I remember the day of his interview well. He sat calmly opposite me, long legs extended, his hands clasped in his lap. He exuded a cool arrogance that I was immediately attracted to. He was well dressed, quite handsome. When I started to ask him questions, his answers were short and to the point, his eyes fixed on my face. Oh those eyes. They sparkled with such cheekiness, such promise; they smiled along with his mouth. I was curious why he had sought me out.
“Are you married?”
I had glanced at his hands. No ring. That was 3 months ago, and until dinner recently, I had fully believed him.
Enzo’s had become a regular Friday habit for me some time ago. I had arrived 5 minutes late, and on the way I had received a text from Adrienne telling me that she was also behind schedule. I was seated promptly and ordered a cocktail. The restaurant bustled with warmth and noise, people chatting and laughing, the aromas from the kitchen spilling into the room and instantly making my mouth water. I scanned the crowd, sipping my drink. The moment my eyes fell on him my body seized, a wave of panic spreading through every part of me. Fuck. My gaze lingered for confirmation; he was seated at a table with a group of people, his back to me, his arm wrapped around a woman. I rarely ran into clients on my down time, and when I had in the past, it never went well. I raised my menu as a shield and cussed at the appetizers. Just then Adrienne arrived, her smile quickly vanishing, her pretty face echoing the worry plastered on my own.
“Over there.” I nodded quietly towards them. “The blue shirt. A client.”
She discreetly peeked to her right, just long enough to see. “Closest to us? The wife is pretty…”
I peer over the top of my menu, and she’s right; a gold band glistens on his left hand, his arm resting on the redhead’s shoulder while they chat with their company. I’m stunned into silence, and I quickly decide it’s time to find another restaurant. I leave money on the table for my drink, and quietly slip out the back entrance unnoticed with Adrienne in tow.
I remember feeling a mixture of emotions when I returned home that night, none of them being the standard fare. I felt betrayed, and rightly so, but I felt it on a more personal level. The relationships I had with my clients were based on trust, and how could I trust him if he had lied from the beginning? Deep in the pit of my stomach, jealousy raged on. It was the first time I had ever felt anything remotely like that towards someone I had a working relationship with. Throughout the months, our meetings had become more personal, our bond stronger. I enjoyed his company, and for the first time in a very long time, I honestly looked forward to our sessions. Now that all the cards were on the table, and everything I knew had vanished, I was livid. I had to decide on how to handle the situation, and I had already kept him waiting 20 minutes. I locked the door to my office and made my way downstairs, my heels clicking on the hard cement, the noise bouncing down the hall. My fingertips felt on fire, my corset feeling too tight. I paused to steady myself, and breathing in, I opened the dungeon door.
The sight before me was always enough to calm jangled nerves and to put my mind and body at ease. The expanse of the room was dimly lit, plush carpet covering the floor. The walls were adorned with warm flames flickering atop sconces, the crystals droplets sparkling in the half light. From the mahogany beams hung an assortment of metal hooks, chains and pulleys, ropes hanging from the ceiling in various places. To my left lay an assortment of benches, each varying in size and width. To my right the walls were covered with floggers, whips, different sized canes and paddles. I smiled as my gaze lingered on the center of the room.
There he sat on a tall stool, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers and a blindfold. His hands were bound in his lap. I noted that Natasha had followed my every instruction, even down to using a stool instead of a high backed chair, rope instead of a sash. I didn’t want him comfortable, I wanted him rigid and on edge, and the sight of him helpless and struggling to gain composure only encouraged the ruthless streak in me. I crossed the room and grabbed a riding crop. I stood before him, drinking in the sight of his thick thighs, his hairy chest, the bulge of his erection through his shorts. I could feel my thong already wet, my pussy buzzed for attention. It took every part of me to not drop to my knees and take his hard cock into my mouth right there and then.
That is not how the game will be played this time.
“Hello, Mistress Eve.”
I note he’s breathing evenly, calmly, his chest expanding and contracting slowly. All of that is about to change. The keeper of the crop comes down hard on his left thigh, and he involuntarily jumps.
“I’m sorry, did I ask you to speak to me?”
My anger simmers underneath the surface. With my voice stern, my sentence is punctuated with a matching swat on his right thigh. This time it’s harder, and he recoils with the sting.
“No, I’m sorry Mistress Eve.” His face is painted with confusion. Good, I think to myself.
“Stand up,” I bark at him, and he stands immediately. With a slight tug, his shorts slip to the floor, his erection bobbing into clear view. He has a deliciously thick and rigid cock, and for a second I have trouble taking my eyes off it. Thank God for the blindfold. With a command, he sits straight back down on the stool, his balls resting on the edge. I raise the crop and run the keeper over his testicles lightly as I speak.
“Something tells me you haven’t been completely honest with me, Eric.”
I run the leather flap over his thighs and up his arms, back over his shoulders, and down to his legs again as I circle him. I watch him eagerly, his uneasiness has started to show. He shifts his weight on the stool uncomfortably. My face level with his, he licks his lips with panic. I push the leather of the keeper up under his jaw line and hold it shut. I slip the blindfold off his eyes. It takes him a few seconds to adjust, and when he does, his eyes rake over my body. His gaze falls from my face down to my cleavage and over the tightness of my black corset, dropping to the silk that covers my thighs. He smiles and says nothing, his mouth still pursed shut at my hand, my will.
“So tell me,” I whisper and smile, “How is your wife? She has pretty red hair, just like mine.”
His eyes become large, and for a second I swear he’s going to speak. I say nothing as I drop the crop and pick up his shorts. I shove them in his mouth, and I can feel the rage starting to burn in my belly, desire spiking my every move. I stand behind his chair, and even with him sitting down, he still equals my height. I thrust my hip forward, pushing the stool off balance, sending him falling onto his bound hands and knees. I walk over to the wall and grab my fiberglass cane.
“You’ve disappointed me, and well, that won’t do Eric.”
The first strike hits his flesh with a thud, a cry escaping into the material he holds in his mouth. Picking up rhythm, I shower his back, buttocks and backs of his thighs with strike after strike, his skin immediately raising in a cross-hatch of welts. Every time I hear his pain muffled, I come down harder, my strike more deliberate, my appetite growing with each blow. When his back is covered in red welts, I rest my right foot on his side, the heel digging into his rib.
“See what happens when you upset me? Our sessions aren’t nearly as fun, for you anyway…”
I push at his side with my foot, knocking him onto his back. I remove the material from his mouth, slip my thong to the floor, sit and straddle him. His breathing hard, alarm shines brightly in his eyes.
“So, you’re a taken man? I think it’s about time for me to take what I want, what I deserve. No more games, no more lying.”
I look down to his engorged cock. It stands alone, begs to be used. I want to do all sorts of things to this man, and right now, I think I will. I am full of ache for him, and any professionalism I had remaining has slipped away. I want him deep inside me, coming into me, giving me his all. I’ve never had the honor of fucking this man, and the thought of the coupling sends an electrical current of pleasure surging through me. Even though he has no say in the matter, his body is telling me all I need to know. I push the head of his cock past my clitoris and into the warmth of my cunt, my muscles tightening as I slip down the length of his shaft. I look into his eyes and we both moan in unison. His length feels delectable, better than I could have imagined, and I start rocking back and forth, my fingers rubbing at my pussy.
Impaled on his prick, I untie him. I want all of him, now. The moment his hands find freedom, they are on me. He reaches to the base of my neck and tangles his digits in my hair. He pulls me down to kiss him, and I strain against it. The second time he’s rough, and he gets what he wants, his lips and hands on my face, his warm tongue tasting mine. He slips one hand down my back and unzips me free from my corset, my naked breasts bouncing to view, pressing against the soft of his chest hair. My hands scratch at his back, my fingertips drag on the skin of his shoulders. I nip roughly at his neck, and he pinches each of my nipples between thumb and index finger. His hands push my hips down until he is fully embedded in the heat of my cunt, his cock kissing my cervix. I can’t help but moan and surrender, and with his hands holding mine behind my back, I ride him to my first shuddering climax. As soon as he hears my moans of pleasure, his grip tightens down on me. He growls himself, his cock exploding into me, his mouth kissing at my shoulders and licking at my breasts.
Moments pass, and I regain composure from my heady orgasm. I stand and sit myself on the stool.
“There’s only one woman who can do that to me, Mistress Eve, and that happens to be you.”
He looks at me in earnest. His whisper has me smiling, his boyish charm showcased all over his face with a grin. Right now I find him nothing short of adorable. How could this man not be taken? I shake my head and smile as I walk over to the shelf and pick up a collar.
“Good, then I suspect you wont have an issue wearing this then. We’re not nearly done…”
I pick up a length of chain and make my way to him.
I could tell watching her get out of her car that we wouldn’t finish today. I’ve done this a long time and you get so you can tell. What a shame too, I thought to myself. She could be something special. But her hesitancy and stiffness walking up the rise from the lane to the barn gave her away. A lot of them are shy and hesitant when they see you, but this one had an deep uncertainty in every movement, and she hadn’t even seen me yet.
I stepped out into the open doorway and she visibly stiffened. Yep, I thought to myself. This would be a short visit.
“Karen?” I asked. She nodded with a crisp bob of her head.
“Welcome. You came alone.” Another nod.
Often they don’t. In fact, I suggest they bring someone with them, so they don’t have to worry that I am some kind of danger to them. If they don’t, I tell them, I run a pair videotapes of the entire session for their protection and mine. A few of them bring someone with them – a boyfriend, husband or a close girlfriend. Most don’t though. It’s as if just making the offer puts them at ease. Or maybe they just don’t want their friends knowing what they are doing.
I take boudoir pictures. It’s a hobby really, but over the years it has become a fairly extensive hobby. How it began is a story in itself, but it was one of those things that you do for a friend, who tells a friend, who tells someone they know and the next thing you know you’re doing it for all kinds of people. At his point, I’ve been doing it for over a decade, and picking up a light here and a prop there, I have turned an end of my barn turned home into a photo studio, and am always dragging one of my antiques or another into the studio for just the right look. I have an embarrassingly large array of cameras and even when I travel for my real work (which is often), I always carry a camera and a pair of small lights.
I don’t advertise. It’s not a business after all. I just like to bring out the beauty in a woman, and somewhere early on, I found out that I was good at it. I have an eye for what’s special about a woman, what looks good on her, how she poses to her best advantage. It brings me an amazing amount of joy when I see a woman’s eyes widen in amazement and discovers for the first time just how beautiful and sexy she is really is.
People just find me. When they do, I send them a cut sheet of sample photos I’ve done and some ask me to take their (or their wives) pictures. I do have a little secret web site I put up that shows some of my favorite photographs and people I do work for send others there, and then they send others and so it is that once or twice a week I find myself taking pictures of women in, or out of, lingerie.
Karen had found me when a girlfriend of hers told her about me. She contacted me by e-mail first (they all do) and then we talked a time or two. I sent her samples and she finally decided she wanted to have some pictures for her husband. I went through my speal about bringing someone, and all that, and here she was.
She was prettier than she said she was on the phone. Then she said she was fat, but not in my eyes. Just not one of those too thin model types. 35 maybe, the start of the most perfect age in a woman, Curvey and full breasted. Good waist. Her brown hair had rich auburn highlights, and a wave in it that you could tell she didn’t like, but gave her a wonderful 1950′s pinup look, even in her jeans and loose oxford cloth shirt.
She was carrying a hanging bag over her shoulder. That would be the sexy stuff. I always tell them to bring some things that made them feel sexy, or bring some things that their husband thought was sexy. I sift through their choices, pick something I think will set them off and let them pick something they particularly want and that’s what we use.
I smiled and waved her in. “The studio is to the right. You said auburn hair in your call, so I picked the Victorian settee in yellow for a prop. It seemed like it would set you off, and I think I was right.”
She looked around the studio. It’s nothing special really, just a big room with high ceilings. One wall has a roll where I drape fabric or backdrops. Two walls are plastered, to give the appearance of an interior. The last wall is rough – the original barn beams and worn wood siding. Eight or ten lights are scattered around on stands. I had four of them set around the settee, ready for our session.
“Let’s see what you brought.” I said, holding my hand out for her hanging bag.
She mumbled something, her hand still clutching the bag.
“What?” I asked.
“I can’t do this.” She said, her voice shakey and afraid. “I thought I could. But I can’t.” And she ran out of the studio. Before I got to the barn door, she had backed her car up and was heading down the lane through the woods to the main road.
I guess I called it. It wasn’t the first time that’s happened. I figured that was that, but I was wrong. I’d see her two more times in the next month.
The first time was the very next day. I was in the airport sipping my cup of Starbucks when she walked in and ordered a latte. What a difference. She was in a business suit, full of confidence, in her element obviously. Simply striking. She turned around and saw me and the confidence fell from her face. I figured she’d just walk past me, but I was wrong. She gathered herself quickly, and came to my table and sat down.
“Yesterday was really embarrassing for me. I am sorry I wasted your afternoon.”
I waved away the apology. “Nothing to worry about Karen. It happens. It’s not exactly the kind of thing you do every day. At least most people don’t. I am sorry though.”
“Well look at you! My God woman, you’re stunning. Most of the women I photograph are pleasant enough to look at, but it takes some work to make them special. We tinker with hair, makeup, angles, everything to get those few shots that make them shine. You though…. you’re nigh on to perfect right out of the gate. It would have been an amazing set of pictures.”
She was blushing. “I bet you say that to….”
I held up my hand. “I do not. I say it to very few.”
“How do they do it?”
“Undress and show themselves to you in their all in all? I saw your sample sheet, very sexy stuff, and they seemed to really been into it, enjoying, flaunting it even. I’m not that way.”
“Neither are most of them. They are just housewives, or sales clerks or real estate agents. That kind of thing. I’ve never asked them what made them get into it so much, but I have my suspicions.”
“Tell me.” She was leaning forward, her lips slightly apart. She looked sexy without trying. How come she didn’t see it herself?, I wondered once again.
“I think they just tap into their fantasies. I mean, that’s what these kinds of pictures are, aren’t they? About fantasies? Fantasies for you or a husband or a boyfriend. I think that they come to realize that I am safe and that for the few hours we are together, they can safely play out their fantasies of being a sex kitten or pinup queen or even a porn star. How often do we really get to live out our fantasies? Not near enough. That’s why they are fantasies. And they have been carrying around their fantasies for all this time, and finally screw up their courage to live it, and the passion of that fantasy comes out in the pictures.”
She had a thoughtful look on her face. I didn’t know what I had said, but it was clear I hit a nerve somewhere. “So what’s your fantasy?” I asked in a joking voice, trying to lighten the mood.
She shook her head, like she was trying to shake something out. “Are all photographers so thoughtful?” she asked.
I laughed. “I doubt it. And I have a plane to catch.”
“Karen?” I began as she turned to go. She turned back. “It’s all about passion. It really is. Not sex. Passion. Look into your heart and find what excites you, even if you’ve never dared. Find your passion and you can do anything. Not just this, but anything.”"
She nodded, obviously distracted. And walked away slowly through the throng of people heading to their gates. I shook my head as she walked away. Extraordinary ass too, I thought. Shame.
But some people will surprise you, and it was with more than a little amazement that two Sunday’s later, I heard a car driving up the lane through the woods. Her dark grey BMW pulled up the barn.
She got out and I admired her. This was more like the woman I saw in the airport, confident, attractive and sexy. There was no hesitancy in her as she walked up to me. She didn’t even blush at my frankly admiring look as she approached. She was carrying a small bag from Victoria’s secret. I like small bags from Victoria’s Secret and I smiled.
She walked up to me and stopped. “I found it.” She said.
“My passion. That thing that turned me on just thinking about it.”
“I’m curious as hell.” I said. “How did you find it?”
“You’re not going to ask what it was?” she said.
“Later. I didn’t think you’d really look, so I’d like to know how. Then what.”
“Something in me can’t believe I looked either. But something you said just haunted me, about finding your passion and being able to do anything.”
“I never even looked for passion before. In fact, I fled from it. I was an accounting major in college. I hated it, but it was safe. I dated safe boys from the right side of the tracks and when I married Bill, it was as much for the safety of his good engineering background as anything else. I took my job because it was safe. I’ve done well in life, but something’s been missing and I really didn’t know what until I met you in the airport.”
I looked at her thoughtfully. “I think you did know. That’s why you came here the first time. You needed to break out.”
She nodded. “Probably. But it was just a knee jerk reaction. I didn’t have a reason for doing it.”
“And now you do.”
She nodded again. “I travel a lot, which means a lot of nights in a hotel room. That night after we ran into each other at O’Hare, I couldn’t get your words out of my head, and I started surfing for porn.” For the first time, there was a hint of a blush on her cheeks. It suited her. I’ve spent a lot of nights since then doing that, looking at pictures, reading the erotic story sites. And I found certain things kept attracting me, sometimes even turning me on until I could hardly breath, I was so excited.”
“And…” I led her on.
“See, I have always been the one who ran things. Part of wanting to be safe, I guess. I even run Bill and my marriage. But I’d see these pictures of submissive women, who just give themselves to a man and I wanted to feel that kind of helplessness, that kind of desire. And I want you to take pictures and capture it for me.”
I was grinning from ear to ear. “Karen, I’d love it. And you’ve hit on one of my little fetishes so it will be a real pleasure.” I wasn’t lying. My cock was hard just at the thought. “What’s in the bag?”
She reached in and brought out a corset, black and pink, deliciously trashy looking. My cock swelled another notch.
We walked into the studio. I sent her into the dressing room and I began to set up the props. I decided the contrast of her softness and the girly corset would stand out most against the rough wood of the barn, and set my lights up quickly. Not too perfect, I decided, that would mess the effect. I ran a rope over the rafter near the wall and on one end set up a set of black bondage cuffs, hanging them at roughly arm’s height overheard. Then, before I forgot, I crossed the room and hit the two recorders.
She looked ravishing as she came out of the dressing room. The corset fit nicely, emphasizing her already curvey shape. And every woman looks good in heels.
“Can I make a little adjustment?” I asked.
I walked behind her and untied the strings in back, and began pulling them tighter here and there. When I was finished I tied them tight again and took in the result. Her waist was narrower, and her breasts pushed up, nearly spilling out of the cups. “Delicious.” I said.
“Have you ever been tied up before?” I asked.
“No.” Her breathing was already a little faster than normal
“Well I am going to truss you up with these cuffs, them pull the rope tight. Not enough to suspend you, but just enough that you are barely on your shoes. It’ shouldn’t hurt, but if it does, tell me. You’re going to feel helpless, and it will show on the pictures.”
She nodded without saying anything and I led her to the cuffs and put her hands in them., then pulled on the other end of the rope. Her her eyes were very wide and her lips parted slightly, and I began to take pictures.
“How does it feel to be helpless, Karen? To know I could do anything with you now? What would Bill do to you if he had you like this?”
“Probably nothing.” She said. “He’s a wimp. What would you do to me?”
I’d toy with you Karen. I’d slowly undress you, hanging just like that. And touch you and caress you, and unsnap you a little more. I’d tease you. Kiss your legs up your thigh. I’d unsnap your front one little eyelet at a time until your breasts came out and then I’d cup them and taste your nipples and…..”
Her excitement was visible. Her chest was heaving and I snapped away. These were going to be amazing.
“… and I’d take lots of times with your breasts. I wonder if I could make you cum by licking and teasing them?”
I heard her moan slightly at that thought and the sound and sight of her made my cock swell even more. She wasn’t the only one excited.
“I wish you would.” She said. “What?”
“I wish you’d treat me like that. I really do.”
“Are you sure?”
I reached up and undid a snap at the top of the corset’s bodice. She gasped. And I unsnapped another. And one more.
Her breasts fell out and I stepped back for a few more pictures.
“You’re excited too.” She said. “I want to see.” I said nothing and finally she said in a soft voice… “Please?”
How could I deny her. I stopped taking pictures and took off my shirt. Then I slowly unzipped my pants and pulled them down, then my underwear. My cock was hard and strait and she moaned softly at the sight. “I want it.” She said.
I set the camera on automatic, and locked it on a tripod. Then went around her and pressed my chest against her back, my cock against her ass. My hands reached around and cupped her breasts, my fingers finding her nipples. She was so smooth, warm and soft and she trembled under my touch. Her nipples were hard and erect and she whimpered at my touch, and began to press her ass against my cock.
“Please” she said. “You have to take me. You have to.”
She was right, feeling her next to me, seeing her helpless like this, touching her, having her press against me. I had to have her now. “Like this?” I asked.
I bent slightly and reached down, guiding my cock between her legs. She was wet and tight, and I began to ease in with a series of slow pumps, each thrust taking me slightly deeper into her, my arms around her, touching her, feeling her every curve as my cock felt every bit of her inside her. Pumping while she hung helpless in front of me, writing on my cock, trying to match my every thrust.
She came fast and hard, screaming as she came. I held her close for what was one of the longest orgasms I have ever seen a woman have, feeling her tighten again and again on my cock hard inside her, until she was just trembling from the sensation.
I reluctantly pulled out of her, then walked to her front and let the cuffs loose to let her down. She slipped to her knees in front of me. What a sight. That sleek, professional woman was now rumpled, her breasts tumbling out of her half undone corset, her chest heaving still from the orgasm. Her eyes, glistening, looked up at me, then slid down my chest, down my belly, until they stared eye level with my cock, still hard and glistening with her juices.
“You know, I’ve never tasted myself.” She said. And leaned forward and licked my cock. “And I’ve never tasted a man except my husband.” I could feel the ends of her fingernails now, teasing my balls. “I taste good.” She said, then took my cock head and a few inches more slowly into her mouth, and slowly back out again. “God, YOU taste good too.”
She took her time now, licking, sucking and playing with me. She never took me deep, but you just don’t see that kind of passion on a woman when she’s sucking you. The lust on her face was as exciting as the sensation of her licking and sucking. I could feel that tightness that meant I was close.
“I’m going to cum.” I said softly. She nodded but kept sucking. I began to pump her mouth, getting closer and closer, just as I was about to explode, she pulled off and my cum shot over her chest, neck and across her face. It was my turn to moan at the sheer pleasure as she pumped me, letting me shoot all over her.
“I must be a mess.” She said.
“A very sexy mess.”
“Take some pictures before I clean up.” She said. “I want my husband to see this. I want him to see all this. So he’ll never have the nerve to call me boring in bed again.”
We went to clean up. She cleaned her face but left my cum to dry on her chest and neck. “I want him to smell your cum on me.” She said. “I want him to know this was real.” She got dressed and I handed her one of the videotapes and a CD of all the pictures. She bent over and kissed me softly. “Thank you for this, for showing me my passion. I love discovering that side of me. I think I am going to like being a slut. I can’t wait to show these to my husband.”
I hope you know what you are doing.” I said. “I’d love to know his reaction.”
I can do better than that.” She said.
She pulled out her cell phone. “Billy,” she said when he answered. “I’m wearing a corset and I am getting ready to come home. Set up the video camera pointing at the sofa and I’ll be there in 30 minutes. No, I am not kidding. OK?”
She smiled as she hung up. “I’ll send you a copy of the tape.” I felt myself getting hard at the thought….