Blackmailing Julie

BLACKMAILING JULIE

Part IV

"That's it, push all that junk out of the way," I said, "clear out the area. We want a nice blank canvas for the backdrop, don't we?"

"Yes, sir," said Julie, as she struggled to slide a heavy dresser across the floor. As she laboured, I positioned my digital camera into place on top of the tripod I had rented. We were setting up everything in her bedroom, and I was having her clear out the area in front of one blank wall so we could use it as a backdrop. Behind me, I had already setup some extra standing lamps Julie had dragged in from the living room. With those lights, and the existing ceiling lamp, I knew there would be more than enough light to enable me to take nice, bright photos.

I finished setting up the camera, and leaned against the wall to watch Julie as she worked, naked, lugging a pile of heavy boxes out of the way. "Hurry the fuck up," I called out, "we have a busy schedule today."

Finally, everything was cleared. I looked through the viewfinder and confirmed that all I could see a small portion of the floor, and the plain white wall behind it. I didn't want the photos cluttered up with unnecessary furniture and junk in the background.

"Ok, cocksucker," I said, pointing, "stand right there." Julie stood where I indicated, and I confirmed that the spot was centred on the camera.

"Good, good. Now, do you know why we're here?"

"Um… to take naked pictures of me?" she said, sighing.

"You're a piece of meat, Julie. A piece of fuckmeat. Three holes and a pair of tits. Do you understand that?"

There was a pause. "Yes, sir."

"Sometimes I think you don't understand. These photos are going to show you. I want you to see yourself, on paper, for what you really are. A thing. An object. A cunt. A mouth. An asshole. A pathetic, stupid cocksucker. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"I have about 250 shots on this memory card, and we're going to make every single one count. Let's start with some simple full body shots. Stand up straight, face the camera. Arms at your side. Eyes open wide, look at me..."

I snapped the first shot. Later, it would be one of my favourites for its simplicity. The shot consisted of just Julie standing, fully exposed in all her nakedness, with the plain white wall behind her. There was not one single shadow in the photo to obscure the detail. Her shoulder length blonde hair was slightly stringy, and hung limply around her face, which was expressionless as she tried to mask her nervousness. Her eyes stared straight back at the camera, and were not yet brimming with tears as they would be in the later photos. Her normally rounded shoulders were pulled back, and her small, pointed breasts hung slightly outward, partially erect in the cool air, with the little bumps and dots on her pinkish nipples clearly visible.

In the photo, Julie's stomach was smooth and taught, the pale surface broken only by the small indent of her navel. Farther down, her otherwise slender girlish body abruptly widened, and her bony hips stuck out like those of a girl somewhat young than her age of 22, as if she'd not yet filled out completely. Her cunt was bare, and still slightly red from having been freshly shaven the night before as per my telephone instructions. Her thighs were straight and thin, and even with her ankles pressed together there was an inverted triangle of open space between her thighs, topped by the two small puffs of her pussy lips. Her knees were knobby, and her bare feet looked tiny on the cold wooden floor.

I found the resulting photo erotic in its clinical starkness. There would be no Playboy airbrushing or Photoshop tinkering to hide Julie's imperfections. There would be nothing to shield Julie from the harsh judgment of the leering viewer. The end result was one of a cute, if somewhat plain girl, utterly exposed, and completely miserable. Perfect.

"Now turn to the left. More… more… stop! Same position."

I snapped another shot, a profile of the right side of her body. That view revealed how thin she really was, with the only the points of her jutting breasts breaking up the straight line formed by her dangling skinny arms and slender legs.

Next I had her turn to the right, to photograph her left side. Then I took a photo of her from the back, facing the wall, still with her arms at her sides. Julie's ass was probably her best feature: small, round, and high, with a deep cleft that widened near the bottom to reveal a glimpse of her pussy. Her asshole, however, remained neatly hidden between the flesh of her cheeks, and only became visible when she bent forward slightly.

"Excellent. Why don't we make this a little more fun, though. From now on, every time you hear the shutter click, I want you to say 'I am a piece of meat.' Nice and loud and clear. Every time. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Try it now. Practice it. Nice and loud."

"I am a piece of meat," said Julie, very loudly, with a slight shake in her voice.

"Again."

"I am a piece of meat."

"Okay, we're going to do a series of front-facing shots. Stand upright again. Face me. Same as before, but this time open your mouth wide."

Click.

"I am a piece of meat," she said, though the words were slightly muffled as she tried to speak without closing her mouth.

"Now same thing, but put your hands on your head."

Click.

"I am a piece of meat."

I zoomed in on her face, mouth gaping open, and took a close-up shot."

Click.

"I am a piece of meat."

I made sure to take many shots of her standing with her hands on her head and her mouth open. After all, this was her usual "waiting" position, and she was very familiar with it. I often forced Julie to spend long minutes, even hours, standing obediently in that pose as I went about my business. I wanted her to see photos of what she really looked like all those times she stood waiting to be used.

The session continued. For a long while there was nothing but the sound of the shutter clicking, and Julie reciting her line. Over and over, but no matter how many times she said it, her voice always cracked near the end.

"I am a piece of meat."

Click.

"I am a piece of meat."

Click.

Rather than become boring, surprisingly, the never-ending repetition seemed to make the phrase more intense, to give Julie more time to think about what she was saying, what it implied, and, I suspect, gave her time to wonder how true the statement really was.

Once I had photographed every inch of Julie's naked body, from close up and far away, in dozens of degrading positions that ranged from standing upright, to bending over, to squatting, to lying on her back, to pulling her thighs open, to crawling, I decided to bring out some props.

My first prop was a pad of thick cardboard sheets and a black marker. On the top page I wrote the word "SLUT" in large, black, block letters. Then I tore it from the pad, handed it to Julie, and ordered her to hold it with both hands in front of her.

The camera clicked again and again as we ran through a series of photos with her in various positions holding the sign. And, over and over, the phrase "I am a piece of meat" rang out through the room, in Julie's small shaky voice.

On the next piece of cardboard I wrote "BLOWJOBS 25 CENTS". I had Julie squat with her mouth open and prop up the cardboard up in front of her on the floor, like an advertisement. After a few shots, I placed a clear glass jar of pennies and nickels beside the sign, then took a few more shots. "See how much business you've gotten, cocksucker?"

The I retrieved the sign, crossed out the "25 cents" and wrote "10 cents" below it in slightly smaller letters. "Business wasn't very good, cocksucker! We had to lower the price!" I laughed out loud, propped up the sign again, and resumed photographing. After a few shots, I inserted the usual rubber cock dildo into Julie's mouth and took some more of her pretending to suck it off. Now Julie's voice was beginning to crack more noticeably as she repeated her mantra, and I thought I detected a subtle sniffle.

When I finally removed the dildo from her mouth, she said "What are you going to do with these photos, sir?"

"I told you. I'm going to show them to you. I want you to see yourself in all your glory. Of course, if you don't obey me in the future, I suppose I always have the option of showing them to others."

"Who?" she asked, alarmed.

"Oh, I dunno. I've heard of this new thing called the Internet. Have you heard of it, Julie?"

"Yes, sir." she said, quietly. I took another photo. "I am a piece of meat," she intoned, automatically, though the volume in her voice was beginning to falter.

I glanced at my camera. I was nearing 200 photos, and there was not a lot of power left on the battery. I retrieved another one of my props, a plain paper bag, and wrote something on it. Without letting Julie see what it was, I slide the bag over her head, ordered her to assume some positions, and snapped some more photos. She was so well trained by this point that even under the bag, when she heard the shutter snap, she repeated her favourite phrase.

Written on the front of the bag was one word: "UGLY". I never let Julie see that, though, until I revealed the final photos to her later. I wanted to keep some things a surprise, after all.

I left her squatting with the bag on her head, and headed into the kitchen. There I retrieved a large two litre bottle of mineral water I'd noticed earlier, along with a mop bucket I found in Julie's cleaning closet. I carried the two items back to the bedroom, and couldn't resist snickering when I saw Julie again, with the "ugly bag" on her head. I pulled it off, folded it up, and put it away, making a mental note to use it again in the future.

I kicked the empty mop bucket in her direction. "Take this bucket," I instructed, "put it in the middle there, and squat over it."

Julie obeyed. The bucket was rather high, so at first she rested her thighs on the edges of it. "I said squat over it, bitch, not sit on it. What do you think this is? A fucking rest break? Would you like a coffee and a donut to go with the bucket?"

"Sorry, sir."

She lifted her thighs off the surface of the bucket, and her legs shook slightly as she maintained the awkward elevated squat. I looked through the viewfinder on my camera and made a few adjustments so that Julie's entire face and body was visible, as well as her cunt, poised over the bucket.

"Now pee."

Julie jerked her head up and looked at me, surprised, and opened her mouth to protest.

"No… I…"

I laughed. It had been months and I'd never asked Julie to do anything like this. I didn't really enjoy so-called "water sports" – I find the associated nastiness and smells tend to take any fun out of the idea – but I also knew that Julie would be utterly humiliated to be forced to relieve herself in front of an audience, especially when that audience was filming the event for posterity.

"I told you to pee. Do it."

"But I don't have to go…"

I had been prepared for that excuse. I walked over to her with the water bottle in hand, and unscrewed the lid. I pressed the bottle to her lips and tipped it up. Water poured onto her mouth and face. I grabbed her hair with my left hand to hold her head still, and commanded her to drink. "That's it, swallow it down, you thirsty bitch."

After a few messy moments, we achieved a rhythm. I poured some water into her mouth, waited as she swallowed, then poured some more. We repeated this about a dozen times before she began to choke a bit. I stepped back, and capped the bottle.

"Ready to pee now, bitch?"

"No…" she whimpered. "I can't sir. I can't. Anything else.. anything…"

I laughed. "Anything? That's a brave offer to make to me, isn't it Julie."

She didn't respond, probably realizing that was true.

"Make a suggestion. An offer. Name an alternate activity."

"I-I'll suck your cock, sir."

"Really. You do that for me every day. Come one, surely you can do better than that."

"I—I can lick your ass again, sir."

"That is a good idea. After you pee for me, maybe I'll let you lick it again. And suck my cock too, why not? The whole shebang. But right now you are going to pee, because that's what I told you to do."

Julie still refused. I grabbed her hair, and slapped her hard across the face twice. Then I tipped the bottle back up and resumed pouring the water into her mouth. "This is not a fucking democracy, bitch. I tell you what to do, and you do it. Haven't you learned that yet?"

When she began choking again, I waited a few moments, then resumed pouring water into her mouth. When she began trying to push the bottle away with her hands, I stopped briefly to duct tape her wrists together behind her back. As we struggled, I became rougher, yanked her head around by her hair, slapped her face, and shoved the bottle into her mouth as I poured. She gagged, choked, and spit, and her face, breasts, and the floor in front of her were wet with splashed water. But, overall, most of the water ended up in her mouth, where it would eventually find its way into her bladder.

Once the bottle was empty, I left the room. I decided that a bit of time would do the trick, so I made myself a cup of coffee, took a brief thumb through Julie's newspaper, and lingered about a bit before returning to the bedroom. Julie was still squatting over the bucket, arms bound behind her, eyes glaring.

"Feeling a bit more cooperative now, bitch?" I asked calmly, sipping my coffee from the doorway. I took her silence as a yes, so I put my cup down and approached her. I reached under her arms and gently pressed on her belly. Julie whimpered. She'd swallowed most of a two litre bottle, and about twenty minutes had passed. She was a small girl, so I knew the urge to pee must be building.

"I have all day, Julie. I don't know about you, but I think that looks like a pretty uncomfortable position. The sooner you pee for me, the sooner you can rest."

"Yes, sir."

"You just tell me when you're ready to put on your little show for me, and I'll take the pictures." I sat on the edge of her bed and relaxed, staring at the naked, squatting girl from the side. She said nothing.

"You know, maybe I should rig up some sort of camera system in your bathroom, Julie," I mused. "A little security camera up on the ceiling. Hook it into the light switch, so whenever you used the toilet you are filmed. Everything."

Julie said nothing and looked at the floor. I waited, to let the words sink in, while I enjoyed a sip of coffee. Then I continued. "Everything could go onto tape. Or maybe onto your computer. Actually, maybe I could use a web cam. And then I could set it up so I could check in on you from my computer at home. Anytime I wanted to, I could log on and watch you. Watch you pee, watch you wipe, watch you shower. Would you like that, Julie?"

"No, sir."

"Then maybe I could set up some rules. Maybe tell you the number of times a day you could use the bathroom. If you used it more, I'd punish you. The proof would all be on the video, of course…"

"Please, sir…" she said, and her voice trailed off with hopelessness.

I laughed. "Nah! I'm not going to do any of that. Think of how much work it would be for me. This is just a demonstration, Julie. I'm giving you instructions, and you are going to obey them, no matter how much you hate it. Are you ready to pee now, cocksucker?"

"I—I think so, sir."

"Good girl." I stood up, walked over to the camera, and double-checked the view. "Okay, get to it. Hurry the fuck up."

There was s short pause. Julie concentrated, looking at the floor. "Look at the fucking camera, bitch. And smile. Big smile!"

Julie forced a phony smile on to her face and focused on the camera. After a few more moments, pee began to rattle loudly in the bottom of the empty bucket. The camera shutter snapped repeatedly, and I took about a dozen photos as she peed, including some of her entire predicament, others of her face, and some close ups of her crotch area. I had to remind her to keep smiling several times, but otherwise she was cooperative.

"That's it, bitch. Just like a dog. You pee when your owner tells you to, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

As she finished, I stood beside her and patted her on the head, mockingly. "Good girl," I said, "good bitch. Now take this bucket into the bathroom, and empty it out into the toilet. Clean it out. This is disgusting."

"But, sir… my hands are tied…" she began.

"Then carry the bucket in your fucking mouth, bitch. Get going!" I commanded.

Julie stood, awkwardly, her legs stiff from squatting, and her arms bound tightly behind her. After a few tries she managed to bend over, grip the bucket handle in her teeth, and lift it. She then walked, bent over, taking short steps as she headed toward the bathroom. The bucket swung on its handle, and the rim repeatedly struck her in the breasts as she walked. Of course, her face was positioned directly over the sloshing urine in the bottom bucket.

When I headed into the bathroom a few moments later with scissors in my hand, intending to cut her arms free, I found Julie kneeling beside the toilet, desperately trying to lift the lid with her mouth.

I laughed loudly. "You stupid bitch! I just told you to bring the bucket in here with your mouth. I'm going to free your hands for the rest. But if you want to lick your own toilet seat, feel free, it's not my business."

Julie sat back, embarrassed, and I continued to laugh as I snipped the tape away from her wrists. "Now get this bucket cleaned up, wash it out, get everything put away. Oh, and wipe off your cunt, it's all drippy," I instructed, and then returned to the bedroom to put away my camera equipment. I left the furniture where it was, for Julie to put away later. Her décor problems weren't mine.

We spent the rest of the evening at her computer, with me sitting in the chair working to download and print the photos from my camera, while she knelt under her own desk and slowly sucked on my cock. Occasionally I would hold a freshly-printed photograph down where she could see it. "Look at this one!" I'd exclaim, and Julie would visibly shudder, my cock still in her mouth, as she saw for the first time what she really looked like from my point of view.

A piece of meat, indeed.