Photographer 14

I have received no reply from Nancy after I have sent her the invitation, but I didn’t let it bother me. She wouldn’t be able to ignore my invitation with all the things I could hold above her head, namely the specter of the debt she owed, a set of photos while wearing clothes nonexistent for all practical purposes, and, last but not least, last night’s encounter where I caught her wet-handed in the middle of the living room, watching porn and masturbating while wearing the exact same clothing I had watched while she was masturbating… 

No, there was no chance that she would ignore my invitation. 

But that didn’t mean she would be quick to respond. The situation was too overwhelming for her to respond. After a quick detour to the shower, I was upstairs, sitting in front of the TV, wearing a pair of loose shorts and an equally large t-shirt, though my choice of movie wasn’t nearly as tame. I had picked an erotic movie, the same one that I watched with Madison and Katie, which started in a tame manner before turning up the steam to eleven. A small bottle of red wine was on the center of the table, to help to calm her nerves, but not enough to make her drunk even if she drank all of it alone.

However, I had to wait for more than a quarter hours for Nancy to appear, forcing me to rewind the movie to the beginning two times. I didn’t want her to come across one of the sex scenes in her first step. I needed a few minutes free of distraction to make her get used to the idea. 

I turned towards the stairs when I heard the footsteps, only to see Nancy upstairs, wearing an ensemble that was quite a bit more conservative than her usual. A full-size pajama, with the exact same pattern Katie had. I was willing to bet that Nicole bought them for both girls as gifts. I waved at her absently and called her closer, glad that I just rewound the movie a minute ago. It gave me almost ten minutes to work on her until the first important checkpoint. 

Her usual exorbitant manner was absent as she walked closer, her eyes firmly on the ground, bringing her similarity to Katie to the forefront. She stood at the side of the couch, choosing not to sit. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I missed the session today.” 

“No worries,” I answered, doing my best not to leer or insert a saucy comment, a surprisingly difficult challenge in the wake of her sudden bout of shyness, tempting me to poke fun. “Why don’t you take a seat and we can talk.” 

It was apparent that her preference ran towards a different direction, but the situation didn’t allow her to reject a casual demand for me, despite the elephant in the room, shouting too loud for even the most persistent to ignore. She took a seat, the deliberate place I had left for her, the exact spot she was sitting yesterday night. She looked towards the screen rather than me, a distraction I was alright with considering the trap that awaited her there. 

Seconds ticked where we both watched the screen, other than the fleeting glances she threw at my side before retreating just as quick. I didn’t say anything, because each passing second made her even tenser. “So,” she whispered a minute later, her tone strung harder than a violin. 

I could have played obstinate, but decided to give her a dash of mercy. “I wanted to talk to you about the photoshoot today, in particular, why didn’t you come despite agreeing beforehand.” I turned at her fully, my body language demanding her attention. She turned towards me, but her eyes wandered over my chest instead, unable to meet my eyes. “I know that you’re not a professional model, but coming on time is one of the things you can do regardless of the situation. Skipping it altogether without a message is, frankly, unacceptable.” 

She ducked her head in remorse. “Sorry,” she whispered, low enough that I had to lean towards her to hear. “It just that… After the last night…” 

“I understand that it was a difficult moment for you,” I said, acting like it was completely her fault that I had found myself in an abominable situation, abusing the fact that she wasn’t in a position to call on the differences in representation. “However, it’s a mistake everyone can do. You don’t need to beat yourself about it.” 

“I know, but…” she started before trailing into silence. 

I nodded before continuing in an intentionally flat tone. “Don’t worry, it’s normal. A lot of people enjoys exhibitionism.” 

“What!” she exclaimed in a cracking tone, but continued in a voice less loud after I sent her an amused glance. “I’m not an exhibitionist!” 

“Yes,” I deadpanned. “That’s true, which is why you were watching porn in the middle of the living room, dressed in a way that was sexier than being naked.” I took a breath before adding sarcastically. “Yes, that’s conclusive evidence that you’re not an exhibitionist.” 

“But-” she tried to explain, but she fell silent as I raised my hand. 

“You don’t need to feel bad. It’s completely normal. Technically, when you think about it, it’s an advantage for a model rather than a drawback.” I took a breath, letting the conversation stumble to boost the tension. “However, there is one rather important issue.”

“There is?” she said, leaning forward panickedly. 

“The way you are feeling uncomfortable around me,” I explained. “It would make impossible to take your photos. Normally, I would have just waited for a few days until time cured you from the worst of it, but we need to finish the rest of the costumes tomorrow. If we can’t take the photos, I need to find a new model and take all the photos from scratch, which unfortunately would mean the cancellation of our deal.” 

The rush of fear told me that I was in the position. “But we cannot,” she exclaimed loudly. 

I shushed her before pointing at upstairs. She turned silent, fearfully glancing upstairs. “I agree. Which is why we need to make sure you’re relaxed with me once more.” 

“How?” 

In a fortuitous coincidence, I noticed the woman on the screen was reaching towards her button, signifying the start of the first explicitly erotic scene of the movie. “Exposure therapy,” I said, pointing at the screen. “We’re going to watch the movie together, and hopefully, you will be used to my presence. Simple, right?” 

She opened her mouth, but instead of an answer, a strangled gasp escaped her mouth as the man in the screen decided that he was unhappy with the actress’ pace, and ripped the shirt off her body, launching a rough and explicit sex scene that would last for several hot minutes. But Nancy neither escaped nor closed her eyes, marking the success of the first phase by turning her attention towards the screen. 

I smirked as I quickly poured two glasses of wine, pushing one towards her. She grabbed it like it was her lifeline, gulping half of it in one move. The rest didn’t survive a minute, and she passed the glass back. I refilled it, and she grabbed it once more, but this time sipping slower. 

For the first scene, I neither said nor did anything, allowing her to come in terms with the situation, particularly with her choice. But during the second scene, which was even longer and steamier than the first scene. I slid closer to her, and grabbed her left hand. She looked at me in alarm, but I ignored it for a second in favor of pressing my thumb in her palm. “You’re still looking a bit tense, so a massage might be helpful,” I explained. She looked doubtful, but stayed silent, aware that her position wasn’t conducive to arguing. 

“You’re tense,” I said as I finished her hand and moved up to her wrist. “When was the last time you got a massage?” 

“It has been a while,” she answered, her voice tenser than her body, but at least, she was able to speak louder than a whisper. “As you remember, I’m a bit short on cash.” 

“An artist’s path is difficult,” I said approvingly, avoiding to mention just how irresponsible she was being by relying on her stepmother to pay for her needs rather than getting a day job. After all, neither sound financial advice nor lessons in responsibility was especially useful as an aphrodisiac. Also, I wasn’t in a position to complain when it was her financial irresponsibility that likely forced Nicole to rent the basement in the first place, so I said nothing else than asking for her other hand after finishing her left, which forced me to slide closer to her. 

“You’re good,” she said, the way she bit her lip suggesting that my approach was starting to work. I acted even slower when finishing her right, enjoying the way her heartbeat climbed higher and higher along with the movie’s intensity.  

After finishing her right, I pulled back, trying not to smile at her disappointed sigh. “Now, put your leg on the cushion,” I said, patting empty space in front of me. She did so instantly, and I put my fingers around her ankle and led her to a different position, her heel resting on my thigh, suggestively close to my crotch, a fact she was acutely aware, told by her fleeting peek.  

As I focused on the soles of her feet, our silence stretched even bolder, contrasted by the explicit moans and flesh hitting flesh on the screen. I was proud of my massage skills. While I never used them in a professional capacity, they allowed me to seduce quite a few sexy women that would be out of my league otherwise. And Nancy turned out to be susceptible as well, and the unusual developments of the last few days weren’t exactly making it easier for her to resist.  

“Are you comfortable?” I asked before climbing upwards on her leg. A nod and a moan were as clear as any answer I might receive, so I continued focusing on her calf. But then, instead of moving upwards on her thigh, I asked her to switch to her other foot, which forced her to sit towards me while leaning her back against the armrest as I mauled her other foot and calf. 

I looked at her, examining her face without bothering to hide my attention, since her eyes were currently closed with pleasure. The second part of the plan was complete as well. “Turn over,” I ordered her. She looked at me, trying to understand what I was asking. “Lay on your chest across the couch,” I explained her more in detail. “Since we started, there is no harm in finishing the massage before moving downstairs, right?”  

“Sure,” she said, and would have managed to come across as casual if it wasn’t for her voice, cracking at the last second. Her blush was another clue for her mood as she shifted in her place. I stood up, allowing her to sprawl across the length of the seat. Then, I climbed on the seat as well, my knees on both sides of her waist as I pressed my hands on her shoulders, slowly moving down. When I arrived at her back, purrs had become commonplace as my hands untied her muscle knots bit by bit. But more importantly, the movie was still running on the screen, adding a certain heated edge of her otherwise relaxed purrs. 

I slid my hands under her top when I arrived at the small of her back. She looked at me for a second before escaping my gaze, leaving me free to work on her flesh without the unwelcome layer of fabric. I backtracked my earlier path, slowly forcing her top upwards until it was bunched above her breasts, which unfortunately were under cover of an ugly bra. It was a pity, because I was hoping that she was still wearing the set I had given her. 

Her back finished, I slid down until I hovered above her calves, giving me the opportunity to work on her legs. I pressed my palms against her thigh, but it was annoying to feel the texture of the fabric on my skin after enjoying her silkiness. The solution was simple. “Do you mind?” I asked even as I hooked my fingers at the waist of her bottom, and pulled it down before she could even process the question in her distracted state, revealing a pair of equally unattractive panties. 

A panicked yelp escaped her mouth, but my hands were already on her thighs, working wonders on her tense flesh. I ignored the way she was watching me, focusing on the movement of my hands, and soon, she decided against speaking, and turned back to her job. But it wasn’t the last time she found herself pondering on the same question, turning towards me in conflict whenever my fingers drove closer to the area under the coverage of her panties. However, I fastidiously avoided there, even when she started showing the signs of thick arousal, squeezed under the effects of the movie, my hands, and the theoretical danger of being caught. 

I had other plans.

Her moans were getting loud enough to break through her efforts to hide their presence when I stood up without a warning. “W-what?” she stammered, caught flatfooted with the sudden change. 

“The massage is finished,” I explained as I reached the remote and turned off the TV. “We still have a lot of costumes to go through.” 

“But…” she said, then trailed towards the silence as she saw my smug expression, one I had pushed to the foreground intentionally. 

“Okay,” she said, changing her approach as she stood up, her intention to take revenge obvious on her face. Just as I planned. 

“Go ahead,” I said, and she stood up. She fixed her top, but surprisingly, instead of pulling on the bottom, she let it fell on the ground, and stepped out of it. She was deliberately slow as she leaned forward took them in her hand, giving me a glimpse of her rear, a move that would be much more effective if she bothered to pick some decent-looking underwear. Still, it wasn’t enough reason to prevent me from enjoying as she walked in front of me, an excessive sway on her hips. 

“The costume?” she asked after stepping on the basement floor, even as she pulled her top to reveal her firm belly. I pointed behind the screen. She nodded even as she started to walk there, letting her top to drop on the ground midway. She had already untied her bra when she arrived at her destination. She disappeared behind the screen, but not before letting her bra to drop on the floor. It was a nice way of revenge, I noted with a large smile. 

My smile widened further as I heard a shocked gasp behind the screen, and a bit of surprised. The next costume wasn’t as revealing as the librarian one she had worn the last time. I turned on the set lights and finished other preparations while waiting for her to step out. “Are you ready?” I asked after two minutes passed, more than enough for her to finish changing, especially since she was already naked when she stepped behind. 

“Almost,” she answered with a muffled voice, making me wonder whether the maid costume had some special significance for her. A few seconds later, she stepped out in the open. I froze, preventing my jaw from falling, a challenge that took all of my strength. Thankfully, she was too busy walking carefully to notice my attention. 

I shook my head to distract myself from the exquisite view. Looking her in her French-Maid uniform, or more importantly, the distinct lack of underwear, which wasn’t really hard to notice thanks to the fluffy skirt that was barely qualified to be a belt, and a top that might as well don’t exist, considering it was quite transparent, and was about as wide as a hand. Now, I understood the reason for her reticence. Apparently, she managed to miss the underwear that was waiting for her there. Still, it was interesting that she chose to step out like that by assuming that was the totality of the costume, with no resistance other than a slight delay. 

“Are you ready?” I asked as I pointed the camera at her, and let the flash explode. Her gaze didn’t contain anything that could be described as readiness, but nevertheless, she turned her side to the camera and let arms fall, giving me a simple pose. “Perfect,” I said. “Now, turn towards the camera.” 

She did so, letting me enjoy an unobstructed sight of her firm breasts, discounting the frail texture of her strapless top that left top naked for any practical definition of the term. I took a few, then asked her to lean forward, which increased her cleavage even harder. It didn’t reveal anything that wasn’t already visible, but it was an erotic sight nevertheless. “Give me a twirl,” I requested. She looked at me with a look that begged for mercy, but a mocking smirk was the reply she got. “We can do something weaker if you can’t handle,” I added, doing my best to copy the mannerism of a parent, bored from the antics of his child. 

“No need,” she answered quickly before completing a standing turn, but her body wasn’t as courageous as her words, with her hands pressing her skirt tight to keep it immobile. The duster in her hand was making her current pose even stiffer. 

“You need to keep your arms away from your skirt,” I added. “They are ruining the dynamism.” 

“But-” she tried to say, but I cut her off. 

“It’s okay if you can’t handle it,” I added in a fake generosity, knowing it would push her more than anything angry or demanding, especially in her current state, neither her unsatisfied arousal nor her tipsiness helping her decision making the process. She glared at me balefully, but also pulled her arms to the side and did another twirl. Free from the encumbrance of her hands, her skirt flew up, giving me a fleeting view of her bottom that I managed to immortalize with the assistance of the technology. 

“Perfect,” I said with a glee that didn’t help to quell her anger, but if I was reading the signs right, was quite useful to fan the flames of her arousal. An interesting dichotomy, enjoying her exhibitionism while resenting me for forcing her to that position by strong-arming her pride. “Now, why don’t you dust the chair in front of you,” I added. 

This time, she didn’t lose any time making eye contact, just turned and starting dusting the chair, the angle of her body pulling her skirt up enough to give me an unrestricted view of her body, especially her nether lips, which was wet with arousal. I could see her stiffen with every flash, but impressively, she managed to keep the position until I asked her to get a tamer pose. 

“That’s enough,” I called her off, as while it was fun, I actually had to finish the costumes, for which she needed to wear some underwear, regardless of the attractiveness of the alternative. 

“It’s finished already?” she said. “It was much quicker than before.” 

“Finished?” I asked. “No, you need to finish your preparations so we can start taking the actual photos?”

“What do you mean by actual photos?” she asked, surprised. 

“I mean that you need to go and put rest of the costume so that we can take the photos that I will send to the client,” I explained.

“Rest of the costume?” she whispered, struck with a sudden realization. 

“The underwear,” I spelled out. “Unless you’re proposing that we send the clients the photos we just took.” 

“But, there is no underwear there.”

“I’m sure you just missed them.” 

“But…” she said before trailing into silence, a blush creeping up her neck as she realized that gave a range of explicit poses in her own violation. She dashed behind the screen, which incidentally gave me another stretched out view of her bottom, which I immortalized in just my memories. 

A minute later, Nancy stepped out in the open once more, a set of black lacy underwear covering her body strategically. Of course, her clothing was modest only compared to its previous state, as a set of underwear and a skimpy French-Maid outfit could only cover a minuscule area. I took the required photos in silence other than the required directions to correct her posing. In parallel, I had an amusing spectacle, the shift of her emotions during the shoot, from a shocked shame to a smoldering mixture of anger and arousal. In the light of her earlier suggestiveness, I was quite hopeful about the results. 

The first sign of things to come was her call a minute after she disappeared behind the screen once more. “Could you help me,” she called. “I’m having a bit of trouble putting this one on.” 

I did my best not to run behind the screen, keen to see the next costume on her. The costume consisted of a pair of lace-up boots tall enough to come to the middle of her thighs, a pleated miniskirt, a corset with deep cleavage, and fishnet stockings to complete the set. All black to contrast sinfully against her flaming-red hair. I couldn’t wait to see them on her, especially in their half-worn state. 

The sight in there didn’t disappoint. The first thing I noticed as I stepped inside was the sight of her naked back. I stopped, trailing her spine with sight until it disappeared under her miniskirt, devouring her delicate back, which looked much sexier in costume compared to earlier, where she was in her unflattering pajamas. The fishnets enhanced the view further, making her delicious enough to eat. A cough disrupted my concentration. I looked up, only to see her looking at me with a sense of victory, an exact same expression I carried earlier. “Could you be a dear and pull my zipper up, Stephen,” she said, acting more confident than she did all night.

“It’s a pleasure, my dear,” I answered as I took a step forward, letting my breath to fall on her neck as took a hold of her zipper. I pulled it up, letting my fingers drag along her spine. She didn’t give a sign of complaint, but I could feel her heartbeat picking up with my touch. “Is that all?” I asked, trying not to sound too reluctant to stop, but her smirk suggested that my success was debatable. 

“Actually, could you help me to put the boots on as well,” she added. “The corset is stiffer than I expected.” 

“Not at all,” I answered, gesturing her to sit down on the only foldable chair in the dressing section. I turned back to pick up the boots, and when I turned back, she was already sitting, her hands pressing on her skirt to prevent the sight of her underwear. A bit excessive considering our earlier encounters, but it made her look sexier, so I fell on my knees in front of her without a word of protest. 

She raised her fishnet covered foot, and I wrapped my fingers around her ankle, leading it gently towards the boot. “Is it comfortable?” I asked. 

“Very,” she answered with a giggle as her foot slid tight, feeling confident now that she was back to a position of power, at least in her own perception. We repeated it for the other, then I kept my head down as I started to tie them from the bottom, trying to look like I was just being attentive, but the real objective was to hide my predatory smirk from her. I didn’t want to make her aware where things had come to. 

However, I soon learned that it wasn’t only me that a surprise prepared. Her legs were firmly closed at first, trying to prevent me from catching a glimpse of her panties, or so I assumed. A few seconds later, when I was tying the laces near her knee, I learned that it would be impossible for me to catch a glimpse. The reason was simple, she didn’t have any, a fact that she had a great pleasure informing me if the sensual way she parted her legs was any indicator, giving me an extended view. 

I couldn’t help but look up, only to see her watching me an enticing mixture of reticence and smugness, born from the clash of her desires and her morals, the latter turning into tatters under my extended assault. Still, even her partial smugness was enough for me to abandon my sense of restraint. 

If she wanted to play, we would play.