinna had selected her prettiest matching bra and panties, an ecru satin set edged in delicate lace.

She found the address with a few minutes to spare. The street door was lettered “HPF Corporation” in discreet gold, and through the glass Corinna could see a flight of stairs: the studio was on the upper floor of the two-story building. She tried to master her uncertainty as she reached for the door handle, but she could see her hand trembling, and her pulse seemed loud in her ears.

The top of the stairs offered another door, marked “Handprint Films.” It was locked, and an intercom mounted on the wall beside it was labeled “Please ring for admittance.” Corinna pressed the button with a shaking finger. Right away, a woman’s voice said, “May I help you?”

Corinna bent toward the intercom. “I have an appointment with Doug Browning?”

There was a buzz and a click from the door; Corinna opened it and walked inside. An attractive, middle-aged woman was just coming into the reception area from the opposite side as Corinna entered. She offered a hand. “You must be Corinna,” the woman said. “I’m Elaine, Mr. Browning’s assistant. May I take your coat?”

“Thank you,” said Corinna, slipping out of her coat and handing it to the older woman.

“Mr. Browning is in a meeting, but that should wrap up in just a minute or two. Please have a seat, and he’ll come out and get you. Would you care for a beverage while you wait — coffee, water, juice?”

“No, no thank you,” Corinna replied, “I’m fine.” She took a seat on a comfortable sofa as the woman disappeared with her coat. The reception area was nicely decorated and warmly lit, with a beautiful oriental rug covering most of the hardwood floor. There were paintings on the walls. For no reason, Corinna had expected to see sexual images — scenes from movies, or cover photos, perhaps — but the paintings were land- and sea-scapes, apparently all by the same artist.

She was standing in front of one, looking at it more carefully, when someone spoke behind her. “Miss Walker?” Startled, she turned around. “I’m Doug Browning.”

Corinna offered a hand, which Browning took. “Pleased to meet you,” she said, completely uncertain whether or not that was true, and ashamed of the nervousness she could hear in her own voice.

Browning was a tall man, well over six feet, with close-cropped dark hair shot through with grey. He was dressed in tailored black wool slacks and a crisply pressed blue oxford shirt. To Corinna’s eye, he had a look of authority and confidence — a man accustomed to being in command.

“Why don’t we start with a tour of the place,” Browning said, releasing Corinna’s hand. “That won’t take long — there really isn’t that much to see. And then we’ll do a little question-and-answer in my office. Sound all right?”

“Yes, of course,” said Corinna, “Whatever you think is best.” She loved the man’s rich voice. He had sounded warm and friendly on the telephone; in person his every word rang reassuringly in her ears. She stole a closer look at his face: weathered, and beginning to show lines. Taken with the greying hair, she guessed him to be in his late forties or early fifties.

Browning spoke as they walked through the facility. “Out in front here are the offices: sales and marketing, accounting, regulatory compliance. Production is that way: that’s me, my associate producer, directors, editors, and so on. Take a right here. Have you ever seen a studio before, Corinna?”

“No, sir.” Corinna didn’t give a thought to her respectful mode of reply — it just seemed a natural way to address the distinguished older man.

“We’re not as big and fancy as some, but it’s a pretty nice facility, really. Here’s wardrobe.” Browning reached into a room and flipped a light switch. The overhead lights came on to reveal a long counter, backed by a mirrored wall, at which several salon-style chairs were placed. There were makeup cases at every station. Against the far wall of the room were two rolling garment racks, crammed unbelievably full. One of the racks appeared to be devoted to lingerie of every description; the other was full of street clothes. “There are two rooms like this for the ladies, though we usually only use this one,” Browning said, “And a smaller one for the men. Now this way...” He led Corinna back into the corridor and around a corner.

A huge space opened out in front of them. It was lit by work lights only, which left the room a bit dim, but Corinna could see a baffling maze of cables, light stands, and tripods. In the center of the room was a set: two walls, one with a curtained window behind which stood a painted backdrop suggesting tree limbs. In front of the walls were a bed, dresser, and night stand in white and pink. A girl’s bedroom, apparently. “We shot two scenes yesterday,” Browning explained. “That’s our usual schedule — one in the morning, one in the afternoon, every Tuesday and Thursday. Our crew is free-lance, so it’s best if we can hire everybody for a full day and keep them busy.”

“I see,” said Corinna. She was mesmerized by the bedroom set; especially by the tall four-poster with its pink linens and plentiful pillows. “So, you made a film of, of a girl in her, in her bedroom?”

“That’s right,” said Browning, his voice perfectly calm and businesslike. “A very naughty girl who got sent to her room for her spanking.”

It was out. The beast was loose; the word had been spoken.

Corinna’s stomach felt hollow. Her fear rushed out of hiding and filled her mind. She stared at the bed, trying to imagine how it had been done. Had the girl stood next to it, bent over at the waist, gripping the coverlet? Had she been placed on the bed on all fours, with her knees at the edge and her bottom high? Had she been stretched out across the bed, over the lap of someone seated on it?

“And after... after that, uh, part... she did, uh, oral... s-sex with him?” Corinna stammered.

Doug Browning was fully aware of Corinna’s discomfiture. He had interviewed hundreds of first-timers in his career, and their skittishness was practically a given. But he did not chide the girl about her attitude; instead, he answered her as if her question had been spoken with perfect confidence.

“Yes, that’s right,” Browning said. “Perhaps I should explain. In the world of fetish films, everything depends on making each one pretty much exactly the same. Our particular niche combines a spanking and a blow job in one scene, always in that order. We have one other studio, in California, that does spanking scenes without the sex. Our customers absolutely depend on knowing that we’ll deliver the same ingredients time after time after time: spanking, blow job, facial; spanking, blow job, facial. They buy from us because that’s the particular blend that gets them off — anything else, and we’d lose their business overnight.”

“Y-yes, I understand,” said Corinna. “I, uh, I think I said on the phone yesterday, I, um, never even knew that men liked, uh...” Her voice trailed off.

Browning turned to her and looked her directly in the eye. He put his right hand on her left shoulder; the gesture made the co-ed shiver. “Corinna,” he said, his deep voice gentle but firm, “Say ‘spanking’.”

She found that she could not look away from his gaze. His aura of calm authority was completely irresistible. She was acutely, unnaturally aware of the warmth of his hand. “S— Spanking,” she whispered.

“Once more.”

“Spanking,” Corinna said.

Browning smiled at the young co-ed. “That’s better. Corinna, this is what we do here. We need to be able to talk about it like adults. We spank pretty girls on their bare bottoms, and those pretty girls suck some cock, and we take pictures, and everybody goes home well paid and happy. You need to confront that and accept it. All right?”

“Yes, sir,” Corinna said meekly. Browning had been as nice as possible, but she knew she’d been lectured and that she had disappointed the older man. It was important to her — vitally important, she suddenly realized, without understanding why — to have his approval. Corinna resolved to be bolder. “Well, like I said, I didn’t know men liked to see, uh, spanking.”

“Not just men, in fact,” replied Browning. He motioned Corinna to follow him and led the way off the set. Corinna turned and gave the soft, pink, lacy bed one last lingering look. “About forty percent of our customers are women. Our sister studio, the one that makes spanking movies without the sex, sells about seventy percent to women.”

“Really?” Corinna asked, amazed.

“Yes. For a woman to want a confident, capable man to take charge of her, to set standards for her behavior, and to discipline her when necessary, is a natural, common desire. Women who lack that feeling of being cared for in real life often turn to us, or to other fictional outlets, to find stories that portray such relationships. This is my office, go right in.”

The office they entered was spacious and as tastefully decorated as the reception room. The furniture was dark and massive, the carpeting rich and soft, and the colors appealing. More paintings by the artist featured in the lobby adorned the walls.

“Are these your paintings?” Corinna asked.

“No.” Browning smiled. “I pretty much hit the limit of my artistic talent midway through kindergarten, when the teacher finally trusted me with two crayons at once. These are all by my associate producer, Chip — I’ll introduce you later.”

“They’re really good,” observed Corinna.

The producer motioned her over to a rack of television equipment. “I want to show you a clip from one of our films,” he told her, “So that you get an idea of our production values. We take a lot of pride in our work, and I only want you to consider working for us if you think you can meet our very high standards.” He slotted a DVD into a player and fired up a wide-screen monitor. “I’m going to start by showing you a scene from a film made by another company, a competitor of ours. Watch this; I’ll ask you your opinion in a moment.”

He flashed through the scene selection menu on the DVD, and a few seconds later, Corinna was watching a woman being spanked. She had never seen porn — in fact, had only rarely glimpsed another woman wearing anything less than a bikini — and felt embarrassed to be watching, as if she were peeking at something not meant for her eyes. Browning’s closeness only added to her tension, and though his eyes were focused on the monitor Corinna felt that, somehow, he was really watching her. She could feel heat in her ears, and knew that she must be blushing.

After a minute, Browning hit the pause button. On the screen, the nude woman lay over the lap of a man, whose hand was frozen inches above her ass.

“Tell me what you thought of that, Corinna,” Browning said.

The co-ed tried to marshal her thoughts. “Well, uh, it’s not like what I imagined, I guess.”

“How so?”

“I guess, I don’t know, but... it seemed to me like, like he spent more time, you know, kind of... fondling her, than, like, actually spanking her,” Corinna managed.

“Yes, very good,” said the producer, and Corinna felt a small rush of pleasure that she had done well. “What else?”

Corinna didn’t really want to offer her next observation, for fear that it might be confirmed. “It, um, seemed like, well, maybe not very... you know, hard. Painful.” Please, she thought, tell me I’m wrong — tell me that’s as awful as it gets.

“Right again,” said Browning, confirming the girl’s fears. He hit play and the on-screen spanking resumed. “He raises his arm quite high, and whips it down quickly — that makes it look like a serious smack. But right... there... and there... see how he pulls the stroke at the last instant? There. See?” He paused the disc again. “If you know what to look for, the whole scene is very artificial — a fake. He’s spanking her just hard enough to get a little color and a little wiggle. Ok, one more observation: tell me what you thought of the actress.”

Corinna started to answer, then hesitated.

“Don’t worry about being polite,” the producer said. “Tell me what you really think.”

“She’s... not very attractive,” replied Corinna.

“Go on.”

“She, um, looks, I don’t know, like about forty, maybe? And she has — I mean, I don’t want to sound catty or anything, but... you know, kind of a... plump rear end.”

“Yes. Thank you for your honesty. She has a wide ass, she’s lost the cellulite battle, she’s long past her prime, and she wasn’t that much of a treat to look at to begin with. Corinna, that’s unfortunately the norm for fetish films — the actresses tend to be the ones who can no longer get work in straight porn. Well, our customers won’t stand for that. We hire fresh, young, exceptionally pretty girls with great bodies, and our customers appreciate and expect that. And pay a premium for it, which is why I can offer you two grand for a few hours’ work.”

Browning ejected the DVD and inserted another. “Here’s the other reason we pay so well. This is a Handprint Films production, from about a year ago. I’ll skip right to the middle of the spanking.” Once more, he navigated through a scene selection menu. “Watch.”

The scene was similar: a nearly nude girl — she wore a pair of spike-heeled sandals and a gold ankle bracelet, nothing else — bent over the lap of a man in a business suit. Browning turned the sound up.

Crack! Owwwwwwww! Crack! Noooooooo! Crack! Aaaaaaaaaaa! Crack! Waaaaaaaah haaanhh! Crack! Owwieeeeeeeeeeee!...

Corinna watched in horror as the spanking progressed. The girl was young, fit, curvy, and beautiful, but her face was contorted in agony, her teeth bared and tears coursing down her cheeks. The spanking looked fierce and serious — this man wasn’t pausing between blows to caress the bottom stretched over his knee — and the sharp sound of the spanks was terrifying.

Doug Browning hit pause one more time. “Two thousand dollars for a half day’s work — because it really, really hurts.”

Corinna glanced up at the tall man standing so close to her, and found he was already looking at her. She was conscious again of being oddly influenced by him, of wanting to please him and earn his approval. “A properly given spanking is extremely painful, Corinna. That girl was not pretending to cry. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

“If you work for me, you’re going to be stripped naked and thrashed soundly. No games, no pretending. You’ll have a bucketful of tears spanked out of you, and then you’re going to have to turn around and suck off the man who did it. Can you do that for me, Corinna?”

“Y-yes, sir. I — I really need the money.” She thought, but did not voice: “And I think I’d probably do anything you asked me to.”

Browning held her gaze, considering. Then he nodded. “Have a seat,” said the producer, motioning to a couch. “Let’s get our first bit of paperwork taken care of,” he said, selecting a chair opposite the girl. “I’ll need to see your driver’s license, please.”

“Oh, sure,” Corinna said, and dug through her purse for a suddenly elusive wallet. “Sorry... here it is.” She unsnapped her wallet and slid her license out, leaning forward to hand it to Browning.

He studied it. “A long way from home, I see. You’re at State University, is that right?”

“Yes, sir. My freshman year.”

Browning put the license on the table beside him, and picked up a video camera. It was much larger than the consumer portables Corinna had seen, and to her untrained eye it looked very fancy, covered with knurled rings, knobs, buttons, and switches. All sorts of add-on gadgets were plugged in to various jacks and connectors. The lens sported a rectangular hood, with barn doors around it like a photographer’s spotlight. The knot in her stomach solidified as Corinna suddenly understood why he was turning the camera on.

The producer pointed the camera at the table, and Corinna realized that he was recording her ID card.

He spoke. “This is a Handprint Films interview, with Miss Corinna Walker.” After he had a few seconds of her ID, Browning lifted the camera to his shoulder and settled his eye against the rubber cup that shielded the viewfinder. His left hand worked two rotating rings behind the lens with practiced precision. “Hello, Corinna,” he said, aiming the camera at her.

“Hi,” she replied nervously, and then gave a little finger wave to the camera, feeling instantly ridiculous.

“Tell us a little bit about yourself.”

“Um. I’m eighteen years old. I go to State, this is my freshman year. I, um, don’t have a major yet.”

“What subjects do you like?”

“Um, history prob’ly is my favorite, I guess. Or really anything that’s about people, you know, not... numbers, or, or things.”

“And where are you from, Corinna?”


“A lot warmer here, isn’t it?”

“Yah, that’s for sure,” said Corinna, laughing for the first time as some of her tension eased away.

“Have you ever made an adult film, Corinna?”

“No, sir.” And the tension flowed back.

“Corinna, has anyone ever turned you over his knee and given you a good hard spanking on your naughty little bare bottom?”

“N-n-no, sir, never.”

“So when you appear in one of our movies, that will be your very first spanking?”


“Could we call you a spanking virgin, Corinna?”

“I, I g-guess so...” The co-ed’s hands were clasped together, and she was fighting the urge to turn away from the dark eye of the camera.

“But you’re not a virgin when it comes to sex, are you?”

“N-no, sir.”

“Ever suck a cock, Corinna?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So you’re a spanking virgin, but not a cock-sucking virgin. Well, that’s good to know. You’re certainly a very, very beautiful girl, Corinna.”

“Th-thank you, s-sir.”

“And you have a lovely figure. Stand up and let’s get a better look at you.”

Corinna rose shakily to her feet. She was conscious that her intertwined hands didn’t look good, and forced herself to let go and put her hands at her sides. A few seconds later, that pose felt awkward. She didn’t know what to do with her hands. She wished the camera would turn aside, but instead, the producer was panning slowly from her feet to her head.

“All right, Corinna,” said Browning. “Let’s get a better look at that beautiful body. Why don’t you start by taking your blouse off for me now.”

She was a little girl again. And the doctor was holding a needle.

Her arms rose automatically and her trembling fingers fumbled at a button. Corinna was enthralled by the black hole of the camera lens, which seemed suddenly malevolent. But Doug Browning’s voice was irresistible, and had lost none of its warmth or kindness.

Slowly, Corinna unbuttoned her blouse. When the last button came free, she took a deep breath. She let the blouse slip off her arms, onto the couch behind her.

“Mmmm, I think we’re in for a treat today,” said Browning. Corinna could tell from the angle of the camera that he was focused on her chest. “But... I think I’ll have you slip your skirt off next.”

“Yes, sir.” Her hands were shaking badly enough that Corinna had trouble getting hold of the tiny zipper tab. When she finally managed to grip it she eased the zipper down and, taking the waistband of the skirt in both hands, wiggled the tight sheath down past her hips. She stepped carefully out of the skirt and turned to lay it next to her blouse.

“Beautiful, beautiful,” said Browning, as he panned the camera slowly up her legs. “A long-stemmed rose, that’s what you are. Give me a nice slow turn now.”

Embarrassed beyond description, the nervous co-ed turned in place, clad in her matching satin bra and panties, as the relentless eye of the camera silently recorded all her charms.

“Oh, you are fine, Corinna,” Browning enthused with apparent sincerity. “Let’s just slip out of that bra now so my associate producer can get a look at those pretty breasts.”

“Your... your associate producer?” asked Corinna nervously, as her hands went behind her back.

“Yes — the artist, remember? I never make a casting decision without Chip’s approval, but everyone’s tied up in a conference right now. So this recording will have to serve as your casting call,” Browning said with a smile.

Corinna pulled her bra free and slipped it down her arms. She briefly and automatically put one arm up to cover her breasts in modesty, but even as she did so she understood that the time for modesty had long passed. She forced herself to lower her arm, and watched as the camera pointed once again to her chest.

“You have lovely breasts, Miss,” the producer remarked.

“You don’t think I’m... you don’t think they’re too small?” Corinna was rather sensitive on the subject, and asked the question with a sense of dread that he would just say “yes.”

“Don’t be silly,” Browning rejoined. “They’re beautiful. What, a B-cup, are you?”

“Yes. Barely,” murmured the blushing co-ed.

“That’s perfect. Perfect. And your nipples are the cutest little pink buds — are they always so stiff?”

Corinna blushed even harder. “No, I’m — that’s, um, I think I’m just kind of nervous, and they...” Her voice trailed off.

“So pretty. The camera just loves your body, Corinna, you look really amazing. Now, I want you to turn your back to me, bend well over, and then as slowly as you can manage slip your panties down for me.”

The desperate teenage girl did as she was told.

As she lowered her satin panties, Browning continued to direct her. “That’s it, a little bit slower now, yes, perfect. A little more. Yes. All the way down off your bottom now, Corinna. Beautiful. An excellent bottom is of prime importance to us, as you might expect, and to our viewers of course.”

Corinna jumped and emitted a surprised squeak when she felt Doug Browning’s warm, soft fingers on her left ass cheek. He squeezed and stroked her pert round bun as the camera focused in. “That is a magnificent ass, my dear. So firm, nice and springy, just the right roundness without being plump. Nicely muscled, your skin is beautiful — wow, so pretty.”

He released her, and something in Corinna felt it as a loss.

“All right, you can straighten up now,” Browning told the girl.

She stood with her hands clasped in front of her, as much to shield her pussy from view as for any other reason, and watched as Browning moved a work-scarred tripod into the middle of the room and then, with a speed that startled her, snapped the camera into place on top of it. He made a few adjustments, looking in the eyepiece once again, and then came over to where Corinna waited. She turned toward him; they were sideways to the mounted camera.

Browning reached down to unbuckle his belt. Before Corinna could process the gesture, he spoke. “Well, one last thing, let me get some idea of your skills as a cocksucker.” His pants fell around his ankles, and with a tug his blue silk boxer shorts followed.

“I — I didn’t — I, um —” babbled Corinna.

“Come on, girl, on your knees, tape is rolling. Well disk, to be precise.”

“You want me — that is —”

“Corinna, suck my cock for a bit. You’ll be doing it with an actor if we make you an offer, and this shouldn’t be any harder.” The producer knew from experience, though, that it was much harder. Even girls who had had many lovers tended to meet this challenge — sex for business — with a great deal of trepidation. It was a step that, once taken, could not be retraced. He waited for a few seconds, watching the shock-frozen teen with full understanding of her distress. He softened his voice and said with great kindness, “It’s ok, baby. Just kneel right down for me...” He watched as her body, almost without volition, responded. “...That’s right. Now just give this a little kiss and we’ll get started, it’s fine, you’ve done this before, there’s nothing to worry about.”

The co-ed’s soft pink lips parted and she took Browning’s half-hard cock between them.

He had said “You’ve done this before,” but Corinna hadn’t. She had never knelt at Jake’s feet like this. She had never been exposed to his gaze — her head had always been in the way, her face averted from him. She felt a hundred times more naked, more vulnerable, and more exposed than she ever had. And for the first time, she knew that she was being judged, evaluated for a sexual talent in which she had very little confidence.

“I am sucking a stranger’s cock in the hopes that he will offer me money,” she thought, letting her feelings find their harshest, most damning expression. And then she calmed herself, thinking about being able to stay in college, if she could just make three movies at two grand apiece. Take three spankings. Suck three men off. Stay in school. Stay with Jake, and Ann, and her other new friends. Make it.

As the thoughts swirled through her mind, Corinna sucked the producer’s cock as best she knew how. She rocked her head slightly back and forth, taking the head of his cock and about a half inch of the shaft into her mouth, letting it slide over her gently licking tongue. She never varied the stroke, never tried for more, never paused for some tongue-play. In and out, in and out, moistened slightly with saliva. It was all she knew.

She wondered if she was supposed to make him cum. He had said something like “a little bit” — it had sounded like a sample would be sufficient. But maybe he would want her to finish.

“Obviously not much experience,” said a woman’s voice behind her.

Corinna backed off Doug Browning’s stiff cock and turned her head with a gasp, startled, scared, and embarrassed. One hand darted down to cover up her pussy, while the other hid her breasts.

The speaker was a petite blonde, at a glance not more than a few years Corinna’s senior. She was wearing a simple, conservative, businesslike skirt and blouse along with an outrageous pair of stripper shoes, eight inch spikes on a three inch platform in glossy black.

“What — who —” Corinna stammered, blushing deeply.

“Chip, this is Corinna Walker. Corinna, my associate producer, Chip.”

Corinna didn’t know what to do. “How do you do?” seemed woefully inadequate for being found in an office, nude, performing an intimate sex act. Silence seemed impolite. Shaking hands would mean uncovering her breasts. She looked back to Browning for guidance, and he took the opportunity to stick his hard prick right back into her mouth.

“Corinna is interested in acting for us,” the producer said to the intruder. “I thought you’d be tied up, so I got her on camera. But since you’re here: see for yourself. What do you think?”

“She’s gorgeous. She definitely has the look for a lot of our usual rôles — she could do schoolgirl with hardly any prep, for example. Or the bumbling new office temp — first day on the job kind of thing.”

Corinna simply gave in to the insanity of the situation. She was sucking the cock of a man she had just met, while he and another stranger carried on a perfectly calm conversation — of which she was the subject — as she knelt on the floor dressed in nothing but heels. There was no way to process the situation, only to yield to it.

“And a fine, fine ass for spanking,” Browning replied.

“Yes. The cocksucking, though. I don’t know,” said Chip dubiously.

“She’s certainly inexperienced. But that might actually lend credibility to some rôles...”

The discussion went on over her head, but the thought running through Corinna’s mind was: “How do they know I’m inexperienced? How can they tell? They seem certain about it — but I never told them that I’d only been with Jake. Am I doing something wrong? I’m sucking his cock, what else could there be?” She felt that somehow she had failed her audition, in a way nobody was explaining to her. And the thought of disappointing Mr. Browning was deeply troubling to her, for reasons that had nothing to do with earning her tuition.

Corinna tuned back in to the voices over her head.

“...definitely can work with her. The customers will love her for her pretty face before we ever get her ass bare,” Chip was saying.

Browning pulled his cock out of Corinna’s soft pink mouth and, bending to pull up his shorts, tucked the hard shaft away. As he pulled up his dress slacks, he said to the nude teen kneeling at his feet, “You can get dressed now, Corinna.” She stood up, feeling a fresh blush bloom on her face as her nude body was now the focus of attention of two fully-dressed people. They didn’t seem to have any qualms about watching her as she stepped quickly into her lace-trimmed panties. Now that she was standing, she realized how tiny the associate producer was — mentally subtracting the platform heels, Corinna guessed her to be just five feet tall.

“Chip and I agree that we’d like to hire you, Corinna. If you’re still interested, we can get a contract signed before you leave today. I can offer you two thousand dollars for one scene. Because of the spanking, we only get one take, so that’s typically a matter of just a couple of hours for wardrobe, makeup, rehearsal, and shooting.” The lovely co-ed had donned bra and blouse and was slipping on her skirt as she listened. “For your first film, I’ll make the offer twenty-five hundred, if you’ll agree to shave or wax your pubic hair so that you’re completely bare and smooth for the shoot.”

Corinna’s eyes widened. She was aware of the practice, but had mentally consigned it to the realm of celebrity glamour queens — she had far too pedestrian a view of herself to have considered it. “S-sure, I can, um, do that, I guess.”

“Good. Well, I think that’s it except for paperwork. We can typically give you about four weeks’ notice before a call. Make sure we have a current e-mail address and phone number before you — is something wrong, Corinna?” Browning asked, his voice suddenly concerned. Tears were welling up in the young student’s eyes.

“I — oh, god, I should have asked. When could I work for you? Do I have to wait?”

“We’re booked through January,” said Browning, a bit perplexed. “The earliest we’d have an opening is the first part of February.”

The tears overflowed poor Corinna’s eyes and ran down her soft cheeks. “Oh, no. I have — I thought... Oh, god, what am I going to do?”

“Boss,” the diminutive associate piped up, “This is perfect. The reason I came to see you: Lydia canceled for Tuesday. She’s got the flu — she called and said she not only can’t do the scene but if we got a look at her face we wouldn’t want her anyway. Let’s give Corinna the gig.” Corinna dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, hardly daring to hope.

“That was Tuesday morning, right?” Browning asked his colleague.


“And it’s the boarding school Headmaster script?”

“Yup. She’d be perfect. Like I said, she can do schoolgirl with almost no work at all.”

Browning reflected for a moment. “Corinna, can you do a scene this coming Tuesday morning?”

“Oh, yes!” the co-ed replied eagerly, not even stopping to think about any classes or exams that she might miss. All that mattered was earning enough to stay at school. Then reality slammed her spirits right back down. “But... that’s just one, right? And otherwise you couldn’t use me until next year?”

Browning finally caught on to the girl’s plight. “How much do you need to earn, Corinna?”

“Six thousand dollars, sir. By the end of the month,” she replied sadly, feeling hope slip away from her for good.

“Is that for tuition?” Browning asked kindly.

“Yes, sir.”

A look passed between producer and associate, escaping Corinna’s notice. Desperate straits brought many girls to the firm, and the situation had precedent.

“Tell you what, Corinna,” said Browning. “We’ll pay you two thousand for this Tuesday — five hundred bonus if you’re perfectly smooth and bare. Then Chip and I will look at the raw caps — at the images from the cameras, I should say. If we like what we see, and we’re confident that we’ll want to call you again, we can give you an advance against your next two scenes: an additional four thousand. How does that sound?”

Corinna could hardly believe her ears. It was every prayer answered, and every obstacle overcome. She threw her arms around Doug Browning and hugged him tight, before a sudden realization hit her that this was not very professional behavior. She let go, stepped back, blushing, and turned to Chip with a businesslike handshake offered.

“Hey,” said Chip, with mock indignation, “No way he gets a hug and I get a lousy handshake.” She reached for Corinna and gathered the taller girl into her arms. “There, that’s better. Welcome to the family, girl.”

“Thanks,” said Corinna, as tears filled her eyes for a much happier reason. “Thank you both. You’re lifesavers, I can’t tell you —”

Browning held the door of his office open. “Chip will steer you to Contracts and get you started on the legal stuff. And we’ll see you on Tuesday morning at nine o’clock. Thanks for coming in, Corinna, I’m looking forward to your work.”

“Thank you, sir,” the co-ed replied with a smile, and the young ladies left together.

A few minutes later, Browning’s door opened again, as Chip strode in, closing it behind her. “Ok, boss, whip it out,” she said, sinking gracefully to her knees by the desk chair where Browning sat.

“Oh, I’m ok, Chip, thanks — don’t worry about it.”

“Unh-uh. I’m not working with you for the rest of the day when you’ve got a case of blue-balls. You’ll be too damn grouchy. Get it out and let me finish.” Without waiting for her boss, the tiny blonde began working on his pants. In a matter of moments, she had his hard cock buried to the root down her throat, her questing tongue stretching over her lower lip to lick his balls.

Browning leaned back in his chair and relaxed. With a sexy new model down the hall signing contracts, and a delightful deep-throat session from his favorite fluffer, it was turning out to be a very good day.

Making love with Jake that night, Corinna felt disconnected from herself. She had been unfaithful to him, and both that and what was now the constant need to conceal something from him troubled her conscience greatly. An honest girl, Corinna was unfamiliar with deception and dissimulation, and felt awkward and uncomfortable: other than herself.

She was dealing as well with some very odd and confusing feelings about the Handprint Films producer, Mr. Browning. She had felt an instant trust in him, and the deference that she automatically gave to her elders, but she had felt both an amazing rush of — of what? of something she could not name — when he first touched her, and a gnawing, aching feeling in her stomach when she thought that her sexual performance was disappointing him.

“Jake?” she said to her boyfriend, lounging on the bed beside her. “When I, you know, suck you? You like that, right?”

“I love it, babe!” Jake enthused. “You know I do.”

She wanted to ask another question: “Is there anything that would make it better?” — but held back, fearful that he would wonder what had caused the line of questioning, and even more so that he would answer with a long list of ways she was failing to please him.

She realized that Jake was still talking. “...a little bit of that right now would feel really good,” he said.

Of what? Oh — of course. Corinna slid downward in the bed so she could adopt her usual position. As she lay her head on Jake’s abdomen and guided his swelling cock, tasting of her own juices, into her soft warm mouth, she pictured herself on her knees in the producer’s office that afternoon. “I wonder if Jake would like it if I did it that way,” Corinna thought. She sucked him for a while. If she offered, would he wonder where she got the idea?

It wasn’t long before Jake warned her that he was close — and for the second time in as many days, she let him cum in her mouth, swallowing the load of sperm with her usual distaste. Why hadn’t Mr. Browning had an orgasm? She had sucked him longer than it ever took for her boyfriend. Was it because he was studying her professionally, detached from the experience? Or was it that each man got off in different ways or on different things, and that she was just a good match for Jake?

As she climbed back into her lover’s arms, listening to his grateful words for the “Killer blowjob, babe,” the images from the Handprint DVD played behind her eyes. And Doug Browning’s voice was in her ears: “Two thousand dollars for a half day’s work — because it really, really hurts.”

Corinna shivered, and Jake, who was not quite the insensitive clod that Ann thought he was, courteously covered her up with a blanket.

As she entered Handprint’s lobby on Tuesday morning, Corinna was nearly nauseous with nerves. She had kicked herself all weekend for not having asked more questions about just what to expect. Asking artificially casual questions of film students at the University had only made the desperate co-ed more confused, for those she spoke to had widely different ideas about how movies were actually made.

She had also failed to clear up a point of terminology. Mr. Browning had described the invariable sequence of Handprint’s films as “spanking, blow-job, facial.” Corinna thought she knew what was meant by facial, but she wasn’t absolutely certain, and she had been on the point a dozen times of asking Ann. But her nerve had deserted her again and again.

The receptionist — Corinna blanked out on her name, which was very uncharacteristic — pointed the way to toward the studio, and the pretty teen walked down the corridor slowly, her sneakers squeaking on the tile. She wore jeans and, as a reminder or a motivator, a college-logo hoodie over a plain t-shirt. Chip had told her not to wear underwear, to avoid strap and elastic marks on her skin, and Corinna had felt strange and very exposed on the bus ride to town — all the more so for the new sensation of her hairless pussy.

“Hey, Corinna, in here,” called a voice, and she turned to see Chip herself beckoning from the dressing room she had seen on her tour.

“Hi,” she said shyly, entering the room and looking everywhere except at the associate producer — for Chip, apart from another pair of skyscraper heels, was nude.

As the young co-ed stood awkwardly inside the doorway, Chip grinned at her. “Whattaya think of my outfit?” she asked teasingly.

“I, um...” Corinna groped in vain for anything to say.

The diminutive blonde relented. “Hey, it’s ok, I know you’re a little nervous on your first day. I always work in the bare on shooting days, ok? It just makes things easier. Everybody’s used to it, and nobody fusses about it, ok? So relax, I’ll seem normal to you before you know it.” She took the new actress by the hand and towed her bodily into the room. “So come in, grab a stool, let’s get wardrobe started for you.”

Corinna finally forced herself to look at her colleague, who was pulling a Z-rack full of outfits toward her. As her eyes took in the other woman’s body, she was overcome with curiosity, so strongly that her words were out before she could bite them back. “I’ve never seen nipples like yours,” she said, and instantly blushed red in mortification. As Chip began to grin at her discomfiture, she stammered, “I, I mean, I don’t — I really only know, well, me, and, and, I don’t — I mean maybe mine are really unusual and most women look like — I mean, we’re different, and I just — I’m really sorry, I don’t know what to say, I don’t know why I said anything, please excuse me.”

Chip cocked her head to one side and regarded the co-ed tenderly. She had seen some real naïfs in her day, but something told her that this lovely teen was going to take the innocence cake.

“Puffies,” she said. “That’s what guys call ’em: puffies. Because it looks like my areolae are sort of inflated. It’s kind of a cute name — I don’t mind it.” She reached up with both hands and gave her nipples a gentle rub, knowing Corinna was transfixed by the sight. “One day, a couple of years ago, one of the camera guys called ’em ‘Hershey’s Kisses’ — because they’re brown and shaped kinda like that. And then our sound engineer said, because I’m such a tiny girl, ‘No, not Kisses, more like chocolate chips.” Enjoying her exhibitionism, she continued to tease her sensitive nipples. “And so a nickname was born. Chip. To my parents I’m still Amanda, but everybody in the biz knows me as Chip.”

Corinna was fascinated, both by the information and the sight of another woman casually playing with her body in full view. “Thank you for telling me,” she said, “And for not thinking I was weird for asking.”

“No worries. Now lets find an outfit for you.” As Chip hunted through the clothing on the rack, she addressed Corinna over her shoulder. “You got the script I e-mailed you?”

“Yes,” the co-ed replied. “I think I have my lines memorized.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” Chip said, turning around with a hanger in each hand. “We pretty much ad lib. Just so you stick to the general outline and don’t leave the actor stranded.”

“I’m so nervous, I think memorizing them was probably safest,” Corinna confided. She looked at the outfits Chip was holding. Both included plaid skirts so tiny that Corinna doubted they would completely cover her bottom. One was topped with a blazer, white blouse, and matching plaid tie; the other with just a short white blouse meant to be tied beneath the breasts. Both were decidedly indecent.

“What do you think, trampy or extra trampy?” asked Chip with a grin.

Corinna pointed to the costume with the jacket. “That one, I think.”

Chip hung the other on the end of the rack and began to unhook the chosen garments from their hanger. “Well, strip off, honey, let’s give these a try.”

Corinna looked apprehensively at the open door of the dressing room, but Chip either didn’t see her glance or chose not to act on it. With trembling fingers, Corinna began to disrobe. “What size panties do you wear?” Chip asked her, rummaging in a drawer.

“Um, small.”

“What, like two? Three?”

“I don’t know. I just get ones labeled small.”

“Where do you shop, girl?”

“Well, you know, like Target, places like that.”

“Good grief. You don’t have much of a lingerie collection, then, do you?”

Corinna was embarrassed all over again, and a little bit indignant. “No, I guess not. I just buy underpants. I don’t think of it as a fashion statement.” She slipped her jeans down, and was struck afresh by the strange new appearance of her pubic mound, hairless for the first time since puberty, her labia seeming exposed and defenseless without their protective brown fur.

“I’ll give you a tip, honey,” said Chip. “You may not think undies are a fashion statement, but every guy with a heartbeat does. So get yourself a few things to show off in, ok? Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.” She handed Corinna a plastic package containing a simple pair of white cotton bikini briefs. “Not like these, in other words — though this is definitely what the naughty schoolgirl is wearing.”

As Corinna struggled to tear the plastic open, a man walked through the door of the dressing room. Corinna froze in shock: naked from toe to head, shaved bare, completely exposed and open to the stranger’s gaze, she could do nothing but gasp in embarrassment.

As if nothing were more natural, the man stuck out his hand for Corinna to take. “Hi, I’m Jimmy. I’m directing today. Corinna, right?”

“Yes.” She took the offered hand in a daze, her cheeks flaming.

“Great to meet you. Chip, you know what? She’s got the look already — let’s try a real uniform instead of the costumes, all right?”

“Sure,” said Chip, and headed back to the Z-rack.

The director turned back to the nude eighteen-year-old, who was clutching her bagged panties in front of her as if they offered some modesty. “We’ll walk you through the scene out on set, as soon as you’re ready here. Doug says this is your first time, is that right?”


“And never been spanked?”

“No.” Corinna blushed even harder.

“Well, it’s no picnic, that’s for sure, but you’ll get through it — all the girls do. And Bob’s a pro, he’ll treat you nicely.”


“Your costar: Bob Fletcher. That’s his real name, his stage name is something else, I forget, Harry Hardon or Sammy Spankhard or some goofiness like that, but we like to keep things friendly and family-like when we’re working.” The director made a spinning motion with one finger and Corinna obediently turned around. “Wow, great ass,” he said. “I’ll see you on set in a few.” With that he left the dressing room.

Chip was holding out some new garments to the nervous co-ed. A modest skirt this time, just shorter than knee length, in plaid wool, a plain white button-front blouse with a Peter Pan collar, and a pair of white knee-socks. “Jimmy wants to play you as straight schoolgirl, so let’s try these.”

As Corinna dressed in socks, panties, skirt, and blouse, she contemplated the ordeal she was about to go through. Nudity in front of strangers — strangers with cameras. Being spanked — how on earth was she going to react to that? And sucking what would be the third cock she had ever touched: Jake’s, Mr. Browning’s, and — oh, yes, Bob’s. And finally a facial. She mustered up an extra dose of courage as her fingers buttoned the blouse, and said to Chip, “Um, can I ask you about the facial?”

“Sure,” said Chip, “Ever had one?”

“Um, well, it means that, when the guy cums, he, um, you know... on my face instead of in my mouth, right?”


“Then... no, I, um, I usually... my boyfriend, uh, sometimes I keep him in my mouth, but otherwise we, uh, switch to, you know, regular.”

“I see.” Chip was amazed all over again at the young student’s innocence.

“So, um, could you tell me, you know, what it’s like?”

“Sure. It’s no big deal. Bob’ll pull out at the right time, he’ll take care of all the mechanics, all you have to do is keep your face turned up and your eyes open. Those are the deal-breakers if you screw it up: Doug’s really strict about facials and all the directors know to play it exactly his way. So, if you want to get more work, just remember those two things. Don’t turn your face away at all, and don’t close your eyes. If you get a drop of cum in your eye, it’ll sting a little bit, but you just ignore it, and keep those baby browns nice and wide open. Ok?”

“But... that probably won’t happen?” Corinna asked apprehensively.

“Usually not. Sometimes it does. If it does, you just be a professional about it, keep your face turned up and your eyes open, and let the director finish the scene. Be a pro, got it?” As she spoke, Chip finished off Corinna’s outfit with a pair of low-heeled loafers, and a hairband covered in the same plaid fabric as the skirt.

“Yes, I understand,” said Corinna, despite having yet one more new thing to worry about.

Chip decided it was best to reserve one piece of information, lest she scare the skittish girl away for good. Bob Fletcher was indeed the actor’s real name, but the industry had bestowed a nickname on him as well. It would probably not be wise to tell a nervous new actress that her facial-spurting partner was known by one and all as “Bulls-eye Bob.”

Chip led Corinna out on to the set. The place was bustling with activity, and the lighting was so bright that it hardly seemed to be the same room Doug Browning had showed her the previous week. Corinna first noticed the set itself, which contained a large, heavy wooden desk, several leather chairs and a couch, and various bookcases, lamps, tables, and other decorations, all resting on a huge Persian rug in hues of red and gold. It looked every bit the study of the powerful Headmaster of a prestigious girls’ academy, which was just what the script called for. It was thoroughly masculine and quite daunting, and only the fact that two of its walls were missing ruined the illusion from where the pretty teen stood.

She next took in the cameras. They were all slightly different, all about the size of the one Mr. Browning had shot her with, and all similarly encrusted with gadgets of mysterious complexity. Three stood on tripods; several were just lying around on convenient surfaces, and one was mounted on some sort of crane, jointed and girdered every which way, that made Corinna shiver with its strangeness.

Two men labored at what Corinna recognized, from dance clubs, as a sound mixer, two were bent over covering cable runs with tape. The director — Jimmy, right? had he given her his last name? — was looking over some papers with a pleasant looking, forty-something man in a dark grey business suit. Except for the one formally dressed man, jeans and sweatshirts prevailed. Chip’s platform heels and bare skin didn’t draw a second glance from anyone, just as she had said.

The one face that Corinna looked for in vain was Doug Browning’s, and that he was not present made her feel alone and helpless in a way she did not quite understand.

Chip walked Corinna over to the director and the man in the suit, who broke off their conversation when they noticed the girls approaching.

“Corinna, you look perfect,” Jimmy said to her. “I want you to meet Bob Fletcher, your partner in crime today.”

The actor turned to her with a polite smile and a slight bow. “I’m delighted to be working with you,” he said, his voice deep and vibrant. “Jimmy’s right: perfect is the word. You look the part of an academy girl to a tee. The viewers are going to love to see you properly handled.”

At his last words, Corinna blushed fiercely. The whole insane scope of what she was about to do swept back over her, filling her mind with apprehension. “Pleased to m-meet you,” she managed to say. She wasn’t sure if there was another protocol for fetish pornography introductions. “Pleased to turn my bare ass over your knee for a spanking? Pleased to suck your cock until you cum on my face? Thanks in advance for my public humiliation?”

“Well, let’s block it out,” Jimmy was saying, as he led the group to the set. And they began the perfectly ordinary work, as in any film, of figuring out where to stand, when and how to move, trying out lines for sound and pacing, and otherwise preparing for the shoot. The director emphasized one point for Corinna. “We only get one take in this business,” he said, “Because you can’t take more than one spanking in a day — in several days. And because there’s no recovering from a misplayed facial — can’t just tell Bob to cum again, right? We have another film to shoot this afternoon, so it all goes right on the one take or it goes in the wastebasket. Got that?”

“Yes,” Corinna agreed, worried that she might err and ruin the entire production.

At one point Chip and Jimmy had a difference of opinion, argued politely but definitely: Jimmy saying that Corinna should be told to strip off her own clothes, making her an agent of her own embarrassment and humiliation; Chip feeling that it was hotter for the Headmaster to touch and manipulate the helpless schoolgirl. They compromised by agreeing to have Bob order the disrobing step by step, to be carried out by Corinna’s unwilling hands.

As they finished walking through the scene, Corinna became aware that the bustle on set had died down, and that more and more people were standing in poses of anticipation, watching the foursome on stage. She fought nerves, she fought her fear, she fought an onslaught of doubt and shame and a sort of nameless anger against a universe in which plumbing failed at exactly the wrong time — and ultimately controlled herself by remembering her goal, and reassuring herself that it was a noble and important one. Earn the money. Pay the tuition. Stay in school. “I can do this,” she whispered.

All were in their places. A clapper board — now, in this electronic age, sporting the racing red LED numerals of the time code, blurring past at thirty frames per second — was held up where every camera could see it. And with the set finally clear, the Headmaster seated at his desk studying paperwork, Corinna caught the assistant director’s pointed finger. She took a deep breath. And acted.

“Come in,” the Headmaster called.

The door to his office opened slowly, and a student came in, dressed in the Academy’s official uniform of tartan skirt and white blouse. She wore a tartan hairband, white kneesocks, and simple loafers. Her straight brown hair fell around her shoulders. The girl was surpassingly pretty — fresh, innocent, charming — but her face wore a look of apprehension and her voice shook slightly.

“You sent for me, Headmaster?”

“Yes, Cathy, I did. Come in and close the door.”

She walked in to stand in front of the imposing desk, her pleated skirt swishing pleasantly around her fine, shapely legs.

The Headmaster looked sternly up at the young girl. “To get right to the point, what I have here on my desk is evidence that your midterm English paper was purchased from an internet paper mill, and that it is not your work at all. What have you to say for yourself?”

They went through the stages: denial, defensive admission, an attempt to spread the blame, and finally acceptance. Throughout the scene, Corinna, who was fiercely proud of her academic skills, felt the sting of the terrible accusation as if it were real, and the anguish of being found out as a class cheater brought real color to her cheeks, stress to her voice, and tears of shame to her eyes. Chip, Jimmy, and the rest of the crew watched in amazement as Corinna brought schoolgirl Cathy to life before their eyes.

Headmaster and pupil were standing in the middle of the study, as he directed her to strip for her punishment.

“Unbutton your blouse,” he commanded, in a voice that would clearly brook no hesitation.

“Yes, Headmaster.” Corinna brought genuinely trembling fingers up to her neck and began to undo the buttons, working slowly down her front. As the blouse opened enough to reveal the strip of bare skin between Corinna’s breasts, the Headmaster acted out his outrage.

“Why are you not wearing proper underclothing, Miss?” he demanded.

“I’m sorry. I dressed in a hurry when I heard you wanted to see me. I just forgot.”

“A likely story. You girls are all alike. A bunch of teasing little show-offs. Pampered, spoiled girls with spa-toned bodies, just hoping to make some man’s head spin.”

“No, Headmaster, I’m not like that, really, I —”

“Silence! Hand me that blouse at once.” She slipped it off and he tore it from her fingers, flinging it away. “Take off that skirt, Miss.” As she opened her skirt, he taunted her. “Well, you somehow managed to remember your panties. All the more likely you were just trying to show off your pretty little titties for everyone to admire.”

“Please, Headmaster, I —”

“That’s enough out of you." He took her skirt and discarded it. “Hands on your head, Miss.”

She raised her arms and, lacing her fingers together, placed her hands on top of her head. Shivering with fear, she stood exposed to his gaze, with only socks, shoes, and panties still concealing any part of her body.

“Feet apart,” the Headmaster ordered, and the humiliated schoolgirl complied instantly.

He paused to give the cameramen as much time as they needed to frame the next shot, and then with a single sharp motion took the teen girl’s panties down half-way to her knees. Jimmy glanced at the bank of monitors before him. “Two, in tight,” he said quietly into his headset mike, and on camera two’s monitor he watched a beautiful clear close-up of Corinna’s delectable bare pussy.

“Bend over and remove your shoes and stockings,” commanded the Headmaster harshly. Cathy instantly bent at the waist to comply. The order was an awkward one to obey. Her lowered panties, stretched tightly between her spread legs, hampered her; it was difficult to balance, bent double with nothing to grab on to; the tall knee socks were tight and difficult to slide down her long legs.

As naughty academy girl Cathy fumbled with her last remaining clothing, novice actress Corinna was all too aware of the camera behind her, staring at the exposed pink lips of her bare pussy between her wide open thighs, violating her sex and stealing her dignity and privacy. Feet finally bare, she straightened up and re-laced her fingers on her head as she had been told.

The dreadful lecturing continued. All of the lines now were Bob’s, and Corinna had nothing to do but to pose in her exposed, helpless position, look ashamed and frightened, and listen. The fright came very naturally to her.

When he had said enough about the Academy’s fine traditions, the ignominy of wicked girls who scorned them, and the appropriateness of corporal punishment for wayward, thankless, naughty, spoiled, self-centered students, the Headmaster got a plain, armless, straight-backed chair, placed it in the center of the set, and took a seat.

“And... cut!” Jimmy called.

Corinna looked around in some confusion, as the world of the schoolgirl and the study and the lecture faded from her eyes, and the bustle of cameras and people around her woke her from her act.

“What?” was all she managed.

Bob Fletcher looked up at the beautiful girl from his seat. “They’re just setting up the cameras for your spanking,” he explained patiently, not noticing how the final word came as a fresh shock to Corinna. “The boom above, looking down on your bottom, one low to get your face, one pointed up your legs because that’s the best angle on your ass — plus the punters always want a nice show of fresh young pussy — and one facing right at me to get the big picture.”

“May I put my hands down?”

“Oh, of course, until they get ready. Best if you stay in that spot, though, to avoid any continuity problems.”

“Thanks,” Corinna said. One thing they had promised seemed to be true, everyone was nice and was treating her gently. She looked speculatively at her costar, seated patiently before her. She hadn’t really had a good look at his face, and on careful examination that was because it was so nearly nondescript. He was just a generic middle aged man, with a face that could fit into a hundred rôles. He looked neither kind, nor unkind: there was no evaluating the thought that he was about to cause her a great deal of pain. Then suddenly stunned at how far from her thoughts it had wandered, Corinna remembered that she was also going to have to perform oral sex on this man she had barely met. Spanking, blow-job, facial. Don’t turn your face away. Don’t close your eyes.

A slight air-conditioned breeze through the studio tickled Corinna’s vulva, reminding her of her fresh new little-girl look, and she could feel with perfect clarity the bite of her panties where they were stretched across her thighs.

The bustling quieted. “Corinna, hands up again, please,” came Jimmy’s voice, and then “Action.”

“Come here at once, Miss,” said the Headmaster sternly, indicating his lap.

Corinna — or was it Cathy? — shuffled over to him, hobbled by her lowered panties, and with his help arranged herself over his legs. He spread her legs apart, stretching her panties even more, to ensure that her sex was on display.

“Now I will show you how this Academy deals with liars and cheaters, Cathy, and you had better pray that you learn your lesson very well indeed.”

As she lay on his lap, dreading the first blow, Corinna was aware of another sensation than dread, one that she would not have expected for the world. The flush, the heat, the tingle in the core of her body — it was faint, it was barely there, but it was unmistakable all the same. The feeling that she had when Jake made love with her — what was it doing here, now, facing what she was about to endure? She had felt twinges of it while she was being ordered to undress: now, lying motionless and focused on her own body, it was a dim but constant presence.

With excruciating suddenness, Corinna’s entire attention flashed to her bottom, as the crack of the first spank of her young life filled the air. Nearly before her body could react — before she could tense, lift her head, clench her fists, cry out loud, kick her legs — crack! came the second report, and both of her bottom cheeks screamed an urgent alarm through her nervous system: help, help, pain!

The Headmaster kept a firm grip around Cathy’s waist as he assailed her naked, defenseless ass. Swat after awful swat rained down on the naughty teenage student’s pert, taut buns, and rose-pink handprints bloomed one after another on her fair skin like fireworks, the finger lines crossing and overlapping, the colors of rose and red and scarlet mixing and fading as the poor young girl’s skin tried in vain to fight the assault.

Corinna heard Cathy cry aloud for reprieve, in fragments of speech that were the most she could manage, single words and short phrases torn from her throat by her sobs: “Please!” “No!” “Oh, please!” “It hurrrts!” Cathy felt that she had endured an hour of her punishment when it was still just minutes old, her reform complete, her resolve to study hard and do her own work firmly entrenched, as Corinna watched through tear-blurred eyes the dark barrel of the lens that implacably recorded her anguish and her pitiful cries.

The Headmaster paused only once: to slide Cathy’s white cotton panties down and off one leg, so that he could part her thighs wider still. It was a reprieve of only seconds, and the awful blows began anew, the crack! of each swat echoing in Cathy’s ears.

She squirmed on her punisher’s lap. The cameraman shooting from Corinna’s feet, a jaded veteran of porn whose only sensual thought while working was usually one of his upcoming lunch, sported a tent-pole erection, his eyes locked to the sweet pink lips of Corinna’s bare, smooth pussy, watching with amazement and lust as she got obviously wetter and wetter.

The blows continued; the cries continued; the struggle to find escape or surcease was genuine; the pain was unbelievable.

And in Corinna’s core the heat that she called orgasm grew beyond anything she had ever known, past anywhere she or Jake had ever taken her. She felt a consuming need, nameless and strange, that was strong enough to compete with her humiliation, her shame, and the terrible pain erupting again and again in her sweet little schoolgirl ass.

Corinna lifted her tear-streaked face, looked straight into the camera, and let it watch her cry with pain, and humiliation, and pride.

It was not clear to the novice how Bob knew to stop, whether there was some signal from Jimmy, or simply something in the tone of her sobs or the crimson of her ass. But before she quite knew what was going on, the nude teen student — the panties around one ankle her only garment — was on her knees, as the headmaster stood and pointed to an obvious bulge in his elegant trousers.

“Look what you’ve done now, Miss,” he said harshly. “All that squirming and wiggling around has caused a serious problem. What to you plan to do about it?”

Cathy raised a tentative hand to his pants, stroking softly. “I — I don’t know, Headmaster,” she said with shaking voice. “I’ve never done anything. I don’t know about things like that.” She continued to stroke his length through his clothing as she visibly mustered up courage. “Some of the girls say... They say they... Suck boys... Would you like that, Headmaster? Would you like me to suck it for you? Would that help?” The prick beneath her fingers grew harder and harder as her innocent questioning aroused the older man. “I — I think I could suck it for you, Headmaster,” she offered, as if unsure if a mere schoolgirl could please so great an eminence.

“Well then, get on with it!” said the Headmaster impatiently. “Take it out and suck it. And do quite a good job of it or back over my knee you go.” As Cathy complied, nervous, inexperienced fingers fumbling at his zipper, Corinna felt her inner tingle grow anew, the warmth and need of it sweeping through and through her core like ocean waves.

“Cut!” came the director’s voice, and the camera crew quickly found new positions better adapted for capturing the fine and nuanced art of cocksucking.

“Action!” called Jimmy, and Cathy withdrew the Headmaster’s stiff cock from his pants. Wrapping both hands around the hard shaft, the just-spanked schoolgirl looked up at the man who had punished her with an expression that, a few weeks hence, would prompt moans and not a few unexpectedly early climaxes from viewers everywhere. Her innocent eyes were bright, questioning, and naïve, her wide-eyed expression timid and eager to please, and her tear-soaked face a beauty to behold — for Corinna was not acting her inexperience and wonder, as she touched the stranger’s cock.

“Lick it all over first,” said the Headmaster, a tad breathlessly, as the girl’s soft hands gently stroked his cockshaft. At his command, Cathy obeyed. At his command, Corinna felt the warm waves surging within her. “Not orgasm, then,” she thought. “Something else. I guess I’ve never had an orgasm.” Her tongue touched cock.

As Bulls-eye Bob Fletcher finished unfastening his pants, dropping them to give the pretty teenage cocksucker unimpeded access to his equipment, he watched her tongue-tip darting in and out of her mouth, moistening the sweet pink lips that she dragged along his prick from root to tip.

“Jake never told me to lick him. This is fun. I like playing with it like this. I like the way it dances. I like it this way, on my knees, it feels better; I can see better,” she thought. Her tongue lapped at the stiff cock with broad, wet strokes.

“Suck my cock, you teasing little bitch,” rasped the Headmaster, impatient to get his hard length into Cathy’s sucking mouth. And again, as the character obeyed, the actress grew more and more aroused.

The cameramen watched, caring for framing and focus and iris; the director watched, making sure all the angles were covered; the crew watched, keeping a professional eye on sound and light. Chip watched as her new talent sucked cock for the first time in public.

And Chip was the only one who was not, within a minute or two, a bit surprised. Corinna had taken the tip of her costar’s cock into her mouth, to a depth of an inch or two, and knelt there, bobbing her pretty face back and forth. Her hair, still miraculously tidy in its plaid headband after the violence of her punishment, swung gracefully with her movements. And that was all.

“Cut.” The director rose from his seat and went to Corinna, wanting his corrective words to have as small an audience as feasible.

“Honey, I need a little more variety. Straight in-and-out won’t hold viewer interest after a while. Switch around, use some tongue, go deep whenever you can, get some action on the balls, all that stuff.” Corinna’s face, already ruddy from the ordeal of her spanking, blushed redder at her instructions. “And keep your eyes open, keep ’em on Bob’s face,” were Jimmy’s parting words. He settled in again. “Action.”

Corinna did her best. She wasn’t sure what “action on the balls” exactly meant, nor “switch around,” nor indeed “all that stuff.” But she tried: the efforts were better, and the spectacle of her humiliation improved tremendously. But “go deep” — there, the inexperienced teen had a real problem. When Fletcher at one point thrust his cock a little farther into her warm sucking mouth, she gagged and coughed, needed most of a minute to catch her breath; it happened again the next time she tried for more penetration. Corinna’s face flamed with embarrassment, knowing that more was expected of her, but the cameras rolled right through her trials.

She sucked and licked until her jaw ached and her knees protested at the hardness of the floor beneath the rug. She kept her eyes open. She ignored the intruding cameras, which were busy soaking up the sight of the tearful sucking schoolgirl, forced to service her punisher’s hard cock. She watched the older man for signs that he was going to cum, and found none.

When Bob finally spoke, it was not directed at her.

“If that’s enough for you, Jimmy, let’s set up for the wrap.”

“I think so,” the director replied, adding, “Cut!” for all to hear. “Cameras for the facial, folks. Chip, would you work your magic on Bob, please? Corinna, just hang tight, I’ll get to you in a second.” He turned to confer with one of the technicians. The camera crew moved their gear; the boom camera came back to center stage. No one seemed to pay any attention at all to the nude, kneeling co-ed, tears drying on her cheeks, at the center of all the bustle. Corinna’s poor bottom throbbed in agony, even as the unaccustomed feeling of arousal stayed with her, warming her from the inside out.

She noticed, then, Bob and Chip, off to one side of the set. Chip was on her knees at his feet. Her arms were behind her, the long spikes of her platform heels gripped tightly in her fists, and Bob was fucking her face. The phrase ran through Corinna’s mind before she consciously formed it: fucking her face. He was thrusting into her head, the full length of his engorged cock disappearing with each stroke between the diminutive blonde’s tightly wrapped lips — Corinna had never seen the like of it, nor imagined that it was humanly possible. “Deep? Is that what people mean by deep? Holy buckets,” she thought. “I’ll never —”

Jimmy joined her, pointing up to the boom camera. “Ok, honey, for the facial, here’s the trick. That lens is going to be right over Bob’s shoulder, right next to his face. For you, it has to be his face. It has to be the camera you play to. It’s hard to do until you’re used to it. You’ll want to shift your eyes over to Bob to see what’s up with him. But that shows on the screen and it ruins the illusion. The viewer wants to be the one you’re looking at, understand? So the camera has to be Bob for you. Got that?”

“Yes, I —”

“Eyes on the camera. Eyes open. Don’t close them. Don’t flinch away or turn your head. Cum in your eyes, that’s part of the job: deal with it. Once he cums, I need two full minutes of your face — no wiping, so smearing — just keep your hands away, look at the camera, keep your eyes open. That’s when the customer’s gonna get off, see? I don’t get two good minutes, Browning finds another director, got that? You can play with any cum in your mouth, you know, swish it around and show it off and so on, but what’s on your face, just leave it alone. Any questions?”

“No. No, I think I understand.”

“Sure, you’re a smart one. College, right?”

“Yes,” said Corinna. College. That’s what got me here, kneeling naked on the floor with my ass on fire, being told how to behave when there’s cum all over my face: I’m a college girl.

The Headmaster returned, cock hard and glistening with Chip’s saliva dripping from its full length. “Suck,” he told Cathy, or Bob told Corinna, and she sucked his cock for a few seconds while he short-stroked between her lips. She kept her eyes fixed on the black hole of the camera lens, rehearsing her lessons over and over. “Don’t look away focus on the lens eyes wide open no flinching don’t touch it two minutes don’t close don’t turn...”

A rope of semen, thick, warm, and heavy, slapped Corinna’s upturned face with surprising force. She blinked once, very quickly, just the startle reflex; when her eyes reopened she saw the lens, drinking in the sight of her, watching her public degradation unfold. The second shot hit her directly in her left eye. The lid had started to close in reflex to something rapidly approaching, but it was not in time, and the creamy jizz coated her iris and began to run from the corner of her eye as thick white teardrops. As Corinna fought her body’s natural defenses and forced her eyes wide open, the third thick, heavy jolt of cum spewed into her right eye, blanking out her vision in a stinging cloud of spermy white. Unconsciously the kneeling co-ed parted her lips — to gasp at the shock of it, perhaps — and when the next long rope bisected her nose to pool on her forehead and in her hairline, a good glob of it spilled into her open mouth and drizzled down her tongue. She gagged at the unexpected intrusion, and fought to hold still. Don’t look away no flinching don’t touch it.

Bulls-eye Bob, his reputation intact after the double eyeful of cum, sprayed the rest of his contributions generously over Corinna’s lovely, innocent schoolgirl face, until that beautiful work of nature was adorned like a work of art: lacy, glazed, dripping, and sexy.

He skillfully extricated himself from the picture, leaving the cameras, front, top, and side, to get every juicy detail of Corinna’s first facial, captured in all of its gooey, messy, humiliating glory.

Corinna knelt there, eyes stinging, chest heaving with deep breaths. There was cum in her mouth: she played with it for the camera, letting it coat her lips and run back inside. With every slap of cum against her face, the warm glow, the waves, the nameless feeling, had doubled and redoubled; she suffered from a pressing need that was deepening her breaths into a pant; she could not have articulated the need for the world but her body screamed for something she did not know how to give it.

The taste of cum was in her mouth and its scent in her nose. She could feel it running out of her eyes and down her cheeks, just as she felt the thickest glob on the bridge of her nose slip down sideways to refill her right eye. She could see out of the left one, through bridges of spunk that connected her gooey, glistening eyelashes top and bottom, and she stared at the camera above her face.

“That’s a wrap!” Jimmy announced happily. No disasters, more than he ever could have hoped for with a first-timer.

Bob took three quick steps back to where the dazed co-ed knelt. Without a word he crouched down, reached between her legs, and cupped her soggy pussy in one hand. With just a few deft strokes he brought her to a peak she had never known in her life, up to the top of it; the heat in her body bloomed like a flower opening in time lapse, and the unnamed wave crested and broke and dashed itself on the rocks of Corinna’s libido as she came for the first time in her sweet young life.

She heard her own animal cry, a wordless gasp, and clung with both hands to Bob’s arm to keep from collapsing under the sheer unbelievable power of her orgasm, which seemed to reach out to every sinew in her body and pull it taut. Her eyes squeezed shut and the last pools of cum came squirting out between the lids to dribble down her cheeks, following the tracks of her tears.

When it ebbed, when it eased, when she could finally unclench her hands from Bob’s arm, he left her, whispering three words into her ear. She was conscious of the crew, looking at her and applauding, smiles on their faces, as the lights were quickly killed and the set plunged back into dim obscurity. Colored afterimage spots danced before Corinna’s stinging eyes as the bright white lights disappeared one by one.

She heard Jimmy’s “Nice work, kid, see you again.” Then Chip was there, helping her shakily to her feet.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” the diminutive producer said. And suiting action to words, she took Corinna’s head between her hands and began softly and gently to lick the sperm from the teen’s pretty face.

Corinna was too stunned to react. Her body was still trembling with her orgasm’s aftershocks, her mind still struggling with the feelings of it, with the desperate cries of pain still radiating from her tender bottom, with the humiliation and degradation of her public performance, and with the just-dawning notion: “One down, two to go.”

She stood still, meekly accepting the strange feeling of another woman’s nude body against hers, feeling their breasts touch from time to time as Chip lapped cum from her cheeks, chin, and forehead. “If you’d told me a week ago I would see another woman — let alone feel her body — let alone have her lick my face...” The thought died, too bizarre to finish.

Chip surveyed her work. Then she pulled Corinna closer, embraced her, and kissed her right on the mouth. As the co-ed began to gasp at the unexpected contact, she felt Chip’s tongue enter her mouth, transferring the collected load of cum to her, kissing her fully and freely without any thought of it being strange or an imposition. The cute blonde’s high heels aligned her with the taller Corinna, and their bare pudenda rubbed softly against each other as their bodies merged.

The kiss ended. Corinna, the hated taste of cum fresh in her mouth all over again, looked in vain for someplace to spit it, as her gag reflex began to make itself felt again.

“Don’t you want that?” Chip asked. Corinna shook her head emphatically. “Well, I’ll take it then,” Chip said, and kissed Corinna deeply again. In moments she had sucked the sticky mass of sperm and spit back into her own mouth, where she swallowed it happily as she released the teen from her embrace.

“Yum,” said Chip. “Cum before lunch. Gonna be a good day.” She scooped a wayward drizzle off her chin and happily sucked her finger clean.

“You like that stuff?” Corinna asked, dazed. They were the first words she had uttered since before her facial; they were sticky with the film of jizz in her mouth.

“Sure,” said Chip, smiling at her.

“I think it’s awful.”

“Hmm. Do you like coffee?” Chip inquired.


“Even though it’s hot, and bitter, and has a strong smell?”

“Well, yeah,” said Corinna defensively, as a detached part of her mind wondered at having a nude debate on an empty movie set. “But coffee is, well, good.”

“Did you like it the first time you tasted it?” Corinna challenged.




“Well, cum is like that. It can take a while. But it’s love, honey, cum is nothing but love — don’t forget that. Even in this business, when people are doing it with strangers to make a buck — the man knows it’s just business, but his body doesn’t know that. His body only knows how to say ‘That felt so good, I loved that, that was sensational, thank you so very much.’ That’s cum for you. High praise, no matter the circumstances.” She turned and took the co-ed by the hand. “Let’s get you showered and dressed, you’ve had quite a morning of it.”

The shower was off the dressing room. Corinna, so besieged by new experiences that her mind had become numb to them, didn’t utter a peep of protest when Chip unstrapped her high heels and joined her in the shower; nor did she feel any surprise when the little blonde filled her palm with a squirt of body-wash and began to rub it softly into her wet, slippery skin. She let the other girl’s hands glide wherever they wished to go — over her breasts, her shoulders, across her stomach — as she turned her face into the spray again and again, trying to quell the nasty stinging in her eyes. When Chip’s hands wandered carefully to her scarlet buns, Corinna gasped once but then let them be washed, actually finding the soap a little bit soothing.

When Chip’s small hand wandered over Corinna’s mons and down along the lips of her bare pussy, the co-ed finally spoke up. “I, um, don’t — I mean, I’m not —”

“Into girls? Don’t worry, honey, me either. Just cleaning you up.” There was a pause while Chip carefully washed Corinna’s sensitive lips. Then she continued, “I mean, sometimes I’ll treat my sweetheart to a threesome, if he deserves a nice little present, and I like sex with another girl just fine, but I’m not coming on to you. I’m working — we don’t mix business and pleasure here.”

And Corinna thought, as the soap-slick fingers traced her labia again and again, “Yeah, but... it’s taking you an awfully long time to wash me there.”

Aloud, she asked, “How old are you, Chip?”


“How did you get into this kind of work?”

Chip, with some reluctance, moved downward to wash Corinna’s long, shapely legs for her. “I started right where you did: in front of the camera, getting my tiny little ass tanned. Two weeks after my eighteenth birthday. Goodness, I didn’t sit down for three days, I was so sore. That was Doug Browning’s last film as an actor, before he switched to producing full time.”

“Mr. Browning used to —” Corinna said in wonder, suddenly alert.

“Sure. That’s how he knows so much about it, about what our customers need to see, about what the acting experience would be like for you. He’s the best, honey, he’s so smart at this business. He taught me my job, when I was through with performing. I still learn something from him every single day.” With that, Chip shut the shower off and grabbed a towel each for herself and Corinna.

The girls dried off; passed a blow drier back and forth; got dressed, which for Chip meant strapping her heels back on. Corinna really wanted to ask the associate producer about what she had done on the set with Bob, but was nervous about raising the subject, and the sight of the platform shoes prompted her to ask the other question on her mind. “Do you always wear high heels?” she asked.

Chip grinned at the innocent teenager. “Honey, I am going to let you in on Top Secret Girl Rule Number One.” She pointed to the steamy shower room. “The tub is the only place — the only place — a smart girl doesn’t wear heels.” Watching Corinna process that pronouncement, she added, “Well, let’s go see what Doug thought of your act.”

As they walked through the hallways, Corinna felt uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. She was uncertain of how well she had performed, and desperately concerned that Mr. Browning would think badly of her. She had no thought of failing to earn a repeat engagement, failing to earn enough money to cover her tuition bill, failing to stay in school — she only thought as far as disappointing the producer, of failing to meet his standards and to please him.

The girls found Doug Browning in one of Handprint’s edit bays, watching a bank of wide-screen monitors with an editor at the controls. Corinna saw herself for the first time. One monitor was paused, with her face in close-up, during her spanking. Her features clearly showed the agony of her punishment; her face glistened with falling tears.

A second monitor was looping through a few seconds of her facial, and Corinna watched in fascination as the lines of cum fell again and again across her upturned face. “I did it,” she thought, “I kept my eyes open — I didn’t flinch away.” And she began to hope.

Browning turned to greet her. “Corinna,” he said, with a smile that elated the young girl, “Great job — wonderful job!” Corinna felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, tears of relief and happiness, as her pulse pounded in her ears and color bloomed on her cheeks. Browning was still congratulating her. “...Outstanding portrayal of your rôle as well, it really came across clearly — nothing false or forced about it. You’ve acted before, then, I take it?”

“No, sir,” Corinna managed.

“That’s amazing. This is such good work and, wow, are you ever the prettiest, sexiest girl to watch. Chip, don’t you agree?”

“She’s a keeper, boss,” Browning’s associate said. “She was making the crew stiff.”

It no longer seemed strange to Corinna to have a business discussion with one person in the nude, which in itself hit her as a defining moment in the day of new and unbelievable experiences. And so she was not surprised at herself when, in response to Browning’s next words, she simply obeyed him.

“Let me see your bottom,” the producer told her.

Corinna without a thought turned around, unfastened her jeans, lowered them, and bent forward. The puckered asterisk of her anus was an accent mark over her naked pussy lips, all framed between buns still rosy from her spanking. All three of Corinna’s new colleagues looked at her, entranced and enticed by the sight. Corinna felt Browning’s hand on her bottom, assaying the damage; it was warm and heavy and the contact was extremely painful. She loved it.

“How are you feeling?” Browning asked, and the entranced mood was broken as Corinna turned back around and zipped up her pants.

“I believe you warned me it would really, really hurt,” Corinna said with a shy smile. “And with about a dozen more ‘reallys’ you’d be about right.”

The remark drew laughs all around, and for the first time that day, Corinna relaxed.

Browning reached into the inner pocket of his suit coat and drew out an envelope. “Still interested in making two more for us?” he asked Corinna. His voice was light but his eyes, which held hers, were serious.

“Yes, sir. Please. If you want me.”

Browning checked her, held her gaze for an extra second, made sure, and nodded. “Here you go, then,” he said, handing the envelope to Corinna. “Seven thousand dollars, for today and two more.”

“Seven thousand — but — I thought, that is, you said —”

“I have some flexibility,” Browning told the co-ed. “It’s more than we agreed on, yes, but your work today was more than I expected from you. Hey, it’s my budget, I can mess around with it if I want to.”

Tears overflowed Corinna’s eyes and she threw her arms around the producer. “Thank you, sir. Thank you so much. Thank you for the opportunity, and understanding, and the advance, and, and, and... just thank you.” She released him and embraced Chip, not minding at all the other girl’s nudity. “And thank you for all your help, and advice, and helping me get through this, and not thinking I’m just completely silly about everything — you’ve been so kind.” She looked with sudden awkwardness at the editor, a complete stranger, who just grinned back and put up both hands in a “never mind me” gesture, and soon all four were laughing.

Chip walked her out to the lobby. “Can I ask you one more thing?” Corinna said at the door.

“Course you can, honey.”

“Um, Bob said something to me after we were done.” Corinna blushed at the memory of the exact circumstances. “He said, ‘A natural sub’. What does that mean? Do you know?”

Chip regarded the innocent co-ed fondly. “Sure, honey. Let’s sit down for a minute.” They took seats on the couch in the lobby: the eighteen-year-old brunette in jeans and hoodie, the twenty-three-year-old blonde in fuck-me shoes and skin, already bonded by shared experiences, already feeling sisterly despite their short acquaintance.

“Sub is short for submissive,” Chip began gently. “What Bob was saying is that he thinks you’re a submissive girl by nature. I think that was probably a pretty hasty judgment for him to make... and I think he’s right.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” replied Corinna.

“To be submissive is... it doesn’t mean you’re any less of a person, or lower somehow, it just means that you like to... give up control to someone strong and confident. That you like to be told what to do, that it feels good to be obedient. That it’s comfortable to let somebody else take charge of you for a while.” Chip groped for the right words. She felt the concept intimately but had never tried to express it to anyone else. “I don’t know, it’s kind of like... the way you get pleasure is to know you’re giving it. Like giving good service, and finding that rewarding, just to know that someone has standards for you and that you can meet them. I’m sorry, honey, I don’t know if I’m making much sense.”

“No — you are, I understand what you mean,” Corinna said, somewhat dazedly. She thought of how desperate she had been to meet Mr. Browning’s standards, to earn his approval, to win a word of praise from him; she thought of how his approval when it did come had moved her to tears of joy.

She thought of how much she wanted another chance to get down on her knees at his feet, to suck his cock and feel him cum in her mouth. And that thought, sudden, clear, unexpected, and overwhelming, made her shiver with arousal.

“We could see it on the set,” Chip was saying. “Every time Bob told you what to do, you just... looked hotter. More excited. And you were getting leaky during your spanking — I’ve seen that before, but not often. That says to me you’re a girl who wants to know her place, and have someone in charge of her. I think Bob was right.”

Corinna sat quietly for a minute. Of all she had absorbed on this emotionally tumultuous day, this was the hardest, and would take the most thought. She looked up and met the petite blonde’s eye. “Thank you... Amanda. I really appreciate your honesty.”

A moment of awkwardness passed. Corinna looked around the room. “I keep meaning to tell you how great your paintings are — they’re the first thing I noticed when I came here. You have a wonderful talent.”

“Thanks, honey, that’s very sweet of you. Which one is your favorite?”

Corinna hadn’t considered the works in that light, and cast her gaze around the room again. “I like the two sailboats. You can really feel the pressure of the wind in that one. It makes me think of being out in the field back home, with a strong wind blowing so hard you can kind of lean against it.”

Chip rose from the couch, strode to the wall, and lifted the painting down. “Here,” she said, turning back to Corinna, “It’s yours.”

“But I can’t — I didn’t mean —”

“It’s mine to give away if I want to, and I want to,” interrupted Chip. “So you take it, as a present from me.”

“Thank you!” exclaimed Corinna, wide eyed with delight.

Chip showed her out, with a promise to be in touch as soon as possible about another performance, and Corinna caught the shuttle bus back to campus. There were seats open, but the lovely freshman girl made the trip standing up.

In mid-May, Doug Browning received an unexpected visitor at the offices of Handprint Films.

«Corinna Walker is here to see you.»

Browning hit the intercom button. “Thank you, Elaine,” he said, “Please send her in.” In a few seconds he heard the click of approaching heels, and then Corinna appeared at his door.

Gone was the shy, insecure, nervous co-ed bundled in jeans and sweats. Corinna wore a flirt-skirt, some ten inches from waist to hemline, with a matching crop top, all in a tiny floral print on pale yellow; on her feet were a pair of white ankle-strap sandals with a five-inch heel. Between her long legs, curved into erotic perfection by her tip-toe stance, and her bare midriff, there was far more exposed than covered on the young beauty.

She gave Browning a dazzling smile. “Sorry to barge in without warning,” she said. “Do you have a minute?”

“Certainly! Come in. Corinna, it’s great to see you again,” said Browning, extending a hand. The girl slipped past it, trading a hug for the offered handshake, a squeeze that lingered long enough for him to appreciate the pressure of her small, firm breasts against his body. “To what do we owe the honor of a visit?” he inquired when they parted.

Corinna took the seat to which Browning motioned her. She crossed her long, bare legs, briefly revealing the matching panties that were an integral part of her flirt-skirt.

“I have a proposition for you,” she replied. “I want to make one more movie — on three conditions.”

Browning was very surprised. He knew that the teen had come to them out of desperation. When she had finished shooting the third of her contracted films, he had thought he would never see her again.

The prospect of having a fourth film staring Corinna made the businessman within him salivate. Her first film was their biggest seller of all time; her second and third had set records for pre-orders; marketing reported heavy interest in a boxed set of “director’s cut” editions.

But personal concerns outweighed thoughts of business. “Tuition trouble again?”

“No, I’m fine — that’s all taken care of,” Corinna said. “I’m not saying money would be bad to have, but — no, I’m not in any kind of jam.”

“Something with the boyfriend?”

Corinna colored slightly. “Jake? He’s, um, not in the picture any more. I couldn’t stand to keep lying to him, so after the second movie I told him how I was earning the money. He... let’s just say he didn’t quite have the maturity to understand.”

Browning relaxed against the edge of his desk, looking down at the seated girl. “Well, then, I’ll bite. Three conditions, you said? Let’s have ’em.”

Corinna took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and looked the producer straight in the eye.

“I want to make another movie... with you as my partner.”

Browning was momentarily perplexed. “As... a business partner?”

“No. I want you to be in the movie with me. I know you used to act. I want you to come out of retirement and make one more with me.”

Doug Browning was already shaking his head. “Oh, no. No, that was long ago. That’s all behind me. I couldn’t —” He broke off as Corinna stood up, turned her back to him, and slipped her skirt and its attached panties down her long, silky legs. The beautiful teen bent over and rested her arms on the seat of her chair, stretching her pert, proud bottom taut and high for him.

“What’s the matter, sir? Don’t think you have the touch? Don’t you think you could put this naughty little bottom over your knee and give it a good, sound spanking?”

“I —,” stammered Browning, gazing at the girl’s delectable ass and at the even more enticing treasures framed between her legs.

“Do you like how I look? If I behaved very badly, wouldn’t you like to correct me and teach me how to be a good girl? Can’t you imagine spanking my bare bottom nice and hard, listening to me cry, helping me improve my behavior?”

“But, Corinna —”

“I know you still know how. I know you’re the best at it — Chip told me. I know you’re exactly what a bad girl needs, even if she doesn’t think so at the time.”

“Well, of course I still know how, but —”

Corinna straightened, turned to face the bemused older man, and peeled her crop top off as she sank to her knees before him. She turned her beautiful sweet face up to him, eyes wide.

“Wouldn’t you like me to suck your cock? Would you like to see my face, all covered with tears, looking up at you while I licked and sucked your prick? Would you like to fuck me right in my warm, wet, soft mouth? Don’t you think that would feel wonderful on your stiff, aching cock?”

“Oh, Corinna, I don’t —”

“And wouldn’t you like to cum on my face? Doesn’t this pretty little farm-girl face just beg for a big helping of your cum sprayed all over it? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to shoot your load all over this eighteen-year-old face? Would you like me to keep my eyes wide open while you cum in them, not even blinking? I can do that. Don’t you think that sounds like fun?” Her voice breathy and soft, Corinna continued, as she traced patterns on her upturned face with a fingertip. “Imagine shooting your cum right here... and here... and here... and all over here? And if I get some in my mouth,” she said, wetting a fingertip with her tongue, “I’ll play with it while you watch your cum drip and run all over my face.” She cocked her head at him and smiled. “Doesn’t that sound... delicious?”

Browning let out a pent-up breath. “It does. It sounds — I do miss some of that, as a matter of fact.” He thought for a while, looking down at the beautiful nude girl kneeling at his feet. Her nipples were erect and her eyes wide and inviting. “What’s your second condition?”

Corinna reached forward and placed her hand on the evident bulge in the older man’s pants. She stroked him once, twice, gently. “Do you remember the set you showed me when I first came in?”

Browning thought. “No, I guess not.”

“It was a bedroom, in pink and white. A girl’s bedroom, with a tree outside the window,” Corinna reminded him. “You said a naughty girl was sent to her room for her spanking.” She squeezed his hardening cock through the fabric of his pants. “I want to use that set.”

“Oh, Corinna. I don’t know about that. That particular set has... implications. There’s really only one script, one story line, that plays there. It might not be comfortable for you.”

“I’ve thought about it. A lot. It’s what I want to do — that, or nothing.”

“In the rôles that we would be playing... you... you would have to call me —”

“Yes. I know. I can do that.”

“Are you sure?” Browning asked, as the girl’s busy fingers brought him to full hardness.

“Oh, yes. Trust me, sir, I know what our parts will be. That’s what I want.”

Browning hesitated once more, and then gave in. “And condition number three?”

“I’m really tired of being the girl who can’t suck cock,” Corinna said. “I want to learn how; I want to be good at it, sir, as good as Chip is, before we shoot the movie.”

“That’s a fine goal. How do you propose to reach it?”

“I want lessons. From you, sir. I want you to teach me to be a really great cocksucker. I know it’ll take a long time — weeks, months, every night, every weekend, whatever — I don’t care. I want you to train me to suck your cock.”

Browning reached back over his desk and hit the intercom button. “Give me an hour without interruptions, please.” He went to lock his office door, then returned to stand before the nude, kneeling co-ed, who was looking up at him with happiness and anticipation. Her long, stiff nipples drew his eyes and made his fingers ache to touch them. Moving very slowly, drinking in the sight of the beautiful girl, Browning began to unbuckle his belt.

“Very well, young lady,” he said. “I accept your terms. We will begin your lessons. You must pay very close attention, now, and do exactly as you are told.”

She met his eyes, her gaze direct and confident. Her nerves were quiet; her heart was at peace. “Yes, sir,” said Corinna. “I’ll do anything.”

Author’s notes on Earning Her Tuition

Boring stuff first: State University, the State Daily newspaper, the U-Works job posting site, Handprint Films, and every character and name in this story are products of my imagination. If I happened to collide with something in the real world, that’s purely by chance.

Earning Her Tuition has been in the works since 2004; the story was quite finished in my head, but it resisted taking shape as text for quite a while.

The story combines two of my favorite submissive acts, the spanking and the facial, but twists them outside of a loving dom/sub context and into the realm of Resigned Consent. Poor Corinna, she really was out of options, wasn’t she? But it seems to have worked out for the best after all.

I hope you enjoyed my story. Please do take a minute to drop me an email, just to let me know what you thought.

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