Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 76329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“There,” Mona said, stepping back to assess me. “Theodore, what do you think?”
The photographer had been watching the entire process with clinical detachment, but now his gaze sharpened as he looked me up and down.
“Turn around,” he instructed.
I rotated slowly, painfully aware of how the thong left my spanked bottom almost completely exposed. The cool air against my heated skin was a strange relief, even as I cringed at the thought of them seeing the evidence of my punishment.
“The redness works well with the white,” Theodore observed dispassionately. “Gives her an air of submission that sponsors will appreciate.”
I flushed again at his words. The idea that the marks of my humiliation would be preserved in photographs for strange men to see made me want to sink through the floor.
“We need shoes,” Mona said, moving to a cabinet along the wall. She returned with a pair of white stiletto heels that looked impossibly high. “These should fit.”
I took the shoes with shaking hands. I’d never worn anything with heels this high before—at least five inches, with pointed toes and delicate ankle straps. I sat on the edge of a nearby chair to put them on, wincing as my tender bottom made contact with the hard surface.
When I stood, I wobbled precariously, my ankles threatening to give way beneath me. Mona steadied me with a hand on my elbow.
“Walk a bit,” she instructed. “You need to get used to them before we start shooting.”
I took a few tentative steps, feeling like a newborn foal. The heels forced my back to arch, thrusting my chest forward and my bottom out in a way that felt obscenely provocative. I felt like a caricature of femininity—a sexualized doll, dressed for a man’s pleasure. Yet with each wobbling step, I became increasingly aware of the wet heat between my legs, the way my body seemed to respond to its own objectification.
“That’s it,” Mona encouraged, her hand on the small of my back guiding me toward the bed setup. “Tiny steps. Lead with your hips.”
I followed her instructions, feeling like a prostitute as I practiced walking in the towering heels. The way they changed my posture, forced my body into this exaggerated feminine stance—it felt both alien and strangely natural, as if some part of me had been waiting for this transformation.
I am a prostitute now, though, aren’t I? I had to bite back a little whimper at the thought. I had decided to sell my virginity, hadn’t I?
By the time I reached the bed area, Theodore had his camera ready, a large, professional-looking device mounted on a tripod. The studio lights had been adjusted, bathing the white bed in a soft, flattering glow.
“Sit on the edge of the bed,” he instructed, his voice back to that impersonal, professional tone.
I perched carefully on the edge of the mattress, the heels forcing my knees together and my back straight. My hands instinctively moved to cover my exposed thighs.
“Hands at your sides,” Theodore reminded me sharply. “And look at the camera.”
I dropped my hands and raised my eyes to the lens, feeling utterly vulnerable. The camera clicked, and I flinched at the sound.
“Relax your face,” Theodore said. “You look terrified.”
I am terrified, I wanted to say, but instead I tried to smooth my features into something less panicked. The camera clicked again, capturing my discomfort for posterity.
“Now lean back slightly, hands behind you on the bed,” he directed.
I followed his instructions, leaning back to support my weight on my arms. The position thrust my breasts forward, the lace cups barely containing them.
“Good,” Theodore murmured, the camera clicking rapidly. “Now part your knees. Just slightly.”
I hesitated, then inched my knees apart, feeling the cool air against my thinly covered sex. The thong hid almost nothing, and I knew the freshly waxed skin of my intimate parts must be visible through the delicate lace.
“More,” Theodore instructed firmly.
I spread my legs wider, my face burning hot with shame as I exposed myself further for his camera. Click, click, click went the shutter, preserving my humiliation.
“Now stand up and turn around,” he said. “Bend forward slightly, hands on the bed.”
CHAPTER 7
Audrey
With trembling legs, I stood and turned, placing my hands on the mattress as instructed. The position thrust my bottom out, the tiny thong doing nothing to hide the redness that still lingered from my spanking.
“Arch your back more,” Mona suggested, approaching to place a hand between my shoulder blades, pressing down gently while her other hand lifted my hips. “Like this. Bottom up, chest down.”
The position made me feel even more revealed, my barely covered pussy surely visible from behind. I quivered with helpless arousal, my body’s response confusing and shameful to me.
“Perfect,” Theodore murmured, the camera clicking steadily. “The innocent farmgirl with the spanked bottom. Sponsors will be lining up.”
The photo session continued for what felt like an eternity, Theodore directing me into increasingly revealing poses while Mona adjusted my lingerie, hair, and body position to best display my ‘assets,’ as she called them. By the time they switched me to the babydoll nightgown for the second set of photos, I was trembling with a mixture of exhaustion, humiliation, and unwanted arousal.