Memoir of a Young Mistress

Ted had searched and chosen a website where he planned to post the pictures Emily would provide. She was already comfortable with sending him nude and revealing photos, and had done so several times over the last few weeks. He had used one of the pictures when he opened an account with the site, and created a profile for Emily. The photo was cropped, but showed a flattering view of Emily's torso in one of her nicest bras. No galleries were posted yet, but he said in the profile that "DaddysAngel" was looking forward to showing off for everyone soon. The account's inbox was already full of private messages from horny men of all ages clamoring for more.

Ted texted Emily. It was around 9 AM on a Tuesday. He was fairly sure she'd be alone, and his wife had gone to work a couple of hours earlier.

Ted: Hey Angel. Are you alone? Call me if you are.

Ted's phone rang almost immediately.

"Hey, pretty girl," he answered. He had learned that any time he called her pet names she beamed, and he could almost hear her smiling through the phone.

"Hi!" she answered. "What's up?" She hoped Ted was going to ask if she wanted to get out, but he had other plans.

"Let's play a game," he answered.

"Game" had become code for, "I want you to do as I say" and Emily loved to comply. Ever since their first phone call when Ted had talked her through an orgasm, Ted's voice was hypnotic to her, either on the phone or in person.

"Okay, what are we doing?" She was eager to learn what plans he had for her. They almost always involved getting naked and masturbating. He had made her masturbate in almost every room of her house. She had masturbated in her parent's bed, on the living room coffee table, and on a pile of dirty laundry on the garage floor. She had been told to use various objects as dildos, including her hairbrush, a carrot, and the open end of one of her father's discarded beer bottles.

"You like being told to do things, don't you?" He already knew the answer but never tired of hearing it.

"Yeah," she smiled. "I love it. It turns me on."

"Let's do something risky today," he said cryptically.

Emily's house was on a cul-de-sac and her street was at the edge of the developed part of their subdivision. All the houses on the cul-de-sac had large, wedge-shaped backyards with a wooded area behind the back fence. Emily's yard had 6-foot wood privacy fence along the back, and one neighbor's yard was separated by the same fence, but the other side was chain-link.

On the chain-link side lived the Mitchells, an elderly couple in their 80s. They mostly kept to themselves but were cordial when their paths crossed. They were typical old folks.

On the privacy fence side lived Art Durham, a thirtysomething mechanic. Single, prematurely balding, with a beer gut he enjoyed feeding. Art worked a night shift at a truck stop and usually slept during the day.

"Okay, what do you want me to do?" She was slightly nervous but eager as well. "The game" always aroused her.

"I want you to go out in the back yard, but I want proof you're doing exactly what I tell you, so I want you to get the camera. I'm going to need pictures."

"Okay, I'll get it, just a sec," she answered, and went to her parent's bedroom.

Emily could take pictures with her phone, and most of the time that was what she used when Ted told her to send a photo, but when there was time and opportunity, she went to her father's bedroom and borrowed his digital camera. Making sure each time that she used her own memory card, she'd take a set of photos, swap the cards back, replace the camera, and use her laptop to email the pictures to Ted.

"Okay, got it," she said as she swapped out the memory card. Her parents would probably suffer multiple strokes if they ever saw the photos their sheltered, home-schooled, innocent daughter took with this camera.

"Go out to the backyard and set the camera up on something. You'll be using the timer. Call me back when that's done."

Emily took the camera into the large backyard. It was cool but not uncomfortably so, as the midmorning sun was bathing the yard. Emily dragged one of the wooden Adirondack chairs to the middle of the yard and placed the camera on one of the arms. She had the camera pointed in the direction of the neighbor's house with the wooden privacy fence because she figured that would be a less distracting background than the view on the other side, which would have included the house where the elderly couple lived. She set the timer and let it snap a few frames as she walked, knelt, and sat in front of the camera, then checked the results. She corrected the position of the camera and tried a second time, and this time was satisfied, noting to herself an imaginary boundary in the grass where she would need to stay for the camera to "see" her.

She called Ted back. "I'm ready."

"Good girl," he answered. "Tell me what you have on today."

"Jeans, my tan stripe tee. Purple panties and the matching floral print bra."

"Okay. And no one should be coming home for a while, right?"

"No, it'll be hours. Like 5 or 6 o'clock probably, why?"

Emily had an idea what Ted was going to make her do now.

"After I hang up, set the timer to take shots continuously, maybe every 15 seconds or so; you decide what works best. I want you to strip for the camera. Smile at it, make eye contact. Imagine you're stripping for an audience and they paid good money to watch you. Take things off, piece by piece, until you're just in your panties. Then take a few more poses, and then pick up your things and go back inside. Don't get dressed until you're inside, just carry your clothes. Then send the pictures to me. Got it?"

"Yeah," Emily answered. She wasn't expecting Ted to tell her to get topless outside; she was thinking he'd have her strip to her underwear and stop. No matter, she'd do as she was told. It made Ted happy, and that was what Emily loved to do.

"Okay, bye Angel," and Ted hung up.

The Mitchells had a daily morning routine. After Walter and his wife Louise had breakfast, she would wait outside on the porch for the van that would ferry her to the Sea Coast Senior Center, where she'd play cards, knit, and trade stories with the residents until lunch time. She and her husband weren't far from needing to be there themselves, especially Walter, who was having difficulty getting around on his own lately.

They both knew it was a matter of months now, maybe sooner, and they'd have to sell their home and make plans for the latter part of their long, full lives together.

Once Louise had left, Walter usually spent the morning in his favorite chair and surfed up and down the hundred-odd channels on their TV until he felt hungry again and made a light snack, then he'd have a nap until Louise returned for lunch. Today he had skipped the cereal and just had coffee, so he got up earlier than usual to make his snack. As he got to the kitchen, he glanced at the window over the sink and saw that the young girl next door was doing something out in her backyard. He paused to watch, just out of curiosity.

Art couldn't sleep. He had worked a particularly tiring shift at the truck stop the night before, and the hot shower hadn't helped his aching muscles much. He had tossed and turned for a few hours, and finally gave up, deciding he'd try to sleep later in the afternoon.

He got out of bed, naked as usual since there was no one to be modest for, and walked to the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge. Carrying one and sipping the other, he headed to the bathroom for a piss. As he relieved himself, he reached up and opened the small frosted glass window over the toilet. It only slid up a couple of inches and would go no farther, as the frame was bent, but it allowed the cool, fresh air to enter the room, and that made Art feel a bit better.

He finished the first beer and pulled the flush handle, tossing the empty bottle into the wastebasket, where it clinked against several others. He saw something through the small opening in the window. It looked like someone was in the back yard next door.

Art was nosy by nature, but especially when it came to his neighbors on this side, because the neighbors had a daughter, and she was a hottie. His fondest memory of her so far was the time she sunbathed in her backyard. Art was picking up trash outside and he heard the neighbor's screen door slamming shut, and he peeked through the cracks in the fence in time to spy the girl setting up a lawn chair. She was wearing a cute one-piece swimsuit that showed a lot of cleavage. Once she had settled down in the chair, Art spent a good long time spying on her through the fence.

The memory spurred him to satisfy his curiosity more, and he tossed on a robe and sandals, grabbed a third beer to replace the one he had finished, and quietly opened his patio door and crept up to the fence. Sure enough, it was the cute teenage girl. She was talking to someone on her phone. He decided to stick around a minute to see what she was doing. He opened the second beer and sat the other one on the ground between his feet.

Emily put her phone down next to the camera and started the timer on the camera. Stepping back into frame, she just stood and smiled for a few shots, waving in one while facing the camera.

She imagined what it would be like to be a stripper, on a stage in front of men who were eager to see her body. She started removing her clothes, beginning with the shirt. A few poses after, she took off her jeans. Making sure she looked at the camera as much as possible, she imagined the hungry eyes of many men watching her as she removed each article of clothing, anxious to see more of her young body.

Instead of removing her bra, she put the jeans back on first and took a few more poses without her shirt. Then she turned to face the wooden fence, her back to the camera, and looked over her shoulder with a grin and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the ground. Before she turned to face the camera, she covered her breasts with her hands in what she hoped would be a sexy pose and slowly turned around again. Then she walked around a bit in the imaginary perimeter she saw on the ground, staying in frame for the camera. She moved her hands and arms some to tease her imaginary audience, but never fully revealed her breasts.

Then she turned her back to the camera once more, and unclasped her jeans, slowly sliding them down until they were around her ankles, and stepped out of them. She deliberately tossed them out of frame, wondering how fast she could retrieve them if she needed them in a hurry. She looked over her shoulder at the camera for a few more poses, some with hands on hips, and some playing with her hair, but not turning to reveal her bare breasts, which were in fact being enjoyed at the moment by her neighbor Art Durham.

Covering herself again, she turned, still smiling for her audience. After a few more poses, she walked closer to the camera and shut off the timer. Standing by the chair, topless, the sun feeling warm on her pale skin, she reviewed what she had so far. She decided to take a few more, but while holding the camera.

She knelt, sat, and lay down on the cool grass, snapping several more selfie-style pictures, all while demurely covering her breasts. When she was satisfied she had enough poses, she stood, gathered her clothes, and went inside.

Art Durham shook the last of the semen from his now-wilting penis, picked up the two empty beer bottles, and went back inside for a fourth.

Walter Mitchell returned to the refrigerator to warm up last night's soup, a wistful smile on his face. He reminisced about a part-time acting job he had held for a few weeks when he was a much younger man.

Ted browsed through the pictures he had received in his email inbox, selecting his favorites and cropping them so Emily's full face wasn't showing. As much as he'd love all those eager men to see her beautiful face, it wouldn't be wise. There was a chance, although infinitesimally small, that one of the hundreds of men that saw those pictures might be a local, and recognize her.

He did succumb to temptation and cropped the pictures high enough to show her lovely smile, and included some shots when she was facing away from the camera, so only the back of her head was visible.

He saved the originals to one folder, and the ones he would upload to another. Logging in to the picture-sharing site, he set up a gallery and posted five of the pictures, teasing her already-hungry fan base. The first pictures only went so far as to show her in the bra and jeans. He hadn't even finished uploading the last picture when the first comments appeared. Ted read through them eagerly.

End of part sixteen.