Screen Test of Bettie Crocker Page

"Eggbeater," he said, laughing, and pulled back to look me in the face, searching to see if that was a yes. The tension broke, but not completely.

"Yes, I'll do it."

Without another response, his mouth covered mine, kissing me, then moments later, he leaned me back on the settee. He took my glasses off and put them on the table next to the glass of champagne. Next, he kneeled on the ground in front of me, sliding my skirt up around my hips.

"Ever since I saw you in that grocery store, wearing that prissy dress, I wanted to taste you." His lips ran up my bare leg, and my eyes grew wide. His fingers brushed on the outside of my underwear on the fabric, stroking downward from my clit and back again. His finger moved to push the fabric aside. He laid his head on my leg near my pussy, looking up at me, smiling. He left me open like that, looking at me.

I gasped, feeling exposed to this person who was basically still a stranger to me. He doesn't even know your name! The good girl in me balked at the idea of doing this on screen with a stranger, but the bad girl in me wanted to rush ahead.

Still leaving me exposed, he asked, "do you like that?" I nodded, holding his gaze and barely breathing. Slowly, as if not to scare me, his finger touched the soft, pink mound of my sweet spot, and I knew from how wet it was, there was no mistaking how much I wanted it. I knew I would not say no. I knew this was happening.

I moaned, running my hand through his stubble, pulling his face toward me, urging him to keep going. He licked his finger and said in a husky voice, "mmmm, yes, give in to me, Bettie. I know you want this." His hand went back to my pussy, teasing me by splitting my labia and running his finger around the hole but not going inside. I nodded, eyes wide, feeling out of control.

He made me stand, wobbly as I was, and turned me around and unzipped my dress. I stepped out of it, suddenly in my underwear in the middle of the room, exposed further. He was still wearing a shirt and tie. He walked around me, looking at my body, sizing me up. He went to the racks of clothing in the bureaus and began to open doors and flip through them. "Bettie Page, Bettie Page. What are we going to put you in?" he said, and pulled out a few lacy items, looked over at me, deciding, then put them back.

He grabbed a bra and panty set that looked like something straight out of the 1950s. The black bra was full coverage but had lace where the tops were cut out. The panties were also black, high waisted, but had a sheer overlay that was a bit like a see-through skirt over it. The skirt itself had garters on it. He pulled out a new pair of stockings and a light pink and black satin robe. It was not lost on me that the outfit was like a caricature of something that Bettie Page would actually have worn. "Wear this," he said in a firm tone, leaving no room for argument.

Using his large, strong hands, he helped me out of the bra and underwear I had arrived in and placed it on the settee. I stood, naked, waiting, wanting. "I'm going to go out and get some things ready. I'll be back for you in a moment. Get dressed for me."

As I slid into the outfit he had chosen for me, I marveled at the quality of it. I tried to keep that good girl voice yelling at me in my head at bay. He must have sensed this, because he was not out of the room long, just long enough for my costume change. He returned, something black and leather in his hand. I blanched, thinking it was some kind of whip.

"Bettie, these are restraints. Have you ever worn them?"

I shook my head no, but said, "I have seen them in porn before. Are you going to tie me up?"

He looked at me with those blue eyes and said, "Yes, but not right away. Do I have your permission to do so?"

I nodded, and sat down on the settee. He fastened the leg harnesses around my ankles. He took my hands and buckled the black leather around my wrists.

"These shouldn't leave a mark. They are padded on the inside to protect your skin." He walked over to the table with the shoes and selected a pair of patent leather pumps and put them on my feet gently. "Do you need me to help you walk?"

I had gotten over being lightheaded, but I still needed to feel him leading me through this. "I would appreciate the help, yes." I said, rising on my own.

"Remember, Bettie. This is going to be fun. You're a natural sub. Just keep your eyes on me. Don't look at the cameras. No one will see us doing this right now but me and the cameras."

And the thousands of horny teenage boys who buy the video later, I thought.

I was surprised that he led me back into the same room where we had filmed the kitchen scene. I had been expecting a bedroom or a dungeon. I looked askance at him, and he shrugged, saying, "Lots of guys are into the whole female in the kitchen thing." I wasn't sure I liked that exactly, but he knew best.

I looked up briefly as I made my way to the front of the room and noticed that the cameras were rolling. We came to stand in front of the aluminum table. Like in the dressing room, he pulled me to him and kissed me, holding me close. "Remember, keep your eyes on me. I'm in charge. Just do as I say." I nodded, swallowing to try to dislodge the lump that had formed in my throat. "Good girl." Somehow, he must have known that praising me like a dog would go over well. My heart was racing.

He untucked his shirt slowly and unfastened his pants. "Get on your knees." I did as I was told, keeping his eyes held in mine. The tile floor was hard, but cool, and kneeling in this position helped me from swaying on the high heels. He took out his cock and I gasped. It was long, circumcised. Wide, too. "Suck it," he said, and I had to walk on my knees to get closer to his body. I put it in my mouth, sliding my lips down the length of it.

I moved my hand up to the base of it to hold him, since I could not get the whole thing in my mouth. I created a slow wave between the softness of my lips and the grip of my hand. My soft, firm tongue flicked the end of his wide crown. I had always enjoyed giving head and I was hoping he was enjoying it. His eyes closed in pleasure.

Having broken eye contact, mine swayed briefly to look over to the camera in the corner of the room. As quick as a flash, I felt a hard smack against my cheek. He had taken his member in his hand and whipped it hard across my face. My eyes snapped back, mouth frozen in an O, realizing what was happening before the second slap hit my left cheekbone.

"I said look at me. Look at me." His cock grazed firmly across my cheek, the weight of it pressing against the place where he had just hit me. He took me by my chin, running the head over my face again, and stuck it back in my mouth. "Now that's a good girl." My eyes stayed with his, still open wide, and he took it out again. He hit the other cheek. "You liked that, didn't you?"

I had, and I said so. "Yes...sir." He hit me again with it, hand still under my chin. It hit me near my eye.

"Yes, call me sir. Suck my dick." I began to suck again, and he took me by the back of the head. I began to feel him move deeper into my throat. "God, Bettie, that feels good. You're good at that."

He took me by the hand and stood me on my feet, guiding me behind the table. He never took his blue eyes off of me. "I said I wanted a taste of that peach pie," he said, and directed me to put my foot up on the lower shelf of the aluminum table and lean with my backside against it. He hunched in front of me, pulled the black lace of the panties aside and licked me up and down, then roughly stuck his tongue into my wet hole. His raspy facial hair grated on my soft skin and I gasped. He moved his tongue to my clit, circling it. Keeping eye contact, his strong mouth sucked the outer part of my labia as his two fingers pressed up, searching inside of my pussy. The sensation was not one I was used to and I thought for a split second that I might come already, I was so worked up.

He stood up and loosened his tie, opening his shirt completely to show his chest. His cock still stood at attention, framed by his pants. "I like your peach pie, Bettie Crocker Page. I want to be inside of you. But I'm going to tease you first." He took my panties and the pink robe off, then turned me away from him. I suddenly wanted his eyes back as a focal point. I could see the cameras, and myself in the mirror.

He took my legs and spread them, attaching the buckle of the restraints to the legs of the table. I noticed then that he had not completely cleaned off the table from the cooking shots, and that there was still flour and the juice from the peaches on the table. He had also placed a small bottle of olive oil with the bowl of peaches. I stood with my hands on the table, my legs splayed, and I could see him in the mirror behind me. "Bend down." I hesitated. "Bend down, over the table," he repeated, pushing me into the flour.

"But..." I had started to say, not wanting to get dirty, realizing as I did that I should not talk back.

He seemed to think so, too. "Open your mouth," he said, selecting a peach from the bowl on the table. I lifted my head and opened my mouth. He placed the peach in between my lips, holding my jaws open, blocking my mouth like a ball gag. The juices rolled down my cheek, sticky and sweet. Pressing his hand on my back, he pushed me forward slowly into the flour on the table, laying with my behind up and legs bound in a wide V. "Good girl."

My knees started to shake slightly with the realization that my ass and pussy were openly being filmed by the cameras in the back of the room. He secured my hands to each other behind my back, using the restraints at my wrists. He came to stand behind me, inspected me, and then moved forward to let his huge penis rest on my cheek. He held it there, sliding it down slowly, far from my waiting hole. I felt him take his strong hand and hold my left cheek open with his thumb, exposing me further. "You like to be on display?" he asked, grabbing something from the table.

I nodded, unable to speak. He let a little bit of the olive oil dribble out of the bottle and run between my cheeks, like lube. His thumb began to massage my pucker, but only on the outside. He took his cock in his other hand and lightly brushed it on the outside of my labia. I sighed behind the peach, letting air out of my nose. I could feel the juices and my saliva start to run out of the side of my mouth and pool on the table, but I was enjoying the experience of being teased so much that I pushed it out of my mind. The motions he was making with his cock got wider until he was going the whole length of me.

He stopped suddenly, pressing the head of it on my ass. "That's for later, just you wait," he said, pushing just hard enough to make me think he would press inside, but taking it away before he did. I whimpered slightly, wondering if I would even be able to take that giant thing.

I felt him stop. I tried to turn my eyes to see what was going on, but I was effectively hog tied to the table and did not want to move for fear of disobeying him. I heard his clothing shift and his belt buckle hit something metal, and I realized that he was taking his clothing off. He brought one of the cameras from the corner of the room and adjusted the legs of the tripod and the angle of the camera to the level of my waist to get a close-up of my bareness. He came to stand across from my face, his rod wet with the oil and liquid from my muff.

"Okay, Little Miss Bettie. I am going to fuck you now. Since you're gagged, I want to make sure that you are still enjoying yourself and that you want to keep going. I need to hear you say it."

He removed the peach from my lips and I whined, "Yes, I want you to fuck me, please, sir, fuck me."

His face broke into a smile and he rubbed his finger on my face, moving some of the spittle from my cheek. "See? I told you you were born to be a sub, Bettie. You're being a real good girl. Now, I want you to take it real nice in this next scene. I know your arms might be getting tired back behind you, but we'll move into another position and stretch them out before this is through."

He took the peach and stuck it back into my mouth. "Rolling..." he said, turning the camera on behind me.

He stood behind me, again holding me open for the camera. I could no longer see him well, nor his eyes. I felt him rub on the outside of me a few more times, and I wiggled a bit to try to get him to start. He slapped my hindquarters with his open hand and said, "hold still, bitch." It stung, so I stopped.

I felt him enter me for the first time, but only with the head. When his cock slid in fully, I bit down on the peach with my teeth and felt them hit the pit. I felt the sleeve of muscle inside of me contract around the shaft and a rush of wet liquid began to run down my legs.

"Gentlemen, we have a squirter!" he exclaimed, pulling back and bending his body to look me in the face. "Did you know you could do that, Bettie?" he asked, gleefully, but almost mockingly, his eyebrows raised.

I shook my head yes. He whistled. "This is going to be more fun than I even imagined." He pushed into me again and bottomed out inside of me.

I came a second time, and I tasted peach juice and a hint of blood. He was so wide that I felt like I was being torn apart.

I knew from the sloppy sounding slap of his hips against mine that I had sprayed again. He moved rhythmically, pounding my dripping wet gash, my legs still splayed. My hips banged painfully against the table and I tried to move backwards to block them from the impact. His hand came to rest solidly against the flat of my shoulder near my neck, and his fingers wrapped around my throat.

"Don't move. Take it." His fingers tightened with each thrust, my breath was short, and I felt as if I was having an out of body experience. He kept going. My arms had gone almost numb and I almost could not feel the ache there or in my hips. The intense, heavy pressure of his shaft was all that I could feel. "Jesus, Bettie, if I keep going like this, I'm going to come." He stopped, pulling out. He took the peach out of my mouth, noticing the bite marks. I saw his shark smile as he helped to lift my body up.

"You are a peach, you know that? God, when you squirted, I couldn't believe it." Looking me up and down, he said, "You should see yourself. You're an absolute mess." He said this admiringly, praising me. I felt him fussing with my wrists, and suddenly they were free.

A rush of blood went back into my arms and I stretched my shoulders, neck and wrists. While he was unhooking my legs, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirrored window. My tits were covered in flour, my makeup was running down my face on one side from the juices on the table. I really did look like a mess.

"You ready for more?" he asked, the same admiring tone in his voice. I assented and he said, "Good girl. Then get down on all fours." He took the camera that had been close up on my open, waiting backside and changed the position of it to be next to us. He moved another camera closer and slightly behind us. I did as he said and got to the floor.

He went over to his clothing and grabbed something from the pile. It was a wide leather cuff studded with silver and a leash. He came to kneel on one knee next to my head and fastened the collar around my neck. "Now that's a good girl," he said in a tone that sounded even more like he was addressing a dog. I felt the leash snap into place on the ring on the back. "I'm going to fuck your ass now."

I was scared I could not take the width. "I don't know if I can," I said, dubious, my voice again sounding like a scared little girl.

"Oh, you will. I'll go slow to begin with," Johnny said, grabbing the olive oil. He dribbled it on his hand and ran the glistening substance over his tool. He turned the leash over the outside of his knuckles and pulled it tight. "Yes, you will. And I want you to beg me for it," he commanded.

I whimpered, wanting, not waiting, and said, "Please fuck my ass." With his other hand, he began to move the head of his cock in a rhythmic motion around the edge of my prat, rimming it. "Please, please, sir, fuck my ass. Don't stop. Fuck my ass. Please."

He jerked back on the leash. "Yes, like that. Keep begging. I know you want it." As he pressed his hips harder into me, I felt the tight hold of the hole start to give way. The head was inside; I knew from the overwhelming stretching feeling that he had penetrated me.

These were not just words, I wanted him to take me, own me. "Please...please own me, please..." I cried out, and he pushed the rest of his rod inside of me. I was so full.

He choked back on the leash and I felt tears spring to my eyes. I could not find the words or the breath to beg again, but he did not ask me to speak anymore. I moaned.

"Yes, that's it. That's a good girl. I own your asshole." The leash was tight but it felt good, being held firmly in place this way, being dominated. His thrusts were regular and hard and the oil felt slick and hot.

I felt my still-wet peach between my legs begin to quiver as I started to come. My fingers reached up with one hand and I touched the nub of my clit, causing me to go over the edge. I knew now that I was dripping on the floor. My muscles must have continued to convulse, because Johnny grunted and muttered something about coming. Pulling out, he stood and pulled me back onto my knees using the leash. I was facing the camera head on with him behind. I felt his cock burst next to my face, his come spilling on my face, my mouth, my chest. The semen created lines of white that, in a moment of clarity, reminded me of the meringue. Streams of it cut through the flour that still clung to me in places. He stopped, dropping the leash and looking down at me.

"That's a wrap, Bettie."