by Bridy McAvoy
After the third orgasm in as many minutes he withdrew the now slick vibrator and pressed it against her clit, using her own moisture to lubricate the swollen flesh. She screamed as his hand let go of her breast and his fingers thrust into her savagely without warning. She came once more as he thrust three fingers deep inside her and then collapsed on the desk in a sweaty pile as Chris cried cut and the intense pressure on her was relieved.
They left her lying there for a couple of minutes as she fought to get her breath back before stripping off the camisole to free her arms and sit up. The vibrator lay silent on the desk beside her hip and she looked at it in suspicion as she tried to recover.
“Clean up time, sweetie. I’m sure there’s some running water in there you can use. “
Chris jerked his head toward the restroom and she nodded.
“Brad, you’re the fittest…nip down to the bus—bring up the empty carrier for this outfit and pick up the one labelled Blue Outfit. Bring her the black heels, too—She’ll need them for the next shoot. A bit of lippie probably wouldn’t go amiss, and bring the hair brush too.”
He smiled at her and she shivered once more—it wasn’t the nicest of smiles.
Chapter 8
She’d managed to clean herself up using paper towels and the water from the tap, although there was no hot water—she’d had to settle for cold. Chris had kept the clothes to put away so she had nothing to cover herself with when Brad pushed the door open, grinned at her and handed her the bag containing her next outfit and the small makeup bag and—bliss of all blisses, her hairbrush.
“Sorry…no other way to get them to you.”
“Thanks.”
He was trying to be nice, in his own way, so she smiled as she thanked him. His eyes wandered up and down the length of her naked body before he shut the door leaving her alone with her thoughts again. Each shoot was getting progressively sexier here, and almost all of them now seemed to be crossing the line from glamour into porn—a line she didn’t want to cross. There were obviously a couple more hurdles before it became really depraved and she had no intention of crossing those. Even this far was too far!
Someone, she presumed Chris, banged on the door. “Five minutes, please, sweetie.”
Five minutes didn’t give her enough time to get ready for something normal let alone for a glamour shoot where her hair and makeup, as well as clothing, was supposed to be immaculate. She opened the carrier and peered inside. The blue denim dress was conservative compared to the other outfits she’d warn, and the ubiquitous black bra, panties and garter belt set were black silk rather than see-through lace. It was something like classy on the inside but trailer trash on the outside as she realized the dress buttoned all the way up the front from hem to neck—and was short, too. She remembered Chris had told Brad to fetch her black shoes, too, and he hadn’t passed them to her.
“Chris! No shoes!”
She hoped he was in earshot of her shout, and the door opened. “Here, sweetie.”
This time it was Phil handing her the requisite item and he took his time to look her up and down. She smiled a thanks but otherwise ignored him as she sat on the toilet seat to strip off the seamed stockings in preparation for replacing them with the black lace-top ones. He closed the door before she looked up and she quickly checked he’d left the room before pulling the second stocking into place, standing up to pull on the panties, then snap the garter belt closed and thread the suspenders underneath them.
The bra was, she noticed, a front fastener or, as Ben insisted on calling the couple she owned, front loaders. She giggled to herself at the thought of her husband then wondered just how much of the last shoot she’d be able to tell him about without him getting angry. Not that she could tell him much about the previous, gunk laden shoot, either. In fact, she hadn’t even told him she was going on location, so the whole day was going to be a nightmare to explain to him.
Kayla stood up and pulled the dress up onto her shoulders and was just fastening the first button when Chris burst through the door. “Jeez, Kayla, aren’t you ready yet?”
She looked at him steadily. “Aren’t you supposed to knock?”
“Why?”
She continued to stare at him, forcing him to look away first—a small victory. “Why not? A common courtesy wouldn’t harm, would it?”
He turned and knocked on the open door as she continued to fasten the buttons, working down the dress.
“Sorry. Would my lady happen to be in a position to hazard a guess as to when she might be ready to grant us mere mortals with her skanky ass’s presence?”
The mixture of fake posh accent and the insult was too much for Kayla to keep a straight face and she burst into laughter. Chris grinned at her.
“Three minutes okay with you?”
He nodded.
“Good. Close the door on the way out.”
She finished buttoning the dress and quickly drew her brush through her hair, straightening it out as much as she could in the limited time and the confines of the restroom, then applied a coat of lipstick. Stepping into her shoes she took a deep breath and walked out the door—by her estimation no more than thirty seconds late.
* * * *
The first thing she noticed was the way the foyer area had been cleared—the lights and the mess on the desk had vanished, there was a neat stack of camera cases by the lift door, but otherwise…nothing.
A door at the far end opened and Chris waved to her. “We’re in here, sweetie.”
She tried to remember the layout when Chris gave her the quick tour, but she’d been more interested in the view from the other side of the building. Kayla shrugged and headed for the doorway, Chris stepping to one side and allowing her into the conference room beyond. Although there were no chairs the large conference table was still in place, and she could see it was effectively a fixture—the legs looked like they were bolted to the floor. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Chris watching her and she cocked her head on one side as she looked at him.
“I thought you’d notice. You’re right…it’s a fixture. It was too big and expensive to remove. In fact, they’d have had to take a window out and use a crane, so it goes to the new owners. Don’t worry, we don’t want you to dance on it— we want you over here by the window.”
She felt her mouth drop open and quickly closed it—the shock almost visceral.
“You promised…you said we wouldn’t be shooting anything where people could see.”
Chris chuckled and moved to stand by her side. “And I don’t break promises—we want to take some prep shots, that’s all, then we’ll move to the next location. Think of these shots as nothing more than links. Besides, if you come over to the window, I’ll point out our next location. That’s the surprise I promised you, sweetie.”
Almost against her better judgment she moved to the window and looked out. The other guys moved to stand to either side, pointing their cameras at her, although they remained a pace back from the window itself in order to stay out of each other’s sight line while Chris stayed at the back of the room.
“If you look down you can see a flat-roofed building at the corner of the shops.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well…if you could see the sign on the front of that building it would read Frank’s Bar, and that’s our next location.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry, sweetie, we’ve got exclusive use of the back pool room, and a key to the door, so nobody else can get in to look at you. Mind, you you’d probably enjoy it if they did?”
She could hear the shutters clicking as the four photographers captured her shocked reaction.
She closed her eyes and tried to blot out the images that flooded her head. Images fired by her own imagination of her playing pool with these men—playing and losing, losing not just the game but her clothes in the process. She shuddered and opened her eyes again to see them all watching her closely, enjoying her reaction as her fingers curled
round and gripped the sill.
“I promised you a surprise, didn’t I? Well…surprise!”
She turned and glared at him.
“We do want a couple of final shots in here, if you wouldn’t mind. Don’t worry, you’ll have your back to the window, so nothing will be exposed. Climb up onto the end of the table, please.”
She intensified the glare but, as long as he kept his word, he was within the rules they’d agreed, so did as he asked.
“Good girl, now drop into a position on all fours…Nice—very nice in fact.”
She glanced down—the dress hung down away from her breasts and she looked up to watch the four other members of the group rush to join Chris at the far end of the table.
“This is a focus exercise, boys. In a moment Kayla is going to slowly crawl toward us down the length of the table—you need to keep adjusting the focus as she gets closer otherwise the pictures will be rubbish. Kayla, I want you to move slowly and deliberately. Crawl forward about a foot, stop, rise up to a sitting position, undo a button and then drop back to all fours and do it again. Okay?”
Kayla lifted an eyebrow at him as she processed the instruction.
“You heard it right—by the time you reach this end of the table your dress should be undone all the way. Anybody looking in will only see you from the back, so if you don’t turn round you’ll be fine. In any case, by the time you’re a quarter of the way down the table, you’ll be out of the line of sight of anyone outside, anyway. By the way, alternate from top to bottom on the buttons—start with one at the top, the next one at the bottom and work from both ends into the middle. Let’s get started.”
She sat back up and looked at Chris, then with deliberate defiance undid the top button on the dress and dropped back to all fours again. He’d said move then undo a button, so she did it the other way around in a perverse gesture. Chris chuckled—she knew he’d spotted what she’d done but made no comment. She brought her left knee forward, then brought her body up in line, then sat up again and undid the bottom button on the dress.
So far, so good—there wasn’t much change in the amount of flesh she was displaying. By the time she’d reached the halfway point that had changed—there were only four buttons holding the dress closed, all of them in the middle of the dress. Above, the dress hung open exposing her cleavage and both silky cups of her bra. Below, every time she moved the dress split open revealing not only naked thighs above the lace-top stockings but also the black of her panties. All four of the photographers had crouched down to the level of the table to rest their lenses on the surface, angled slightly upward into the void beneath her body to get the best possible shot line.
She smiled at them and, despite them being middle-aged men, thought of them as little puppies that would roll on their backs for a belly rub. She stopped that train of thought as soon as it started—these guys would roll on their backs for her to blow them, not the same thing at all!
Kayla continued to work her way along the table—three buttons left…then two…and then finally…the last one. She lifted herself to an upright position, sitting back on her legs and looked at the cameramen crouched in front of her as her fingers toyed with the last button at her waist. She smiled at them and flicked that button open, then leaned slowly forward to put her hands back on the surface of the desk. The dress hung open, dangling to the sides, leaving a clear view of her underwear all the way down to her stockings. She moved forward another couple of feet, now only another move from the end of the desk then sat up again, uncertain of what to do next.
Chris, standing behind the other two, pantomimed to her to undo the front clasp of her bra. Kayla heard the men chuckle as her expression changed, and realized this was his payback for opening that first button first instead of moving along the desk. Now she had to pay the piper for her own defiance, and that piper demanded her breasts swung free in the open. She glanced over her shoulder at the clear window behind her then looked forward again, her fingers nervous and trembling, reaching for the simple clasp.
Her body shook as the catch released and she let go, happy the cups stayed in place shielding her modesty. That couldn’t last, that was obvious—as soon as she dropped back to all fours gravity would pull them away leaving her topless in front of them.
Taking a deep breath she moved back into the crouched position. Before she was halfway down the left cup swung free to dangle in behind her extended arm. A split second later the right cup followed its partner into uselessness.
“Very nice.”
The men whistled their agreement and she felt herself start to blush as she moved forward once more, her hands now at the edges of the table, straddling the four lenses—two of them between her arms, one to each side.
Kayla tried to calm her breathing and waited for Chris to tell her what to do next, expecting him to tell her to sit up and pose that way.
“And…that’s a wrap. Very good, Kayla, very sexy. I wish I had board meetings like this.”
She glowered at him and mashed one arm across her breasts as she sat up and wrestled the bra back into position before starting on the buttons. She’d got about six fastened, starting from the middle, when Chris chuckled.
“You’ve got those wrong, sweetie. You’re going to have to start again.”
Kayla looked down—he was right, much to her chagrin. She quickly undid them and pulled the dress straight before starting on them once more.
Chapter 9
It had taken them a few minutes to gather up everything and return to the ground level. There had been a couple of people in the foyer of the building and they’d looked at her strangely, but she’d held her head high and walked through the glass fronted area with her head high, the others trailing in her wake.
They’d dumped most of the equipment back into the bus, but Chris had given her a couple of minutes with the full makeup kit in the back of the bus to adjust her makeup more to her liking. He’d told her to pick up another dress carrier, so she guessed this was going to be a double shoot again. Kayla wanted to look inside the carrier simply labelled Last Shoot but a stern glance from Chris told her it was another of his little surprises—as if she hadn’t had enough of those already. She wondered where the sex toy had gone, and hoped it was back on the bus rather than being carried into the back room of the seedy bar with them, but she had no way of checking, and she most definitely wasn’t going to ask.
Chris was on his mobile as they walked across the car park and, when the door opened as they approached it, it was obvious who he’d been talking to. The guy, who introduced himself as Frank, and could only be the bar owner, was pretty much as Kayla had visualized him. Short and paunchy, with virtually no hair and considerably older than even the photographers who accompanied her and Chris—she shuddered at the thought he would be seeing her nude, and glad he wouldn’t be.
They were led down a short passageway and through a door to the left. The door bore the euphemistic nameplate Games/Function Room. Underneath was a sign hanging which read Reserved For Private Function. Frank flicked on the lights and the room brightened up, but still looked dingy. It was about twenty feet by thirty, bigger than she’d expected with two pool tables, several small tables, a padded bench along the end wall, a bar with three stools and a tiny stage in the corner—about five feet square, no bigger.
She could already guess where they were going to be taking pictures of her—at the bar on one of the stools, at the pool table and, almost certainly, on the stage. The stage even had a pole!
She stood by the bar as Chris and Frank had a low-voiced conversation, throughout which the older man couldn’t take his eyes off her, leering at her in a way that said everything about how a man undressed a woman with his eyes. She shivered and looked at the other guys instead. They dumped their camera bags on the bench and carried on with the set-up process. When she looked back Frank was leaving and she sighed in relief as Chris locked the door from the inside. She looked round at the bar and saw that, too,
had a door across the opening at the far end. Chris had delivered on his promise of privacy for just the six of them and she sighed in relief. From the moment she’d been told about the final location for the day, she’d been dreading the possible lack of security and, although the idea of yet more ogling, her body delivered some measure of excitement—it also horrified her at the same time.
Chris stopped her musing when he started giving her instructions once more.
“Hop up onto the end bar stool, please, near the flap. The light’s better at this end.”
The flap was the access to the area behind the bar and Chris quickly grabbed a glass from behind the bar, put some ice in it and splashed some water from the tap into it. She looked askance at him about the ice and he just smiled.
“I asked Frank to supply some—we want to look authentic. You’ll have to pretend it’s vodka, but I wouldn’t actually drink it if I was you. I don’t really trust those taps. The drinks are for show—I’ve promised Frank we won’t touch them.”
She looked at him, knowing he could read the suspicion in her face; the presence of a filled ice bucket worried her. Once, a couple of years ago, they’d rented the old 9 ½ weeks movie for, as Ben put it at the time, shits and giggles, and she clearly remembered the ice-cube sequence. The thought of doing that to herself, or having it done to her, sent a shiver down her spine and her thighs trembled. Chris grinned—he’d read the thought in her mind and she almost panicked and blurted out something, thinking she might have even put the idea into his head, however inadvertent her slip!
Kayla looked down and straightened the skirt of the dress. The high stool left a lot of her legs on display, easily showing off the lace of the stocking-tops and a couple of inches of bare thigh above them. As soon as Chris told her to cross her legs, she’d be showing a heck of a lot more, and she was certain that instruction would follow.
