Granting implied authority to Frankie was an unexpected stroke of genius. Linking it to the Red Scare and incessant demands of Seventies feminism (with foreshadowing of today's politics)--because the answer to "what do women want" is EVERYTHING! That's been the case throughout recorded history, and I cannot find fault with wanting it all. My only complaint is that others MUST provide everything.
Thanks for another great chapter, Neverdoubted. I was surprised by Frankie suggesting a braid. I didn't see the utility of that suggestion at first. Now I'm curious about Frankie's pound of flesh he'll get from Mary for loaning her cut-offs and a shirt.
And I haven't forgotten his musty pajamas. Mary would give what in exchange for those pajamas? What will happen to Frankie if he doesn't take care of his pajamas? At least toss them in the trash!
Oh my! Now that Frankie has been given authority over Mary, things will get intense. Mary fixing her hair to Frankie's suggestion is an indication of her submission, or at least her willingness to go along with the program.
Making up for lost time, I openly gawked at Mary's healthy, naked chest as we took a southerly route out of town. Her boobs seemed extra bouncy this morning, and her nipples especially perky. I had missed them!
I felt like a little kid riding next to the most desirable toy in the world. It would be a dream come true; except I couldn't play with it. I could look at her boobs all I wanted, but even though I could have easily stretched my arm across the gap between us and copped a feel, I wasn't allowed. Given her fragile state, all hell might break loose if I tried something like that. But the fantasy did give me something to think about.
Since I had already taken her souvenir money, and she didn't have any other physical possessions, her body was the only thing of value she had left. You would think a beautiful young lady like Mary would have to be pretty desperate before she resorted to trading away something so precious as permission to touch her body.
I added touching privileges to my growing list of future potential trade conditions, but did not settle on any one demand just yet. When trading with a naked girl, placing an accurate value on things is surprisingly difficult. I resolved to be smarter in our dealings and keep my options open in case something better came to me at the last moment. From the way she kept jumping at my first offers, I felt like I wasn't even close to finding the limits of what she was willing to give for even the tiniest scraps of temporary modesty.
Our route took us down a long, dusty road. Away from the bigger, four-lane highways that had tortured her yesterday, Mary's exposure outside the car was minimal. But even though the day had just begun, she looked uncomfortable under my relentless gaze - like she was already eager for a break from her exposure.
But I had no intention of giving her a break, not this early. My negotiating position would only grow in strength the more her frantic desperation for clothes grew. And while anxiety about her next public exhibition would compound with every mile closer we got, I wasn't content to just sit there and let that be her only source of angst. Reaching into my satchel, I got out the latest weapon in my arsenal of embarrassment - my new camera.
This was the perfect opportunity to capture lasting proof that my stepsister really had been completely naked on our summer vacation. The first roll of film was already loaded, and designed for amateur photographers, the controls couldn't be simpler. But I scanned the instructions one last time just to make sure I was doing it right.
Since there was enough natural light, I didn't bother to attach the disposable flash cube. When I lifted it and peered through the little window in the corner to frame my subject, the scary black lens pointing directly at her must have drawn Mary's attention. Until now, she hadn't known about my newest purchase.
Turning her head toward me, her eyes widened in shock and her mouth fell open just as I pushed the button. With a squawk, she lifted her hands from where they were tucked in beneath her legs and scrambled to hide her naked chest from the invasive lens. But it was too late. I had already taken the picture.
Hearing the commotion, Bea turned around from the back seat. "What are you guys doing? Hey, where did you get that?"
I ignored her, but that didn't stop her from tattling on me and trying to get me in trouble anyway. "Mother," she called out, "Francis has a camera and is taking pictures with it."
I rolled my eyes. What else was I supposed to do with a camera, dig a trench? Drawn into the scuffle, Patricia turned around to see what was going on. Seeing her oldest daughter in obvious distress triggered her protective instinct. And because my holding and pointing a threatening device at the vulnerable young lady appeared to be causing it, she saw enough reason to intervene.
"Francis, who gave you permission to use our camera. Put that thing away this instant," she ordered, "before you break it."
"Why should I have to?" I complained, "It's my own camera. I paid for it with my souvenir money. I was just testing it out. I haven't done anything wrong!"
Standing up to my stepmother like this was usually not a very smart thing to do. But I had spent my life's savings on this camera and she hadn't given me a good reason yet why I shouldn't be allowed to use it as intended. I lowered the camera, but defiantly, held my ground and refused to put it away. With my anger building, I could practically feel Bea's wicked smile boring into the back of my head. She had finally managed to get a rise out of me and was savoring every second of it.
Knowing I would not dare talk back to him like I had just done to her, Patricia turned to her husband for reinforcement. Frank had to have been listening in on the exchange even though he hadn't said anything to this point.
"You paid for it with your own money?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," I replied proudly, "the film, too."
He pondered for a moment, then said to his wife, "The boy can keep it out. If he breaks it - it's his problem."
Though she did not seem happy with his decision, Patricia did not argue with him. Frank was the ultimate arbiter in our family. Whatever he says goes. Instead, she took a different tack, "well, you should know better than to take pictures of people without their permission."
"Yeah, Francis," Bea teased me with a snicker, "you should know better!"
Patricia thought that reminder would suffice to protect her daughter. But she was unaware of how badly Mary needed to remain in my good graces. Turning to my new favorite photography subject, I sweetly asked, "Mary, may I please take your picture?"
Shaking out a definite "no", she turned her head toward me before stopping short. The look on my face told her exactly what I expected of her. And she knew what she had to do if she wanted any chance at a future clothing trade.
"I...I guess I don't mind," she replied through a wince before dropping her head in defeat. Now it was Patricia whose mouth fell open. Having given her daughter the only form of protection she could offer, she couldn't believe Mary was turning it down.
I raised the camera in triumph, but did not take the picture just yet. Instead, I sat there and waited for Mary to look up at me again. Flexing my authority muscle, I nodded toward where she was still covering her chest in direct violation of the terms of our former deal. She looked back at me with pleading eyes, but eventually slumped her shoulders and reluctantly lowered her hands.
Watching the blush form on her exposed chest, I did not move a muscle until she was once again sitting obediently on her hands. Looking through the viewfinder and framing my beautiful, naked subject, I waited until we rounded the next curve so that the rising sun would be streaming into her window and shining a spotlight directly on her pristine, unspoiled bust. That gave her nipples plenty of time to swell into thick, stiff points just before the shutter went off.
Mary flinched again she heard the click, but kept better control over her hands this time, and did not give in to the urge to cover herself. There was a dark room photo lab at our school. I wouldn't know until I got home and figured out how to develop the film how good a picture it was. But I had a feeling that was going to end up being one of my favorites.
Bea turned around with a huff and fumed in her seat. It must have driven her crazy wondering how I had managed to come out on top of this whole confrontation. With nothing more than a polite request from me, Mary had just willingly revealed her naked body and posed for a topless photograph. She couldn't figure out how I had gained so much authority over her nude sister in such a short time.
Having achieved everything I wanted with my dramatic camera reveal, I packed it away for the time being. The two pictures I had already taken would serve as permanent proof that Mary really had been riding naked in our family car during our vacation. Stuck in a photography nightmare that appeared to be just beginning, I wasn't surprised when big, heavy tears started rolling down her cheeks once again. Take it all away and they sure get helpless and weepy in a hurry.
Rummaging around, I got out my sewing kit next. Not quite ready to try tackling the zipper replacement just yet, I had left my jacket back at the motel. But she watched with intense envy as I pulled out and unfolded the spare clothes I had packed and ran my fingers across the fabric to smooth it over my lap.
It must have been agony for her to sit there completely naked with her boobs on display and watch her little stepbrother idly play with an extra set of clothes that he didn't even care about. Tortured by the injustice of it all, she turned away with a sob of despair and gazed out the window at nothing in particular.
I didn't have much sewing experience, but my boy scout training had covered enough to patch up a garment and mend sock holes. Threading the needle from my kit, I practiced what I could remember of stitch construction on one corner of the shirt. When Mary wasn't looking, I also snipped off all the buttons down the front.
When we reached the end of the paved road, Frank pulled the car over to check the map and make sure we were still headed in the right direction. I glanced out the window and gawked at the unexpected terrain greeting me. A scraggly plain spread out before us with tall outcroppings in the distance layered in every shade of orange and brown. I felt like we were entering a cowboy western come to life!
Excitedly, I put my things away and glued my face to the window. As we drove off the pavement - the last sign of modern civilization - the car threw up a huge cloud of dust in protest. We drove for at least another hour through some of the most fascinating landscape I've ever seen before reaching the town. It was so beautiful that I regret not thinking to take some pictures.
The first sign of the settlement we had been searching for was a rickety gallows with a cow skull nailed to the post and a noose swinging from the tip. Its location out here on the edge of town would have been an ominous sign to approaching pioneers. It sent a clear message about their stance on law and order and what kind of frontier justice was waiting for cow or horse thieves.
Coming over a hill, we saw rows of cars parked in a field and followed their lead. It seemed to be an unspoken rule for outside tourists to park here and explore the rest of town on foot. It would ruin the setting to have Detroit's latest models cruising up and down main street of what was supposed to be an authentic, old west town.
Seeing so many cars, Mary's anxiety level spiked. Losing control of her hands, she curled up into her trademark, naked girl ball and began taking short, rapid breaths. She was probably remembering being the center of attention at the cave visitor's center. Or her stroll through that quaint town square and all the people she had been forced to meet in her unclothed state. I just smiled to myself. I hadn't known what to expect visiting a ghost town. But having this many other tourists to show her off to should give me plenty of leverage over her. In this environment, she would be highly motivated for a clothing trade, and I would be there to make her pay dearly for every single stitch.
We all exited the car - everyone stretching out the soreness from the bumpy ride - everyone, except Mary who, to my amusement, rushed to cover her most private parts as best she could without clothes. She cared so deeply about keeping her nipples hidden. But in my opinion, they were just too pretty to keep hidden for long. It was a shame that she was too self-conscious to willingly share them with the rest of the world. Fortunately, I just so happened to be in a position to counteract the aversion she felt to exposing them.
Together we walked, one big happy, mostly clothed family, down the hill toward the abandoned town of New Felicity. The sprawling settlement was surprisingly large. Given the lax building codes of the time and a lack of competent civic planners, the streets were laid out haphazardly with clusters of buildings scattered around in no discernable pattern other than to follow the natural terrain. As we slowly made our way into town, I noticed Mary staring wistfully at the empty wooden buildings we were passing. If not for her ongoing nude nightmare, today would have probably been the highlight of the trip for her.
Like most young women her age, her favorite genre of book was romance. And unlike the relatively few love stories set inside a cave, there were practically an unlimited number of western romance novels for her to read and enjoy. She devoured every one she could get her hands on - so many that her knowledge of and enthusiasm for the old west was substantial.
A couple years ago, she had even dressed up like an American settler for a history day presentation at school. I'm sure she harbored countless fantasies about some rugged cowboy riding into town, fending off cruel attacking savages, and sweeping her up into his strong, capable arms. How could she ever thank him for saving her at the last second?
Many of her books probably featured a family traveling west together in their wagon. But I'm also sure that in none of those stories was the eldest daughter forced to make the trip without any clothes. Today, Mary would not be dressed like some beautiful, prairie maiden with her eyes ever trained on the horizon for the arrival of handsome cowboys. She wouldn't even be dressed like a modern day seventies girl. She wouldn't be dressed at all! She would continue to be totally naked Mary until I decided to loan her something from my pack.
It didn't much resemble the old west towns I had seen in movies. I had to remind myself that those had been built in the back lot of movie studios where space was limited. Hollywood producers had to cram every building they needed into a tidy little main street. In the real world, land was cheap and space was nearly unlimited. People just built things wherever they pleased.
We followed a dry riverbed toward where the highest concentration of buildings were clustered north of a big bend. A bloody dispute over water rights had caused the relatively new town to come up on the short end of the resources stick. Following a series of upstream diversions, the chances of forging a comfortable life here dried up just as quickly as the river. Within months, everyone had moved on to better prospects and New Felicity became a ghost town.
To Mary's dismay, the closer we came to downtown, the more the number of other tourists and explorers swelled. Though he did a pretty good job hiding his irritation, all the crooked glances we received thanks to his stubborn stepdaughter's very public punishment seemed to bother my father.
Too afraid to confront him about it, everyone left us alone. Watching Frank warn them off through sheer willpower made me envious of that particular superpower. He had this way of naturally projecting control and authority over every situation that made people not want to challenge him. Lifting my chin and steeling my gaze, I tried my best to mimic his domineering presence and stare down anyone who dared to look at me. With dramatic western music playing in my head, I felt like John Wayne marching into town and making my presence known. There's a new sheriff 'round these parts.
Frank did not appreciate having our dirty laundry - or missing laundry, in Mary's case - aired where everyone could see it. It was starting to make sense why he had seen fit to offload her on me. The least I could do was take her off his hands so he could get back to presenting a wholesome American family image to the rest of the world.
Walking along what would have formerly been the riverbank, we came up to a wide boulevard intersecting the road. Some enterprising local had posted a sign here identifying the row of dilapidated buildings; a saloon, a bank, the jail. The sign also helpfully reminded visitors to check out the old mercantile at the other end of main street which had been converted into a gift shop. It sounded like just a way to separate gullible tourists from their money. From the way Cindy's eyes perked up, the ploy was going to work like a charm.
"Mother, can we go that way?" she asked, pointing in the same direction as the sign, "I want to get another souvenir."
Bea added her endorsement to the shopping idea. Of everyone in our family, she was the least interested in visiting this dusty, old ghost town. If it wasn't good enough for the people who used to live here to stick around, why should she get excited about it?
But I waved toward the opposite bank and said, "I think I'll go check out those buildings instead. Mary, would you like to go with me?"
Sensing this was her chance to get away from Frank and finally trade for the clothes she so desperately needed, the naked girl nodded eagerly and shuffled closer to me. But sensing a plot afoot, Bea was having none of it.
"Actually, I changed my mind," she announced, stepping over to join our party, "I don't really feel like shopping right now. I guess I'll go with Mary and Francis."
Cindy immediately cried out, "Actually, I changed my mind too!"
Always worried about being left behind, she scrambled across the gap to stand beside her siblings. I didn't like this one bit. Once the girls had me outnumbered three to one, nothing good could result. Even if the usual ringleader of their group was diminished because of her enforced nudity, Bea would eagerly assume the mantle of leadership and start bossing me around as soon as we were out of sight of our parents. And I couldn't have her listening in on my trades with Mary. No, for this to work, I needed to be alone with Mary and away from my other siblings.
As the least annoying and most malleable, I focused my efforts on convincing my younger stepsister to change her mind back and go with our parents. "Aww, come on, Cindy," I cajoled, "it's just a bunch of stinky old barns that way. Wouldn't you rather see the saloon?"
"Wouldn't you rather see the saloon?" Bea asked, emphasizing the fault in my logic. If they were just a bunch of stinky barns, why was I so eager to see them? I glared at her, not sure how to answer. Leave it up to Bea to do everything she could to ruin my plans for the day.
"I think we better just stay together," Patricia suggested, "it's safer that way."
But offering his own opinion on the matter, Frank stepped in and saved the day.
"You can go, junior," he interjected. As he started to leave, he nodded toward Mary without giving her the dignity of looking at her and said, "her too. But stick to the trails. Could be rattlesnakes hiding in the tall grass."
At the mention of snakes, Cindy squealed and ran back to stand beside her mother. I just rolled my eyes. Too often that girl forgot she was a teenager and reverted back to being the baby of our family - clinging to Patricia's skirts for comfort like she was three instead of thirteen.
Without arguing, Patricia took her youngest daughter by the hand and started to leave with Frank. Calling back, she said "you heard your father, Beatrice. Come along."
With a sneer, Bea had no choice but to honor Frank's wishes and leave Mary and I to embark on our own, secret adventure.
Last edited by neverdoubted on Thu Oct 10, 2024 10:32 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Crossing the shallow, sandy riverbed on foot, we had no trouble coming up the other slope on the south bank. There were not as many people exploring this part of the abandoned settlement, but still too many for Mary's liking. Avoiding all eye contact, she used her shy, naked girl pose - desperately covering her intimate bits with her hands. Left in charge, I puffed out my chest and tried to mimic my father's domineering presence to make sure no one bothered us.
Fewer buildings still survived on this side of the river, and they all showed signs of damage from an old, catastrophic fire. The closest building to shore was a massive structure which looked like it might have been built to hold cattle or other supplies waiting to be shipped downriver. Walking past, I saw it was completely hollow inside with half its roof collapsed. Doubting its structural integrity, I kept walking and chose to enter a second, much smaller building behind it.
The floor was dirt and the walls were made of wood, with dirty panes of broken glass in the two open windows. A wooden table with a couple of chairs sitting beside it indicated this might have once been some kind of office. Given how many merchants and cattlemen may have passed through this very room and engaged in negotiations, it felt like the perfect place to make another trade with Mary. Dusting off one of the old, rough-hewn, wooden chairs, I sat down, placed my pack on the table, and reached for the buckle.
When she stepped toward the other chair, I stopped her in her tracks by saying, "no, you'll stand". I wanted it clear that we were not equals here. I had something she wanted and she was basically a beggar. If I wanted her to stand during our negotiations, she would stand.
Mary let out a stressful sigh, but remained where she was. The goods in my possession were that important. I left her standing there, squirming and bare, while I took my time pulling out my valuable supplies and setting them on the table. The shorts were unremarkable, denim cut-offs which no longer fit me. The only reason I had brought them was to try and convert them into a wallet. But in their unconverted state, they were more valuable than gold. The plaid, button-down shirt was checkered red and black. With long sleeves and a stuffy collar, it wasn't very stylish or ideal for a hot, summer day. But those things don't really matter to a naked girl in dire need of clothing. Beggars can't be choosers.
Seeing her gaze longingly at the clothes, I was reminded of how unbelievably strong my negotiating position was. Before getting down to business, I nodded toward her chest and casually asked, "why are you still covering up like that? It's not like I haven't already seen everything."
She didn't have a good answer. What was the point of hiding her nipples now, after I had been literally staring at them the whole ride here and even taken a couple pictures of her bountiful bosom?
Mary glanced toward the windows and open door, still worried about someone happening along and seeing more of her exposed flesh than they were supposed to. Taking a step away from the openings, she reluctantly lowered her right hand and arm off her naked chest to join her other hand guarding her pubic area. It pleased me to see her perky nipples out in the open again where I could look at them whenever I wanted.
It just goes to show how much had changed in a short time. Before our trip, Mary would have slapped me for even asking to show me her boobs. Now, though she was trembling slightly, she could stand before me and reveal her entire chest without breaking down and trying to hide them. She was even able to hold her tears at bay. With some more practice, who knows, maybe she could get the hang of this public nudity thing after all!
With both her hands crossed protectively over her womanhood, she still clung to that last remaining shred of modesty. And since the only thing of value she had left to trade was access to her body's dwindling secrets, that's precisely where I intended to start.
Picking up and fondling my extra shirt, I casually asked, "so, tell me about that heart."
Mary bristled visibly at the forward question - grimacing in annoyance. The state of her pubic hair ought to have been off limits as a discussion topic. To have to explain its distinct shape to her little stepbrother pushed her out of her comfort zone. But so far, she had spent every second of this trip out of her comfort zone. Why should now be any different?
She hesitated, then explained with an unhappy sigh, "I got the idea from Cosmo." Cocking her head to one side, she spoke as if reciting from memory. "A playful shape is sure to spice things up in the bedroom and ensure your man only has eyes for you...there were templates."
I was a little disappointed to learn that all girls' pubes didn't naturally grow in a heart shape. But I also wasn't that surprised. That she had shaved it that way on purpose had always been the most probable scenario.
The magazine reveal did surprise me a little. If Patricia ever found out her daughter was sneaking around reading Cosmopolitan magazines, she would be beside herself. And Frank would never tolerate such liberal and morally degenerate contraband in his domain. Something else about the way she had recited struck me as odd. Curious, I asked, "wait a minute, you don't have a boyfriend, do you?"
Shyly, she averted her eyes and shook her head. Interesting. Either she had always intended for it to be her little, shaved secret, or perhaps...she had been hoping to meet some boy on this trip and give him the thrill of a lifetime. Finding a way to stick it to her stiflingly restrictive stepfather was exactly the sort of thing Mary would do. Well, if she wanted to flash her pubes and make some lucky boy happy, I would gladly volunteer.
"Let me see it," I said plainly, as if I were merely asking to see an interesting rock she had found instead of the most private part of her body.
Taking offense at my indecent command, shock registered on her face. She had come to terms with me seeing her boobs. But apparently, this was where she drew the line. Watching her revert back to her old entitled self, I had to smile. It greatly amused me that this naked, helpless creature thought she was in any position to be drawing lines and setting boundaries. ji...too pretty for her own good...ji
"I will do no such thing!" she began, indignantly. But just as she was getting ready to unload on me for being a lecherous creep, I disrupted her rant. "You have no right! And I'm not about to let y-" RRRRIIIIIIIIPPPPP!
The rant died in her throat when I yanked violently on the sleeve of the shirt I was holding. The seams offered little resistance, and with a simple flourish, I completely separated it from its parent. She gasped - scandalized that I would so callously deconstruct such an valuable article of clothing. But that's the thing. It was only valuable to her. The shirt meant nothing to me. And since it was mine, I could do whatever I wanted with it - even ripping it to shreds right in front of her if I wished.
Having made my point, I repeated the instruction with a deadly, but authoritative, calm. "...Let me see it."
She didn't try to argue this time, but neither did she obey. She just stood there with both her hands cradling her womanhood and wrestled in her mind over whether to sacrifice yet another piece of her precious modesty just to keep me happy.
When she didn't act quickly enough, I grabbed the other sleeve and ripped it off the shirt in dramatic fashion. When Mary jumped at the sound, it made her bare breasts jiggle adorably. Compromising with herself, she removed her left hand so that it hung by her side. Then she lowered her right hand just far enough to reveal her pubic heart to me as instructed. But she still kept her extended fingers striped across the apex of her thighs - just barely maintaining the secret of whatever mysterious anatomy lay below her neatly trimmed embellishment.
She squirmed in silence as I stood up and stepped closer - leaning over to take a closer look at her impressive handiwork. Her pale, smooth abdomen was the perfect canvas for the fuzzy masterpiece. Starting about half way between her cute little belly button and the start of her legs, the heart's top arches were perfectly symmetrical. The overall shape, made from her soft, brown, neatly cropped pubic hair, bulged outward much like her blossoming hips before straightening out and narrowing to disappear right about where her fingertips stood guard.
It must have taken meticulous planning and a steady hand to make the rounded scallops on top come out this evenly. There's nothing worse than a lopsided heart. Even on a flat piece of paper, I couldn't have drawn one as neat and symmetrical. That she had shaved it on her own curving abdomen was a true testament to her talent with a razor blade.
Turning back around, I settled on what I was going to ask for. And I knew she wasn't going to like it. I had always intended to rip the sleeves off in front of her as a scare tactic. But now that I had already played that card, I would have to think up something else equally dramatic to convince her to accept the awful deal I was about to propose.
Sitting down again, I picked up the clothes. "I already know what you want. But I'm not running a charity here. I'm going to make you my best offer first. You would do well to accept it. Because I guarantee, every one after that will only be worse. Understand?"
I waited until she nodded in acknowledgement before continuing. "You can have this shirt for today, until we get back to the car. But in exchange, you have to agree to be in every picture I want to take for the rest of the trip. That means always posing like you normally would and, no matter what you happen to be wearing at the time, no covering up...at all."
Because of our former deal, she was already stuck bearing her chest inside the station wagon. If she took this new deal, she would also be obligated to strike the occasional photography pose outside the car. Her exposure would be relatively brief - just long enough for me to snap the picture. But no covering up at all would mean revealing her heart and the rest of her privates to the camera over and over until I ran out of film.
Gazing longingly at the shirt in my hand, she considered my offer. After I had violently converted it to sleeveless, there was no way for her to tie it around her waist. The only real way to wear it now was the way it was intended which would still leave her walking around this ghost town completely bottomless. Coming to the conclusion that, to restore any sense of normalcy, she needed both articles, she nodded toward the shorts in my other hand and asked, "What about those?"
Now for the dealbreaker. "If you want these too, that's fine. But for the rest of the trip, I get to pet your heart whenever I want."
Now that Frankie has been given authority over Mary, things will get intense. Mary fixing her hair to Frankie's suggestion is an indication of her submission, or at least her willingness to go along with the program.
