Phonepoint

It had been two years since Emily had moved to America. She didn't dislike it, but she had found the bold and brash style of the Americans to be a far cry from the soft and foppish people of the British home counties. Some people, as to be expected, had mocked her accent when she first arrived, but she had found that many more had liked it. For every one person who wrote her off as stuck up and posh for it, there were another 10 who found it interesting, classy, even sexy. It was the "classy" adjective she liked the most; it was her favourite English stereotype by far, and she did her best to live up to it. To that end, she dressed modestly. She did however remain stylish, and the cold climate of her new home in northern Massachusetts gave the perfect excuse to not reveal too much. She was barely caught in anything but her quilted barber jacket, sensible top and black jeans, with her long black hair tied messily up. This, along with her round black glasses, gave her a cute, bookish quality.

She had been very lean and athletic all through childhood, but as schoolwork had become more prevalent in her life exercise fell by the wayside. Through her late teens she had put on a small amount of weight. Not enough that people noticed it in her face, through her clothes, or at all really, but in a subtle way that only she noticed. Her 32D cup breasts swelled slightly and her bras became tight, forcing her to go to 34 D or double D in some shops. Her arse and hips, which had always been muscular, became slightly plumper. The athletic six pack she had once boasted was gone. Her stomach was still lean by almost any standard but her own, but still she missed the days she had looked like a track star.

Things were going well for Emily now though. She was two months away from her 21^st birthday, and was going to a friend's house for a party. Well, party may have been a grandiose term; the five of them had decided that a big house party would be less fun that an old school throwback sleepover with just a very close group of them. Of course, they would still be drinking. Nicole had turned 21 a few months ago, and they had each chipped in for some spirits and mixer. That was another big piece of culture shock. She had been drinking beer in pubs before coming to America, and having her ability to drink taken away for another two and a half years seemed cruel. Oh well, it would all be over soon.

Dressed in her usual clothes, that her friends had taken to calling her "uniform", she rounded the gate into Jessica's house. She was the one turning 21. It had been a 20-minute walk from the bus, following an even longer bus ride, but this night was all going to be worth it. Just the girls. After a knock on the door she was invited enthusiastically in by Jessica, who Emily suspected strongly had already started drinking. It was already 7, Emily supposed.

She dropped her overnight bag in the hallway and followed Jessica up to her room, where she saw that the other three had already arrived. Nicole, Anna, and Katie were already sprawled across airbeds on the floor of Jessica's room, drinks in hand. They had a romcom playing from a laptop, but nobody was really watching as they chattered and drank. This was what she needed.

They all knew deep down that they were too old for a sleepover like this, but is was fun, and they reasoned that vodka made things more mature. They drank and talked for hours until, at around 11:30, they decided to get changed for bed. This of course didn't mean that they were sleeping, but as most of them planned on flopping drunkenly into bed it would be easier to get this done now. Emily, who was decidedly less drunk than the rest of the girls, didn't want to change in front of them, so when she dismissed herself to go get her bag from the hall, she didn't go straight back to Jessica's room, but instead took a detour into their upstairs bathroom.

The bathroom was old fashioned, with an ugly mauve wallpaper and a cream bathtub, which doubled as a shower and had a matching shower curtain. She could hear the girls now playing loud music and singing along through the walls. Once in the bathroom, she had gotten changed from her stylish yet conservative street clothes into her equally conservative and somewhat juvenile pyjamas. Modesty aside, she really did get cold, and what she was wearing when she went back to the girls were a long pair of pyjama bottoms and old long-sleeved shirt her older brother had long since grown out of.

She had no idea what had just happened to her.

*

"Bastard!" Noah cursed as he scrubbed. The bath hadn't been used in months, and the spots of black mould had not been as easy to shift as he had hoped. At 18 years old, this is not the way he wanted to be spending his Saturday night. He was being punished for when his parents had discovered that he and his friends had been out drinking. He thought this was ridiculous, he was old enough to drink in most countries, like France of England. Despite his making this argument, his parents could not be shifted. They demanded he clean both of the houses bathrooms before they returned on Saturday morning. Young and cocky as he was, he assumed it would take one hour out of his evening. It had long since grown dark, and he had been at it for almost three hours.

As he wiped at a particularly stubborn patch of mould, he heard the door open. He froze. He wasn't quite sure why, but he felt embarrassed to be 18, home on Saturday night, cleaning the bath tub. His sister was having her party tonight, and It might be one her hot friends, he reasoned, and he didn't want them to think him uncool. He stayed very still as he heard someone walk into the outdated bathroom and bolt the door behind them. Fortunately, he had drawn the curtain of the shower to stop the glare of the lights off the basin of the tub.

Noah had planned to wait patiently for the person to use the toilet and leave, but he didn't hear the clatter of the toilet seat. Instead, he heard the dropping of a bag and then the rustle of clothing. With excitement, Noah realised that one of his sisters' friends must be getting changed in here! he reasoned it couldn't be Jessica, because why would she change in the bathroom of her own home? No, it had to be one of the friends.

Noah could hear the loud voices and thumping base of music coming from Jessica's room. He assumed this was why he hadn't been caught already. As silently as he could, he crawled towards the end of the bath.

Damn it, he thought.

The shower curtain was pulled right the way to the wall. There was no way he could see through the gap, and he couldn't pull the curtain back without being noticed. He was about to resign himself to simply listening, when he remembered the phone in his back pocket. Silently, he pulled it out and opened up snapchat. His heart was racing and he was struggling to control his breathing. With the front camera on, he slowly moved his phone to where the curtain met the wall. Using his phone like a periscope, he snuck the top of the phone just passed the shower curtain. Fortunately, the layout of the bathroom allowed him to have the phone at such an angle that he could see the screen at the same time as pointing the camera.

And he saw.

*

When Emily arrived back in Jessica's room, it was more of the adult sleepover vibe. The "adult" part was never what films said. Here, it was just a lot of drinking. There was singing, dancing, and of course the obligatory "boy talk". Emily preferred beer to spirits, but none the less was starting to be more drunk than her mother would approve of. She was singing and dancing with the rest of them, but the one area she fell down had been boy talk.

Emily wasn't a virgin (despite the rumours spurned boys had spread about her), in fact she had slept with three boys, a not too small total for a girl her age she thought. She wasn't one to sleep around though; her proud notions of British class had seen to that this side of the Atlantic. Back home had been much of the same. She lost her virginity to a long-term boyfriend. He had been her first everything, and they were together for three years. He broke up with her, blaming a myriad of non-specific factors and general "lack of chemistry". Her second boyfriend had only lasted five months, the first four of which she had insisted were sexless. The move to America had been the end of him. And then there was Parker.

Its not that there weren't fuckboys in England, of course there were. But the Americans? Different breed. Parker had taught her that the hard way. He was cute, and after months of professing his love, she finally decided to let him take her on a date. He was civil, courteous, polite; everything Emily wanted him to be. she held him off for sex for two months. Then, when finally she succumbed, he left. Didn't even stay the night. He stopped texting her completely. It seemed he had gotten what he wanted. Emily had learned a harsh lesson. This was almost a year ago, and she hadn't given any boy the time of day since.

These answers were met with boos from the other girls, who knew this already, but felt the need to comment every time it came up. None of them were really sluts, but they had all had at least one one-night-stand. Even Katie, who was usually almost as prim and proper as Emily had had one, just after breaking up with a boyfriend.

The rest of the night went just as Emily had hoped it would, and it was almost four in the morning by the time they had all gone to bed, half asleep and half passed out.

*

Emily awoke on an air bed in her pyjamas. Sunlight was catching dust through gaps in the shutters, and as she looked around, she discovered that she was the only on in the room. She got up, and headed to the kitchen. As she assumed, they were all already sat there. Despite Emily being the last up, she seemed the least hungover. All she has was dry mouth and a mild stomach ache. She thought that made her lucky as she looked at the four girls before her, three of whom were holding buckets, two of which had been used.

"Morning" Emily said brightly. This was met with irritated groans. She chuckled and sat down next to them. Those of them that could had breakfast, and they all rehydrated. After two hours, it was one o'clock. They had moved over to the living room, where they sat chatting happily. Jessica's brother Noah sat in there watching the tv, but we didn't mind. This conversation wasn't exactly sensitive. Emily learned that Jessica's parents had been home already, gotten angry at him all over again, and left.

We sat there laughing for an age, and Emily, as usual, decided that is was time for her to leave first. Thinking better than to brave the bus in her pyjamas, she took her bag and went back to the upstairs bathroom to get changed. She put on her underwear, then her jeans from yesterday. A black and whit pinstripe t-shirt followed, and that in turn was topped with a plain grey jumper (still the word "sweater" felt wrong in her mouth) and of course her signature quilted barber jacket. Readjusting her glasses, she unbolted the door and made to go back downstairs. As she opened the door however, Noah was standing in front of her, tall and imposing.

"Hi Emily." He said smirking.

"Hey." She responded. She had little taste for Noah or small-talk.

"How was the party?" Noah asked, drawing her in.

"Great fun thanks." She responded with a feigned but convincing smile. She would've quite liked to go back downstairs, but didn't want to seem rude.

"I bet you had fun." He said with a smug smile. "I had fun too."

"Enjoy the punishment?" Emily quipped playfully, hoping her tease wouldn't come across as mean spirited.

"As a matter of fact," he crooned "I did." He slipped his phone out of his pocket and opened it up, going into his snapchat memories and clicking on the first photo. "This is how much fun I had."

For a moment, Emily didn't quite know what she was looking at. There was a long, drawn out moment of silent confusion. The picture was of a girl, pale and black haired, half naked and facing away from the camera. She was wearing only a pair of jeans. Her jeans. She looked up, thunderstruck into Noah's grinning face. The girl was her, Emily knew, but you couldn't see her face. Or anything else for that matter. Then Noah swiped. the girl was bent over now, her jeans around her ankles as she pulled them over one foot, her ample arse clad in cheap black underwear. Another swipe. The girl was in the same position, but now her jeans were on the floor and her underwear was halfway down her legs, her plump round arse pointed straight at the camera. Swipe. The girl had turned to get her bag. You could see her tits. You could see her neatly shaven pubic region. You could see her face. My face Emily thought.

"Thinking of making that last one my screensaver." Noah grinned. Emily was lost for words. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her mouth agape. Her brain felt as though it was going a mile a minute, though she couldn't seem to think of anything.

"What?" she finally managed, weakly.

"Yeah, I was." Noah continued. "I was thinking I could send this around to my friends, show it to my sister for a good laugh, and then maybe to an amateur porn site, maybe I can make some money off of this. That's a compliment by the way, that's how good you look."

"No." Emily managed, her wits returning to her. "Noah look at me, you can't do this to me. You have to delete those, please, don't show it to anyone you have no idea what that would do to me." Noah read the panic on Emily's face and cracked a wry smile.

"As it happens," he began, as though it were the most casual thing in the world. "I have an alternative proposal for you." Without another word, Noah walked away down the upstairs hallway of his house. He stopped when he was halfway along to beckon with his finger. Clumsily, Emily followed him down the hallway and into his bedroom.

Noah closed the door. "Strip." He commanded.

"W-what" Emily spluttered, dazed anew. Just five minutes ago she had been talking to her friends.

"Strip." He repeated sternly. Neither of us moved. He opened up his phone again, this time to an internet tab. My picture was up there, and I had a brief panic before realising that it hadn't been posted. It was in the submissions section of a revenge porn site, Noah's finger hovering dangerously over the submit button. Below the picture, she read 'Emily Victoria Gale, 20 years old'. My full name Emily thought.

"No, no please don't." She said, her eyes becoming tearful as she snatched for the phone. Noah pulled the phone out of reach and tutted.

"That was a bad idea." He said. "Even if you could grab it, don't you think I would make copies of something this valuable?" He chuckled. "Now strip."

Emily had never felt so small. Dread weighed heavy on her chest. This was real. He was going to send those pictures to his friends, to porn sites, to her friends if she didn't give him what he wanted. Still unable to fully process what was happening to her, Emily reached up sheepishly and undid the zipper of her coat. She shrugged it off and dropped it on the bed. "Well that's something." Said Noah, "But I said strip, that's just undressing. Strip." Emily paused again. It was silent. She wasn't an outgoing person, but she had never been even close to this far outside her comfort zone. As Noah stared at her expectantly, she slowly and awkwardly began gyrating her hips as she pulled the grey jumper over her head.

Next would have to be the jeans or shirt, she knew. The coat and jumper had been bad enough. Still gyrating, she couldn't make up her mind. "What next?" She asked stupidly, a slight crack in her voice.

"Jeans." He responded at once. "But turn around. Make it sexy". This was a fucking nightmare. Emily turned around. Unbuckling her belt, she bent over and slowly slid the jeans down her legs and over her feet, exposing her large, firm arse. She stood up awkwardly and turned back around. Noah looked at her expectantly. Her lip trembled as she reached up to remove her glasses so she could get her shirt off. "No." Barked Noah "Leave them on".

"They'll get caught on my shirt." Protested Emily, sheepish and feeling smaller than ever.

"Not my problem," said Noah, sternly.

Emily gave Noah a pleading look, but it was met with a stony face. Defeated, she grabbed her shirt from the bottom and pulled it up over her head, ensuring that she kept it away from her glasses. It had been one of the hardest thigs she had ever had to do. "Happy?" She asked, trying for brave flippancy but sounding like a cowed child.

"Not in the slightest." Replied Noah, "when I said strip, I meant all the way, I don't know why you've stopped."

Emily's heart dropped. "This isn't ok." she said, starting to find some bravery. "I'm here in my underwear for you. You have to delete those pictures."

Noah considered this. "Tell you what. You give me an hour. One hour to do with as I please, now, then ill delete the photos, and I'll even hand you my USB backup to destroy yourself." The offer came with a sleazy smile. Emily was disgusted.

"My friends' downstairs will be wondering where I am." She said, scrambling for something, anything to get out of this.

"A good point." Replied Noah. "Wait here." Before Emily could respond, he had left the room, and she heard him thundering down the stairs.

She felt helpless. There's nothing I can do. He has me. She cursed her situation as she thought back to Parker. He hadn't been very good in bed. Emily suspected that it was because he didn't care about her. And Noah wont even be pretending. She jolted to attention as she heard him coming back up the stairs. He threw the door open. In his hand was her bag. "I said you left though the back. Quicker to the bus that way." He smiled wryly. "Now I think you owe me an hour. But I'm bored of stripping. You have ten seconds to be wearing nothing." Emily looked at him in shock. She quickly began to protest, before being cut off.

"Seven seconds." said Noah warningly, opening up his phone. Emily panicked. Without another thought, she undid the clasp of her bra and let it fall quickly to the floor. "Three seconds." said Noah excitedly, as she put her thumbs inside the sides of the panties and sharply pulled them down, her large breasts bouncing with the sudden movement. She hastily got them over her feet and threw them down. Just in time she thought, with something akin to relief.

"Failure." Snapped Noah.

"What?" She asked incredulously. "That was in time!". Even though this was all against her will, she felt like she was being cheated more than ever. Suddenly, she realised that she was naked. One hand went to cover between her legs, and the other to her breasts. She tried clumsily to cover them both with her arm, but just as she got one covered, the other would spill away from her.

"I said wearing nothing," smirked Noah. "You're still wearing your glasses."

"That doesn't count!" Emily began, before Noah shushed her.

"Shh shh shh," he said mockingly. "I'm in charge and I say it counts. You may as well leave them on now though. Do you know what that was, Emily? Your first infraction. not enough for me to leak your photo, don't you worry about that. But you certainly need to be punished."

"Punished?" Asked Emily, naively. "You never said anything about being punished.

"It's my hour for another 57 minutes, so you better fucking well do as I say. Hands on your head, feet three feet part." For neither the first nor the last time, Emily stood still, shocked and speechless. "Now." He barked, slapping her under the arm to raise it to her head. she released her breasts and uncovered her sex tentatively, cautiously raising her hands to her head. Noah sharply kicked the inside of her calf, forcing her feet wider.