Photo Shoot Gone Badly Wrong Pt. 02

The days after the photo shoot were a mess of confusion for me.

I tried hard to concentrate at work, but showing properties and getting my commissions were the last thing I was able to focus on during that time. I was barely able to function cognitively at all. Every piece of spare mental energy I had was spent reconciling the depraved actions I had undertaken and the intense but terrifying feelings and desires that they had awoken in me.

Had I really said and done those things? Had I really transformed from suburban wife to some kind of desperate cock-craving whore over the course of one afternoon? I just couldn't wrap my head around how it had happened, and how I had been so complicit in my own swift demise.

The other thing that changed for me was my sexual behaviour. In the bedroom I was more frustrated than ever. To be honest my husband and I didn't make love that often anyway, but this frustration was now overlaid with the fact that his "vanilla" approach just didn't seem to do it for me at all any more.

And worse, I found I was locking myself away and masturbating at least twice daily - sometimes more often. And each time all I could think about was Paul, his demeaning language and his dismissive, arrogant but somehow compelling aura, as I performed wanton sexual acts on command for his camera, stuck somewhere halfway between a porn star and a trained seal. I would often finish these masturbation sessions deeply ashamed and humiliated, quietly weeping at my own lack of moral fortitude. I would frequently resolve to put these thoughts out of my mind. Which I did, until a few hours later when I became insatiably aroused again, and the cycle of masturbation and shame started afresh.

And then it came. As I knew it would. As I knew it HAD to.

A plain white rectangular package arrived at work. I discovered it when I returned to the office from a morning out running open inspections to pick up some paperwork for my afternoon client visits.

When I filled out the various paperwork/waivers etc for my "modelling" job (yeah - right), for some reason I had put my work rather than my home address as my primary contact. Some lightning burst of intuition had made me do it. Whatever the reason, at that precise moment I silently thanked my lucky stars, because I was certain I knew what would be in the package. And I was quite certain it was something I definitely didn't want going home to hubby.

The package had been left for me on my desk by our receptionist, Alyssa. It was addressed to me by name, care of the office, and the address label had been printed out of a word processor. There was no return address on the package, but none was needed, I knew where it had come from.

As was often the case during the day, no-one else was in the office except for Alyssa. She was right out the front behind the reception desk, and with a closed door between her and me in the inner office where all the salespeople worked, I knew I was unlikely to be disturbed as I ripped open the paper packaging with trembling hands.

And sure enough, a DVD in plastic casing fell out of my hands onto my desk with a quiet clatter.

The casing of the DVD was clear plastic, it did not have a title or pictures like one you might buy or hire. The DVD itself was also blank looking, just plain silver. However inside the casing was a folded handwritten note. I opened up the plastic container and read the following:

"Impressive. You might want to discuss your future. Regards, Paul."

Beneath this short note was his phone number. I still had it in my phone from our initial session.

Although I had been anticipating this moment, the reality of it came crashing down on me hard. For a second I felt like I couldn't breathe - and my head was spinning with emotions of fear, anger, confusion and I'll admit, arousal. Questions were running through my mind so fast, and my silly head wouldn't be calm and quietly long enough to allow me to focus and answer them.

How many copies of this film were there?

Had he put this on the internet?

What exactly was in those damn release forms I signed when I went to the studio? I hardly read them I was that nervous...

Had he sent other copies elsewhere - to my house? No, he didn't have my address...I thought...hoped.

What were the exact things I actually said and did, and how much of it was captured on camera, and in what level of detail? I mean, I was sober and complicit, but I was in such a heightened state of arousal and shame that my exact memory of what occurred had dimmed slightly...how bad was it? Oh god - was it as bad as I thought? Worse?

When is the first chance I'll have to watch this without being interrupted?

And the big one...what was he going to do next, and what did he want from me?

Even though I hadn't viewed the film yet, I decided to ring him straight away. I had to deal with this issue and deal with it now. I could watch the movie and marinate in my own shame later.

I hurriedly picked up the DVD, slipped it into my bag, grabbed the paperwork I was after, and headed for some privacy - being my car. I had an easy drive to my next meeting, so I figured I could talk to Paul via Bluetooth on the way. That way no-one could overhear or interrupt.

As I dialled the number, a part of me was wishing he wouldn't pick up. No such luck. A confident male voice, unmistakably Paul's, answered the phone.

"Hot Modelz modelling agency."

"Paul, listen. It's me, Suzie, I need to talk to you about this video, you see it's..."

Paul cut me off. "I'm sorry, who is this speaking please?"

"It's Suzie, come on please Paul, I need..." My voice was rising in panic and embarrassingly girlish, and somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind I briefly wondered how simply hearing his voice had reduced me to this uncharacteristic loss of control already - we were only talking on the phone, dammit!

Again, he calmly interrupted me. "Look I'm really sorry and I don't mean to be rude, but you're going to have to be more specific. We do deal with a lot of girls here at the agency, and we do a lot of videos. Now it might help if you can slow down a bit honey - and try and explain to me who you are, what modelling job you did for me, and which video you wanted to discuss. Then we'll all be on the same page and I'm sure I can help you."

OK, of course. He deals with lots of models. Probably lots of "Suzie's" to boot. Stop being so silly and get it together, girl! I took a deep breath and tried to be calm and clear, just like Paul said.

"Ok, wait, I'll pull my car over."

"Great idea."

I pulled my Honda sedan over to the side of the road so I could concentrate properly. I pulled up next to a suburban park which had a playground and basketball court, but not too much passing traffic. Then I took a deep breath.

"Right, my name is Suzie [Surname], and about two weeks ago I came in to do a photo shoot for my husband. Do you remember me now?"

He hesitated. "Umm...look we do a bit of that sort of work, sorry I still can't quite place it. Are you not happy with how the pictures turned out?"

"No, no, no nothing like that..." I tried to continue, but got cut off again, by that maddeningly calm and controlled voice.

"Oh good then! We do pride ourselves on top notch work here. Anyway, sorry to interrupt you, what did you want to talk about?"

"Well, you see it wasn't the photo shoot. You must be able to remember - I started out wanting to do some bikini or lingerie shots, but..." At that moment, I couldn't bring myself to say out loud what had happened, what I'd done.

"Yes Suzie, but what?"

"But, b-but the whole shoot degenerated, somehow I got...um...I guess...turned on, and you made me s-suck a guy's cock, and you filmed it, and then you called me n-names, and then you made me..."

"I made you?" Quietly interrupting me yet again as I descended into babbly little girl talk, "Oh my dear I don't remember making you do anything at all. Are you sure you've got the right number Suzie?"

"OF COURSE I"VE GOT THE RIGHT FUCKING NUMBER! YOU SENT ME THE GODDAMN VIDEO IN THE POST!" I was screaming hysterically. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a couple of young men, who had entered the basketball court, turn and look my way. The windows of my car were shut, but I still must have distracted them with my rather loud outburst. Oh well, whatever.

I lowered my voice. "Paul, please listen, you MUST remember me, I ended up, you know..." my voice tailed off quietly.

"I know what, Suzie?"

"You know, I ended up fucking myself with a dildo on the floor for your goddamn camera!" I hissed the last few words through gritted teeth, trying to be quiet so as not to draw further attention to myself, but still putting emphasis on the words.

Paul was very quiet for a second. Then, just as I was about to ask if he was still there, he said "Ahhhh, yes. I remember you now. Of course. However if you think I made you do those things, I suggest you review the video. Have you watched the video Suzie?"

"N-no."

"Mmmm. I see. Well, let me give you a quick reminder of what occurred. Somehow the events of that afternoon are coming back to me more clearly now that you painted that lovely mental picture of you rutting like a pig on that dildo and calling yourself every nasty name under the sun.

"I believe it was YOU who said 'I want you to see my big fucking tits', proud as you were of your surgery, is that not right, Suzie?"

Well, it wasn't like I walked in proudly announcing that from the get-go, but he did have me there. I did seem to remember saying that as things heated up, kind of against my will. Worse still, the mere mention by Paul of my "big fucking tits", and in fact the conversation in general, was doing very warm, tingly and not-really-appropriate- for-a-real-estate-agent-during-the-day type things to my body.

"Yes, Paul, I-I guess I did." Stuttering and shuddering dammit!

"How are those big fucking tits now, Suzie? Do you want to pinch your nipples now, just like you did in the photo shoot? I seem to remember that just from posing and pinching those big cow udders that you got rather wet, and it was YOU, not me, who soiled my expensive couch!"

"ohhh..hhhh" was about all I was able to reply. The mention of what I did and his rough language had an immediate and physical effect on my body. My nipples were rock hard with arousal, and I felt a flood of wetness in my sex. "P-paul I-I-I..."

"I think you should give your nipples a nice tweaking now, just to refresh your memory, so you don't accuse me of having done anything else that you did YOURSELF, you silly little WHORE." He interrupted my foolish stuttering with a calm, authoritative command.

"uhhh- huhh," I moaned and worked my hands into my business shirt. I'd already started unbuttoning the shirt in an almost involuntary but desperate attempt to get pleasure myself and had now popped both my surgically enhanced DD breasts (udders?) up over my bra. I was pinching both nipples hard, twisting them, ashamedly but enthusiastically enjoying the effect it was having on my now quite wet pussy.

Unbelievably, in a matter of seconds he had reduced me to the same state I was in during the photo shoot. And this time he'd done it much quicker. The memory of that erotic and humiliating afternoon lurched to the front of my mind, bringing with it waves of hot, tingling, maddening arousal. I was writhing, cooing and moaning as I pinched my nipples.

"Now Suzie, while we're on the subject of jogging your memory, I seem to remember that YOU told me that you have 'a big ass and big slutty udders like a cow'. Is that right?"

"Oooohhhhhhhhh..."

"I can't hear you Suzie. Is that right, cock whore?"

"F-ffcuk..Ughhhhh.. YES YES it's right...oh God please..." I had really lost it now, one hand had moved up under my skirt and down my panties, tickling my clit, while the other pinched first my left then my right nipple harder and harder."

"And I believe you did say you were 'a good for nothing fuckpig'. Is that correct?"

"Ohhhh fuck yes Paul! I'm a GOOD FOR NOTHING FUCKPIG! Are you happy?" Oh god I was so close to bringing myself off as Paul abused me verbally and I abused myself physically. My hand was frantically working my clit, my other hand was attacking my fully exposed tits with gusto, and I was moaning, screaming and calling myself nasty names as I brought myself closer and closer. Nearly there Suzie you dirty slut, nearly there...

"Yes I'm happy. Bye." And with that he hung up.

I let out an anguished shriek of frustration and arousal.

Just at that moment, there was a tap on my car window that absolutely scared the life out of me. The two young men who were playing basketball were right up at my car window, eyes wide open, slack jawed and happily filming me in my dishevelled and exposed state with their phones. And if I wasn't mistaken, the bulge in their respective shorts suggested they were might impressed with what they'd seen and heard thus far.

Oh fuck...