Chapter 12B: The Top, the Bottom, and the Whore

Amy followed Steve into his luxury suite at the Cleveland Hilton.

He'd bought her two outfits. The schoolgirl uniform that had started their conversation earlier had cost about $160. The second outfit was pure lingerie, a small little thong and a push-up bustier that had cost another $100. With a swipe of his credit card, Steve had paid for them both, and Amy had scored $260 worth of free items at the mall.

Beat that, Elissa, the young girl had thought excitedly once the purchase was complete. She could already see herself winning. She could see the look of shock in her friend's eyes when she realized that the CD's she'd stolen or flirted for didn't come close to the $260 benchmark Amy had just set.

But now Amy had to pay Steve back. She had to model these outfits for him, to "earn" them, as he'd put it. But that was okay. All she had to do was change into her new outfits and let him see her wearing them. No big deal. Deep down, the thought of posing for a published writer even excited the girl.

The room was large and clean, except for a table scattered with 8x10 glossies of teenage girl models. The sight of that alone almost made Amy wet: she'd wondered if this guy, who claimed to be a writer for one of the most popular teen-girl magazines out there, was legit. Now she knew that he was. If he wasn't for real, why would he have all these pictures?

"We don't have much time," Steve said after they entered the room. "Normally I'd offer you a drink or some dinner..."

"I'm not hungry anyway," the svelte teenager said. She smiled at him and clenched the Hot Stuff bags in her hands. "I'll go change right now."

Amy was in the bathroom a moment later and she quickly stripped herself nude. She'd never been inside such a nice hotel, and couldn't believe one existed in the shithole that was Cleveland. Yet here she was. Trembling with excitement, Amy began to take her clothes off. She was about to earn nearly $300 worth of free clothes just by modeling them for this guy! And not just any guy, either: a successful, published author. Amy felt her young cunt dampen.

She decided to try on the schoolgirl outfit first. She pulled up the garter belt first, then the fishnet stockings, which she quickly clasped into place. Then she put on the skirt—way too short, but that was obviously the point. The top came on last, which she tied in place around her orange-sized boobs. Just like on the mannequin, Amy tied the tight top just below her tits, only in real life this style managed to push her little breasts up and together, giving the 14-year-old some rather impressive cleavage.

Amy only weighed about 92 pounds, and was in every respect a small, still developing young girl. Yet the outfit fit her perfectly. The idea that such a slutty outfit could be manufactured for girls her age and size was awesome. After all, it meant that she wasn't the only girl out there who liked to behave like a slut once in a while!

It was with some apprehensiveness, though, that Amy walked out of the bathroom dressed like this. She knew she looked like a total whore. She knew it. Her flat, just-pubescent belly was totally exposed, and her boobs weren't supported by any sort of bra, making them jiggle visibly with every step she took. She felt awkward and nervous as she walked into the room.

Steve was sitting at the table scattered with the 8x10's, and he was busily typing away at his laptop computer. He seemed too distracted to notice her at first, which made the girl feel even more awkward. But then he looked up and locked his eyes on her.

"Wow," he said. "God really does exist."

"I guess," she blushed. "This makes me look so... slutty, though!"

Steve smiled. Then he said, "No, it makes you look like a horny little girl. And that's what you wanted, right?"

She blushed. God he was good. She nodded.

"Even though it makes you look like a slutty little tramp? You like looking like that?"

Amy blushed further. She looked away from him and bit her lower lip.

"It's okay," Steve said, standing up and walking towards her. "Believe me, I know what you girls go through nowadays. All your heroes dress like whores—Brittany Spears, Lindsey Lohan, Christina Agulera... and once one, just one of your classmates begin to emulate them, you're forced to compete. Isn't that so?"

Amy wasn't quite sure what he was talking about, but she nodded her head anyway.

"That's why you buy outfits like these, isn't it?" he asked softly. She remained frozen in place while he sighed. Then he asked, "Do you want to know one of the dirty-little-secrets of the publishing industry, Amy?"

The girl remained frozen in place. Steve had come within inches of her. His eyes were ravaging her body, and she felt totally vulnerable. Still, her panties were getting wet. God, what was wrong with her?

"The dirty little secret," he said with a chilling voice, "is that only 65% of teen-girl magazine sales can be attributed to actual teenage girls. Guess who makes up the remaining 35%?"

Amy didn't have to guess, but she remained quiet and cast her eyes down to the floor.

"Men," Steve breathed. His hand came up to her cheek just then, barely touching it, gently pushing a strand of her long red hair off to the side.

"Adult men," he continued while she trembled. "It's ironic. When we're teenage boys we jerk off at the underwear section of JC Penny's catalogs. But when we're adults, we jerk off to pictures of girls like you in teeny-bopper magazines, girls like you who we should have been fucking when we were younger."

"D-do," Amy stammered as he gently caressed her cheek, "do you like the... outfit?" She was trying to change the subject as casually as she knew how.

He smiled down into her eyes. "Oh, definitely," he said. "You look incredible. You're a very beautiful girl, Amy."

The immature teen couldn't help but feel flattered. "No..." she said, embarrassed.

"It's true," the man went on. "In fact, I'm sure you could be a model. You have the look."

"Really?" Amy asked, surprised and flattered.

"Oh, I'm positive," he said. "In fact, remind me to give you my card after all this. A friend of mine out in LA is looking for new talent. I owe him a favor—introducing you to him would more than satisfy it. Would you like that?"

Would she? Would she like meeting a talent agent from Los Angeles, the place where nobody's became stars overnight? Hell yeah she would!

Her eyes were welling up with tears as she gazed up into his eyes. She was smiling, but her chin was trembling. "That would... I mean, that would be so great!" she blurted.

"Good," Steve said while slowly taking a few steps away from her.

Amy wiped a tear away as she gazed at him. This man, she realized, was promising to change her life. To meet a talent agent in L.A.? To possibly become a model? It would make everything so much better, he had no idea. No idea.

"Let's see how that outfit comes off," Steve suddenly said after picking up a spiral notepad and a pen.

"What?" Amy asked. He was a good seven feet from her now, and he looked serious.

He raised an eyebrow. "I said, take it off. But do it like you normally would. I need to note the details."

To see if there's some sort of difficulty he should point out in his column? the girl wondered. Well, he'd just spent almost $300 on her, and he was basically promising her a totally better life. If he'd asked her to shave her head she would have been obligated to obey.

The 14-year-old teenager undressed as casually as she could. It was hard to undress "normally" with a man taking notes while she did, but Amy did her best.

She untied the shirt first and tossed it to the side. Her small tits were on full display. Doing her best to pretend no one was watching, Amy bent slightly at her waist to push down the skirt. Next went the garter belt and fishnet stockings, then finally her panties.

He wasn't taking notes anymore, Amy noticed as she shivered in the cool room. But he did have a massive hard on.

"Good," he breathed. "Very well done. I think this is an outfit I can recommend. Now come over here."

Amy suddenly didn't want to. She'd given him enough of a show—he'd seen her naked tits that she now covered with her arm; he'd seen her pussy, which she now cupped with her free hand. This was it. It was as far as she could go. She was nude for this old guy, and there was a voice inside her head telling the 14-year-old that this was all bogus, it was bullshit, and she had to get away.

"You can jerk off for me," she suddenly suggested.

The man smiled, apparently amused by her offer. "Really?" he said. "Do you like that, watching men jerk off for you? Are you used to it?"

How was she supposed to answer that? Blushing, the girl stammered, "I've never... I mean, no one's ever... but I guess..."

He was still smiling. "You're a very naughty girl, aren't you Amy?" he asked.

She cast her eyes to the floor. The room was way too cold to be standing naked in, she decided. "I'll go try on the other outfit," she said softly.

"No, that's not necessary," he said. "And I asked you a question."

Stalling for time, Amy stammered, "Uhm... I'm a good girl, I just—,"

She was interrupted by his laughter. "A good girl?" he exclaimed. "Good girls don't strip nude for strange men just so they can get free clothes, Amy. Good girls don't do that. Don't feel bad! There aren't many good girls left in your generation. You girls today, you become cock-teases by ten and full-blown sluts by twelve. And you're what, 14 you said? You've probably been fucking for a long time, haven't you?"

"I just lost my virginity last summer!" Amy exclaimed defensively.

"Just last summer, huh? So you were what, 13? Jesus, Amy, don't you realize that when I was your age girls never gave anything up until they were at least a few years older? And those girls, those 17 and 18-year-olds willing to fuck? They were the bad girls of their time! Nowadays if a girl waits that long to give up her cherry it's a miracle. Isn't it?"

Amy was shivering now, from the cold room and his cold words. "I need to get back to the mall..."

"So your daddy can pick you up?" he asked. "We've got time. You need to be there by four you said, and it's still not even three.

Amy shivered in front of him. From fear and from his chilling words. She didn't know what to do.

"You raise an interesting question, Amy," he went on. "Tell me. When a naughty girl like you gets in trouble, how does Daddy punish you?"

"Please," she begged him. She didn't want to talk about her dad. She didn't want to be lectured at while she stood naked in this suddenly confining hotel suite. She wanted to get dressed in her normal clothes and leave.

"Answer my questions and behave, and you'll be back at the mall in no time," he snapped. "But if you continue being a bitch you'll just have to find your own way back, sans the two outfits I generously bought you."

Amy was scared. She began to say something, but stopped herself. He was staring at her with an intense, menacing gaze. The 14-year-old now understood what a wolf in sheep's clothing was. This man was a monster. And she was just a naked little girl, helpless and alone.

"He spanks me."

"What was that?" Steve asked. "Speak up, I can't hear you."

Amy looked at him with defeat in her wide blue eyes. "He spanks me," she whispered shyly. "When I get in trouble."

Her answer seemed to please him. "Really? So your daddy still spanks you when you've been bad?"

She nodded.

"Good," he smiled. "Naughty girls need a good spanking from time to time. I bet you enjoy the spankings, don't you?"

She didn't reply. The truth was he hadn't spanked her since that day months before when he'd raped her. But she had fantasized about it happening again a lot since. She'd even told William to slap her ass whenever he fucked her doggy-style, but it just wasn't the same.

"Okay, get over here," he said firmly now. "You've been a naughty girl today and you definitely deserve a spanking for it. Come here and lay across my lap, and don't you dare disobey me."

Amy stepped forward nervously. She was still using her right arm to cover her breasts and her left hand to hide her pubic region as she walked slowly and anxiously toward this guy.

When she was standing in front of him finally, he reached out and gripped her by the hips. His hands were warm and strong as he pulled her toward him, and her body went limp as he laid her across his lap until her ass was high in the air and her long red hair dangled down around her head. All she could see aside from her hair was the floor, but she could feel plenty. She could feel his hands gently roaming her body, rubbing her back and shoulders, exploring her thighs and, finally, her buttocks. She could also feel his massive hard-on poking up from under his jeans and into her flat belly.

"This is perfect," he said softly. "You know, a few years from now you're going to be a few inches taller, a few pounds heavier. Your tits are going to fill out, your ass will mature and all that. You're going to end up with a gorgeous body, a woman's body, Amy, I'm sure of it."

She didn't say anything. She was trembling from head to toe, and she was scared. She was completely vulnerable right now. She was in such a submissive position, getting ready to be spanked. And despite her fears, or maybe because of them, this was getting the teenage girl turned on.

"I'll tell you something," Steve said while he continued to roam his large hands across Amy's soft skin, "for me, you're perfect right now. These bony hips, this boyish ass... it's perfect. In no time you're going to be a full blown woman. But I like this. I like a woman's body when it's still in its infancy."

Amy shivered when she felt one of his hands slowly drag across the crack of her ass, then circle back and gently grip her butt. His dick was incredibly hard and pushing into her soft belly, and all in all Amy was incredibly uncomfortable.

"Have you performed oral sex yet, Amy?"

"Yes," the girl admitted with a gasp. There wasn't any point in lying.

"Oh, wow. Now that's a very naughty thing to do," Steve said. "That definitely deserves a spanking. I think five will do."

Amy didn't have a chance to respond or protest because just then he finally slapped his hand down on her vulnerable teen-girl butt. She grunted in surprise: it wasn't that painful, only jarring. He was spanking her with far less power than her dad used to, she realized. In fact, it wasn't until the fifth and final blow that the girl cringed with a bit of pain.

"Is that how your daddy spanks you?" she heard him breathe. "Does he bend you naked and teach you a lesson?"