The Model

by Belisarius

Part 1

“This is better than I had any hope of expecting,” said Moira as we entered the hotel suite I’d hired by the hour.

“Oh… Good I’m pleased you like it, these are the rooms I usually use,” I replied as I stacked my cameras and other equipment by the door, before I turned to lock it.

The sound of the lock clicking made her jump nervously and it looked as though she was about to make a bolt for it.

I raised both hands, palms outwards, “Don’t worry,” I smiled, “we don’t want any of the service staff entering unannounced, do we?”

“Suppose not,” she muttered, “I take my clothes off now, I presume?”

“Is that what usually happens?”

“Usually – before they want to fuck me.”

The expletive shocked me, for it didn’t seem appropriate that it should come from so sweet a mouth and delivered in such a well-brought up, refined accent, combined with the fact that the story I’m telling happened in the early 1960’s – a time long ago and far away – as the song puts it.

“I haven’t shocked you, have I? Anglo-Saxon expletives were in common usage at Cheltenham Ladies College,” she said primly, before removing her coat and beginning to undo her blouse.

“There’s no need for that, at least not at the moment.”

“There’s always a requirement for the girl to strip, don’t you find?”

“Yes, there is,” I had to admit, “but you do realise that my market niche is in bondage photographs. I’ll need to tie you up….. With all your clothes on, at least to begin with.”

“Yes, I just expected to be naked and bound at once, immediately vulnerable……..”

I smiled, “Oh, you’ll be vulnerable all right, but you’ve nothing to fear from me, I’m a professional, in this for the money, not for the girls.”

“Well, we’d better get started, the clock is running and I’m paid by the hour. Where do you want me and how do you want me?”

I crossed to the cocktail cabinet, “Let’s have a drink, whiskey for me and for you….. Gin and tonic, perhaps?”

“You’re not a white slaver are you? You could slip something into my drink and next thing I know I’m in Macao, or somewhere else Humphrey Bogart shows up. Except, with my luck, he won’t come to rescue me.”

“A drink will help you to relax. For my pictures to be of any use you need to slip into role, appearing apprehensive, frightened, wondering what is to happen to you next – it’s all done basically with the eyes,” I tried to give her some idea of what I needed from her. I handed her a g&t and we chatted on for a few more minutes, enjoyed our drinks, and then I took from my case bundles of rope of various type, length, and thickness, “Time for work,” I said as I waved her to come towards me.

She did as she was asked, but somewhat reluctantly. I turned her around and pulled her arms behind her back and tried to loop a length of rope around her wrists. After a few moments of uncertainty she allowed me to do this and was thus soon firmly secured. I was about to begin on her arms, but as this is often painful for a new model, I decided to forgo the pleasure of cinching her elbows together and concentrate instead on her ankles.

“Now what?” she asked as she tested her bonds.

“Sit on the bed, please and place your legs together.”

She did as she was told and I quickly wrapped rope around her ankles, firmly but not too tightly as I didn’t want to unsettle her. “I’ll take the first of the photographs now,” I said as I reached into my gadget bag and began to snap away.

“Shouldn’t I be gagged?”

“All in good time,” I replied before going on, “I’ll need to raise your skirt in order to bind your knees, but don’t worry, I won’t reveal too much.”

She said nothing as I began to push her pleated skirt up her thighs, about half-way between her knees and where I estimated the tops of her stockings to be, before taking up my Rollieflex once again. I toyed with the idea of gagging her, seeing as she had mentioned it first. I’d noticed previously that once the model’s mouth was stuffed with something I could get on with the shoot at a much faster pace. However, I decided to let things meander for a little longer.

“Perhaps I could undo one or two buttons on your blouse?” I suggested.

“Go ahead, you’re paying.”

The nearness of her whilst I was opening her blouse was unsettling, for her perfume was a good one, not acrid, not overstated, just flowery and gently warm. Added to this the lace of her brassiere and the rise of her breasts was coming into view and I could feel myself hardening.

“Why don’t you pull it open, pull it open very roughly,” she asked.

I couldn’t help but notice that there was a certain tone of appeal in her voice. Not being one to deny a lady, I did as I was asked and then pushed her on to the bed before taking up my camera again. This time, as I shot away, she began to play to the lens, various emotions flickering across her face, her body arching and pulling against her bonds. Her hair became looser and her eyes glistened and I couldn’t help but notice that her skirt had moved further up her thighs, revealing the darker brown of her stocking tops.

I picked up a ball-gag, (I’d had to have it sent by a friend from the United States) and pushed it into her mouth. She made no challenge, in fact she pushed her mouth on to the gag and sat still as I fastened it behind her head. Again, I took a few more shots before returning to the bed and pulling her to a sitting position, and hauling her skirt further and further up until it circled her waist. Her panties were black as were her suspenders, which pleased me, for quite a few of the models I’d used had no sense of co-ordination, though I do have to admit that it’s quite nice to clearly see the lines of a black suspender belt beneath the thin fabric of a pair of white knickers.

For the first time I touched her in an intimate way, my fingers went to the bare flesh of her thigh and walked their way down the length of one suspender before playing with the hard, rubber button of the fastening clasp. Had I not been a gentleman I would have had her panties down and my cock into her without a second thought, so hard was I becoming.

She made no complaint, but lay back with something of a sigh forcing its way through her gag.

“Would you mind if I were to partly pull your briefs down?” I asked, “I won’t show your pubic hair…… Just nod if it’s ok…..”

Photographing what were considered to be private parts in 1960’s England could lead to all sorts of court appearances, even though cracks were then beginning to appear in the edifices of the Victorian state I grew up in.

She nodded at once and I hooked my fingers into the elastic of her knickers and began to inch them down. Further and further they went without a sign of any hair growth and before long the gash of her cunt appeared.

“You’ve shaved?” I asked, somewhat surprised.

She nodded.

“Just for this shoot?”

Again she nodded and began to push her pubic mound towards me. I needed time to think, screwing the model could lead to all sorts of complications I felt I could do without.

“I think we’d better have a break now,” I said as I began to untie her.

She rubbed her wrists as I removed her gag and I noticed that she didn’t bother to pull her skirt down or re-fasten her blouse.

“You must think me a little tramp,” she said.

“No,” I sighed, “No…. not at all. I just find it hard to sort business from pleasure if I become emotionally involved.”

“I see.”

“Look, I think you could be a natural for this game, you enjoyed being bound, didn’t you? Not your first time either, I’d say.”

She laughed shortly, “I haven’t been tied up since I was eight or so.”

“That’s an early start…….”

“My brother and his friend were the villains, they tied me to a tree in the woods and then went off. I stood there for at least an hour, finding out later that they had joined in a game of cricket and forgot all about me.”

“Their knots must have been tight,” I observed.

“No, I could have escaped at any time, but I didn’t want to. You see, I was the heroine writhing against my bonds whilst all the time wondering what the black hearted villains were going to do to me. Of course, in those days I had only the vaguest idea of sex, but still I could feel a lightness in my loins which I enjoyed and which kept me fastened to that tree.”

“So, what happened then?”

“I became hungry and went home for tea, and haven’t been tied up from that day to this.”

We sat in quiet reflection for a while and then I said, “I don’t know if I can resume to-day.”

“Oh, that’s a pity I really do need the money.”

“I don’t know if I can remain as detached as I need to be.”

“The shoot’s finished, then?”

I considered for a while, not wanting to disappoint her, “No, not at all, tell you what, we’ll have some coffee sent up and then I’ll secure you to the bed or perhaps into a chair.”

“Suppose you allow your emotions; or perhaps I should say your desires, to overcome you?”

My legs quivered and my breath seemed to be in short supply, she was beautiful, cultured, everything I liked in a woman and she seemed to be saying I could have her, now, this afternoon……..

She flopped back on to the bed, the back of her left hand passing across her brow, her skirt remained where I had pushed it and I could see the fall and rise of her breasts as she began to pant gently.

I took a step towards her and then faltered.

“Tie me, please, tie me and fuck me, now, this minute.”

There was no resisting her appeal, I fastened her wrists together and pulled her arms above her head before tying the end of the rope to the bed head. Then I pulled her square on to the mattress and, one after the other, fastened her thighs to her ankles, cinching the ropes and making them press into her flesh. Her pussy lips became pink and her panting became louder and more rhythmical.

“Make me suck you,” her voice was deep and hoarse.

I took off all my clothes and lay beside her, shuffling up the bed until she was able to take my dick into her mouth. Deeper and deeper I pushed it until it felt enormous and her lips seemed to be caressing my balls.

She writhed and groaned as she worked on me, one of my hands dragged her brassiere down and it’s fingers began pulling at her nipples whilst the other hand roamed at will across the nylon of her stockings and into her cunt and then back again, my movements becoming more and more insistent each time.

Her mouth pulled free of my cock, “You may torture me, if you wish,” she whispered.

“Next time,” I grunted as I dipped my penis into her gaping twat and began to pump in and out.

End of Part One