Sweet Home Alabama, Part 1

Thank God I'm a Country Girl
By Andrew J. Mellon

The rhythmic thumping informed Jaime Buske the tire was about to go. She turned the car slowly off the highway where a blue sign told her she would find a gas station.

She drove down the county route for what must have been ten miles. There was no sign of the gas station, just a thick pine wood. The tire complained less frequently, but no less intensely. She grabbed her cell phone; the little screen told her she was out of range to make a call. She cursed.

Life was not going Jamie’s way. First she looses her job, went to Atlanta to follow a lead that hadn’t panned out. Now she was on her way to New Orleans after another prospect with only enough cash to pay for a few nights in the cheapest of motels. Her boyfriend had left her, her creditors were hot on her trail. If she had a dying dog, she might be a great subject for a country music song. The circles under her eyes informed the outside world she had not slept well for the past month for worry of what the future might bring, or worse yet, not bring.

As she made her mind up to turn around and make for the highway again, Jamie saw that the pine trees gave way to a clearing: a gravel driveway led off the main road to an austere road house. She winced. She hadn’t seen “Easy Rider” or “Deliverance”, but she knew enough about them not to trust isolated places in the deep South. And this was Alabama after all.

There was a bang like a gunshot as Jamie made a u turn. She sank into her seat and then knocked her head softly against the steering wheel in frustration; her luck wasn’t getting any better.

Biting her lip, she looked up at the roadhouse: she could either try to get help there or on the road. She decided to take her chances on the roadhouse. She rode the rim a bit until the car was off the road and then walked up the gravel driveway to the ramshackle building.

She tried to be hopeful. It was 2003 after all. Beer-gutted, Bible-thumping inbred rednecks with a violent hatred of northerners were a thing of the past if they were existed at all. (Anyway, she was from the Midwest.) This placed probably had an internet connection and served lattes. God bless the new South!

She pushed open the door, letting the day’s twilight cut through the dimly lit bar that lay beyond. A burly man was leaning on the bar counter, wiping it with a rag; he looked up at the stranger, squinting against the light and frowning in irritation about being interrupted. A bit further down a woman was leaning against the jukebox, listening to Lynard Skynard or some other guitar heavy southern rock band.

“Excuse me, my car has a flat tire.” Jamie told the man. “Can you help me change it?”

“Ain’t no mechanic.” The man growled.

“O.k.” she replied, drawing out each syllable, “Do you have a phone I could use to call a garage?”

“Phone’s only for customers.”

“Great, I need a drink, I’ll have a beer.”

“Don’t sell beer on Sundays.”

“A coke then.”

The man pulled out a phone from beneath the counter and dropped it in front of her.

“Can you give me the number of a garage?”

The man reached beneath the counter again, this time pulling out a phone book with the thickness of a magazine. He plopped it in front of her and then strolled down the bar to pour her soda.

Jamie flipped the phonebook’s pages, found the appropriate yellow pages, and dialed a few numbers finally getting a mechanic who spoke as fast as a word a minute. He told her he would get there in a couple of hours; she told him she would be waiting. She let the receiver fall on the hook and sighed. Some things had not changed. This place moved with the swiftness of molasses.

“Sugah, you look as out of place as a wedding dress at a funeral.” Chirped a high pitched childish voice honeyed by a southern drawl.

The woman at the jukebox had lost interest in the music and had wandered over to the barstool next to her. Jamie looked her over. First her eyes fell to her chest. This was not because Jamie had any natural proclivities for this area, but hers was just so…well big, enough to make Dolly Parton blush with envy. Her breasts strained against her Southern Comfort t-shirt, the fabric nearly transparent against her wide areolas and nipples. Looking up, the woman’s face was well painted, or rather pasted with make up, the coats made her look like a mannequin as they entirely hid her natural pallor. Her hair was obviously died blonde, not too recently as the roots were beginning to show. From her ears, hung pale golden hoops, perhaps three inches in circumference. The sparkle of her eyes was juvenile though Jamie thought she was probably in her late 20s. Looking down past her titanic mammaries, Jamie saw her forearms covered in wide cheap bracelets that clinked together like loose change when she moved. She was wearing tight bright red satin shorts and matching red heels.

“My car has a flat.” Jamie replied gruffly, more interested in wallowing in her misery than making a new friend.

“Awwwwww, that’s too bad. Hey, love your shirt. Where’d ya get it.”

“Ann Taylor.”

“Cool! Who is she?”

“It’s a store.” Jaime said firmly with condescension, thinking that a little rudeness might make this southern “belle” take a hint. “You probably don’t have them down here.”

The woman did note Jaimie’s tone with a wince, but was undeterred from making her acquaintance. She took out a pack of cigarettes, pulling one out with her teeth and then offering one to Jamie.

“Don’t smoke.” Jamie told her tersely.

The woman dropped the pack on the counter and lit up her cigarette.

“Do you mind!?” Jamie yelled, her face enwrapped with irritation

The woman looked hurt.

“Just leave me alone.”

“Just trying to be friendly.” The woman stammered. “My name is Betsy May.” Jamie glared. This woman needed more than a hint.

“Betsy, look, I don’t want a friend. If I did I wouldn’t want a ditzy girl like you. I just want to be alone. So be a good little girl and leave me alone!”

Betsy was obviously stung by the rebuke; tears welled up in her eyes.

Jamie grunted in exasperation, grumbling about idiot crackers and rednecks, in earshot of Betsy, and stomped off to the lady’s room.

“God get me out of this place!” She nearly screamed when she was by herself.

She was not alone for long. The door squeaked behind her after it had closed. Jaimie turned to find Betsy had followed her.

“You shouldn’t be so mean…you meany!” Betsy yelled at her as she raised a hand.

Jamie crossed her arms.

“How many times do I have to tell you! Leave me alone, you white trash bitch!”

The woman surged forward. Jamie tried to knock the girl down, but Betsy was too quick, almost catlike in her movements, even in high heels. Betsy wrapped her arms around Jamie’s and pressed her lips against hers. Jamie squealed as she felt the girl’s tongue wrestling with her own. She tried to push the girl away. Lifting her hands Betsy’s side, she pushed, her motion as too weak. Something was happening to her. She felt that quiver in her stomach, that pang of desire just before she made love, growing, filling her loins with shuddering heat. She responded to the tonguelock, lovingly twisting Betsy’s with her own. Her voice was humming as if she was enjoying something delicious. Betsy released her lip lock to kiss her Jamie’s neck, yet forcing the woman back, lifting her up on the sink.

“What…are…you…doing…to meeeeee.” Jamie whispered. Betsy ignored her, she was kissing her way down Jamie’s chest, undoing the buttons to her blouse, and then reaching into her bra to caress her hardening breasts.

Jamie was leaning uncomfortably against the mirror above the sink, letting the woman work her, sighing uncontrollably from the rapture that was now surging through her.

Undoing Jamie’s bra and dwelling on her tits for just a few moments with her tongue, Betsy was down Jamie’s quivering belly, sliding her pants and panties off, bumping Jamie uncomfortably against the wall. Jamie hardly noticed, biting her lips as she waited for the stroke she knew would come next.

“Yes…yes…oh …suck ..suck me!!!” “Jaimie urged.

Betsy complied, rolling her tongue up and down Jamie’s clit, driving her wild. Jamie moaned louder and louder, running hand through her ling red hair.

“Yes…YES…OHGOD…YESSSS!!!” Jamie shrieked as Besty brought her to climax and then all went black.

Jamie awoke with that ominous feeling that one gets after a fainting or blacking out from a long night of drinking: she had no idea where she was or how she had gotten there. She opened her eyes, someone was looking at her; she squinted to dispel the fog from her unconsciousness. There wasn’t a someone looking at her, it was her, her reflection in a mirror fixed in the ceiling above her. And she wasn’t dressed in the clothes she had been wearing back at the roadhouse. Instead of her expensive blouse, she was wearing a cut off t-shirt that left her midsection exposed. Below her waist were denim shorts, so short they began just slightly above the inverted base of her pubic triangle and ended just about where her thighs began. Her red hair was tied into pigtails. Her face: it was colored by make up, so brightly she could see the painting from the distance to the ceiling which must have been 10 feet.

Jamie sat up. She was lying on a plush red heart shaped bed. The room its self was large, fierce adorned with paintings too saccharine for even Thomas Kincaid and furniture that looked like rejected models from the 1970s.

“Where the hell am I!?” Jamie exclaimed.

A door opened in response to Jamie’s voice. Two women entered and looked at her with a mix of curiosity and nervousness. One was a tall olive skinned brunette, the other longhaired blonde. Both were dressed as Jamie was, cut off t-‘s and skimpy shorts.

“Come on, Susan,” The brunette said in a audible but cautious whisper. “Lets get out of here..”

“Kim, we can’t leave her here.” The blonde replied. “After all we’ve been through I don’t want to have anyone else suffer if I can help it.”

Susan rushed to Jamie’s side, taking her arm.

“Come on, get up! You got to move.”

Kim stomped her foot. “No! We’ll never get away. You want to help her you take your own chances, I am out of here.”

“Kim! Don’t. You have to help me.” Hissed Susan as she pulled Jamie’s limp body up. The plea was ignored; Kim ran away.

“What’s going on? Where am I? Why am I dressed like this? Who are you?”

Susan shook Jamie to bring her fully to her senses.

“We’re prisoners of Betsy May, that woman who brought you here. She has powers or something…she is psychic or whatever. Anyway, she can control who you are and what you do. Kim and I finally managed to break her control, but if we don’t escape now, she’ll bring us back under.”

Susan lugged Jamie a few paces when they heard Kim’s high-pitched scream. It was cut off abruptly.

“Betsy May!” Susan whispered.

She pulled Jamie back to the bed, taking her in her arms and cradling her.

“Don’t say a word. Don’t even think one. Just play along! Maybe we can fool her into letting us be.” Susan told Jamie in a hushed voice. Jamie was still too dazed and too confused to do anything else but comply.

Betsy May appeared in the doorway. She gestured to Kim, who barged into the room as if she were being pushed by some unseen force. Jamie didn’t know how, but she figured that Kim’s movements were controlled by this strange woman. Kim’s face was contorted in terror; her mouth was empty of words.

“Whacha doin?” Betsy May asked in a childlike voice, but it was one devoid of innocence and seething with malice.

Susan smiled.

“Takin’ care of the new girl, Miss Betsy.” She replied, her voice was much higher than just a few minutes earlier. Her words dripped with an exaggerated southern drawl.

Betsy’s eyes narrowed in suspicion; her smile, however, did not fade.

“Such a good girl you are Susie, poosie. Not like this bitch!”

Betsy put her arms around Kim.

“Yeah, ah’m talking about you bitch. Take off your clothes.”

Kim slowly stripped, discarding her clothes, dropping them to form a pile.

“You know how to act like bitch!. So act like one!”

With these words Kim suddenly fell to all fours. Her eyes told of protest; her mouth could not join in. Though she opened it, no words came out. Only a bark, a bark like a human pretending to be a dog. Her jaw went slack, letting her tongue spill out of her moth, where it lolled from her lips. She started to pant. She looked up at Betsy with pleading eyes. Betsy replied with by pointing a finger in a direction beyond the doorway.

“Into the corner, bitch!!”

Kim held her head low and whimpered. She crawled away as ordered.

Betsy May closed the door, turning her full attention to the woman holding the other on the bed.

“Are you a bitch too Susie Jane?”

“No, Miss Betsy, I am a good girl.”

“You don’t talk like a good girl, Susie Jane, ah think your conditioning needs a little freshening up.

Betsy focused on Susan, raising her hand toward her. Susan shot up from the couch, standing as straight as arrow, her neck thrust back, almost as if someone were holding her at the throat.

“I am Susan…I am Susan…I…am…Susan” She said over and over mechanically, her pupils zipping to the right and left, over and over.

“I…Susie…I am Susie…Jane…I am Susie Jane, I be Susie Jane, I be Susie Jane.”

Betsy lowered her arm; at the same time, Susie Jane relaxed. She breathed a sigh and giggled. Jamie remained on the bed, both amazed and confused by what had just transpired.

“Susie here used to be a real big shot. Use to be some big shot lawyer up in New York. Now she is just a dumb ole down home southern girl.” Betsy May informed Jamie.”

Susie Jane frowned.

“Am not! You may have dumbed me down, Ms. Betsy, but ah still be me! Ah be a lawyer, ah done been to Har…lawyerin’ school, and took a lawyerin’ test and all. Ah still be me!” Susie Jane yelled. Her southern accent was not affected now; she sounded as if she had been born and bred in Alabama

“Do smart lawyer girls like Jerry Springer? Jerry Springer is on.”

Susie Jane furrowed her brow for just a moment and then smiled, clasping her hands together.

“Can ah go watch Jerry Springer. Miss Betsy? Ah do so love Jerry Springer!””

Betsy waved Susie Jane out, leaving her alone with Jamie.

“She was some hotshot asshole that hit my car and tried to blame me for it. So ah took her and bimboized her. Now she serves me and mah customers. Kimmie Sue, she was a stock broker or something. Budged ahead of me in line in the Quickie Mart. So ah took her and took her down a few pets. All you fuckin’ city bitches bein’ so mean and thinkin’ you’re all so smart. Thinkin’ you can push me around. Now ah push around these two. You too now.”

“What did I do to you?” Jamie stammered.

“You fuckin’ pissed me off is what you did. Ah try to be nice and friendly and you just dump on me like you some big shot. You ain’t nuthin’ and ah’m gonna show you that, sure nuff.”

Betsy raised her arm.

Jamie found her body jump up and stand as Susan had done.

“I am Jamie Buske, I am Jamie Buske, I am Jamie Buske.” She chanted.

Jamie squirmed in her mind. She could feel Betsy moving through her memories, thoughts, desires, wants, like a customer goes through a vegetable stand, picking up and feeling the items she found, squeezing them to test them, to get to know them. Jamie was helpless to stop her; she tried desperately to concentrate, to push that force wandering through the crevices of her mind out. Her efforts were to no avail; she could do nothing to stop Betsy. After taking the grand tour, Betsy began to alter Jamie’s personality, bringing forward some thoughts and impressions while pushing others farther back into subconscious. Restraint went back, replaced by lust and desire and an instant need for gratification. The capacity to form complex thoughts was reduced, to the point where Jamie would find it incredibly hard to maintain an attention span beyond the most simple concepts. Vanity and love of her body was increased; her natural humility and modesty torn from her soul as if it had never been there. The alterations were subtle, Jamie could

“You won’t do this to me!” Jamie shouted defiantly in her mind; this was in fact all she could do as Betsy remodified it. “I know who ah am! You won’t make me become somebody else!”

I am Jamie Buske…I am…Jamie Busk…I am Jamie…Lynn…I am Jamie Lynn, I be Jamie Lynn.” She began to repeat the name triumphantly, even as she did so with a definite twang.

Betsy receded from Jamie’s mind, letting the woman back into control.

“See ah told you Miss Betsy, you ain’t gonna make me anything ah don’t wanna be. Ah am Jamie Lynn, the best piece of ass in the county!”

Betsy looked up at the ceiling and shrugged her shoulders in mock defeat.

“You ain’t gonna get rid of me so easy Miss Betsy. Ah am gonna get me some hot guys and have a good ole time!”

“You figured me out Jamie Lynn. Why don’t you go watch t.v. with Susie Jane.”

“Shit, ah need a smoke. You got any cigs Miss. Betsy? I’ll just die if ah don’t get a fuckin’ smoke.”

“In the other room dear.”

Jamie Lynn sauntered into the living room. It was large, adorned with a orange shag rug, plaid couches and chairs set up around t.v. A coffee table lay in the middle of all these things covered with ashtrays full of cigarette butts and empty beer cans. The flavor of tobacco was in the air. Susie Jane was sitting with her legs drawn up on the couch, watching tv. Kim was lying prone on the floor in a corner, her head on her hands, her tongue still hanging out of her mouth.

Jamie snapped up an errant cigarette and lighter, lighting up and puffing some more nicotine into the air. She looked Susie over as if it were the first time they had met, in reality Jamie Lynn was sizing up the competition. Susan had bigger tits, but Jamie was more toned. She figured breasts like that would always get the guys, but her rack wasn’t inconsiderable and besides, she looked like a real thoroughbred. How was she in the sack? Jamie Lynn wanted to know.

“Whacha watchin’” Jamie said curiously.

“Springer.” Replied Susie Jane without removing her stare from the tv.

“Looks stupid.”

“You’re stupid!” Susan shot back petulantly.

“Lets do something fun.” Jamie said, standing in front of the tv set to block Susie Jane’s view.

‘Hey!” Susie Jane protested.

Jamie Lynn, lifted her arms and pulled off her t-shirt, slowly. She brought down her arms, pulling off her shorts and tiny lace panties so she was completely nude. She took a deep inhale of her cigarette, strode over to Susan Jane, kissed her, pressing the smoke inside of her. Susie Jane savored it and exhaled. When Jamie Lynn pulled off Susie Jane’s shirt she did nothing to protest. Nor did she do anything to stop Jamie from pulling off her shorts.

Jamie pressed the nude woman on the couch, kissing her breasts playfully, rinning her fingers over Susie Jane’s moistening cunt. She shoved in a finger, than another, using her thumb to toy with the hardening clit, rising out the soft enclosure of its hood.

“Uhhh…one more…one more finger…fill me!’ Susie Jane groaned.

Jamie Lynn smiled as she complied, rubbing the clit even faster. Then she replaced her hand job with her mouth, kissing the cunt lips of Susie Jane, savoring her juices, her tongue stroking the straining clit. Susie Jane shrieked with pleasure

“Wanna…eeeeee…taste you.”

Without releasing Susie’s crotch from her tongue assault, Jamie pivoted so that she could crouch her dripping cunt over Susie Jane’s face so that that woman could return the favor. Slowly their faces pressed into the crotch of the other, literally smothering themselves in their lovers’ gentalia. There moans of ecstasy growing and growing as both came and collapsed into each other. After moments of panting exhaustion, the hugged and licked their juice from the others face.

They held eachother for hours, watching television, from Springer, to Judge Judy, to cartoons, to reruns of Drew Carry. They laughed and joked and made crude comments, only getting up to get a cigarette or a beer or some cold fried chicken from the fridge. Slowly a small spark burned in Jamie’s mind.

“What’s done happened to me. This ain’t right” Jamie groaned.

“Its like ah told you. Betsy May done dumbed us. Can’t think straight for nuthin’. So hard…can’t do anythin’. Just wanna watch tv and fuck.”

“Gots…to…try…to…scape.” Jamie growled as she struggled to form her thoughts, she staggered up, focusing on the door to the outside. And just as she did, she saw an old copy of “People” on the floor. Was that Cameron Diaz? Look at those great clothes. Escape disappeared from her mind; she picked up the magazine and flipped through it, occasionally mouthing the words of a caption. It turned out she did not have the attention span to read an article.

“Hey girls, look who’s here!” Betsy May declared, opening the door to reveal a group of four leering me. Susie Jane and Jamie Lynn were still naked, but were oblivious to that fact. Susie bolted for one of the man, giggling and laughing, dragging him away to a corner of the room. The appearance of the visitors had jogged Jamie’s brittle control over her body and mind. She could tell what these men wanted; she didn’t want to offer it to them or did she. She was shaking, shivering.

Betsy took two other men to enjoy Kim, rousing her on to her hands and knees. Grunts, groans and moans soon emerged from the corner where the woman was kept. Jamie Lynn could see that poor Kim was being mounted from behind and impaled down her throat. Originally, she appeared terrified but slowly she melted into complete ecstasy.

“You’re the new girl. I’m Wes.” The last man said, eyeing Jamie with obvious intent.

“Ah…ah…ain’t that kinda girl!” Betsy offered in anticipation of what the man wanted. Still, his look, his gaze as he inspected her body, the appreciation of it she found settled in his glance pleased her. Why was she feeling this way? She knew she wasn’t the kind of woman to feel this way?

Wes ignored her taking off his shirt. His ribbed stomach captivated her, she could feel a longing building within her, a desire to touch and be touched. The longing was easily crowding out thoughts of resistance.

Wes grabbed Jamie Lynn about the waist, drawing her closer to him.

“Cum on my little southern slut, that’s who you are.”

“No!” She protested breathily. “Don’t! Ah ain’t that kind of girl”

His hands fell on her breasts, pinching her nipples, as her forced his tongue into her compliant mouth, returning the gesture with her own tongue drenched with saliva.

He broke the kiss just momentarily to ask, “You are my southern slut, aren’t you.”

“Please…I’ ain’t that kinda girl.” Jamie whispered, but it was a whisper of doubt as if she was beginning not to believe it.

Wes pushed her against a table, leaning her over it, so that her chest and forearms were down on the table top. He smacked her ass leaving a read print, and smacked it again. Jamie winced from the pain, she didn’t know what to do, but somehow, the feeling was adding to the intense feelings turning her on.

“You’re a southern slut, a tramp, a whore! Admit it” He taunted.

Jamie Lynn moaned in response. She wanted to say it, to agree, to tell him this was right, this was who she was. Right now. It didn’t matter if she had been made this way, if Betsy May had conjured this new lusty bitch from her own thoughts, this was who she was, this is what she enjoyed doing.

While she warred at herself, she felt something at her crotch, a tongue, he was tonguing her clit. He was driving her wild, to the brink… Then he was up again, smacking her ass, bringing her back from climax.

“Yeah, a nice southern slut.” Wes told her.

Jamie quivered beneath the man. The fire within her was an inferno. The ecstasy he had given and then taken away, the control he wielded, it was driving her wild, it would drive her insane if she didn’t submit. She couldn’t say why, it just was, it was who she was, it was who she was now, and she was enjoying it.

Wes drove himself into Jamie without mercy, his rocking driving her against the table, the pain and then the pleasure driving everything out of her mind.

“Yes!…YES…SLUT…AH BE A SLUT!!! A HORNY SLUT FUCK YOUR SLUT!!!!

Wes laughed as he slammed against her. He made her surge into orgasm, leading her there like a dog on a leash. She screamed when she came.

But that was not the end, Wes, disengaged only to plow his wet prick into Jamie’s tight ass, smacking it with his hands as he pumped away. He took her hair, and pulled it like the reins of a horse, letting her feel how utterly control he was. She saw Susie looking at her, from the corner of her eye, riding her man and squeezing her tits, she was; she had a knowing look for just a fleeting moment as if she too had been in the arms of this man, when she too had not yet had her mind totally submerged into the person Betsy May had made, as if she too had given in.

Jamie, gritted her teeth as she came,; she thought her brain would explode as her body tensed and then collapsed against the table. He came within her ass, his hot spunk coursing through her anal hole, warming it, bathing it. She took his last thrusts and giggled dreamily. Resistance and escape were all beyond her.