*Author's note: this work is fiction in more ways than one. For real life please adhere to SSC: 'safe, sane and consensual'; or RACK: 'risk-aware consensual kink'*
Carly had been good. Paying her rent on time. Paying down her considerable debts, gradually. Treating her house-mates to boojee wine and cheese when they lounged and talked lady stuff. Working hard at the sports bar she'd been hired at. Always taking Lawrence's calls when there was modelling work. And she'd been celibate.
Her celibacy had lasted since her berserk encounter with the silent man named Vincent in Lawrence's studio. She had signed up for a risquΓ© lingerie photoshoot and had ended up being savagely fucked harder and more consummately carnally than she had previously imagined possible. The episode had shattered her understanding of men but lit a fire in her sexually that she didn't know what to do with. She felt lost.
A succession of interesting men had taken her out. Her celibacy remained intact, not because Carly didn't want to experience the sorts of orgasms Vincent had given her, but because she sensed an essential weakness in all of these men. The weakness turned her off. They lacked the right kind of assertiveness. Some of them tried to be dominant or even make a heavy-handed pass, but she just laughed, which put an end to it. She always dressed gorgeously and lasciviously, provoking lust and envy wherever a man took her, and used her charms to make sure he spoiled her, but he wasn't having her. All he had was a big dirty credit card bill afterwards, since Carly knew how to make men spend money and have fun doing it. Anyone nearby who Carly liked got a fancy drink paid for, such was her persuasive skill.
Perhaps she hadn't been SO good. The celibacy was incidental. Spending men's money for fun wasn't angelic.
Carly always made time to pose for Lawrence. The money was good. She particularly looked forward to a couples' shoot that sounded reminiscent of the shoot with Vincent. Once the shoot got started she got quite aroused. Her male model did not, however. His cock remained soft despite the erotic poses with a scantily clad, always-sexy Carly. She realized during the shoot that she had had a sub-conscious drive to repeat the experience she'd had with Vincent. She couldn't acknowledge wanting such a repeat to herself until then. Her unconscious had assumed that another couples' photoshoot meant getting laid again.
After the shoot Carly made an off-hand reference to Vincent when talking to Lawrence. She thought she was playing it cool but Lawrence immediately turned to face her, "Oh do you want me to arrange a video with you and Vincent? That could be fun, and very hardcore!"
"No, never mind!," she replied, blushing beet red.
Later that evening Carly tried to describe to her room-mates, Brenda and Sophie, what she was looking for in a man. They found her bewildering. "The men who take you out are SO HOT, just pick one!" Carly's phone gave off a notification.
The text message was from Lawrence. "Is your passport current? I'd like you to come do a shoot in Central America. Pretty place."
She told her room-mates.
"Fuck you Carly, I'd love to do that!" exclaimed Sophie. "Yeah lucky, fuck, you should go," added Brenda. "Alright you bitches, let me think," replied Carly.
She texted back at Lawrence. "Will I have to do anything crazy? Will I be safe?"
His reply was quick: "It will be horny, but not X-rated. And yes I'll keep you safe"
She trusted Lawrence, sort of. "OK I'll do it"
The flight down south was pleasant, business class. The bar Carly worked at was flexible enough for her to go, and she'd agreed to pick up some other shifts before and after. With her on the plane were Lawrence and two other models. After two stopovers they took a less comfortable single-prop plane to the seaside town of ViolaciΓ³n.
This place was a gem. Colonial architecture, beautiful beaches (though as much rock as sand), lush vegetation, and few tourists. After checking into a small but lovely hotel, Lawrence took them all to the house of a couple he knew for a delicious dinner. It was fun.
On the second day of shooting Lawrence took them to a spa resort outside of town. He had Carly pose on an old, sun-bleached, low little pier in a beautiful mangrove lagoon. She had on a blue g-string bikini that went high over her hips, up around her enviable round buttocks and disappearing where the thin string descended between her ass cheeks. The front was narrow and slight, just enough fabric to clad her most intimate flesh. The top gathered her big round breasts into blue panels of fabric that covered the outsides, undersides and not quite all the nipples of each breast. Two strings ascended from the outsides of the panels up over her shoulders and met the side-strings against her back. When she lounged on the narrow pier her delightful long, thick, brown, curly hair dangled down into the water of the lagoon.