After months of wrangling and scheduling conflicts, I’d finally managed to contract
Skye Breeze to a photo shoot. Considering that we both knew she was on the downward side
of her erotic modeling career, the excessive haggling had left me somewhat irked. No
matter, now that the deal was done, it was time for me to make final preparations for my
fledgling bondage site. Having a marquee name, albeit a falling star, would certainly
help me get a foot in the door of a competitive market.
The day of the shoot arrived, as did the agreed upon appointment time. Miss Breeze
apparently did not own a watch, or thought it trendy to show up ninety minutes late. When
her five year old Acura TL finally did arrive, I wasn’t surprised to see that two
occupants got out. We had agreed (as was standard practice in the business) that a
chaperone would be present during the shoot, to safeguard against any hanky panky. One
could never be to careful in the Adult Entertainment Industry.
As Skye got out, she made it a point to look around. She was apparently comforted
by the amount of parked vehicles filling the lot. The one time warehouse’s interior had
been refitted to accommodate several smaller businesses, making it more profitable for the
owner. I had leased the end unit, converting it into a photo studio.
The model strode up to the door as if time held little importance to her. I was
there to greet her and her companion. Introductions were made and I learned that the
woman accompanying Skye was named, Fawn Stratford. Fawn was apparently Skye’s protégé, a
struggling actress from the northeast, hoping to make a name for herself here in the new
kink Mecca of south Florida.
Not unattractive, she no less lacked the stunning beauty that would land her on the
cover of a magazine, a starring role in a motion picture, or spot as weathergirl on a
local TV station. Her light brown, not-quite-blonde hair spilled to her shoulders in a
torrent of ringlets. The hairstyle framed a pretty face, highlighted by brown, puppy dog
eyes. Her nose was a bit large in proportion and when her full lips parted in a smile,
they revealed a slight overbite.
The above the knee skirt and lightweight sweater she wore could not camouflage her
pleasing figure. The swell of said sweater announced perhaps a B-Cup sized bust. Though
certainly not staggering, it was apparent they were all her own. The muscles of her arms
and legs appeared toned. It was clear that she worked out, just not with a body builder’s
gusto. All in all, standing at roughly 5’,8” tall, her looks would give her a distinct
advantage over many of the “girl next door” types flooding the internet.
Skye on the other hand, was beginning to show signs of the hedonistic lifestyle
she’d lived. First of all, she was dressed in an unflattering warm-up suit and sneakers.
As if sensing my scrutiny, she explained that it was a disguise in order to avoid being
recognized in public. Whatever.
Faint lines had begun to crease the skin around her eyes and mouth. And although
it was hard to tell, it seemed that the warm-up suit was filled out a little more than it
should be in all the wrong places. Don’t get me wrong, she still had the good looks that
had hardened thousands of male organs and made nearly as many computer keyboards sticky.
But it was fairly obvious that she knew her time to cash in on her appearance was waning.
Which is perhaps why she’d agreed to work with me, a newbie in the field.
After pleasantries were exchanged, I made the offer of beverages. I was not at all
surprised when Fawn asked for nothing but a bottled water. Neither was I shocked when
Skye had me popping the cork off a bottle of Moet. The tour came next. They’d all ready
seen the small office in front. There was no secretary, I was the owner, rigger,
photographer and janitor for the operation. In back, I’d already set up the backdrops for
the shoot.
The first was a beach scene. On the ground was a layer of sand, complete with a
towel and beach umbrella. In the background was a blown up image of a deserted Caribbean
beach. To the left, was a panel body van. The rear doors were open to show an old
mattress covering the floor.
To the right, was what appeared to be an old, stone cellar. The backdrop consisted
of realistic looking, erratically mortised stones in gray and charcoal colors.
Interrupting the impenetrable looking stone, was a facsimile of a sturdy wooden door,
complete with a small, barred observation window. In the foreground was a cot with a thin
mattress and threadbare blanket. It looked like the perfect environment in which to hold
an unwilling captive.
I explained to the two women that my plan was to do a story piece. A beautiful
divorcee was vacationing in the tropics. However, her treacherous ex-husband had hired a
thug to kidnap her and bring her to this cell, where she would be “trained” to be an
obedient servant.
I tried to inject some enthusiasm as I explained the scenario, hoping it might rub
off on Skye. She, however, seemed totally bored by the plot. Fawn, being fairly new to
the business, seemed genuinely intrigued by the idea. My model and I set about discussing
terms that we’d already gone over in previous correspondences. Then it was Skye’s turn to
re-negotiate our deal.
“I had no idea this shoot was going to be so elaborate.” She said coyly. “I’m
afraid I couldn’t possibly do this for less than $500.00 an hour.”
That, was exactly double our agreed upon price. I felt my face fall in
disappointment. I noticed covertly that Fawn was watching our discussion with great
interest, no doubt picking up pointers on how to fleece a client. Skye stood there
unflinching, practically tapping her foot impatiently on the concrete floor. She’d done
this a hundred times before with great success and had no reason to believe it would fail
her now. It didn’t.
With a defeated sigh, I acquiesced to her terms. Her face brightened with the look
of one who had never doubted the outcome. I left briefly and returned with an envelope.
Handing it to her, I explained that I only had ¾’s of the cash required for her two hour
asking price, but would she accept a company check and 30% of the revenue generated by the
shoot. Skye seemed to balk at this, acting as though she was ready to call the whole
thing off. However, after some haggling, which included her receiving 40% of the proceeds
from the shoot, we came to an agreement.
She didn’t think I noticed the wink she flashed at Fawn as she turned toward the
dressing room. Nor did Fawn realize I caught her amused grin of response. Acting
ignorant of the exchange, the protégée and I struck up some small talk whilst Skye got
changed in the dressing room. When the model walked out, I was reminded of why I tried so
hard to hire her.
She’d donned the bathing suit I’d picked out for her and it was stunning. The gold
lame bikini highlighted her tanned skin and dark brown hair, which had been brushed
straight, ending in the middle of her back. Her surgically enhanced bust strained at the
small triangular panels of the bikini top. I’d wisely chosen a suit whose bottom was
fastened by ties at each hip. Not as lithe as she once was in that area, Skye had been
able to adjust the tension nicely. The shimmering panel clearly outlined the camel toe of
her sex, with just a hint of her trimmed pubic hair peeking out over the top.
As Skye did the obligatory pirouette, the back panel covered not even half of her
derriere. The clingy material sank into her cleft, highlighting each full globe. I
noticed that Skye had obliged my bit of poetic license and donned the sandals with three
inch heels. She’d wound their laces up each calf, knotting them just below her knee.
When she finished her turn, she placed her hands on her hips, the body language
pronouncing “I still got it!”
I certainly couldn’t argue the fact. In spite of no longer having the washboard
stomach and legs which had softened somewhat, Skye still cut a striking figure. And of
course, the cobalt blue eyes still shone bright, continuing to melt men’s resistance.
With the sets and equipment all ready set up, there was no reason not to get on with
things. Time (and my money) was burning.
As I walked with Skye over to the beach scene, Fawn moved a discreet distance away.
Once in position, she took out her cell phone and poised her thumb over the ‘send’
button. Any sign of wrong doing or deviation from the script on my part and Fawn would
speed dial 911. As I began taking photos of Skye lounging beneath the non-existent sun, I
almost forgot Fawn was there.
With the preliminaries out of the way, I set the cameras on automatic and assumed
my role as villain. Creeping up on the ‘dozing’ divorcee, I pounced. Skye made a feeble
effort to ward me off. I asked her to show a little more shock and terror, but she
continued to portray an air of almost utter boredom. Once I had her hands cuffed behind
her back and a linen cleave gag parting her lips, I stepped out of frame to review the
pictures.
As I feared, her ennui was projected in the snapshots. Trying to coax more emotion
out of her, I continued to flash away. She seemed to shrug, as if to say “It’s your
money.” and rolled half-heartedly on the towel. Realizing that this was a waste of time
and JPEG’s, I suggested we move to the van. In spite of being cuffed, Skye hopped nimbly
to her feet and strode over to the vehicle. It was obvious that she’d learned to
compensate, having been bound so many times in the past.
Once she was positioned inside the van, I added a second pair of cuffs around her
ankles. In addition, I smoothed an “X” of silver duct tape over her mouth. She consented
to allowing me to free one of her breasts from the swimsuit, making it look as if it
popped out during the struggle. I then declared “Action” like some amateur movie
director. Skye rolled her eyes, then wriggled unenthusiastically. Once again, I tried to
coax more anxiety out of her. This was, after all, supposed to be a ‘Damsel in Distress’
photo shoot.
It made no difference. Skye gave every indication that she was just whiling away
the minutes, until they could hop in her car and go shopping with their windfall. I shot
another dozen pictures, then announced we were moving to the final scene. I removed
Skye’s cuffs and gag. She helped herself to another glass of champagne before moving into
position. A stroke of inspiration struck me and I asked if she wouldn’t mind doing this
last scene in the nude.
“That’s fine with me.” She stated with indifference. “Just tack on another
$500.00 to that company check.”
The smirk on her face made it clear that I hadn’t been able to hide the crestfallen
look on my own. I acquiesced, handing the newly denominated check to Fawn. The
apprentice had apparently not realized the tedium associated with a photo shoot. She was
now spending equal time between watching our actions and examining her nails. Well, it’s
not all parades and fireworks doing one of these things.
When I turned back, Skye was unknotting the tie of the bikini bottom on her left
hip. She held up the flimsy garment no longer serving its purpose and struck a pose, as
if to say, “You’re lucky I’m letting a cretin like you even glance at my body”. I let out
a whistle. Her artificially augmented bust still swelled high on her chest. Even having
gained a few pounds, she had a figure that oozed sex appeal.
I explained that this next set, was to be of her at the final destination, deep in
the bowels of her ex-husbands mansion. This being the case, I believed the restraints
should have a more ‘genuine’ look to them. I showed her the monoglove I’d purchased on
Ebay. It was an authentic Leidermeister single sleeve, one which had seen a great deal of
use.
Skye examined it closely. She’d worn one identical to it many times before. It
was a favorite amongst bondage riggers for its tight fit, no bagging or wrinkles. She
also noted how the stitching along the laced portion appeared stressed. No doubt one good
flex on her part would rip the restraint into a useless pile of powder blue leather.
“I don’t know,” she said hesitantly, “these damn things are awfully uncomfortable.”
She couldn’t bring herself to say that she wasn’t as flexible as she’d once been.
“Don’t you have any manacles or something?”
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