If Dee had had any other choice, she would not be knocking on the photographer's door. The fierce winter wind ripped through her thin coat and reminded her how hard times had become. Dee had nearly decided to turn away when the door was opened.
The photographer was not as she'd imagined him to be. She had expected an older man, balding, maybe with a gut. But this man wasn't yet forty, fit, and while his dark hair was disheveled, it was only in a fashionable way.
"Delilah James?" He asked of the pink-cheeked girl with the long dark curls.
She nodded and accepted his offer of entry to the house. The space was sparse and modern, without being cold. There was no photography studio in sight.
"Pleasure. Charles Jordon – call me Charlie," he extended his hand. His confident shake made hers even smaller.
He led her past the kitchen, and paused.
"Would you care for a drink before we get started?"
Dee decided that anything to help her relax would be a good thing. She watched him pour her a tall glass of pinot noir.
The studio was in a large room, at the back of the house. It looked professional and well equipped.
"The dressing room is right here. Your outfit is waiting for you inside."
Dee entered the room and found something worse than she had feared. A black, bra-less bustier, black garters and sheer black stocking. There was also a semi-sheer black floor length robe, and what could, arguably, be called underwear: a band of black laced elastic to fit around her waist, and a band of large, white pearls, to slip into the cracks of her pussy and ass.
She might as well have been naked.
She was under no delusions about what kind of photo shoot this was, but had been hoping for a moment to perhaps build up to the nude photos. At least it would be over with sooner, she reasoned, as she checked herself out in the mirror.
She had to admit, the effect was sexy. The white really set off her black hair and naturally red lips. And of course the bustier only accentuated her large, shapely breasts. And the beads that rubbed the lips of her pussy had an immediate effect on her. Each movement of her legs was a tiny stimulation, like an itch she couldn't scratch. Her nipples puckered and became visibly extended. They also ached for attention.
For all her arousal, Dee felt as much shame. She wasn't sure what was happening to her body, why she it was reacting in such a naughty way. Her strict evangelical upbringing brought visions of sin and hell to her mind, but if this was hell, she secretly admitted to herself, she didn't know what was so awful about it.
Dee quickly put the robe on and pulled it close around her. Then she realized that the closer the fabric of the robe was to her body, the more sheer it became. She let it hang loosely, and, with steel resolve, turned the handle of the dressing room door.
Charlie was adjusting his camera. He did a subtle double-take when he saw her, then recovered. He adjusted her to the middle of the stage.
He took a few shots of her just standing, then he asked her to do simple things like turn her head, or raise her arms. But he didn't waste much time, as his next request was for the robe to slip off her shoulders.
"That's it, Dee. You have beautiful skin, let me see it." Dee was mortified, but those pearls were so insistently tickling her that her arousal could not be helped.
"Okay, face me, and hug the robe around yourself. Pull it tight. Good." Charlie took a few steps nearer, and snapped shots of her dark, extended nipples showing through the fabric.
"Now turn around, and let the robe drop to your waist. Good. Turn, just a quarter, but face me. Yes. Now spin around, look down, turn around again," he said. She began to think he knew just how the pearls affected her, and was having her move as much as he could. "Yes, face me again. Okay, I need to make an adjustment," he said, and put the camera down.
Charlie walked up with a small pot of something in his hands. He unscrewed the tiny lid, and dipped his finger into it, and pulled up a dark red goo. Without asking permission, he lightly wiped it off on the hard tip of Dee's nipple. Her nipples were generally quite sensitive, but now, extremely so – they were throbbing, painful, needing to be touched. When he gently used his finger to spread the paste around her nipple, she drew her breath in sharply. It felt so good, but she needed more. When her repeated the delicate process with the other nipple, it was just as much a tease. The small relief was the brief warm look he gave her, before he walked back to the camera.
Now her nipples were as dark red as her lips, and standing out at least a half inch. She was all hot and bothered, and didn't even mind when he said, "Drop the robe."
Her pussy was all there for him to see, besides that damn string of pearls.
"No, no no," he exclaimed, putting the camera down. "Have you never shaved your cunt?" he asked.
"I...no." Dee said quietly.
"Well, we have to do it now." He left, but quickly returned with a towel and shaving implements. He directed her to a chaise lounge and had her lay back, after taking her "panties" off.
Charlie first trimmed the triangle above her pussy with the small scissors. Then he worked the hairs outside her lips. When that was complete, he slipped his finger just inside her slit, to push the lips open, to get a close cut. His fingers repeated brushed her clit and she almost cried out but didn't. It didn't matter, he saw and felt exactly how wet she was.
He finished the work with a razor, and it was the most excruciating/exciting experience Dee had ever had. The gentle motions were a tease and she badly wanted more. Yet she was terrified of a slip of the razor. A small part of her brain, one that wasn't working very well at the moment, wondered how she'd handed so much trust over to a stranger.
After Charlie was done with the shave he put a generous dollop of lotion in his hands. Unabashedly, he rubbed her pussy – first the top, then the outer lips, and then, more languidly, the inner lips – with the lotion. This did make her cry out a little mewl he could barely hear. He just smiled at her and asked her to put the pearls back on.
When she did, she found she was more sensitive than she even was before. He took pictures of her standing, kneeling, and bending, the camera getting closer and closer to her ever more exposed pussy and asshole. Dee had never felt a rush like this before in her life.
"You do have lovely nipples," he mused as his camera got close to them. "Do they get any longer?" he asked.
