Anthea had been gone for over an hour and darkness was falling when Joanna went back up to the bedroom, pulled out her diary and wrote, “It’s happened again - now with Bernard and Katya. Time repeats itself. Don’t know what is real and what isn’t. Anthea found double rubber cock in the attic. Fucked with her twice after lunch then sex in the shower. She wanted to stay the night for more. Was tempted but have a busy morning tomorrow with photo session. Have appointment with Louise later. Still don’t know if I should go but maybe I’d be better off away from here for a while. I’ll delve into history of the house later this week. Might be interesting.”

Having closed the diary she rested a hand on the album lying next to it and whispered, ‘Shall I open the thing? Dare I look inside?’ She removed her hand, half closed the drawer, hesitated, pulled the drawer out again and started to withdraw the album. Again she hesitated. ‘No, wait. What if looking at these photographs makes things happen? It didn’t at first, I know, but now – and the fact that they were left in my drawer – that I didn’t invent no matter what Louise says. How do more photographs appear in the album unless that Russian bitch comes into my room and puts them there when I’m asleep or out of the house?’ Joanna stared a while longer at the album then thrust it firmly back into the drawer. For a second time she opened her diary, adding to the last entry, ‘The photo album. It’s as if a hand is reaching out from the past. Perhaps time really is repeating itself and what happened to me has happened before in this house over and over again in a different life. Perhaps the pictures are only proof of it and not the cause. But why do they pick on me?’

***

The night passed without incident and for a time the world appeared normal. Having driven through the early morning rush to her usual parking bay at the rear of the studio, Joanna was climbing from her car when another vehicle caught her attention. It was an expensively sleek, predatory car. A familiar car. Ignoring the drizzle that threatened to spoil her carefully nurtured hair, she stepped over to take a closer look, already certain as to whom the car belonged.

Inside the darkened studio, surrounded by fabric backdrops, props, lighting stands and assorted black boxes winking red or green, Joanna spotted the photographers, Helga and Tony, talking to another figure close by the office door. Joanna approached warily.

‘Ah, Joanna!’ exclaimed blond, vivacious Helga in mauve blouse and blue jeans. Helga was some thirty years old and a little younger than her fair-haired, slightly gaunt partner, Tony, who turned to smile and raise a hand in greeting. He wore blue denims and open-neck twill shirt, tastefully shabby with the intention, so Joanna had heard, of persuading people that his charges were too modest to allow for the expense of decent clothes.

The third member of the group stepped toward her and said, ‘Joanna, my darling. It is good to see you again. Now we can get ready for the photographs.’

This was a different Katya to the image Joanna had planted in her mind. The intimidating black jacket and leggings were replaced with fawn safari-style jacket and matching mid-length, thigh-hugging skirt, though Katya appeared no less stunning than before.

‘I see you girls already know each other,’ said Tony, joining them.

‘Er, yes, we do,’ replied Joanna uneasily, wondering if Louise knew Katya would be at the studio and if so, why she had failed to mention it. And just how well did Louise and Katya know one another?

In answer to her unspoken question, Tony said, ‘Miss Enville decided to have two models in these latest shots and Katya was available at short notice.

‘How very convenient,’ remarked Joanna, ‘and during office hours, too.’

From beneath her long lashes, Katya peered at Joanna with feline intensity, smiled but said nothing more for the time being.

‘You both know where the shower room is,’ continued Tony, accepting Joanna’s coat ‘You’ll find a couple of towelling robes laid out in there. Helga will place the first items behind the curtains then we’ll be ready to shoot. Miss Enville has plenty of vinyl and leather fashion shots on file so this time around we’ll be doing mostly latex – not really for sunny days outdoors - if we ever get any.’

‘And we’ll be shooting a number of, er – shall we say, more esoteric items,’ smiled Helga. Nothing you’ll be unfamiliar with if you know Louise’s shop, I’m sure. It won’t be in the least like your usual magazine work, Joanna, dear.’

Katya was already getting changed in one of the cubicles when Joanna appeared wearing her robe. ‘Your things are in that one, lovey,’ said Tony, indicating the furthest of the two curtained-off areas. ‘That’s your spot for the duration – OK?’

‘And remember,’ added Helga, pushing by him, ‘when Tony’s snapping away the two of you are to act as friends. I mean really close friends. It’s what Miss Enville – Louise - wants to show in her brochure. You know what I mean - titillation to the point of torment or something like that.’

As she pushed through the curtain to where naked bulbs glowed around the big, square mirror, Joanna knew perfectly well what Helga meant. Stirred with anticipation she also suspected there were reasons other than mere dedication to her present role that had placed Katya far enough ahead to monopolise the choice of attire for their sessions. There was nothing sinister about the dress and other articles that lay waiting on the small table and upright chair, though hanging in the air was that intimate odour with which she was familiar from events at the house.

The first set-ups saw Joanna and Katya posing together in buckle dresses, lace-up dresses, shoes and boots. As they stood before the camera, as the flashguns blazed instant supernovas, Joanna was aware of how hard the other woman concentrated upon her. Sometimes it was the firmness of Katya’s hand as it slipped about her waist, sometimes Katya’s expression as each set of shots was completed. An expression that said, ‘I want you. I will devour you.’

In keeping with Helga’s wishes they caressed whilst gazing into one another’s eyes. Joanna tried to remain aloof but it did not work. Parading large in her mind were memories of what Katya had done to her and she feared those thoughts would overflow into Katya’s own. Katya’s eyes glinted passion, her breath on Joanna’s cheek sparked chords she could not suppress. When they kissed, as Helga urged them to do for several shots, Joanna burned. As Katya’s lips closed upon hers the flames rose higher and once, as the flashguns died, Joanna breathed into her ear, ‘Please, don’t,’ and Katya whispered, ‘Oh, but we must.’

After each set-up, Helga would reach through the curtains, take away Joanna’s used outfit and place another over the chair. As the scenes progressed, Joanna concluded it was not by chance that the more revealing, bare-breasted and provocative styles were set out for her and not for Katya, though she deemed it better not to comment. To Katya were allocated the longer, high-collared, figure-hugging outfits that proclaimed her the dominant, as did the spike-heel boots. But who was responsible for the choosing? Tony and Helga? Katya? Louise?

They were two thirds through the shoot when, after a coffee break, Joanna returned to her temporary enclave to find the next dress waiting.

‘If you need a hand with the flirt dress,’ came Helga’s voice, ‘just shout.’

The ‘flirt dress’ Joanna had little trouble with because it had been powdered though the translucent latex needed care in handling. Long-sleeved and scooped low at her breasts, the bodice was close-fitting as far as her waist where it flared out to a short, skating-style skirt. It was a dress that left little to the imagination. With it was a thick choker in black latex as well as black patent, strappy sandals. She was left with only the briefest of flesh-coloured G-strings to wear beneath the dress in order to avoid show-through but wondered why they had bothered. Joanna regarded herself before the mirror; a perfect fetish form - beguiling, tormenting. When she stepped out toward the area illuminated by the modelling lights Helga let out a cry of, ‘Fantastic!’ whilst Tony, busy adjusting flash equipment, hesitated to watch her walk by. Katya was already in position, sleek, black and sinister. The long-sleeved, just-dare-to-disobey-me latex cat-suit tensed as a second skin about her slim form, rippled muted light and sparked where the light caught metal zippers and tabs. A peak cap, short gloves and, once again, polished black boots with intimidating heels completed an outfit the outfit suited Katya to menacing perfection. It defined a woman in command of her own sexuality as well as other people’s – a spider ready to seize and entwine its prey. In her hand was coiled a braided leather whip; the kind of whip that Joanna was with good reason familiar. And although there could be no question of its being used here, those stirrings of vulnerability experienced by Joanna throughout the sessions took hold now in full measure.

Then came the poses featuring restraints; close up shots of handcuffs, ankle chains, collars and gags with cat-suited Katya often close at hand to show who was in charge. Sometimes she would hold the restrained Joanna with a knowing smile on her face and even when out of the shot, always watched with predatory gaze. The translucent dress they had not asked her to change and when the flashguns seared again Joanna, phantom clouds drifting before her eyes, stood wearing leather security belt and steel cuffs with her arms pinned to her sides. At that point Tony announced, ‘It’s twelve-fifteen, people - time for the last piccies then we’ll call it a day.’

Until now, Joanna had been left alone to change. On this occasion Helga followed her through the curtains, a bundle of assorted items in her hands which she spread out on the table, saying, ‘Jo, dear, our last but one shot is of the dildo pants but they are a little deeper cut than ordinary briefs and don’t look so good on their own. Wear these as well. They’re to be featured elsewhere in the catalogue but it will do no harm to show them again. Joanna peered at the topless, front-lacing basque in heavy red and black rubber from which, over the table edge, dangled six suspenders; at the seamed fishnet stockings and the crimson patent sandals. She noticed, too, a black plastic device that looked like a simplified, diminutive version of the remote controller she used for her TV set. But it was to the one item Helga had mentioned by name that her attention returned and this she lifted to examine. Inside the garment protruded two black rubber forms, one in the shape of an erect and generously proportioned male cock, the other of slightly lesser dimension and more an elongated teat-shape.

‘Just keep them down flat when you put the pants on,’ smiled Helga, wryly. ‘It won’t matter for the photographs.’

‘Of course,’ replied Joanna, adding, ‘They’re quite heavy, aren’t they?’

‘That’s because the two naughty little gizmos inside are vibrators with their own batteries. This,’ she smiled, holding up the remote controller, ‘is what switches them on and off.’

Left alone to peel off the latex dress, Joanna showered to remove streaked powder from her skin. It was a dress she liked; it was a perfect fit and she determined to make Louise an offer for it. She knew the jaw-dropping effect it would have on Paul. Once dried she turned to the basque, pulling this about her, threading then tugging the laces from bottom to top until the garment fitted snug and tight, cupping and presenting her breasts as voluptuous offerings. The dildo pants had to go on next. She eased them up to just above her knees and gazed with quickening heart at the two upward protruding organs. Would anyone be aware if she wore the garment as it was intended? The thought of doing so in front of other people aroused her – especially with Katya present. Her hands shook, her heart thumped, her blood rushed as Joanna tugged the pants higher and felt the larger organ push coolly between the moist lips of her sex. She knew it would enter easily because she wanted it to happen. With a sigh she allowed the rubber shaft a short way in before its lesser companion pressed coolly against her anus. Joanna glanced at the closed curtain, spread her legs, relaxed and eased the briefs all the way up, catching her breath as both intruders slipped into the heat of her body. For some moments she stood with her eyes closed, her mouth ajar, savouring dark desires, trembling.

But there was little time to spare. The stockings and shoes she pulled on in haste, twisting from side to side in order to fasten tight-stretched elastic suspenders with awkward little clips. Her movement caused the two organs to squirm and provoke sensations not appropriate to the time and place. About to open the curtains, she muttered, ‘God, I’ll give the game away. They’ll guess. I can’t do this.’

The tide of doubt overwhelmed. Joanna glanced at the mirror to see her nipples rose red, hard and prominent. She reached down to unclip the suspenders.

‘How are we doing, dear?’ came a voice from the other side of the curtain.

It was too late. Helga was close outside and waiting. ‘Er – OK – yes,’ Joanna stammered.

The curtains parted, Helga looked Joanna up and down, smiled her approval then stood aside to let her by. Tap-tapping over the wooden floor with conspicuous care, Joanna said, ‘God, these shoes are higher than even I’m used to. I don’t think I could wear them for long.’ But whilst it was the excuse she needed, she regretted having voiced it in case Helga suggested she change the shoes. Katya was nowhere to be seen as Joanna took up her position before the camera but soon appeared in formidable glory. Her dress of gleaming red latex was high-collared and long-sleeved. It moulded to her curves and flowed down her thighs to almost conceal the gold sandals that boasted spike heels as high as Joanna’s. Katya was as awesome as Joanna was vulnerable and Joanna, inwardly lamenting the decision she had made, tried to ignore the invaders that squirmed inexorably deeper within her uterus and her rectum.

The final set-ups began straightforward enough; six in all with Katya standing by her side or facing with a hand under Joanna’s chin and her eyes fixed hard as if to say, ‘Look at me, slut - I’ve got you where I want you.’

Helga joined them to announce, ‘Last shots with this and we’re done.’ Over her arm drooped a black leather garment with swaying straps and brass roller buckles that chimed with a delicate ring. ‘It’s a bondage glove,’ she continued, smiling at Joanna. ‘Change into a tight dress or cat-suit, darling – red preferably - then we can see how it looks.’

Relieved at the opportunity to visit her cubicle, Joanna was about to step away when Katya said, ‘Oh, but why does she need to change? What she has on is perfect for the part. Just perfect!’

Helga considered for a moment then agreed, ‘You’re right - she’s just splendid as she is.’ And before Joanna could summon up a reason to object, Helga moved around her saying, ‘Arms behind your back, dear – this will only take a minute.’

In those flustered moments Joanna felt her cheeks redden, hesitated, then reluctantly did as she was told whilst avoiding Katya’s gaze.

‘You’re shivering,’ remarked Helga. ‘It’s not cold in here, is it?’

‘Oh, am I?’ responded Joanna in as matter-of-fact a manner as she was able whilst the rich odour of leather drifted upwards. Helga eased Joanna’s hands palm to palm inside the pouch before pulling the deceptively supple leather up to enclose her arms loosely almost as far as her shoulder blades. Next came the metal zipper, tugging upwards, constricting the garment about her lower arms, drawing her elbows inexorably back. For a short time the zipper stopped whilst Helga, assisted much to Joanna’s unease by Katya, turned her attention to the straps hanging from the upper sides of the garment. These were pushed under Joanna’s arms, crossed above her naked breasts then passed over her shoulders where they were secured to buckles at the top of the sheath. The two were behind Joanna, squeezing her arms inwards whilst the zipper whirred upwards to its limit. It was done and both stepped back.

Joanna tensed her arms but the bondage glove was tight, snug and totally secure. With her elbows pulled so strictly back, her breasts, already cupped by the basque, were forced out blatantly before Katya’s gaze. As Joanna shifted about, the rubber intruders alternated in sliding back and forth. In spite of herself, she trembled with dark excitement and the teats of her breasts stood once again swollen hard in a manner no one, in particular Katya, could fail to notice.  

‘Good,’ announced Tony, peering through the viewfinder as Helga stepped away to join him. ‘Now let’s have you darlings in different poses as mistress and slave; just fun and games – whatever.’

The first three poses saw them standing close together then Katya’s hands were on Joanna’s shoulders, presenting her restrained arms to the camera as the flashguns blazed. Next they were face to face. Katya kissed her on the lips, lifted a hand to squeeze her hardened nipple and whispered, ‘Ah, my darling, I know what you have done.’

Again the flashguns screamed light and in that frozen white moment Katya’s hand was raised again on the side the camera could not see though it was clear enough to Joanna. On her palm rested the remote controller. Joanna saw her thumb move, heard the button click, then as the glare died the sensations began. Catching her breath she glanced in horror at Katya, at the camera, at Helga and Tony then back at Katya, pleading hoarsely, ‘No, Katya, don’t – don’t.’

Katya smiled, looked toward the camera and asked, ‘Shall we have a little more kissing to finish off our session?’

‘Why not,’ responded Helga. ‘As passionate as you like.’

The double organ throbbed like a tuning fork, one half sending pulses through Joanna’s stomach, the other singing electric rhythms inside her bowel. Both conspired to fuel primal lusts whist her conscious self whimpered inwardly, ‘No – no, I mustn’t!’

Katya stepped away for the next shot and looked on whilst Joanna struggled to remain calm. She began to writhe in her bonds, to squeeze her thighs together in an attempt to stem the remorseless sensations until, with a smile of triumph, Katya re-joined her. Joanna’s breath shortened but Katya held her tightly, pressing kisses about her ears, cheeks and neck. The dildos quivered - living organs that possessed Joanna as their slave. Katya’s slave. As the flashguns exploded light the orgasm gripped and, mouth agape, Joanna choked back her cries, shook uncontrollably and slumped in Katya’s arms whilst the other’s fingernails dug painfully into her shoulder and breast. ‘Oh – oh, yes,’ breathed Katya, resting her forehead momentarily against Joanna’s.

‘Is Joanna all right?’ called Helga, starting toward them.

‘No problem,’ answered Katya, switching off the remote controller. ‘It is the heat from these lights and she is not used to the high-heels and the restraint.’

Katya helped her totter across the studio through the curtain. There the leather sheath was undone to release a still panting Joanna who turned to glare at Katya, the words, ‘Bitch! Absolute bitch!’ catching in her throat because she was too taken aback to give them voice. Pushing out through the curtains, Katya peered back inside and wafted the black fabric together under her chin so that her head appeared disembodied. ‘Our world is a theatre, my darling, and we have our roles to play. Soon you will climax again for me.’

Once showered and dressed, Joanna was sufficiently composed to step out and face Tony and Helga. To her relief they were busy tidying the studio and Katya had already departed.

‘Feeling better?’ smiled Helga as Joanna, pulling on her coat, crossed to the exit door. ‘Katya said not to disturb you.’

‘I’m fine now,’ she smiled, weakly.

‘You’ve never wilted like that before,’ added Helga. 

‘No, just one of those things. Hope all the shots turn out OK. See you later, I expect.’