Fantasy to Reality - Model in Chains Ch. 01

We are new to Literotica but have published our stories on other sites which now seem to be dead or have serious technical issues. Perhaps some of you have seen our stories there. Now we have decided to publish here for new readers. We appreciate any feedback.

The two main characters in this story describe us very well. As we wrote, these characters became more and more 'us,' until we started referring to them in the first person when she and I talked about our characters and what we wrote. Our style of writing is different from most. In this story my co-author wrote the first part of each chapter and I responded in the second part. There was no overall outline or plan, just an idea, and then each of us responded to what the other wrote. We created our story on the fly so to speak and we believe it turned out well.

Chapter 1

I love vanilla wafers. And prefer vanilla tart flavored froyo at Yogurtdreams. But my vanilla social life was not working, and I was becoming more and more desperate and testy about it.

If had been up to my parents, vanilla would have been my flavor of choice. Both were born in Asia and their expectations of their only child were drummed into my head early in life. High grades were the priority. I was not allowed to date in high school; their idea of being "understanding" was to allow a Caucasian girl to visit our home to study for a common class.

Many times I asked, no, begged to go to a football game, or to skip my piano lesson just once to see a movie with friends. The answer was always the same: study, study, study. 4 point oh. Only those activities that served to build up my college app were allowed.

And this would have been the only life I would have known, had I not happened to take a somewhat different walk home from school one day. A boy asked to treat me to a frap at Starbucks, and so I got approval to stay after school for "extra chem practice."

We walked along Colorado Blvd, past a used book store. There was a rack outside and I merely glanced at it, noting the paperbacks that were displayed. I almost stumbled, trying to hide my surprise and shock. On the cover was a picture, actually art, of a girl, nearly naked, kneeling on the ground. But what really startled me was that she had a collar around her neck, and a long metal chain trailing behind her.

I could not stop at that moment, nor draw attention to myself and let Jeremy know what had caused me to stumble. Throughout the treat at Starbucks, my mind was back at the bookstore. I had already agreed to let him walk me close to home, certainly not home, and I was calculating if I could pretend to depart towards my house and then double back.

It was already 4:30, so I had to go directly home, or face an inquisition that I might not have survived. I was totally unable to lie and deceive my parents. They seemed to see through me as though I was transparent.

Throughout the night and school the next day, I knew I had to return to the bookstore. I skipped lunch, to save the money for the book, and literally ran to the store, praying that the book was still there, and that I could purchase it quickly and not be home too late.

What a relief! There it was. There she was! The book was entitled Captive of Gor, and since readers may not know of this place, I will not diverge too deeply. It is a fantasy world, not about guts and blood, not that kind of gore, but Gor, a sci fi planet where women are slaves.

That night, under my covers, I read about this girl from earth that was taken to Gor and there her dreams and fantasies were fulfilled. She was collared, branded, pierced and enslaved. Lucky girl, because for me, though I eventually read many books of the series, my dreams and fantasies were not being realized.

My parents would not allow any socializing with guys in high school. I must have been the only girl on campus without pierced ears. Masturbation was my only escape. You think I should have rebelled. Well, then you just do not know how it is to be an Asian girl with strict parents.

I got into UCLA, which for my parents was a deep disappointment. It was not about grades, but about extracurricular activities, I think. I had nothing to enrich my application and Asians with 4.0 GPA's are a dime a dozen.

I did rebel slightly at UCLA. My first day, I walked into the village and got my ears pierced; the second day my belly button. Needless to say, my parents were horrified, but they got used to it.

Yes, I did date, but I could not bring myself to yield to temptation and toss my virginity away like a used tampon.

And then my desires and needs and fantasies got the best of me. I often checked out the LA Weekly, a free paper that told of Los Angeles entertainment and included a few ads about fetish clubs and other bondage-related locations. What caught my eye was an ad for a fetish model.

I knew I could not afford all the bondage paraphernalia that excited me on my meager allowance. I loved the various gags and leather and metal bondage gear that I saw flashing by on my Tumblr, and it occurred to me that I could at least ask about this photo opp. I was too short at 5'4" to be a real model, but if I could somehow have a secret part time job, with the guarantee that my face would not be shown completely, well that would be the best of all worlds. The location on Sunset Blvd in Hollywood was not far from campus and while I would not venture there at night, in broad daylight, it had to be safe.

So Tuesday after my last class, I caught a bus from campus and after one transfer, arrived at the location. I had called ahead, asking about the job, and made a reservation for an interview. I could not ask a friend to come along, so I admit, I was a little scared and yet, I was in control and if it seemed unsafe, I would get out of there in a flash.

~~~~*

I was all ready for this round of interviews and had a little time to just sit and reflect. How times had changed. Then again maybe not times but I sure had. I looked back and remembered how being the "nice guy" was responsible for some really bad relationships. How was I supposed to know that many women either took advantage of that or ignored you altogether and went after that bad boy? Maybe I should take some solace that in doing so they wound up with a lot of heartache. But some of them were later my own friends and family and I felt sorry for them. That might have been partially what sent me on my quest to learn about abused women, why they stayed in those relationships, and about submissive women and above all both their differences and similarities.

I read recently on Facebook a post from a young friend. "Bad boys ain't no good but good boys ain't no fun." Unfortunately both are mostly true. Mostly.

I had a few of the worst relationships because of being one of those nice guys, then I went into exploration mode. I did make up for some of my lost time trying to develop and learn about my wild side. After a few very interesting encounters, I found out some things about myself though. That I loved learning about and sometimes fulfilling a woman's fantasies. I did research about the subject and learned a LOT. Case in point. I met one woman on a telephone chat line whose fantasy was to "have her virgin ass fucked." I obliged. One of my fondest memories. And in a few more memorable trysts, I also met a woman that needed to be spanked to cum. Another that wanted to be tied to the bed. One that wanted to be choked. Whoa... that one kinda freaked me out and still doesn't really interest me. Oh and yes... a woman that could cum just by roughly grabbing her by the shoulders and cum even harder if you pushed her up against a wall. Yes. I had been really naive. But there was one brief encounter with a Chinese woman that really started my total fascination with Asian women.

Not long after that, the internet came to my rescue. Still naive though, I was browsing the chat rooms and came upon one called "Rapesex." I was a little confused and entered it to lurk and learn. After a while I sent a Hello to one woman who changed the course of my life forever. She explained her rape fantasy as not really wanting to be harmed but having someone take complete control. To feel helpless. That led to an online, then phone, then a real life romance all in the roles of Master and slave. And though the relationship only lasted a couple years, it had brought out a fascination in me that opened up so many new doors. Let's just say I learned a lot from that point on. I had no idea before her just how common rape fantasies were in women.

Though I am still too nice probably, with a lot of research and experience behind me I have brought out a side of me that women seem to like. The Dominant, the Master, and what better way to meet new women than by turning my newfound wisdom and skills into fulfilling my own fantasies, as a fetish and bondage photographer and sometimes director of course.

Being the nice guy though did help me in several ways. Women found me non-threatening. It was easy to talk them out of their clothes or just be around my bi and lesbian female friends when they were "busy" with other women. But I soon learned that plain old vanilla sex held no interest for me anymore. Intercourse was boring. If there wasn't some fetish, bondage, or risqué element to it, then why bother. It was just not exciting.

I guess this is what sent me down this road. The thrill of naked or nearly naked women in leather and steel. Bound, helpless, and in a deep state of desire even when it appeared it was all against their will. They craved being used in so many ways.

I had taken hundreds of pictures of my female friends in the past, so, when I retired, I accumulated all the props for my dungeon. Oops, I mean studio of course. Everything needed to take extremely believable bondage and fetish photos and videos when needed.

Being retired, this is more a hobby than extra income. I would be doing it even if I never sold a picture. Just the same, real bondage shots are very desirable. It's easy to find beautiful models that will dress up in latex or leather and smile. Sorry but that is totally boring and way too common. What I specialize in is the total bondage package and more important seeing fear in the girl's eyes and capturing it with the camera.

Most experienced models are just there for the pay. Their mind is a million miles away and it shows. These never get past my interview. There are others that are curious but only superficial. No commitment when pressed. There are a few that have that inner total sub desire. They can't help it. It's what they are. These make good bondage models but I was still looking for something even deeper.

Breaking from my reverie I started thinking about the interviews. I scheduled six of them over a six hour period. Some might last fifteen minutes. Conversely, ones that showed promise would get a much more intensive interview and take considerably longer. All part of the biz.

I had two release forms, though the second was more of a contract. The first covered the interview and sufficed also as the application. The second was for anything and everything that could and would happen if the suitable model signed up. There was enough fine print and legalese that most women would just sign and might regret later. I hadn't had to use those options yet but I had not yet found the woman I wanted to push to her limits.

The first applicant had some modeling experience. But she was typical. She wanted high dollars and had the totally wrong attitude. I dismissed her rather quickly with the obligatory, "Don't call us, we'll call you" though with a bit more subtlety. Next.

The next was a very experienced fetish model. Definitely not what I wanted. Though good ones were rare, they were again just pretty faces that wanted to show off in fetish wear.

I was getting frustrated and bored. Though a couple of them showed promise, it was one of those days when I was just really particular. A different day, perhaps different results. Then the last of my interviewees walked in.

I tried not to be stunned at her looks and to focus. I had my own idea of perfection of course even though never expecting it to materialize in an interview. I had to get my composure now though. A Master must always be in control of himself, the first and most important rule. Physically she was perfect. My preference has always been slender and/or tiny women. 5' 5" tops and as tiny as 4'8". Give or take, dependent on other factors. Height proportionate to weight of course. Huge breasts and big bottoms hold no interest for me. Tiny women just looked more vulnerable and submissive. An Amazon just didn't fill the bill. But physical traits are only a part of the submissive look.

What she was wearing showed a lot of skin. A good sign. She was also adorned in "fuck me" hoop earrings. A subliminal message that told what she wanted, even if she didn't know it.

I am good at reading women. It comes with experience. There are small signs. The way she looked at me then lowered her eyes. The way she postured herself when she was standing and sitting. I could tell. Though she kept her legs closed, subconsciously she really wanted to spread them, even though she may not have even been aware of that. This would be confirmed when she left by a dampness on her chair. I decided to throw most of my caution to the winds and see what she could handle. Nothing ventured, nothing gained as they say. And nothing lost if she bolted for the door. I changed to my most authoritative voice and asked her for her resume. I anticipated and was glad there was no modeling experience at all.

"Tell me. Why are you here?"

That question would catch the right women off guard. If they came back with a canned retort, they were not acceptable. Bye bye.

The opposite of most interviews, the lowering of eyes, the hesitation and quivering of voice was the more acceptable response. I hardened my voice. "Why are you here? Must I repeat myself?"

Even at this juncture some women would bolt. All part of the screening process. Then she said, "I am not sure, Sir".

"Good", I responded. "An honest answer." This was a simple but a first and important test.

"Before we go any farther, are you 18 and do you have proof?" She acknowledged affirmatively as I expected though with Asians it was hard to tell sometimes. Yes, she was Asian and already feeding my hidden fantasies and hopes. Her ID said she was 20 years old. No doubt a local college girl. Jennifer Hu.

"Read the form. This is only for the interview. I will ask you to do things that will help me decide whether you are what I need for this and future photo shoots. If at any time you feel they are too much, you can leave immediately, but the process is then over and you cannot come back. Understood? If you agree though, you can sign the application. There is another and more detailed form if you decide to sign with me for a rather lucrative contract. Do you understand?" She nodded in agreement.

"Good. I have questions for you and I expect you have some of me. All must be answered and agreed upon before any contract between us."

Such concerns for the details were, of course, only meant to allay her fears and get her to agree and sign. This was always the tricky part. Her first question and obvious fear was for her anonymity. That was understandable, though she did not know of course, that the cameras were already rolling. I explained to her that there were ways of hiding her identity with masks, hoods, makeup and camera angles or photo shop, though the pay was less if her face could not be shown. She accepted that but what I read between the lines was that money was not what brought her here. Also a good sign. But all this was a ploy. What good is a bondage model if you can't see the fear in her eyes, feigned or real? Minor point.

"Look around you at the pictures on the walls. You can see various types of fetish modeling. From women in fetish wear to the more hard core bondage pictures. What I am looking for could be classified as an actress as well as a model but I want her reactions to the bondage situations to be more real than just acted."

I stood up and pointed to a large picture on the wall of a woman chained and her mouth spread open with a wire apparatus. The look of fear in her eyes was all too real. "This is what I want to see. And this one." Again I pointed to another photo enlarged to poster size. It was a woman cuffed, collared and shackled in shiny steel, and chained with her knees and legs wide spread to show her open shaved cunt and her engorged clit. Next to this was an extreme close up of those intimate parts of the same girl.

I knew I had her attention. Her eyes were wide in half shock and half something else.

"Have I scared you away, yet?"

I could see her body slightly tremble but she could not take her eyes away from the pictures yet. Hesitantly she shook her head no.

"Good," I said. "But saying this is one thing. You must be ready to commit and know what you are getting into. Meaning the willingness to be naked and posed like you see in front of you, at my whim with any and all types of bondage equipment. You must follow my orders completely. My camera will capture everything."

At that point I was standing next to another wall poster of a woman being fucked by two dildos attached to a machine. Ass and pussy both filled. It was very easy to tell by the face in the picture that the woman was being forced to orgasm and she was rubbing her own clit to make it happen faster. I could see her staring at it. All as planned.

"At this point, if you are still interested I want you to fill out the application and give me your driver's license so I can make a copy for age verification. So far I am pleased with your candor and reactions. I will quickly review your application and decide if I should give you one further test before letting you go and making my decision among the applicants. You are one of six." I wanted to instill in her mind before she filled out the application that there was competition. While she filled it out, I copied her driver's license and left the room so I could observe her through a one way mirror while she was alone.

I watched her as she read the different parts of the application form. Besides the mundane of height, weight, measurements, there was a section of types of pictures the applicant was willing to allow. They started with bikini, lingerie, nudity, and led to bondage, interaction with toys, women, men and of course allowing full face exposure. I knew this section would be her hardest and she may have questions. I walked back into the room just as I saw she was about to finish. I asked her if she had any questions before finishing the application.

"Yes. A few things, sir. If I don't agree to my face being photographed, will that exclude me from being chosen?"

I said, "No. Though definitely preferable, we can still work with that. This is an application. Not a contract. All things will be considered in comparison with you and the other applicants. If they are willing to do more then you may be at some disadvantage. Next question."

"You have here 'interaction' with toys, women and men. Are you talking real penetration with toys and real sex with men and women?"

"Good question." I responded. "At first probably just the presence of each and alluding to more. No doubt penetration by toys will be common in the future. Sexual situations with women and men may be required at times for some special projects but that is not what I am looking for right now. Why? Is this a problem? You are not a virgin are you?"

Her silence was confirmation. "Oh, I understand. Then let's say that there is much money to be made even in non-penetration photographs. When and if you are willing to have that tiny bit of skin shredded and you are willing to have it done on camera... there will be a sizable bonus."