Tough Love

He pressed his cockhead against her pussy. "I got a little dick," he said.

Her brows arched upwards.

He sank himself into her.

"Lots of girls like it up the ass," he said. "Girls just like you."

Her eyes widened.

He bent his head to kiss her. When she twisted her head away, he put his lips at her ear and whispered: "Good little girls. Good little slu—"

"Coach," she cried, cutting him off.

He grinned.

"I didn't do it," she said. "We didn't do it."

He started to move his hips. He could hear the urgency in her voice, but he didn't care. He just wanted to shame her into taking a cock up her ass.

"It was Cho," she said.

He smiled. He moved his hips with a comfortable rhythm.

"Cho fucked all three of those boys," Allison said. Her tone was earnest and firm. "Cho is the slut. Cho is the whore."

He met her eyes and she didn't waver. She launched into the story of that night in Morristown, at the Red Roof Inn. It was a strange story, mainly because the truth of it was something he'd assumed he already knew. He'd never pressed any of the girls for details. He just drove home with them in a quiet bus, his chin on his chest. Cho knew one of the boys and set up the rendezvous. They went to a house party where the boys gave them ecstasy. Cho sucked off the boy she came with in the den, with everyone watching. Veronica and Allison cheered Cho on, but refused their dates. Eventually all three boys fucked Cho.

"She's the whore, coach," Allison said. "Cho's the slut."

He said nothing. He had fallen into a pounding rhythm with his hips. It was surreal. Little Allison Manning was under him, his meaty cock stuffed between her legs, and she was making a compelling case for why he couldn't call her a slut. And she was doing it by throwing one of her teammates under the bus.

Allison's tight little ass squirmed under him as he used her pussy.

He watched her jaw jerk with each of his thrusts and realized he was fucking her too hard. He was punishing her, and she was accepting it. She wanted something from him. She watched his face intently, an earnest expression on her face. "Cho took all three at one time," Allison whispered, saying it like a lover.

He stopped moving his hips.

"They took turns coming in her mouth," Allison said. "Cho said it was her birth control strategy."

Turning his head, he looked at a studio wall that held nothing.

He grinned.

He shook his head.

"Cho," he finally said, "is a slut."

Allison took his head in her hands and kissed him full on the lips, her warm tongue invading his mouth. His eyes were open, his tongue thick and unresponsive. He'd never been in this situation before and wasn't quite sure how to navigate it.

Allison broke their kiss, but kept her fingers pressed into his scalp.

She outmaneuvered him. He could feel her warm breath on his chin. She got the best of him. She tentatively pressed her lips to his again, her tongue snaking its way back into his mouth. He returned her kiss with his tongue this time, knowing he wouldn't get her ass.

They kept their sweaty heads near one another.

"I always knew Cho was a slut," he said.

Allison snorted soft laughter. A car alarm sounded in the street below.

"How?" she asked.

Her question hung in the air. He was already thinking about how to salvage his tape. When he realized she was waiting for an answer, he said: "She looks like a slut."

Allison laughed, but Maynor didn't.

He met her eyes, his face unreadable. He had an idea about Allison. He might not get her to bend over, but there were plenty of other things he could ask for. He had an idea about how to get what he needed from her.

***

6

He led her to the area he used for facials. It was an alcove he'd modified, calling in an electrician and carpenter to embed cameras in the ceiling and walls. It had cost a lot to create, but it was worth it. The facial was the money shot. Customers loved them.

Allison knelt inside the alcove.

He got a folding chair, opened it, and placed it in front of her. He showed her where the cameras were and made sure she knew the importance of this shot. He was curt, businesslike. She had robbed him of a little of his authority as the producer and he intended to get it back.

"Don't fuck this up," he warned, raising his brows.

He sat in the folding chair and opened his legs. He waved her closer. She walked on her knees, resting her arms on his thighs. She grinned.

He lifted his shaft. "Start by licking my ass," he said.

Her smile wavered and her eyes widened. She swallowed. Leaning her head back, she looked at the area below his balls. Maynor was a hairy man. He slid his ass to the edge of the seat.

Allison chucked her shoulders forward, expelling her breath in a series of little gasps. "Coach," she said, her voice sweet and low.

She took his shaft in her hands.

"Coooooach," she said. She lowered her head to his cock, licking his head and gazing up into his eyes. "Coach, please let me suck your cock," she said. "Oh, please, please, pleeeease," she whined, her eyes pleading.

Rising on her knees, she leaned toward him, cuddling his cock between her breasts.

"I'll do the balls," she said earnestly.

She popped one of his testicles into her mouth and nuzzled his scrotum. She was saying something else—it might have been "please," or maybe it was just more of that sexy little girl pout that Allison did so well—but it was hard to make out because she filled her mouth so completely with his balls.

"I've known you for a long time Allison," he said. Her brows rose on her forehead and she grew silent. "You're Veronica's friend, and I know your mom and dad. They're both good people." She stroked his shaft with her fist, nodding her head to how he was characterizing their relationship, the relationship of their families. "You're a good person—a beautiful girl. A good student and an even better teammate."

Her hand stilled on his cock.

"You can always suck my cock or do my balls." A relieved smile broke across her cheeks. She resumed the action with her hand on his cock, wet sucking noises coming from her mouth.

"But right now," he said, tapping his knuckles on her head.

"I need you to lick my ass."

Her face fell.

She let his wet sack fall from her mouth. Rising on her knees, she looked past him, her arms resting on his thighs.

Her lip quivered and she grew still.

"Come on baby," Maynor said, raising his shaft. "All the girls do it."

This was a lie. Maynor rarely asked for rim jobs, which didn't go over well with his customers. Heterosexual men didn't want to see images of a fat cock, hairy thighs, and the top of a girl's head. The truth was Allison had used her pretty little pink tongue to challenge him. Now he wanted her to use it to lick his ass.

She narrowed her eyes, looking off into the middle distance.

He'd seen that same look from Allison once before. In her senior year, he benched her in favor of another girl, a freshmen dynamo. The next day Allison's father paid Maynor a visit. Her dad was determined to win her position back, and he did.

He rescued his daughter.

Allison sighed, rubbing Maynor's hairy thighs.

Her daddy couldn't save her this time. He'd put her out on the street to teach her a lesson. She met Maynor's eyes, giving him a resigned smile. All she could do now was accept her instruction.

Lowering her shoulders, she pointed her chin under his balls.

Maynor grinned, his cock throbbing with desire. His chest soared. He felt her first few hesitant little licks in the place between his asshole and his balls. He sighed, settling into the folding chair to give her better access to his ass.

"That'a girl," he whispered. "Good girl."

He didn't call her a slut or a whore. She didn't like to hear that kind of language. She thought of herself as a good girl, so that's what he told her.

"That's my girl. That's my good girl," he said.

She used the flat of her tongue to wash his ass. Heaving one of his thighs up over her shoulder, she pressed her mouth into his crack. She folded her tongue into a V, pressing hard against his sphincter. He soon felt her tongue penetrate his asshole.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he whispered. "Fuck yeah!"

She moved her chin and face to give his asshole the stimulation it needed. He laughed and rode her pretty face. Every so often she would stop, out of breath, her cheeks red with exertion. He would let her rest for a bit, then lift his shaft, nodding his head.

He used her this way for ten or fifteen minutes. A sheen of sweat appeared on her forehead and her bangs grew damp.

He finally stood. "You ready?"

She brushed the hair from her face and tilted her chin up.

Standing before her, he stroked his erection. "Open your mouth," he said.

She opened her mouth.

"Wider," he said.

Her eyes held an anxious expression, but she dropped her jaw, opening her mouth wider. She fidgeted on her knees.

"Here it comes," he said.

He held his cock at the base, and suddenly a thick load of milky semen appeared on her pretty forehead. He stroked himself, putting more sperm on her left cheek, then even more on her right. Somehow a thick rope of cum appeared in her fine, silky hair, just above her ear. He made soft grunts of pleasure. She let her jaws relax, tilting her head back. He put the last of his hot cum on her delicate little chin.

His cockhead dripped with semen. Ordinarily he would flick this last bit into a girl's face, a playful way to end the scene. This time he put his hand on his hips.

"Okay, sweetie," he said. "Suck the rest of that shit out of there."

Her eyes shot up to meet his. This is what he had in mind for her. You make a girl lick your ass for ten minutes, suddenly sucking a little sperm from your dick was no big deal. Opening her mouth, she took his messy cockhead between her lips. Lowering her eyes, her cheeks went concave.

"Good girl," he said with enthusiasm.

He made a lusty grunt.

She bobbed her head, her thin hair flying wildly about her face. Soon she pulled her mouth from his cock with a noisy pop. Gazing up at him, her face was a sticky mess. Strands of hair stuck to her cheeks and forehead. She shook her head, but the hair wouldn't come loose.

He laughed.

She reached to her face to brush the hair away, make herself look more presentable, but he stopped her hand. "Oh, honey," he said. He laughed softly.

They both knew what she looked like.

Allison looked pained. Her brows shot up on her forehead in a silent plea. His snickering grew louder. He held his spent cock in his hand. She looked away. "Oh, sweetie," he said. "Look at you, look at your pretty face," he laughed.

Her lower lip started to quiver.

She met his eyes.

"You," he said, sniggering. "You are such...

"A little..."

She tilted her head as if in preparation for a slap, an incredulous look on her face. Her chest expanded as she gasped for air, her eyes widening.

"Wild thing!" he said, laughing.

"You're so amazing! So hot...

"So sensual...

"So perfect."

Allison blew the air from her lungs, a look of great relief on her face. Her shoulders slumped. His praise was obsequious, lavishing her ability to turn him on, to turn any man on. She brushed the hair from her face and he allowed it. He wanted her to feel comfortable. She listened to him intently, soaking up his approval. Her eyes welled, but with tears of joy. She absentmindedly licked the semen from her lips.

"I've never seen a girl quite like you," he said. "Can I get a thumbs up?"

Allison gave him two thumbs up.

Holding her hands up near her messy face, she grinned willfully. She made a kissy face with her lips, then a lusty sneer. The cameras captured it all. Her eyes shone with satisfaction, her face smeared in semen.

He only asked it on a lark, but this image of Allison holding her thumbs up would change everything for Maynor.

It would change his whole financial picture.

The way the pornography business worked made it hard to attribute an exact dollar value to any particular image or girl, but Allison's smiling, cum-drenched face was the most successful advertising campaign he'd ever launched. He attributed its success partially to the fact that it was a family-friendly image—it didn't show any tits or ass—so it was available on a wider range of websites, calling out to a larger pool of men. Its success was predicated by its decadence, the innocence of her young face, the look of pride and satisfaction in her eyes, the double thumbs up sign—a gesture known internationally as a positive image, combined with her mug smeared with milky warm sperm, an equally well-known gesture, with much different connotations. And when a customer clicked through (69% click-through rate, unheard of in online advertising), her video did not disappoint. Maynor had made Allison into the shy little girl who needed to do porn. Needed it. Between her heartfelt confession, initial reluctance, and then the way she wholly embraced her degradation, customers found it an uplifting tale of redemption. For porn, it was very positive, very popular. She'd succeeded, capturing a dream. Customers found themselves cheering for her.

Allison was the little girl who could.

In two weeks, Maynor had paid for Veronica's sophomore year at an Ivy League school. Soon he made a down payment on twelve-meter yacht, securing one of his own longtime dreams. In honor of Allison, he named it The Painted Lady. He took to wearing a sailor's cap. He beamed whenever he told friends or acquaintances the name of the boat, and he mentioned it often, always looking for ways to drop it into the conversation.

More than finances, though, the image changed Maynor's outlook about the work he did with the girls. He no longer felt guilty after he came, or at the start of an interview. He came to believe that he had a gift.

He came to this realization slowly, in the heady weeks after publishing Allison's tape.

Maynor ran into Allison's father at the Saint Lawrence Club. Maynor went to his friend, asking him about his business, his wife. Finally Maynor inquired about Allison. Had she turned up at the house? Was there any news?

Allison's father grew silent. His lips made a tight line across his face.

He'd sent Allison to inpatient treatment out of state. She was in a facility somewhere in Minnesota, and it would cost as much as an entire year at a private Ivy League school. Clapping his friend on the back, Maynor tried to be supportive. He said a father's greatest asset was his little girl, and wished Allison's father luck.

Later that night, at closing time, Allison's father shuffled down the bar. He slurred his speech. Putting his hand on Maynor's shoulder, Allison's father whispered that Allison had made a pornographic movie.

"She did it all," he said, his voice cracking.

He pulled back, looking in Maynor's eyes. "She did everything," her father said.

Maynor kept his face carefully composed.

He listened to her father, whose guilt was extensive. He wondered aloud if he'd made the right choices. He said he doubted he had. Maynor sat quietly, his lips pressed together. He gazed into his glass. A single thought rang over and over in his mind, tolling like a church bell, causing him a tinge of his own remorse, which he hid from her father.

Not everything, Maynor thought. She hadn't done it all.

As her father droned on, Maynor mulled Allison's kisses over in his mind. He invited Allison's father and the rest of his family up to the lake.

It took the men a few weeks to find a date that would work. By then Allison had come back from Minnesota and moved in with her family. She got a large tattoo of some sort of bird on her shoulder. She took a job as a barista at the local farmer's market and began dating a man who rode a motorcycle and wore black leather. They all piled onto The Painted Lady, and Maynor stood at the helm, wearing his cap. Allison didn't have much to do with Veronica that day, both girls somehow realizing they were now on separate paths. When Allison's father asked about the name of the boat, Maynor shrugged his shoulders and grinned. Allison smiled, hanging onto her boyfriend's arm. No shadow of shame passed over her face. She didn't realize the significance of the name, nor understand how the boat was financed.

Maynor decided he didn't like Allison's tattoo. She went below and pulled denim shorts over her bikini. As she stood in the bow, he found himself gazing wistfully at her tight little ass.

Allison's father helped moor the boat while the others went to the cabin. Maynor pointed out that Allison looked healthy and she seemed to be doing quite well.

"Phenomenal," her father said. He said he'd been amazed at how it had all worked itself out. He felt as if he had made all the right decisions, even his decision to put her out, especially his decision to put her on the street.

He called it tough love.

He said it meant he'd given Allison exactly what she'd needed to get where she was today. He seemed satisfied with himself. He no longer felt guilty. He didn't act remorseful.

Maynor thought about it a lot.

He liked the idea of giving a girl what she needed most. In the studio that day, Allison had sat quietly for her stills, his cum on her face. He waited for the shame, but it never arrived. When Allison began to yawn, he ended the session. Each girl was so different, had such different needs. The closest Allison came to remorse was as she wiped her face clean.

"Do you think my dad will see this?" she asked.

Maynor smiled. Every male on the planet between the ages of 14 and 74 would see it. That was just how porn worked at the start of the twenty-first century. Moreover, the images would remain intact for future generations. Allison would age but the images of her as a teenager, covered in semen, would remain frozen in time, for a very long time. With data retention policies being what they were, improvements in storage, transfer, and the wide distribution rate of porn, perhaps even forever. But Maynor didn't say any of that.

His smile turned to a grin. "What would your dad do if he saw this?"

Her eyes widened, then she laughed. She shook her head and kept wiping her face. Her idea of how her father would react was so much different than how he had reacted.

It was a wonder.

In the car after they'd left the studio, she'd asked for money. A lot of the girls did this at the end of a shoot. Maynor always politely turned them down. Allison pleaded. She offered to pay him back. Maybe because they shared such a long history, or maybe because he liked her father so much, Maynor gave in this one time. He told her she could earn it.

He asked her to suck his dick and let him come in her mouth.

"Oh, coach," Allison whined, a pained expression on her face. "Please," she said.

Maynor grinned. His cock stirred.

He felt certain it was the first time she sucked a cock for money. He felt just as certain she hadn't intended to prostitute herself when she woke up that morning. It was just the way her day was working out. She negotiated for more cash. He agreed, gladly, insisting she swallow. As he filled her pretty mouth with his cum, he wasn't thinking he was giving her the thing she needed most. He certainly wasn't thinking about tough love. He just wanted to push her a little further, see what sort of hoops he might get her to jump through.

Boat secured, Maynor fired up the gas grill.

His guests were scattered about the deck. It was a lovely evening, just starting to turn cool. He loved the brisk promise of an early autumn night. Tipping his cap back on his head, Maynor considered renaming his boat.