Leah's Lens Trilogy

by Bridy McAvoy

  He put the camera down on the dressing table and rummaged through the underwear and nightwear on the bed before holding up my powder blue baby doll nightie.

  “You have the pants to go with this?”

  I nodded, blushing as I realised he’d found the gauziest, thinnest garment in the pile.

  “They were underneath it.”

  “Got them.”

  He stood triumphant, with the panties in one hand and the nightie dangling from the fingers of his other hand. The transparent panties were as thin as the tiny nightie which only tied with a single bow just below the bust line. The panties were tie sided too, obviously capable of being removed any number of ways. The shoulder straps had bows there too and another series of lewd images began to unwind across my brain as I imagined all the ways he could remove them from me as I lay there bound and helpless. I couldn’t suppress the shudder again. Owen clearly saw it and that confirmed his decision about the next outfit I would be parading in front of the camera.

  “I think these would go well with some hold up stockings, navy perhaps? Do you have any?”

  I nodded.

  “And some nice navy high heel pumps, some real fuck-me shoes, you got those?”

  I thought frantically for a moment.

  “Not too high, maybe a two inch heel, not as high as these.”

  “Pity. But beggars can’t be choosers. I’ll let you shower and touch up your makeup and then dress as I just said. Shall we say fifteen minutes?”

  I shrugged again, drawing attention to the fact I was still tied and unable to comply.

  “Oh, sorry. Forgot.”

  He walked across the room to me, and undid the garter belt at the back, taking another opportunity to fondle my ass as he did so. With the belt loose I could put my hands together and reach the garter snaps for myself. Obviously he had no intention of helping me with those as he walked out of the room whistling. Quickly I undid the snaps and the simple knots holding the stockings to my wrists before slipping the red heels off and almost running into the ensuite. I closed the door behind me and leaned back against it, breathing heavily in relief. The first part of the day was over, now came the repeat performance, and I was in no doubt that at the end of this one he fully intended to fuck me.

  ****

  Exactly fifteen minutes later I descended the stairs, to see him sitting in the lounge waiting for me with an opened can of soda in his hand.

  “I hope you don’t mind me helping myself but I was thirsty.”

  “No worries.”

  I was very conscious of the fact the powder blue outfit covered only some of my body, but was so transparent it concealed nothing. The hem didn’t even reach the bottom of my ass so the thin panties were fully on display. As they were as see-through as the nightie, that wasn’t all that was on display.

  “Right then, Leah, shall we get started? I think we should do this shoot in the dining room.”

  I could see he liked the outfit by the way his eyes travelled up and down my body and back again, yo-yoing between my chest and the junction between my legs. Somehow I knew this session was going to be less about my sexual gratification than his, and for some strange reason that started getting me worked up again.

  I led the way through the archway into the dining room, very deliberately teasing by putting a little extra bounce into my walk, knowing how the stretched transparent fabric outlined each movement of my ass. The sun was still on the front of the house, leaving this room in shade and comparatively dark as a consequence. Owen had been busy; several of the dining room chairs had been moved to the side of the room leaving one end and a side of the table clear of obstruction. It didn’t take a genius to work out what he was expecting me to do in here. I eyed the cold, hard, polished wood surface of the table with a certain amount of trepidation, my mind racing ahead to the likely scenario I was sure was coming, the moment when he nailed me on it.

  Without being told to, I approached the end of the table, turned back round to face him and leaned my butt back against the hard wooden edge, which was thankfully rounded and in no way sharp. Owen fiddled with the camera for a few seconds, obviously adjusting the exposure for the dimmer light and frowned when he couldn’t quite get what he wanted. I nodded towards the light switch for the fitting above the table and he shrugged and switched it on. The light was quite bright but clearly it was more to his liking, as after a few more seconds he stopped fiddling and pointed the camera at me once more.

  Showtime!

  “Right, Leah. Hold that pose for a moment, but please smile at the camera, remember that’s what you should always be doing. Good. Now hold that. Now slowly lift your left heel off the floor till you are standing on tiptoe that side. Perfect. Now rotate the left knee out to the side. Perfect. Good girl, that’s an awesome shot. Hang on, while I change the angle.”

  Once again he dropped to the floor in front of me, angling the camera straight up into my crutch. With my legs parted by the movements he’d dictated, there was clearly a lot of me on show down there. I heard the camera shutter click about a dozen times and then he scrambled back to his feet.

  “Now, lift yourself up into a sitting position on the table and let your legs dangle. Scoot back until the edge of the table is behind your knees. Perfect. You look astounding in that outfit, Leah. The absolute peak of sex appeal. Let your legs drift apart, further apart, perfect. You’re doing really well. Allow your lips to part and extend your tongue to lick the top one. Keep going...slowly...slowly... remember I’m using a slower exposure because the lighting in here is not so bright. Very good. Now recline back onto your elbows. Perfect.”

  The commands were tripping off his tongue once more, in rapid succession. Somehow, the way he did it lulled my defences again and I found myself obeying every one, without hesitation. I don’t know whether he’d ever had training as a hypnotist but it was definitely hypnotic in effect. Any moment I expected him to start telling me to undress, or to start undressing me himself, followed by a little self teasing and then the main event. Pretty much exactly as before, except the main event would actually be a main event this time, but he clearly had other ideas.

  “Lie down flat on your back please, Leah. That’s a good girl. Now stretch your hands out over your head, all the way up the table. Perfect. Can you reach the far edge? Good. Grasp it in your fingers and don’t let go. Hold it right there.”

  I hadn’t seen the ice bucket he’d stashed on one of the chairs until his hand snaked out and lifted it onto the table top next to me. I gasped at the thought of what he intended, I didn’t have long to find out. He obviously had different plans for this afternoon, although I wondered why he’d let me see the ice bucket. Knowing Owen I thought he would have told me to close my eyes and then sprung the ice on me as a surprise. It was as if he was reading my thoughts.

  “Anticipation, dear, anticipation. Now you’re thinking about how that ice is going to feel on your naked skin. How the delicious pain will torment your nipples into distended hardness, or how it will feel if I push a cold ice cube up into the folds of your cunt.”

  Once more his words burned their way into my brain. He was right, anticipation was a big part of what he was doing to me, and my God I hope he couldn’t see the images I was imagining. I shuddered yet again, an involuntary movement that I couldn’t seem to suppress when Owen was near me and talking that way.

  He reached one hand into the ice bucket and used the other to focus the camera on my prostrate body. Knowing, or at least believing what was to come, I caught my bottom lip between my teeth and held onto the top edge of the dining table with a death-like grip.

  Slowly he raised the ice cube in his fingers over my torso, the heat from his fingers melting it slightly. I watched in fascination as a drop of ice cold water formed on his finger and suddenly dropped into the middle of the valley between my breasts. The shock of the cold water was stunning and I couldn’t suppress another shudder. He chuckled as the process repeated itself again, and then a
gain. As the ice melted more, the drops fell faster and faster and I was writhing from the exquisite sensation the cold droplets were inducing into my sensitised skin. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Painful yet electrifyingly arousing, not a combination I’d ever associated with sex before. Finally the ice cube was gone, all the water dripped down into my cleavage where it had warmed slightly before running off to the sides under my breasts and down onto the table to soak through the thin nylon nightie and pool at my sides.

  “Oh . . . God!”

  Owen chuckled and reached once more for the ice bucket. I was panting, as much from the anticipation of him doing something more as from his actions so far.

  “I see my little slutty slave is enjoying herself again.”

  I couldn’t deny it. My nipples were puffed up, erect and hard yet again. His words had an effect too, for all intents and purposes for the time being I was his slave, his toy to do with as he wished, his little fuck doll. That single realisation almost pushed me over the edge all by itself but somehow I maintained control and spoke up.

  “What did you call me?”

  There was a note of challenge in my voice, only I knew, at least I hoped he didn’t work it out, that it was entirely fake. He didn’t answer for a moment, simply lowered his hand with the ice cube in it until it touched the thin nightie immediately above my left nipple and pressed down, forcing the turgid flesh into contact with the hard coldness of the ice. I screamed and writhed, I couldn’t help it.

  He put the camera down and moved round to stand near me, still using one hand to keep the ice, the instrument of my torture, in full contact with my sensitive nipple. Owen leant down to whisper into my ear.

  “I called you my slave. That’s what you are, Leah. My slave. My slut. You will obey me without hesitation. Anything I want from my slut, from my slave, will be mine. Any exhibition, any sexual act, any depravity, you will do it for me, Leah. You are my slave!”

  The words seared into me in a way I wouldn’t have believed possible and behind my eyes the world exploded into a rainbow of colours. My hips thrust up off the deck as my brain reacted to his words and my body reacted to the ice torture. It was the most powerful orgasm I’d experienced so far this morning. For a couple of minutes afterwards I was gasping for breath and writhing on the table.

  “Oo . . . I just found out something very interesting, didn’t I? My slave likes to be called a slut and a slave. You know what a slave calls her master, don’t you, slave?”

  Weakly I nodded.

  “Well?”

  I knew what he wanted but put up a show of defiance simply by keeping my mouth closed.

  “What do you call me?”

  His hand strayed suggestively to the ice bucket once more.

  “M . . . Master!”

  “Perfect, slave.”

  He reached across to the bow between my breasts and pulled the loose ends, rapidly separating the two halves of the front, jerking them to one side to expose my breasts completely to his hungry eyes.

  “Grip the top edge of the table again, close your eyes, and don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  He disappeared from my sight. Weakly I did as I was told, lying there panting for breath, trying to regain some level of composure after the somewhat shocking events of the last few minutes. I’d never orgasmed without stimulation to my pussy before, let alone effectively being coaxed into cumming by voice alone, although the ice had something to do with it. He reappeared in the room, I could hear him moving around but I did as I was told; laid there still and quiet with my eyes closed. I guessed he was setting the tripod up once more just as he had done before.

  “Right, Leah, let’s see how you like being used as my own little fuck-doll. I’m quite sure my slave will be only too willing to comply with my every wish.”

  I felt his hands move to my hips and the bows holding my panties up. A second later he pulled the strings apart, leaving a triangle of transparent fabric lying loosely and uselessly on top of my mound. He pulled downwards at the half under my bottom and I grudgingly lifted my ass off the surface of the table to allow him to complete the manoeuvre. I was now essentially naked and exposed to his gaze, and that of the camera. He moved round between my legs and I heard him drop his zipper, followed by a rustle of clothing as he pushed his jeans down to allow him some freedom of movement.

  “Let go of the edge of the table now, slave. I need to reposition your body.”

  I did as I was told, feeling my body tremble at the thought of what was going to happen. I had neither the strength nor the ability, let alone the will, to stop it. I slowly lowered my hands to my sides, conscious of the ache in them from holding that position for what seemed like an age but was probably only a few minutes. Owen grasped my ankles and began to slide me easily down towards him. The small puddles on the table from the earlier ice treatment slid behind my shoulders and then I could feel it catching on my hair. As he pulled my legs towards him he was raising them higher and higher. Finally I came to rest, with my ass level with the end of the table nearest to him, and my legs resting on his shoulders.

  “Are you ready, slave? I’m ready. I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time, Leah, ever since you moved into this house. I’ve been dreaming of fucking you ever since.”

  I stayed mute, unwilling to answer his question truthfully. I knew my gaping wet pussy would betray me if I lied but I dreaded telling him I wanted him to do it to me.

  He pressed forward, my legs rotating further and further upright as he brought his weight to bear. Suddenly I felt something hot and hard pressing against the outer lips of my slit. His cock was at the entrance to my slick and ready pussy, ready and very, very willing. I couldn’t move to entice him further, the position he was holding me in rendered me just about immobile. For the moment I couldn’t even bounce my ass up and down on the table, just a tiny side to side shimmy.

  “My slave wants this, doesn’t she, Leah?”

  I shivered and nodded, there was little point now in denying it. My body had totally betrayed my desire, my need to be filled. Owen pressed forward again, this time agonisingly slowly. I could feel each fraction of an inch as he penetrated me at the slowest possible speed. It was another form of heavenly torture, especially as I couldn’t jerk my hips towards him to engulf him, even if I wanted to, which I did.

  After a minute of this exquisite torture, the ridge behind the head of his prick slid past the lips of my vagina and the shaft began to move more quickly into me. I looked up at his face and realised it had been torture for him too. He slammed home the last inch or so into my slopping wet channel and I heard him sigh. Owen’s eyes were closed tight as he savoured the moment he said he’d been waiting for, for so long. His eyes opened and he smiled down at me. That predatory grin was back as he slowly drew his hips back, pulling himself almost all the way out of me. At the end of the back stroke he slammed forward again, pushing all the way back in and forcing my legs even further into a vertical position. He grunted with the effort and repeated the process. By the third time he slammed into me I was grunting in time with him, and moaning in between for good measure.

  I knew this time was all about his pleasure but I was equally desperate to get myself off as well, even if he wasn’t bothered about it. His hands braced his weight on the table and could provide no additional stimulation to my body. Not so my own, and I raised them to my breasts, first cupping them then gently pinching the nipples to entice them to further hardness. He watched avidly as I mauled my own breasts, harder and harder as my passion mounted. His rhythm increased in speed as he began to work his way closer to his own climax. It was almost as if we were both using each other.

  I couldn’t pump my hips in this position but they were writhing on the table surface in small circles as he slammed into me again and again. He wasn’t as long as Leo but he was thicker and the position made up for the slightly shorter length. I felt full at the top of each stroke. My legs were bent back past the vertica
l now, as his breathing became more and more ragged. I knew he was closer to cumming than I was, and I so desperately wanted to cum with him as well. Unbeknown to me, Owen wanted me to as well and he had a plan.

  He was almost there when his hand left the surface of the table, grabbed the ice bucket and in one swift motion as he drove home for the final time, upended the contents onto my chest. Ice cold water and the remains of the ice cubes cascaded onto my breasts. The shock knocked the breath from me and my body responded by wriggling like a mad thing, impaled on his prick as he began to shoot his hot load into the depths of my vagina.

  The combination of hot sperm coating my insides and the cold, cold water and ice covering my chest was too much, the contrast giving rise to a cacophony of nerve endings shouting for attention. I came instantly and just as hard as earlier.

  He stayed motionless for a minute or two, allowing my radial and random movements to subside and my breathing to return to at least a ragged state, before he began to withdraw his still hard cock from my full and overflowing passage. As he backed away he gently lowered my legs back past the vertical and down to the horizontal before allowing them to drop to the floor as he grabbed my hands and raised me to the position I’d started in, leaning against the table.

  “That was some ride, Leah. Some wild ride!”

  “You bastard! What did you do that with the ice for?”

  “I thought you might enjoy it and I was right, wasn’t I?”

  I just glared at him, as I tried to catch my breath. The nightie was soaked so I simply shucked it off and let it fall to the floor.

  “I hope you don’t think you’re going to leave me to clean up all this mess, Owen. It was your idea, you clean it up.”

  He laughed but my attention had been caught by something else. There were two tripods pointing at the table capturing the action, the stills camera he’d been using before and a video camera on the other one. The bastard had filmed my performance!

  “Owen!”

  He could see where I was looking and merely grinned.