Not Your ValentinebyMichaelWest©
Note to Reader: This is a story featuring hard non-consent, nothing portrayed is condoned hereby; it is fantasy, and a twisted erotic romance trope. Although the sex act is not depicted, the act of rape is clear.
Just as I stepped inside from my morning run, my phone made its distinct chime to alert me to a new email. Quickly I checked it and saw that it was another daily promotional coupon, this time featuring a "Boudoir Photography Package for Valentine's Day."
Ignoring it, I went up to take my shower. As I started to undress however, I thought more about the advertisement and opened it again, more curious this time. It promised that a professional photographer would take so-called boudoir-style pictures that were certain to "spice" things up as it promoted the experience in rather cheeky terms. It alluded to how the pictures could be anything from tastefully naughty to outright wild, titillating one could pose in lingerie or frighteningly totally nude!
Not being an exhibitionist, I had never considered anything so cliché before. "Could I?" I asked myself uncertain. Then almost prideful, I thought: "I'm not a prude."
But truth be told, I had never before had any nude pictures taken of me, and nor had I posed slutty either as I imagined such pictures men seem to like of a woman naked. The most scandalous thing I had done was have a picture or two taken in my sexier swimsuit. Nudity was for other women. Yet today I found the idea compelling. And after I thought again about the idea of boudoir photos for my husband and how that might "spice" things up between us, I headed into my bedroom closet to see what I looked like.
As I stood before the full-length mirror in my closet, I felt vain as I began to admire myself. I knew that my body, especially my breasts, still looked great. As I turned, I felt a tinge of embarrassment at how my breasts thrust out almost proudly. Nervously, I lifted my jogging tee-shirt to reveal my belly and reminded myself how fortunate I was that it was in such excellent shape.
"Maybe," I said to myself.
Assuming what I still thought of as silly poses, I thought of how I had kept up an exercise routine through my pregnancy and still did, how I rubbed creams into my skin to reduce the stretch marks and now three years on my belly had only the faintest softness and curve, it was almost perfectly flat and not a mark in my soft creamy white skin. Perhaps it was vanity alone, or, the fear that at I would not remain as young and desirable forever that restored my confidence and eased my inhibitions as I returned to my phone to order the coupon.
Then suddenly I felt a surge of bravado and decided to call for an appointment. Honestly, my hands were actually trembling with anticipation as I tapped the number into my phone and waited for an answer. And I was relieved when a woman answered. My voice was slightly hesitant as I explained seeing the advertisement and ordering a coupon for the "Boudoir Package." The woman explained how popular it was and that I was lucky to call so quickly as the appointments would surely book up fast, especially with Valentine's Day barely two weeks away.
"Yes," the woman said, seeming truly friendly as she spoke; "I can fit you in Friday after lunch."
"Great," I thought as I spoke of how I could get someone to watch the children as I wanted it to be a surprise and needed to keep this a secret.
"Your name," the woman asked politely.
"Katherine," I answered, adding: "Wayne."
"Okay Ms. Wayne, I have you down for Friday at two."
"So you will be taking my pictures?"
"Oh no Katherine," she said casually, "I am just the receptionist, Bruce is the photographer who will shoot you."
I felt myself tense up. In that moment I realized that I could not pose naked before a man. No matter my bravado or vanity, the very idea sobered me as a cold shiver ran up my spine.
"Will that be a problem?" She asked disarmingly. "We don't want to make you feel uncomfortable," she said with compassion, "your pictures won't be any good if you are not completely comfortable."
I didn't want to feel the worry that welled inside of me. It wasn't like this man was not a professional. He had likely seen a lot of naked women before. Thus, I tried to remind myself that there was nothing wrong with posing for some tasteful erotic pictures before a stranger.
"No," I tried to sound confident, "I want pictures for my husband," I struggled to say it, part of me needing to explain myself, "but nothing nude, just tastefully sexy."
"I fully understand," she said sympathetic, "Bruce is completely professional and will certainly accommodate your wishes."
Her confidence washed away my fears in part and I did not want to cancel outright now. I knew I wanted to wear some very sexy lingerie, perhaps even do a partial nude:
"Can he do something in that artful way that actually shows nothing but shadows and silhouette, the tease of nudity?"
"Oh yes," she said confidently. "We have some costumes but I recommend you bring anything special to you," she spoke with continued reassurance, "especially any lingerie, but one thing I think is truly sexy is to wear your wedding dress for some risqué glamour poses to remind your husband you still got it."
The conversation continued over some details and once concluded, I returned to the idea of my wardrobe. And I focused on her suggestion specifically. All my wedding pictures were formal and beautiful, so the suggestion of doing some fun pictures in my gorgeous wedding dress cemented my resolve to have fun and be "risqué."
"How can you get in trouble in your wedding dress?" I thought. Returning to my closet, I wanted to see if I could still fit in my wedding dress, although I was certain I would. Putting it on the memories flickered like pictures in my mind of how beautiful a bride I was that day. Speaking to myself in the mirror, I said: "I really think this will make some sexy pictures."
"Hello," I said confidently upon entering the studio.
The lobby was tiny, barely a dozen feet square, with the receptionist at a desk catty-corner to the door and two chairs close together directly in front of her and beside the door. A curtained doorway was directly in front that matched the drapery on the floor to ceiling windows.
"Good afternoon," the girl behind the desk answered professionally and stood.
"I'm Katherine," I replied casually.
"You are just a few minutes early," she said with a smile, "is that your costume for today," she asked politely looking at my garment bag.
"Yes," I answered.
"I can put it in the studio for you," she stepped out from behind the desk and reached to take it from me, "and you can hang your coat there," she pointed her head to a large hook on the wall next to the curtained doorway.
As she walked through the curtain with my garment bag I took off my coat and hung it, upon returning she said:
"Well it was great to meet you Katherine; Bruce will be right out to take care of you."
As she had on her coat and held her purse, I realized she was leaving.
"I'm sorry," I tried not to sound concerned, "are you leaving?"
"Yes, I leave early on Fridays," she said matter-of-factly.
"I'm sorry," I repeated my surprise.
"I understand," she interrupted me. "A woman has to be careful," she said quietly.
Feeling foolish, I shook my head as if that thought never crossed my mind.
"Oh no, I didn't mean to suggest . . ."
Just then Bruce came out from behind a curtain and stepped openly into the tiny lobby. He was incredibly handsome, almost pretty like a hunky male model and he had all the looks I find irresistible.
"I'm fine," I said hurriedly, forgetting my trepidation in an instant.
Bruce smiled knowingly to himself as his experienced eye looked over the beautiful woman before him. Even clothed he knew she had a fantastic body, was in great shape, with long sexy legs, amazing looking tits and he was certain that her round ass was both nice and amazingly firm too. She was just the perfect rich little purebred that he liked to take the nastiest pictures with.
"This is Misses Wayne, your two o'clock."
"I'm fine now," I thought to myself distracted by his good looks, and I didn't even notice the receptionist excuse herself and go out the door.
I was dressed in a conservative beige sweater over a stylish white top with a not too short dark brown skirt and almost knee high chocolate brown leather boots. Underneath I had thigh-high nylons on and tastefully matching white bra and panties. I felt sexy but not overly so, yet the way his eyes looked at me I felt almost naked.
Underneath Bruce pictured her in very sexy underwear, the sort these types always wore beneath the more prim exterior, and then he thought of her naked, wondering if her "rug matched her curtains", or if she was truly naughty and was bare down there. He had seen it all, he thought, and he could imagine everything.
"Glad to meet you Miss Wayne," he said charmingly.
"Good to meet you too, Bruce," I said charmed, "please call me Katherine."
"Certainly Katherine," he said with a smile.
"So, how long have you been married?" He probed.
"Only about three years," I answered.
Bruce thought that wasn't long enough for her to truly be bored yet. He knew how so many, especially the older ones came in "bored" and predisposed to have sex, especially since he was so very much like their fantasies, for he knew how his looks conformed to the trashy romance novel cover art.
"That is really nice," he said innocently, adding: "My parents divorced after nearly twenty-years of marriage."
The words seemed innocuous, but to my shame, I felt a slight discomfort even having this discussion with the man. I wanted to forget my marriage and wished he didn't know, the naughty thought swept me just as his charming good looks and easy manner already had.
"It would be so much easier to bare myself in front of him then," I thought, "if he thought I was not taken."
"Are you nervous," he interrupted my thoughts with an easy voice.
"Just a little," I smiled.
"That is perfectly normal" he said reassuringly, "why don't I show you to the studio and you can change, relax and when you are comfortable, just let me know."
"That would be great," I smiled.
Following him, I could not help but look at his sexy butt and wonder what he looked like. Although very clean-cut he had that "bad-boy" sexiness to him I preferred. And although I could not put my finger on it, whatever he had sure was charming me!
The studio was a large room, with photography equipment and lights and a big reflector set up before a rather luxurious looking chaise lounge. The walls were draped in a neutral color that sort of made everything blend together as if in a dream.
"I see that you want some pictures in your wedding dress, something tasteful and sexy."
The pang of embarrassment struck me then, as I thought once more now of the idea of posing sexy in my wedding dress and at the rather sexy white fishnet stockings, garter belt and five inch strappy heels I had brought to go with the now seemingly too revealing lingerie I wore. More sober, I said:
"It is for my husband, a surprise for Valentine's day."
The truth was that he had a wedding dress fetish. As he listened to her his mind wandered to how he instructed the receptionist to suggest it to each new "Boudoir" customer. He was profoundly aroused by the imagery of a married woman being sluttish in her virginal gown, then how they would let him fuck her like the whore he was certain every such woman truly was.
"You are as lovely as any professional model I have shot," he flattered easily.
"Do you flatter every new customer?" I casually laughed.
"Of course," he matched her laughed, "but I mean it, you could easily be mistaken for any runway model."
"You sure know how to boost a woman's confidence," I laughed friendly again.
"Well," he said almost thoughtlessly, "I have to say we can do something nice in just the dress, or your lingerie, but if you want these pictures to be 'hot,' I mean for really hot for your husband, I recommend some nudity to kick start that romance again."
Bruce had been here before, with the same sort and knew his pitch verbatim. He felt he knew how to play these bored housewives. The idea to offer the cheap "boudoir-photography" packages had been a stroke of genius. Otherwise prudish women who still looked great never ceased to come in and get naked for him. And if he really wanted one to bed, they were very easy to seduce, most actually threw themselves at him. His good looks were often all it took really, but when they were just a little too frightened, he could of course help them too.
"What man doesn't want to see a gorgeous woman posed sexy for him?"
"Thank you," I blushed a little at his still obvious flattery.
"Would a glass of wine help," he said almost seductively; "take the edge off, a little," he sounded so damned charming.
"That would be nice," I accepted innocently.
Bruce was pretty sure she would fuck him anyhow, but with a little something spiking her wine, it would be even simpler to persuade her to open her legs for him and get really nasty like he wanted.
He returned with two glasses of wine and that reassured me.
"Take your pick," he said confidently.
"Thank you," I said graciously as I picked up a glass.
If she was suspicious, she couldn't refuse once he let her pick her own glass. It was obvious she could trust him now. He watched anxiously as she took her first sip like a good naive little girl. Of course he put the drug in both glasses, in just a small dose all it did was make you looser he assured himself, got you hornier and eased all your inhibitions too, they would be aware and remember, but they would both be willing to act out completely too, the way they wanted but were afraid to. And that was the best part, he told himself once again.
"You can change after we finish our wine," he smiled at her.
Once she had taken her last sip, just after he finished his glass, Bruce stepped through the curtain to give her the privacy she still wanted. He knew the drug was flowing through her body as it was through his. He was already feeling frisky and lusty. He could feel his grip on himself easing and knew she would be getting looser by the minute too.
Looking down, I saw how the narrow lace panties barely cover my groomed sex, and my almost see-through bra showed my areola and nipples through the delicate embroidered pattern.
Changing into my full sexy underwear and then my dress reminded me that I would never act on my little fantasy towards that man. Fine for a romance novel, but I was as happily married as the next woman, faithful, even if that now equated to boring in fiction. I dismissed my dreamy little thoughts of him as harmless and giggled at myself.
"I'm ready," I said loud enough through the closed curtain.
Walking through the curtain he looked even more attractive to me and I was now truly embarrassed at my own dirty thoughts and growing arousal.
"You look beautiful," he said with sincere charm. "Let us just begin with some natural poses."
Photographs were clicked of me as I moved in poses that I recalled from magazines. And after several minutes he began to prompt me, and more carefully I posed the ways he said. Each instruction was harder than the last as my mind seemed to swim as if I were drunk.
Unknown to Katherine, Bruce posed her a little more provocative with each instruction. From simply asking her to smile, or turn, or bend, he began the suggestions to move, to move more deeply to where she looked less like a bride and more like a slut.
"Lean forward," Bruce said more like a command.
Standing before him I just did as he directed me.
Because of the drug, she was less concerned with his more assertive tone. He knew that he could begin using a commanding tone now; in fact without his firm instructions she would be useless.
"Cross your arms and push those beautiful boobs up."
As if thoughtless, she did and he could see the edge of her areola peek above the bra that came into view deep into her décolletage.
"That's good," he encouraged her. Bruce wanted her to undress, but struggled to contain his own burning lust. "Can you show me your gorgeous tits?" Bruce was testing her to see how the well the drug was working on her now.
Mentally I failed to take offense at his crass language, in fact it sounded oddly sexy to me. The crude word made me flush with arousal and suddenly I wanted to expose myself.
"You mean these tits," I raised my hands to my breasts and cupped them, and held them as if I was showing them naked to him.
"Yes, Like that," he said enthused.
He took more pictures and gave more prompts, each one a very direct pose I was to assume, and every time I did exactly as he wanted. I knew every request made me pose more sluttish yet I wanted to, I enjoyed it and could not feel it was not right any more.
"Turn and show me that gorgeous ass," he said with a primal voice. "Raise your dress," he said almost playfully.
Bruce was pleased when he saw her raise the back of her dress without hesitation, the thin thong of the panties was deep between her cheeks. "More," he coaxed, "lean forward." And he could see the rounded outline of her clean labia peeking as she bent even deeper forward. And he took more pictures, close ups of her exposed sex.
I looked back over my shoulder and my hair cascaded down. For some reason he looked more attractive than ever and I felt more aroused too, I felt amazing yet I was losing myself somehow. My mind was foggy with a strange unstoppable lust and now a need for him I had never felt for any other man.
She was just about ready, Bruce thought. Casually, he turned on the second camera on the tripod off to the side already aimed at the chaise. Unknown to her, the second camera was actually a video recorder, intended to capture the rest of today's taking.
"Ready to show some more for your lover," he said seductively and suggestively.
My mind sort of went to the idea of becoming nude in front of this hot stud, suddenly I was conscious of my own arousal, the obvious heat and moisture between my legs as I purred a soft "yes" from deep inside me.
His mind boiled with lust and he barely could hold back, but he wanted a few more pictures in just her lingerie before he got her fully naked and after those pictures, he could finally satisfy himself with fucking her like the wanting little whore that she would be for him.
"Take off your dress." He simply commanded now and I obliged. He took pictures as I slipped out of my dress almost desperately.
He watched as she just obeyed his suggestion. The drug had already erased the word "no" from her thoughts completely. He took pictures of her now lewd movements to strip.
"Cross your arms and push those beautiful tits up." He said firmly. Immediately I did so. "You have amazing tits," he flattered as he clicked more pictures. "Now let the straps fall off." Obligingly I peeled them off my shoulders.
"Beautiful." The cups fell open and uncovered her breasts more, revealing her areola and her nipples barely held her bra in place, its fabric barely concealing them now. Now Bruce wanted her to slowly take off her brassiere the rest of the way, like a strip tease dancer so the video would show how willing she looked. "Take your bra off for your lover."
His words seduced me and I reached behind my back to unhook my bra, letting it fall away to show him the tits he desired. As it fell away and my breasts fell free before him I felt yet another hot rush of desire and the dirtiest of thoughts ran through my mind. "Pinch your nipples," he commanded. I did more than that. Smiling at the camera, I sexily removed my hands. Now, imagining in a confused way how my husband might enjoy the photos later, I cupped my tits in my hands, lifted them and squeezed them, played with them for him rolled my nipples between my fingers and got them harder for him. I offered them and wanted him to have them.