His goal now -- if he had one short of doing this in position after position for hours on end until she was half mad -- was to turn her into a sort of love slave, someone who thought of little else but returning after this session was over and they had parted. Failing that, he knew had the photos to lure her back, the whole scene really worked well with respectable young women, he thought to himself. The release she'd signed at the outset gave him ownership of the photos -- that had been the "price" of taking them for free -- so it was hardly extortion for him to put her obviously identifiable face up on a web site, begging to suck his own utterly anonymous member.
He started with his fingers; squeezing the nipples and hearing her breath shorten, almost as if she was panting. But as he applied more pressure, first to one and then the other and finally both simultaneously, her response caught him off guard. "Yes," she whispered, "yes,yes,yes,yes..."
Desperate to feel him inside her, or at least to move from the slow, tortuous, sexual teasing that after a time bordered on humiliation, Kim was gratified by the force of his fingers on her nipples. Scientists know that unexpected results in a lab experiment can be the most important of all, so Chet maintained his equilibrium and decided to determine how far he could push this new development his advantage. He reached for another piece of rope (which was actually a smooth laundry line cord) and tied it around her so as to encircle and cordon her breasts. He'd seen this in porn photos, but never in person. She was swaying a bit, biting her lip -- it had to hurt at least a little, he thought -- but clearly more aroused than discomfited.
There was one more thing he wanted to try. He went to his supply drawer and found a couple of rubber-coated spring clips of the sort used to keep plastic packages secured. First he started toying with the nipples again -- they really stood out in an exaggerated way with her breasts tied as they were. It worked. Despite the ropes she was immediately clamoring for more attention than the gentle flicks of his fingertips and then his tongue.
"Delicious," he said to her, licking the distended nipples like little lollipops. "Would you like to feel something harder, Kim?"
"Oh, yes," she said, "Please. Yes. Harder. Why are you doing this to me? Why are you making me wait so long? Harder!"
Swiftly, he attached each clip to a nipple, careful to loosen the springs so the pressure would be relatively mild, and watched as that listed slightly downward. To compensate for any pain she might feel -- and he was not sure at all now that she could distinguish pain from arousal -- he reached down and began attending to her down below, running his fingers along her swollen labia and now, for the first time along the crack of her bottom. Chet had never been particularly turned on by the thought of anal penetration -- he'd once ended a relationship because a woman he dated wanted that and it was not in his repertoire, but he knew ho excited he was during sex when a partner merely traced a moist finger and hen licked at the edge of his ass. Sure enough, as Kim fairly dangled from the ceiling, her breasts receiving constant stimulation via artificial means, as he worked from the top of her vagina down and over her anus and back again, ever so gently back in his tantalizing mode, she began to moan and sob again and beg for more.
"All in good time, my sweet," he said. "We want this to last, don't we?"
She said nothing, presumably resigned to her fate, and after a good -- a very good -- 10 minutes or so, he stopped and freed her breasts from the ropes and clips after taking the requisite photos.
"I'm going to untie you now, Kim," he said, "and give you a reward for your patience."
* * *
It was fortunate, Kim thought, as she dangled there from the ceiling, that she was in such good shape. On one level this little escapade was proving to be a pretty fair workout in more ways than one. She smiled to herself at what the women at the gym, let along her office colleagues, would think if they saw her now. She had no idea how long she had been here. She'd lost track of time, among other things, but she did know it was Friday or maybe early Saturday by now, so there was no need to worry.
Kim thought too, that this ultra-confident, faux cool photographer (or whatever he really was) might be surprised to learn that there really was a movie and, whatever plans he might have for the photos he was clicking off, she would come away with at least a couple of new poses for her electronic portfolio. A few months before she had auditioned as an extra for a Hollywood film starring Bruce Willis -- the real deal, though she never even saw Willis or any other big-name actor in her two days of shooting. She had connected with a number of aspiring actors and actresses serving as extras for some rent money and that led to a call from one about this possible small role in a very low-budget film to be shot in a few weeks. Cast call was Monday. Why not, she thought. And, of course, when Chet came on to her (as she suspected he might), she thought precisely the same thing. She secretly (maybe not so secretly?) craved such attention -- not to mention the sexual release it portended -- and it had been a while. And there was no doubt that this role -- submitting to an attractive man, loosing control, pleasing him -- was her own ticket to sexual fulfillment.
Kim did not know if she had been born with these desires or conditioned to respond almost instinctively to such treatment. Certainly, there was no lack of evidence that some of her earliest sexual experiences were, as they say, formative. The breasts had developed early, so soon that they had actually hindered her normal social life in junior high school and high school. They were the elephant(s?) in the room. Boys might masturbate three times s day to photos of girls like her but were obviously uneasy if not intimidated by the real thing(s). So when Mr. Reston, her ninth grade math teacher who doubled as the drama coach, became her first lover the stage was set, so to speak, for a lifetime of relationships with ruthless men who were in positions to use her to their own advantage.
She could still recall every detail about that other Friday, the first time with Chris Reston, and, looking back, still wondered who had seduced whom. One on one work with the director in the days leading up to a school play was not unusual, but she must have had a hunch because instead of jeans and an oversized, unisex shirt — the uniform du jour pretty much every day in junior high — Kim had worn a skirt and a button-up blouse that was, yes, maybe a half-size too small. Nobody else was even in the corridor by 4:30 or so, let alone the utility room that served as a rehearsal studio. Almost on cue, he walked behind her as she worked on her lines and reached for her arm, saying, "Kim, when you deliver that line try to throw yourself into it, don't just look at Bobby but reach out for him like this..."
She could feel his corduroy sport coat on her shoulder and arm and when she turned to her left looked up at him she caught his eyes on her breasts. "Do you think we could rehearse the kissing scene now?" she asked. It was a pretty clever come-on for a girl just-turned 15. There was no kissing scene. But Chris Reston took the cue and then some. She had not been kissed like that before or since and in almost no time his hands were in her hair, around her waist, and on her breasts. "God, Kim, look what you are doing to me," he said, and for an instant they both looked down at the bulge in his slacks. She still marveled at how naturally she unzipped him and felt for his manhood. Who needed gawky, self-conscious 16-year-olds? They had somehow gravitated to an old couch in the corner of the room and he was soon reciprocating, under her skirt, gently exciting her in ways that were not unlike the teasing, toying work over she had gotten from Chet this very evening. Maybe that's why she was flashing back now to the first time with Mr. Reston.
The memory of that afternoon nearly 10 years before could still be enough to arouse her on lonely nights. But no vibrator in the world could match Mr. Reston's erect penis or, for that matter, Chet's. For a few moments, as she thought about all this, Kim had almost forgotten her present circumstance, but now Chet was holding her with one arm and untying her wrists with the other and half leading, half-carrying her to another room, a bedroom, But if there was a bed in her future it would come later. "Ready for your reward?" he asked her -- really ordered would be a better word -- and positioned her on her knees in front of him as he sat on the side of the bed. "You've earned this, Kim, enjoy it."
Smug bastard, she thought, but the truth was, she did. For the next 10 or 15 minutes, her newly liberated hands, her lips and tongue and even her teeth set about to do what she had learned to do very well starting with that afternoon in junior high— make a man feel as good as he could for as long as he could and absolutely revel in that ability. As she brought Chet to the edge of ecstasy and kept him there, he reached down and cupped her dangling breasts, in effect directing her pace by signaling her when to go harder or softer or just maintain. "I love it, I love it, I love it," she murmured, knowing it would be what he wanted to hear but tell the truth all the same.
