Leah's Lens Trilogy

by Bridy McAvoy

  “I never said I wouldn’t use a video camera, you just assumed I’d only take stills. Not my fault and not my problem.”

  “You really are a bastard, aren’t you?”

  He merely continued tucking himself back into his jeans, still grinning like a cat that had got the cream, which of course he had just done, the cream that is – me.

  “Hurry up and go take another shower, Leah. It’s time my slave served me some lunch. Remember you only need a nice pair of heels, white I think. I’ll provide the apron, you won’t need anything else. Shall we say fifteen minutes again? That should be ample I think.”

  I stormed past him, feigning anger, my mind already working on the problem of how to get my hands on a copy of the video. It was shot from a different angle than the cameras hidden in the dining room and would make a great addition to the material we’d already captured.

  “Oh, slave . . .”

  I turned back to look at him, standing there hands on hips, not trying to cover my nudity, glaring at him.

  “Make sure you wash yourself out thoroughly down there. Don’t forget you are the second course of lunch for your master and I don’t want to taste myself.”

  He giggled as I spun on my heel and walked back through into the lounge, heading for the stairs.

  “And in answer to your earlier question, Leah, yes, I will mop up the water in here. Wouldn’t want you to have to explain the puddles to your smart hubby, would I?”

  He giggled again but thankfully before he could say anything more I was out of earshot.

  Part III

  Walking back downstairs, nude except for the white heels, was a new experience as well. I didn’t prance around the house like this for Leo, well apart from that once to try out the cameras, and I had a certain level of trepidation at what he had planned next.

  “I’m in the kitchen, slave. Come straight through.”

  I glanced in the dining room as I walked past the archway and sighed in relief to see the pristine surface of the dining table, with the chairs rearranged into place. Owen had been as good as his word and cleaned up after our little adventure in there.

  “Ah, there you are. Ravishing as ever. Do hurry along. I’m hungry, and not just for food.”

  His eyes dropped to my visible mound, there was no point in trying to cover myself with my hands, and little point in modesty now.

  “Mind you, you could of course say thank you.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at him.

  “For cleaning up the dining room.”

  “Oh . . . Yeah. Thank you.”

  “Thank you what . . . slave?”

  I bit my lip, this wasn’t going well, as he was still on the same kick as he had been in the dining room.

  “Um . . . Thank you, master.”

  “Much better, now come over here and put your uniform on, what there is of it.”

  He motioned to the tiny pile of fabric on the breakfast bar. I sighed and moved across to take a look, he’d promised me just an apron but there appeared to be several other things there as well. There were, but not the kind of thing that covered anything. There was a tiny maid’s hat, a white choker, the promised apron and a couple of circles of white cloth that took me a moment to realise were detached cuffs from a blouse, the kind of thing you see strippers wearing.

  “Come on, come on . . .”

  The apron, if you could call it more than a wide belt, was a piece of stiff cotton no more than six inches long. If I tied it around my waist my pussy would be peeping out from underneath it. If I tied it lower no doubt Owen would object. With a shrug I tied it around my waist and pulled the other small pieces of cloth into position before pinning the hat to my hair.

  “Turn around and let me see.”

  When I turned to face him he of course had his camera in his hand pointing it at me, drinking in the obscene picture I represented. Realising he was taking pictures, and probably had been throughout the dressing experience, I remembered his golden rule and cracked a smile. Actually that wasn’t hard, I thought I looked ridiculous in this outfit and I was close to bursting into giggles about it, in fact I had to fight the temptation.

  “Good girl, you really do understand this modelling lark, Leah.”

  At least he isn’t call me slave all the time . . . at the moment.

  “So, what are we going to have for lunch?”

  Standing there topless with the silly little apron not even covering my pussy, it struck me as an absurd question and I couldn’t suppress the giggle that sprang to my lips. Owen chuckled too but it wasn’t entirely a nice sounding laugh, there was an edge to it. I made the effort and sobered up.

  “What would you like for lunch . . . master?”

  “Hmm . . . Something simple I think, how about a sandwich and some salad, can you manage that?”

  He wants something quick so he can get on with whatever he wants to do to my body.

  “Of course.”

  With his camera in his hand, it was obvious he wanted to get as erotic a set of shots as he could whilst I was getting the simple food ready. Thinking for a moment I tried to work out the best way to enhance his viewing pleasure, surprised at myself for thinking in those terms. To start with I reached to the top cupboard to get some plates, knowing that while I was stretching up onto tiptoes it profiled my breasts perfectly from his side view. Then it was over to the fridge to bend down, legs straight but parted to retrieve the lettuce and tomatoes from the salad crisper that formed the bottom shelf. Next it was over to the cutlery draw, standing back and bending at the waist to allow by boobs to dangle as I rummaged for the forks I would need. Finally, bending again, this time with my legs spread wide, but locked straight to retrieve the salad drainer from the cupboard under the sink.

  “You really are putting some effort into this, Leah. You are a perfect model.”

  Just for the hell of it I turned to face him and dropped a graceful curtsey at his compliment which produced a startled delighted laugh from him. Turning back, I started washing and preparing the lettuce, accidentally-on-purpose splashing some of the cold water onto my chest. Instinctively my nipples hardened at the temperature change. All the time the camera kept clicking away. I didn’t know how many pictures he had taken of me by now but it was probably past a thousand this morning alone.

  Slicing the bread and buttering and filling the sandwiches didn’t take long.

  “What would you like to drink?”

  “Bud would be nice . . . Have one yourself.”

  Again the repeat performance in front of the fridge, to retrieve two cold bottles of beer from the door, and another bend to retrieve the bottle opener from the cutlery draw. I hadn’t heard him come close so he startled me as he suddenly ran his finger along my exposed pussy from behind. The deliberate provocative displays had got me a little hot and bothered so I wasn’t exactly dry down there, but I wasn’t wet either. There was some friction as he pushed his finger the length of my slit and then back again.

  “You’re enjoying teasing the camera again, Leah. But not quite enough. Turn around.”

  I did as I was told, facing him, my hands still clasping the two opened cold bottles of beer. One of Owen’s hands snaked out to retrieve his and I expected him to take a swig from it. Instead he pressed the very cold glass against my left nipple. I squealed at the contact, it was just like it had been with the ice half an hour earlier. The sharp coldness was both painful and stimulating at the same time.

  “Let’s eat, I’m starved.”

  As he backed away I could see from the tent in his trousers he was already getting hard again. This guy was like the energiser bunny, he seemed to need very little recharge time. I swallowed nervously, realising the lewd display and the cold beer bottle against my breast had kicked up my own arousal level again. Nervously I carried the food over to the breakfast bar and we sat side by side on the stools, eating the simple meal in silence. I could see he was watching me and made some attempt not to block his view of my breasts,
but he made no further attempt to touch me or get me to do anything more provocative.

  “Tell me something, Leah?”

  “What?”

  “When was the last time you ate a meal in the nude like this?”

  I giggled.

  “Not including breakfast in bed?”

  “Of course.”

  “Never.”

  “And how does it make you feel?”

  Wonder of wonders, he was trying to have a somewhat intelligent conversation with me. I couldn’t quite believe it. I could see his eyes sparkling as he waited for my reply. This was a very complex man, and therefore dangerous. I was beginning to see why Mia was attracted to him.

  “Odd.”

  “That’s a strange word to use – try expanding on it.”

  “Well, it’s a mixture of embarrassment, and also . . .”

  I trailed off, blushing, I didn’t really want to say it but the condition of my nipples gave it away anyway.

  “Arousal?”

  I nodded as his educated guess was right on the money.

  “So it’s a heady mix of the two then?”

  “Yes . . . I suppose it is.”

  He laughed again, this time a more natural sound, real enjoyment without the calculation behind it, which had made it sound so fake before.

  “Time to clear up, I must admit I’m ready for the next course.”

  I swallowed hard, remembering what he’d said earlier. Slowly I slid down from the stool and began to gather up the remains of the lunch. It only took a couple of minutes to put everything in the garbage disposal and dishwasher and when I turned round he had both the camera, and the video camera, set up again, pointing at the breakfast bar. I licked my lips and walked back over to him.

  “Shimmy up onto the top please, Leah, facing me.”

  At least he’d stopped using the s word. Although it had turned me on, it was something I found disturbing. Still I did as I was told, knowing everything was on display both to Owen and the cameras which were trained from either side of his shoulders. He slowly reached out and slid me unresistingly along the work top until I was directly in front of him as he sat on the stool. Before saying anything else, he reached around me and undid the bow holding the poor excuse for an apron around me and tossed the useless garment to one side. Apart from the heels and the decorations at wrist and neck, I was naked, not really more exposed than before, but decidedly naked. I trembled slightly and I noticed him watching me with that slightly cruel smile playing on his lips.

  “Lean back and open your legs.”

  There was little choice and I complied with his orders, not quite sure what he was going to do.

  His hands moved to grasp my knees and push my legs further apart as I slowly leaned back onto my elbows, and I suddenly remembered what he’d said earlier about cleaning myself thoroughly as he bent his head to my exposed vulva. He had no intention of giving verbal commands this time. He was going to use his tongue in rather a different way. Owen had no way of knowing, unless Leo had somehow told him, I was putty in his hands after he went down on me, now Owen was going to find that out for himself.

  I felt his cheeks brush against the tender flesh of the inside of my thighs, then the heat from his breath as he blew gently on the shaved lips of my pussy.

  “I’ve never gone down on a natural blonde before. I’m going to enjoy this almost as much as you are.”

  His chuckle had that edge once more and I couldn’t help shuddering. He had me exactly where he wanted me and I realised belatedly exactly where I wanted me. I started to tremble in anticipation.

  Owen’s tongue flicked out and gently probed at my pussy lips. I started slightly with surprise and couldn’t suppress the faint moan that sprang, unbidden, to my lips. The tongue disappeared only to flick out again, a little higher up my slit this time, then again higher still. The gentle teasing touch was sheer heaven and the moans began to increase in volume, even though he hadn’t even touched my clit yet, let alone attempted any kind of penetration. Without prompting, I lowered myself from my elbows until I was flat on my back, freeing my hands, which immediately rose to cup my breasts, not for the first time today finding my hardened nipples trying to burrow into the soft flesh of the palms of my hands.

  Down below, Owen was progressing, his tongue now in almost continuous contact with my vulva. He was alternating circling around my slit for a few seconds followed by several quick laps up and down its entire length. Each time he did the latter, the tip of his tongue penetrated the wet recess between the lips, not to any distance but enough to increase the sensation three times over. From there he moved on to the very top of my pussy and began to concentrate on my erect, but relatively small, clit.

  I couldn’t stop the moans and grunts coming from my mouth, an antiphonal chorus that seemed to spur him onto greater and greater things. He’d managed to part the slit surfaces around my clit and was now swirling his tongue around it in tiny circles that kept constant contact with it. I couldn’t keep my hips still, thrashing and twisting and churning under his ministrations like a woman possessed, which of course was exactly what I was, in more ways than one.

  After what seemed like a pleasurable eternity of clitoral stimulation, he moved lower on my slit and suddenly thrust the entire length of his tongue inside me. The sudden penetration pushed me ever closer to the edge of the threatened orgasm but as the trembling in my thighs grew more pronounced and the noises I was making grew in volume he stopped and pulled away from licking all round the inside of the entrance to my pussy.

  “You taste so sweet, Leah! So sweet, I could do this for hours.”

  Somehow I regained control of my vocal cords.

  “Bastard! Let me cum!”

  He laughed in delight at my stated predicament as, in front of his face, my hips continued to churn in a vain attempt to push my slit back into his mouth.

  “Soon, my dear. Soon, you’re not quite begging for it enough yet.”

  “Bastard!”

  “You already said that.”

  He was obviously watching my physical responses as he talked to me and listened to me swear at him, and as I reluctantly receded from that almost-high he suddenly darted his head forward and rammed his tongue straight into me. I could feel his lips pressing against my own nether ones and still he pressed forward his mouth, opening even further. His next action shocked me to my core, something I’d never experienced before. His mouth distended as far as possible, his tongue penetrating me and his nose pressing right on my clit. That would have been enough stimulation in its own right as his tongue wriggled and licked at my insides but he had another trick. Opening his mouth so far enabled him to bring something else into play, suddenly the tongue withdrew and I felt his teeth suddenly grip, not hard, but firmly on my pussy lips. He pulled back, dragging the sensitive skin of my labia with him, while his hands held my legs rigidly in place. The feeling was indescribable, a small amount of pain and a massive amount of stimulation.

  He hadn’t planned to let me cum just yet but I did, very, very hard, even harder than the ice-induced one before lunch. I screamed as I came and, I suspect more from self-preservation than anything else, he let go with his teeth before drowning in the gush of fluids that coated his face.

  I was helpless as I writhed in the after effects of the tremendous explosive orgasm, and always before he had discreetly allowed me a couple of minutes to recover before doing anything else. Not this time. Before I realised what he was doing he sat back down on the bar stool, and pulled my body towards him. I felt my hips leave the cool surface of the breakfast bar but could do nothing as his hands easily held my buttocks and pulled me down into his lap, automatically rotating me into an upright position.

  Into his lap was actually a bit of a misnomer, directly onto his erect penis would be a better way of putting it. I was still almost out of it as he suddenly impaled me on his manhood, his hands shifting their grip to hold my back to prevent me falling, my own dropping into place
limply around his shoulders as I gasped for air.

  Wonder of wonders, now he sat still and waited for me to regain some form of motor control.

  “What . . . What are you doing?”

  “What do you think I’m doing, Leah? I’m waiting for you.”

  “Waiting for me to what?”

  “Waiting for you to fuck yourself on me. Now get that ass moving and start riding me, sweetheart.”

  I realised what he meant. I was sitting neatly impaled on his cock on the bar stool. If he tried to fuck me, the bar stool would probably collapse or we’d fall off one way or another. The only way he was going to get his rocks off was for me to do as he said and ride him. It didn’t look like I had much choice.

  Suddenly he brought his hand round and slapped my ass, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to sting. Involuntarily I moved in response, and I could feel him as I unconsciously slid up and down on his prick, just a little.

  “Um . . . That was nice. Maybe I should do it harder.”

  I was still slightly groggy from what he’d done to me earlier so didn’t respond quickly enough for him.

  Crack!

  He did it again, this time much harder, and there was real pain not just a stinging sensation. I knew my ass would be reddening from this one. I jerked upwards again, this time a couple of inches before settling back down. Realising he would repeat his actions, and I didn’t want that, I repeated the movement again, using my arms on his shoulders to help lift my body and then lowering it again.

  He sighed in contentment and I set up a nice steady rhythm. It was a pleasant sensation for me too and I began to increase the range of my movements until I was pumping up and down on almost the whole length of his cock. I could see he was enjoying it; his eyes were closed and there was an almost dreamy smile on his lips. Hell, I was enjoying it, although I was still concerned about the stool toppling over. I leaned my face down towards his, keeping my head still by absorbing the movement of my body with my neck. This was difficult but I finally managed to plant an open mouthed kiss on his parted lips. His eyes sprang open and I was looking to a gaze of wonder as it was the first time I’d voluntarily kissed him.