Halloween Favor

Up to this point, Sam had been borderline disgusted. Angelique was certainly an attractive woman, but the make-up and the semi-slutty outfit combined with the amateurish performances made him feel like he was watching some low-rent slasher film. Once the two models came into physical contact, however, a shift occurred. The burglar removed his hand from his victim's mouth, relying on the threat of the knife to keep her quiet. He then reached down and began to fondle her left breast through her top. The photographer had been featuring Angelique from the beginning. This was, after all, content geared towards heterosexual males. And now her expressions were a combination of outraged innocence, fear, and something else. It took a moment for Sam to place what he was seeing. Then he remembered that Angelique and Cody were, in fact lovers, and he understood: desire. He couldn't have pointed to any obvious indicators, but Angelique was clearly turned on by what was happening. And all of a sudden, he was buying into the scenario. The obviously fake knife no longer bothered him; it didn't even register. For several shots, the burglar mauled the maiden's voluptuous tits, while she appeared to plead and protest and beg for mercy.

The slide show continued. Before long, the villain produced a rope from a pocket. There was a short series of photographs to support the narrative. Still holding the knife to his victim's throat, the burglar forced her to walk a few steps toward a door to the right of the couch on which she had been sitting. Aware of what he intended, the maiden tried to break free, throwing a not particularly convincing elbow into her assailant's ribs. He doubled over, but managed to grab her wrist. Yanking her back into his arms, he forced the knife back under her chin, and hissed a threat into her ear. Eyes wide with fear, she allowed him to push her out through the door.

The narrative resumed in a bedroom with a wide shot of the terrified damsel tied—professionally, if the multiple loops around wrists and ankles were any indication—spread-eagled to the four posts of a large bed. She was still clothed, although her blouse now gapped considerably, revealing large breasts confined by a black bra. When, after a couple of establishing shots, the villain again appeared, he had traded his rubber knife for an actual kitchen knife. Placing the blade just below his victim's chin, he began to drag it slowly downward, using the point to further separate the lapels of her blouse, exposing more and more of her tits. Angelique looked suitably terrified, but there was now no mistaking her arousal. Before long, the burglar-turned-rapist had cut her bra between the cups, and her boobs burst free. Sam found the shot isolating this moment particularly hot. Angelique had beautiful eyes, large and green, with thick mascara-ed lashes. In the picture, they stared down, wide and terrified, at the knife between her now exposed breasts. Her full, pink-painted lips were rounded into an almost perfect "o", and it was hard to decide if she was gasping in horror or passion. Nor could Sam's reptilian cortex entirely avoid thoughts of how pleasant it would be to slip his cock into the wet, warm cave of that mouth.

There followed more shots of the burglar mauling, sucking and biting the maiden's tits. He then cut away her skirt, exposing a pair of lacy black, obviously soaked panties. The photographer then alternated between shots of Angelique's face as outrage, terror and anger played across her features, and the hands of her assailant, pushing her panties aside to reveal the fleshy lips of her shaved cunt. For all the explicitness of the images, the camerawork was artful. Sam was startled to realize—through the rush of his arousal—how good it was. The lighting was soft, warm, and diffuse; the pictures neither clinically over-exposed nor amateurishly under-lit. Like many men, Sam found much to admire in the sight of a woman's naked sex, but he had never before considered the crushed-flower look of a vagina "beautiful." For a surreal second, his mind flashed back to a college art-history class, in which a pudgy bespectacled professor blandly drew comparisons between Georgia O'Keefe's Red Canna and the female genetalia. The photographer was certainly no O'Keefe, but he did manage to elevate the image of Angelique's moist pussy to something beyond lowest-common-denominator pornography.

As the slide story continued, the burglar began to stimulate his victim with his hand and fingers. Here again the shots were carefully crafted. There was no explicit penetration, although that was certainly implied by the sight of Cody's large fingers bent beneath the hand cupping the helpless maiden's vulva. Then the frame widened, as the burglar stood back from his bound victim, and began to unzip his jeans. Now the shots included both the maiden's terrified face, and her tormentor's cock, which was thick, short, and erect. For five or six shots, the burglar displayed himself to the maiden, while she screamed, cried, and pleaded. But there was no mercy to be expected from her rapist, and, in the space of three or four shots, the villain had forced himself between the maiden's bound legs, and thrust his prick deep into her warm, wet pussy. Again, penetration was implied. Cody lay between Angelique's legs, supporting himself on out-stretched arms, so as to keep her outraged face exposed to the camera. Another dozen shots of the rapist having his wicked way with his innocent victim, and he had pulled out, zipped up, and left the frame, leaving the maiden alone, bound and ravished on the bed for three or four final images.

4.

The slide show finished, and Sam looked up into Anne's eyes. He had the feeling that she had been watching him closely. She said nothing, and Sam sensed that she was waiting for his reaction to what he had just seen. He leaned back against the couch and tried to arrange his thoughts.

"All right, that was...I don't know, good, I guess. That is to say I thought it was tastefully done, you know, given what we're talking about here..."

After a brief pause to see whether he would recover the thread, Anne prompted him gently: "Did it arouse you, Sam? Did you find it hot?"

"Not at first," replied Sam, surprising himself with his candor. "I don't know if the guy—Cody—is a friend of yours; I'm sorry, but his acting sucks. And the phony knife, I don't know, the whole thing seemed kind of cheese-ball at first, but then, once he had grabbed her, she really seemed to get into it. After that...yeah, it was pretty hot. I'm not sure how I should feel about that..."

"I can't help you there." Anne replied. "It speaks directly to my fetish, but not everybody shares that particular kink.

"By the way," Sam ventured, "I'm sorry if this is an...um...inappropriate question, but were they...I mean you never show actual penetration?"

Anne smiled. "They sure as hell were as soon as we stopped filming. Participating in the shoot had been Angelique's idea, and the experience apparently drove her crazy. She had him on his back on that couch—not to put too fine a point on it—fucking her cross-eyed before our grips finished striking the lights."

Kate giggled, and even Sam smiled slightly. Anne went on: "But to answer your question, no, absolutely not; not while the camera is rolling. Menaced Maidens is not, strictly speaking, a pornographic web-site. I won't bore you with the details of our business plan, but you should know that the language which governs adult web content is depressingly specific. Usage fees are considerably higher for sites which feature explicit content; higher still if that content has a violent component. If you deviate from what you agree to do, you can be sued, fined, shut down, and in some cases prosecuted in criminal court. So it's certainly not an inappropriate question. It comes up constantly. Most, although not all, of the couples we use are sexual partners, and often the idea of the role play, or the presence of the camera really turns their crank. But we can't risk posting anything which violates our server agreements, so no sex on camera. Sorry."

Sam choked and had to make something of an effort to prevent his now lukewarm coffee from shooting out of his nose. "No, jeez, I didn't mean...I mean didn't want...not that...I just thought..."

Anne laughed out loud. "Sam, I'm teasing." Karen gave an unladylike snort, and Sam began to understand why the two women got along so well. Both took what he considered an unseemly pleasure in fucking with him. Still smiling, Anne apologized.

"I'm sorry. You looked so disappointed I couldn't resist. Back to business, ok?" Sam nodded. Anne continued: "Would you like to see some of the more recent sets. The shoot we're hoping to do with Karen involves some video, so you might want a look at how that works."

A couple more clicks and another image came up: a blonde in a nurse's uniform. Like Angelique, this woman had a pretty face and big boobs, and—as with the previous photoset—there were about the photo restrained touches; erotic photography rather than plain old porn. The model wore white stockings, white strapped shoes with a blocky heel, and the de rigueur white cap with a red cross. She wore her long, kinky ash blonde hair loose, in a style no hospital could possibly have countenanced, but her skirt hit her just above her knees, and her uniform shirt was buttoned to a high collar and cut rather severely. Her make up was tasteful, but sexy. Again, Sam found his eyes drawn to a pair of wide full lips, painted to match the red on her uniform cross. The slide show began, and the story followed pretty much the same line as the burglar shoot. This time a scruffy orderly in blue scrubs pressed his unwanted attentions on the pretty nurse. After a few frames, Anne clicked a video link, and Sam watched as the orderly (a b-movie actor called Wes, according to Anne) grabbed the nurse (whose name was Cassandra, a lingerie model) by the elbow. The dialogue was stilted but competently delivered:

Orderly: "Hey, Baby, how come you've been ignoring me?"

Nurse: "Leave me alone, Dave. I told you I'm not interested, and you're going to make me late for my rounds."

Orderly: "But I'm interested, Sweetheart. C'mon, gimme a little something..."

Nurse: "What are you doing? Let go of me, you pervert. Take your filthy hands off me, or I'll scream!"

Orderly: "Scream as loud as you want, Babe. Nobody's gonna hear you down here. Now, let's have a look at those pretty titties."

The lustful orderly now had pretty Nurse Cassandra around the waist from behind, so that they both faced the camera. As he said his last line, the villain reached up and tore his victim's shirt open, exposing a white lacy bra which struggled to contain her voluptuous breasts. She squealed and writhed, but her captor groped her mercilessly, squeezing first one boob and then the other, panting his appreciation as he thrust himself against the back of her skirt.

"Oh yeah, look at those titties! Mmm, feels so nice, so soft. Is this getting you hot, bitch? I'm fuckin' hot. You feel me? You feel my hard cock against the crack of your hot little ass?"

There was a quick cut-away to Cassandra's outraged face, as he said this last, and her eyes widened in surprise and horror as she understood what it was pushing up against her backside. When the camera returned to the wide shot of the two of them, the nurse's bra was open, and the lecherous orderly was displaying her breasts for the camera. A soft hum escaped Sam without his noticing. The woman had a spectacular rack. Full and firm, but unquestionably natural, her boobs moved with the gentle, liquid bounce no plastic surgeon could ever replicate. She had tan-lines, which for some reason made the whole scenario even hotter; pale triangles around her nipples surrounded by softly bronzed flesh toward the outside of her breasts, as if she spent time sunbathing in a bikini just a little too small for her.

The video sequence lasted for perhaps three minutes, and then the slide show began again. The villain picked up the terrified maiden in a fireman's carry and slung her over his shoulder, a hand resting on her round, peach-plump ass. He carried her into something like a break room, threw her onto a cot, and bound her—again with what looked like the off-camera help of a professional rigger. Another shorter video sequence showed the half-naked nurse struggling on the bed. Once again Sam was struck by how skillfully the sequence blurred the line between fear and desire. Here was a beautiful woman, her wrists tied together behind her back, her legs spread, and her ankles anchored to the legs of the cot. She was pleading, crying, begging, and struggling against her bonds, all of which gave the impression that she flat out didn't want to be where she was. And yet. Perhaps it was because her hands were bound behind and under her, but her every moved thrust her full breasts upward, as if she was offering them to her attacker. Her writhing was desperate, but also sensuous, showing off the lithe, undulating curves of her voluptuous body. The image served to scramble Sam's eggs completely. He was divided between a chivalric impulse to rescue the lovely Cassandra from her tormentor, and an equally powerful urge to tear off her lacy white panties—now exposed as her movements hiked her skirt up around her waist—and ravage her himself. His dick felt like a piece of rebar. At last he understood a hitherto incomprehensible expression his father had used. Sam didn't know whether to shit or go blind.

The sequence continued, following the familiar narrative. Having pawed and sucked on Cassandra's magnificent boobs, the villain cut away his victim's panties with what looked like a pair of medical shears. He then dropped his scrubs to expose a long thin cock. A final video sequence documented the maiden's horror at its appearance, her pleas for him not to put it inside her, and—in an artful piece of editing—her body arching against the first (simulated) penetration, and the surprise, outrage, and open-mouthed expressions of despair and/or desire which chased themselves across her beautiful face. Cassandra was a much better actress than Angelique, and Sam read both outraged innocence and satiated desire behind the final image of her wide blue eyes.

5.

Again Sam felt both women's eyes upon him as he leaned back, his breathing slightly labored. "Holy shit," he panted, "that was...um...maybe one of the hottest things I've ever seen."

"Sam, may I ask you a personal question?" Anne's slight southern lilt reached him through his arousal. He nodded, and she continued. "Where did you imagine yourself in that little scenario? Did you save her, or did you rape her?"

"Oh hell." Sam paused to marshal his thoughts, and finally spoke slowly. "To be completely honest with you, it was kind of like I wanted to do both. But it was sort of twisted...both options were sexual in some way. Like, even if I'd saved her, I imagined her being so grateful that she'd just give herself to me, right then and there. But then part of me was incredibly turned on by hearing her beg and plead. And she even seemed to want it...a little. I'm sorry. I know that's totally un-pc and fucked up, but..."

"No, no, no," Anne interrupted. "That's exactly the kind of response this material is supposed to elicit. You're aroused right now, aren't you? You have an erection, right?"

"Um, ok that is personal, but yeah, I do."

"No, that's good. That's the point of the exercise, if you'll pardon the expression." Karen giggled, and Sam shot her a withering look, which had no effect. He noticed that Karen's face and throat were flushed. She's as turned on as I am, thought Sam, and the thought did nothing to ease his discomfort. Anne continued: "Now, having seen this sequence—a fantasy scenario on a quasi-pornographic website, remember—do you have any fantasies about going out and doing this yourself?"

That brought Sam up short. "What, you mean finding some attractive woman, groping her, tying her up and—what—fucking her against her will? Of course not! What in the hell kind of question is that?"

Anne didn't flinch: "A necessary one. Let me ask you another. Let's say a girlfriend asked you to help her fulfill a fantasy like this. Many women other than me have this fantasy, you know. Something like 30% of the site's membership is female. Would you be up for it?"

With a start, Sam remembered that Angelique and—what was it, Cody?—were lovers, and that, according to Anne, they had been so turned on by their little photo shoot that they'd gone at it before the last flash bulb faded. Were Cassandra and Wes together as well?

"You mean pretend, right? She agrees to be tied up and she's okay with rough sex, and she wants to pretend to be unwilling and beg and plead? Yeah, sure. I'm guessing if my response to your stuff is any indication, I'd probably really dig it. But she'd have to be able to stop it if she stopped liking it. I mean...I don't know how I'd stop, but I'd have to because otherwise...but yeah; if all that's true, then yeah."

"Good. Great. Final question: would you be willing to do a photo shoot with Karen? That's why we've asked you here. The guy I had planned on using is awol. Can't get him at home or on his cell. It's October 7^th, and I want a Halloween set on the site by the 15^th. That's almost no time. We have to shoot today. We have to shoot pretty much right now. I have the crew waiting out back, and they're on the clock. If you agree, you'll be in make-up for an hour or two, and we'll spend the rest of the day shooting. It'll probably take something like 8 hours. Karen's session fee is $2000. Ordinarily the guy gets considerably less. I would have paid my guy $500, and I would have been happy to pay that to you, but Karen suggested that we combine the two figures and split the total down the middle. That's incredibly generous of her, by the way."

Sam was desperately trying to process all this information: "Hold it, hold it, you want pictures on me on the site? Naked? Um, first of all, I'm not...shit, this is...look, I'm not...um...my...it's not like porn-star length or anything..."

"Doesn't matter," interrupted Anne with a grin. "If I had time, I'd show you a couple of incredibly hot sets in which the guys have relatively small dicks. Provided the girl can act, we're not particularly concerned about the size of the props."

"Um, okay, fair enough. But my face is going to be in a few of these shots, right? I mean what if somebody from the Bottle recognizes me, or if one of the owners sees...I mean, they might, you know. They're good guys, and it's not like they're puritans or anything, but..."

Anne was still grinning. "As it happens, that won't be a problem in this case. This is a Halloween shoot, remember? Your make up should be heavy enough to keep people from recognizing you, unless they know you really, really well." Her voice was heavy with innuendo. "Besides," she continued, "the most important thing is that Karen likes you and trusts you. She was prepared to do the shoot with my guy, but I think she'd actually be more comfortable doing it with you."

Sam looked at Karen. She smiled and nodded. "I'd really appreciate it, Sam." she said. "And we'll talk alone before you decide, like I said. Listen to the rest of it, and then we'll take a walk."

Sam nodded, and turned back to Anne. "I think you know most of it. You'll be the villain, and Karen will be the maiden. You'll accost her, overpower her, maul her, and strip her. Then we'll have a rigger tie her down, and you'll simulate sex with her. We'll shoot stills and three—possibly four—short video sequences. With me so far?"

Sam nodded, trying to process the idea of simulated sex with Karen. His body and brain felt as if they were involved in a particularly vicious civil war. On the one hand, he found Karen devastatingly attractive, and the idea of getting his hands and mouth on her naked flesh was actually making his heart race; he could feel it in his chest. At the same time, Karen was his friend. He liked her; he was even a little in love with her, and he felt a little ashamed of his eagerness to exploit a professional accident in order to grope her. Because that's all it was going to be. He didn't even know if Karen was going to enjoy what passed between them. Sure, the idea of it seemed to turn her on, but the actual process was probably pretty technical. Then again, the selfish part of him reminded him that this was only going to simulated sex, and that he was going to go home with a pair of balls the color of the pacific at sunrise. Of course this was probably as close as he was ever going to get to sex with Karen...