Innocent Ilsa: Portfolio Ch. 01

The next few minutes were spent getting Ilsa into place and connecting her up to the wires that were hanging from the ceiling. The wires really did help support her weight, Ilsa was glad to note as she hunkered down into the pose Chris wanted.

"No, no, Ilsa, not like that," said Chris, reaching across her to pull her right leg up a little more. Her hair was fragrant and brushed lightly against Ilsa's breasts as she did so. Ilsa breathed in her scent -- it was fresh and flowery, and suddenly, Ilsa felt ashamed of herself. She must positively smell awful next to sweet Chris. The uncomfortable thought made her shift slightly, and the pedal under her left foot moved downwards a notch. Ilsa felt herself sink down a little, her ass brushing against the saddle just behind her.

"Careful! That's expensive, Ilsa," warned Chris and Ilsa cringed. She understood "expensive" because that was one of the words she had asked Nataly to teach her. Chris then motioned towards the clock and the door, explaining that the entire contraption was fragile and that it would take time to set it up again if it collapsed. At least, that was Ilsa's understanding of the furious hand motions and facial expressions she saw.

"Ok, ok," Ilsa said. "Careful. Careful." "Good," responded Chris. "Good girl, Ilsa."

Ilsa tried to stay in position and not move while Chris set up her equipment around her. She appeared to be putting up cameras all round her, and while Ilsa was curious and wanted to see everything, she quickly became tired of staying still. Her knees were trembling and her thighs and calves were aching by the time Chris was done.

Suddenly, a phone rang in another part of the house. "Shit, I hate it when that happens," said Chris. "Ilsa, wait. Stay. Don't move." She put her hand up in the universal sign for "stop".

Ilsa nodded, trying hard to ignore her own discomfort. She was a good girl, after all, and she did as she was told, especially when it was clear that someone nice like Chris was doing her best to help her.

When Chris stepped away behind her, however, Ilsa let herself sag a little. She hadn't really meant to do so, but her legs were really beginning to ache, and she wanted to use the narrow saddle as a brace while she readied herself to take up the pose once Chris returned from her call.

Ilsa realized her mistake the moment her bum touched the tiny saddle. She almost yelped when she felt it begin to slide forward and down between her thighs. Quickly, she leaned back and clamped her thighs together, hoping to keep the saddle in place with her legs and the weight of her butt.

She seemed to have succeeded too, at first, although it came with the disconcerting feeling of the smooth metallic knob pressing into her private parts. To her dismay, she felt the material of her suit gather and slip into the groove of her genital cleft, pressing excruciatingly against her clitoris.

"Oh! This can't happen," she thought to herself as she pinned the seat back onto the strut it was balanced on. She could feel the cold metal head of the strut at the edges of her vulva, pressing the fleshy lips apart. Ilsa shivered, remembering how her pubis had been revealed when the material got wet. "I have to... get back into position before Chris gets back!"

She shifted her weight further backwards in an effort to move the saddle back to its original position, while keeping her thighs clamped tightly together. Unfortunately, this had the effect of pushing her bum up harder against the tiny saddle and the knob in the middle of it. She could feel the material of her garment inside her, her pussy lips widening as the knob encroached further into her now wet hole.

"Shit," she thought to herself "That's not good." She had never put anything inside her before -- the closest she had come to being fucked was when she was playing with a toy her classmate had shown her and letting it slip down the groove of her sex. The boys and men of her little village had known this and tried their very best to be the first one in there, but she had managed to repel all of them, so it was pretty ironic that innocent Ilsa was now fucking herself on a set in a photo studio.

Ilsa took her left hand off the handlebar of the cycle and reached down to grab the tapered end of the saddle between her legs. She tried pushing it back to its original position on the knob, but did not seem to be very successful -- the damned thing still seemed to be slipping when she took her hand away.

Undeterred, Ilsa twisted round to try to get hold of the back of the saddle. This motion rubbed the material up even more against her clit, making her gasp softly. Worse, the movement must have caused an increase in tension in the wires that were clipped to her garment, because she suddenly felt the material at her crotch begin to give way.

"No! Please God, help me," she begged silently as she turned back to grab the bars, but not before she felt the bare metal press directly on her flesh down below. The knob was going in! Ilsa tried to lift herself off the saddle but stopped when it seemed to slip further. At the same time, the tear down between her legs seemed to widen because the suit rose further up her body. The deep V of the front was moving slowly upwards, obscuring more of her breasts.

Ilsa wanted to cry. It was her first photo shoot, and everything was going wrong. The cycle was falling apart, and worse, so was her garment... she was sure that her entire vulva was exposed, she could feel the air blowing on her bare skin down there. She had to find some way to cover herself before Chris came back. Although Chris was also a woman, it would not do to have someone else gazing upon her privates like that.

Gingerly, she twisted around again, remembering the clip that had held the saddle in place when she first viewed the cycle. Surely, all she had to do was to get hold of the wire and pull the saddle back into place?

Struggling to ignore the sensations down at her groin, Ilsa turned once more to reach behind her, feeling for the wire holding the saddle. She found it at the exact moment that the garment gave way at her crotch, the wires suddenly pulling the neckline of the suit up towards her chin.

Ilsa suddenly found the clip in her hand, and was puzzled for an instant. Why was it no longer attached to the saddle? This thought quickly left her mind as her suit shifted upwards further, exposing more of her lower body.

"Wait, maybe I can do something with this," she thought to herself as her fingers found the frayed ends of her garment. She quickly clipped the wire to her garment and pulled it down towards her exposed ass, determined to cover herself up any way she could. The saddle, she would worry about later.

But what was there to fasten the garment and wire to? The back part of the saddle was lost down between the bottom of her ass and her upper thighs, and there was no way she could reach it without letting something drop. Quickly making up her mind, Ilsa thrust the clip into her anus, wincing as the blunt tip of it pressed into her warm flesh. She clamped down hard on it with her butt muscles so that it would not slip out. Granted, it was not the ideal solution, but it would at least keep her ass covered while she worked out what to do next.

Her suit had been pulled down at the back by her action, but front had risen even further. Ilsa was sure her bare pussy was completely exposed right now. What could she do to cover herself in front at the same time? Plus, there was still the problem of the slipping saddle. How could she retrieve it without falling off the cycle and wrecking the entire setup? And what about the huge knob that was still pressing into her now wet vagina? She remembered how it had looked and shuddered. Surely, she would not survive having that monster shoved into her? And how would she be able to get it out once it got in past the edge of mushroom-like head? Would it be stuck in her forever?

The thought made her squirm, and Ilsa instantly found out that movement, any movement, was a bad idea.

Firstly, the saddle slipped some more, prompting her to drive her hips backward in a vain attempt to trap it between her butt and the strut that was supposed to be holding it up. That had the undesired effect of driving the cold metal knob up deeper between her thighs, making her gasp. Her lower lips yawned wider around what felt like huge, cold metallic lollipop pressing into her.

Desperate to salvage the situation, Ilsa pushed downwards with her legs to get some leverage to push her body off the invading prong, but forgot to keep herself tight behind. What happened next happened so quickly she did not know how to react.

Firstly, the clip she had slipped into her asshole suddenly flew out, the motion and her sinking weight causing the suit she was wearing to rip right off her body. Ilsa tried to catch the garment as it tore right off her, but it happened so quickly she only managed to touch the flimsy material as it flew away.

To make matters worse, she had had to brace herself against something when her hands left the handlebars in her attempt to preserve her modesty, so she had pushed backwards with her hips. She felt the saddle slip back onto the knob... and down past it. Ilsa squealed as she felt her soft flesh pried apart and stretching to accommodate the relentless metal probe slipping into her, and groaned as her vulva slid shut behind the thickest part of the knob. The thing was inside her!

Ilsa was mortified by this turn of events. This wasn't supposed to happen at all! She wanted to cry but she wasn't sure that her make-up wouldn't run. She couldn't let Chris see her like this, impaled on her carefully-constructed contraption. She had to get herself off the thing protruding into her.

The problem for Ilsa was that she could not reach the ground, perched as she was on the thing. The pedals of the cycle were as unstable as they looked, and when she tried to balance her weight on both to get some sort of footing, she only succeeded in moving them in a cycling motion. This had the unfortunate effect of driving the strut even deeper into her, distending her vagina fully.

She tried again and again, grabbing the handlebars and using her legs to try to push herself off the prong inside her, but only succeeded in fucking herself as she rose and sank, rose and sank up and down the now-warm strut of the cycle.

"Ohhh Goddd!" she moaned as she sank back onto the strut once more. "Ohhhh!" Like it or not, the continuous motion of the metallic implement inside her was having an effect on her pussy, and she could feel lightning darts of sensation running across her pubis and up and down her body. Ilsa knew what was happening because she had experienced it once before, with her friend's toy... but the sensations she was experiencing now were a tidal wave compared to the tiny sparks of pleasure she had felt then.

Worst of all, she seemed to be getting sleepy. Or was it that she was finding it hard to focus? What was happening to her? She should... Ilsa thought she should call... should call... somebody for... help. But who? Who was she supposed..? Her thoughts seemed to scatter as she tried to remember...