(NOTE TO READERS; Please be aware that there is some homoerotic BDSM action performed for the pleasure of a woman later in this story.)
My bosses, Jane and Ted had let me know that the extra unit of the chastity cage would finally be shipping to me soon and I could resume working on that project. Jane asked me if I knew of another guy who would be willing to participate in the beta-test. I immediately thought of Tim. He still owed me big for saving him from that Mafia Godmother. I'd have to give him a call. The thought of explaining to Tim that he was going to be locked in a chastity cage while a strange woman controlled it from a remote location gave me a chuckle. Knowing Tim, he might actually enjoy it. The ship date was a few weeks away, so there was plenty of time to contact Tim.
The day of the fashion shoot arrived. I confess I was very nervous. I had done some research on Simone, the French photographer. Her work had appeared in very high-class and important magazines all over the world. She was known for pushing the boundary between fashion and pornography. She was also one of the very few photographers with a reputation so important that even the top tier high-fashion models would pose nude for her. Even so, not many of them would appear full-frontal and certainly not with an erection.
My agent, Shirley, let me know that the location for the shoot was the Four Seasons Hotel in Beverly Hills. I'd be filling out model releases and forms that she had initialed and I would be sent a check later. We would be using one of the suites done up as a bridal suite. The layout was designed to feature wedding-related products from many of the magazine's advertisers. Everything in the photos was 'courtesy of' some extremely expensive retailer. I would be working with a female fashion model and we were posing as bride and groom. The idea of being naked with some gorgeous fashion model in a posh hotel suite sounded like fun. And it certainly sounded easier than my recent movie shoots.
I swam, jogged and weight-trained extra hard during the week before the shoot. I wanted to be as buffed and ripped as possible. I was told not to get any more tan; it might read on film as sunburn. I was, after all going to be photographed nude or nearly nude. Some nights I checked myself out in the mirror above my bed. I thought I looked damn fine.
The night before the shoot, I hit the sack early so I'd look as fresh and well-rested as possible. I had several very pleasant dreams of myself strutting down fashion show catwalks all dressed to the nines in the latest expensive threads. Some time around dawn my dreams took a nasty turn. I was on a catwalk trying to strut but something was wrong. It felt like I was stuck in molasses; every step was a slow struggle. It took all my strength just to move. I looked down at the audience nearest to the catwalk. It was all the women I'd been working with, Vera, Victoria, Maxine, Frieda, Shirley, and Circe...all of them. They were all whistling and hooting. Their hands reached up, grabbing at my clothes, ripping and tearing, stripping me naked in front of the elite (and very shocked) fashion show audience.
Somehow, hands were all over me, groping, grabbing and pinching. I was mortified! I tried to cover my genitals, but to no avail. My cock and balls had grown to cartoonishly huge proportions. More hands were pulling and tugging on my cock and balls which were dragging on the floor of the catwalk. I was pulled down on to the catwalk and held down spread-eagled. I was being slapped and scratched and smothered. I had a massive hard-on that was spewing pre-cum like a faucet. The hands milking me were all wet and slick from the fluid. I thought I was going to be torn apart; it was terrifying. The sound of my alarm clock jolted me awake. My body was covered in sweat and I had a raging hard-on.
I wondered if I could call Shirley and cancel the shoot. Then I realized I was being stupid. It was just a dumb dream. I had been spending so much time working in the nude lately it was getting to me. And I really was nervous about posing for this fancy fashion magazine.
I took a relaxing shower and had a light breakfast. Luckily, the night's terror didn't show on my face. I decided to wear a loose t-shirt and loose gym shorts; I figured that way there wouldn't be marks on my body to show in the photos. I packed some of my Chinese herbs. Even if I didn't need to show an erection, the herbs would make me feel relaxed and uninhibited.
The valet at the famous hotel snickered as he parked my Prius. I just shrugged, after all I was getting paid to pose for a famous photographer and be featured in a famous fashion magazine; the valet was getting paid to park cars.
I got up to the suite. The place was huge. Everything seemed to be white or grey. There was wedding-type stuff everywhere; clothes, luggage, fancy glassware, food, it was crazy. It all looked like recently opened wedding gifts with paper and ribbons strewn about. There were light stands all around the area of the bed and bathroom; I figured that's where most of the shoot was going to happen.
Simone was conferring with a very pretty blonde girl dressed as a bride. I wasn't going to have any trouble looking amorous around her. The girl glanced over at me and waved 'hello'. As Simone whispered to her she took a good, long look at me and started giggling. Simone called out.
"'Allo mon cher! You look magnifique! Go to make-up and we will, how you zay...commencer!"
I'm not sure how many people were on the set, but I was vaguely aware that it was an all female crew. Someone gently pushed me over toward a woman with make-up brushes in her hands, stripped off my t-shirt and plopped me down in a chair. I was handed a folder with my model release to sign. I didn't bother to read it; after all, Shirley had OK'd the shoot. Someone else handed me a glass of champagne. I heard the make-up girl whispering to herself.
"Hi, I'm Loni. Hmm...face...distinct possibilities...body...fantastic."
I was glad for the champagne. I was so nervous I couldn't concentrate on the crew. All the faces were a blur. Everything here looked obscenely expensive. I felt way out of my league. Loni started styling my hair, experimenting with various styling products and brushing it this way and that. Whenever my champagne glass was empty, someone refilled it. When no one was looking I snuck some of my Chinese herbs out of my shorts pocket and washed them down with champagne. The herbs would make me very horny, but also relaxed and uninhibited.
More attention was being paid to making up my face than had been done on the movie shoots. I felt lots of brush strokes around my eyes and cheekbones. I figured it was because the movie lighting had been so dark and bizarre my face didn't matter as much. I worried that maybe I wasn't good-looking enough; this was high-fashion after all. I was handed a mirror. What I saw stunned me.
My hair was brushed back and sleek but still very blond. My eyes looked enormous and piercingly blue. My jaw line and cheekbones looked impossibly sharp, as though I would cut my fingers if I touched them. The overall effect was almost beautiful and yet extremely masculine. I never imagined I looked like this. The bride, whose name I learned was Sherri, came over to say 'hello'. Standing together we looked like someone's wet dream of California blue-eyed blondness. I was a little disappointed that the wedding gown she was wearing was so demure. I was starting to feel a bit horny and was hoping to get a look at some cleavage. Simone came over and talked to us.
"You are both superbe! Now, Randee...I work very fast. I like lots of movement, your reactions to be...how you say...spontane! Sherri has worked wiz me before and knows what I want; you just react to whatever happens. Go wiz ze flow, yes? Now go put on your wardrobe."
One of the crew dressed me in a really nice tuxedo. It even felt expensive. I thought it odd that I wasn't given any expensive underwear or socks. The combination of the champagne and the Chinese herbs had me feeling very relaxed and loose. I was sure this was going to be a blast. Simone started directing.
"All right mon petits, let's start at the doorway."
I was told to pick Sherri up in my arms and carry her across the threshold of the suite. As she was very petite it was no strain holding her, although the very full skirt was a bit of a challenge. I heard cameras clicking and saw lights flashing. She reached her hand up to my neck and pulled me close for a kiss. I liked it...a lot.
"Now put her down...more baiser...more kissing."
Sherri put both hands around my neck and pulled me in for a very deep kiss...tongues and all. I felt the blood flowing to my cock which started swelling and lengthening, unconfined by underwear in the tux pants. I hoped Simone wasn't going to mind if I got hard because I was going to. We hadn't really discussed that particular matter. I found Sherri very attractive. I was probably going to have a solid boner for the camera whether Simone wanted it or not.
We moved over to the head of the bed. I was instructed to take off the tux jacket and kick off the shoes. Sherri pushed me against the wall near the headboard, running her hands up and down my body. My cock had stiffened to a state somewhere beyond semi-hard. I was in a posh hotel room, surrounded by all kinds of expensive crap with a beautiful fashion model feeling me up. I was happily looking forward to whatever was coming next.
Sherri grabbed my tux shirt and ripped it open, exposing my taught, flat pecs and rippling abs. She knelt down, raking her fingernails along my muscular thighs. She tore at the cummerbund and the pants fly and rapidly de-pantsed me! My cock sprang free, not quite fully hard, but long and thick enough to be extremely impressive and impossible to ignore. Sherri looked pleasantly shocked. I felt my face react, but I was surprised that my body remained unusually passive. I stood there, stunned as cameras clicked and lights flashed.
Next, Sherri tore off the rest of the tux shirt and pushed me down on the bed, straddling me so that the huge satin skirt of the wedding gown covered my crotch. She pushed my hands over my head and held me down. For a small woman she was surprisingly strong. She covered my writhing torso with kisses, marking me with her lipstick. This was making me horny as hell. Was this a fashion shoot or porn? I didn't care.
