My Black Sheep Ch. 01

She looked up at me, with one eyebrow cocked, and smirked. "You're hot. We get it."

"Sorry," I said, curling inward again. "Am I... okay?" I looked down at my body and licked my lips nervously.

"Almost," she said, as she scooted around behind me. "Tilt forward slightly."

I tried to do as she asked.

"No, like this, " she said, pushing my torso even more so my ass pressed out. "Honestly, you are so dense sometimes." She then grabbed a hold of my cheeks again and dabbed shaving cream directly on my anus. I winced, though more from the chill of the cream than surprise.

"Sorry if I'm... sweaty," I said nervously. "It was a long drive."

Amelia said nothing.

Professional, I thought. I have to remain professional. I repeated it over and over in my head. I hadn't even realised I had any hair there. Part of me wanted to ask Amelia why that was necessary, but mostly I wanted it done as quickly as possible so I said nothing.

"Fucking perfect, as always," she said sitting back and admiring her work, and then me.

There was that look in her eye again. Just for a flash, but it was there.

I hesitantly walked back over to where the costume lay on the floor, waiting for the next nitpick, but it didn't come. A lot of gymnastics was waiting for the nitpicks. Knowing that they're coming was the worst. We all knew when the moves didn't land right, or when the technique was off, but hearing that my smile faltered or that I looked scared, while I'm upside down, doing a handstand, on a beam four inches wide and nearly five feet off the ground, was crushing. Fortunately, Amelia had no further critiques to levy against me.

While her back was turned, I delicately ran a finger over my skin everywhere the razor had been. All around the top of my vagina, and down the sides near the entrance. Back between my cheeks. I was so smooth, and it felt wonderful. The skin felt so alive that every touch was magnified.

"Stop fingering yourself," she snapped, without looking back at me.

I froze, jaw dropped, with one hand curled down and around between my thighs. "I di... what..."

She only turned enough for me to make out the tell-tale lift in her cheek: the barest hint of a smirk. "It's what I would do."

I squeaked indignantly, and snapped back to a more upright position when she did start to turn.

"If you're gonna do it, do it right. Here," she said, putting a small yellow bottle in my hand "Rub in two drops of this so you don't get all irritated and sore." Then she turned back to a bag she was packing. "Just two drops, one on each side. It's the good stuff."

I squeezed out a drop of the oil on my fingertip and spread it gently, in slow spreading circles. When I was done, the oil seemed to sit on the skin and gave it a glossy sheen. I'd never used anything like that before, so I couldn't be sure that was normal. Amelia paid no attention to me and I didn't want to draw any more attention to myself, and by the time I was ready to step into the costume she'd moved on to gathering things into a second bag.

The stretchy fabric felt a lot like satin, though it had a strange cling between my legs that both mystified and felt wonderful. Maybe it was because I wasn't wearing panties, and maybe it was because my skin was so 'turned on' and awake. When I ran my hands over it, it almost felt like nothing, or like a second layer of skin. It was a very different texture from the leotards I'd worn before.

The suit was more elaborate than I'd first thought, with a built-in strapless bra, though that seemed to be more for shaping cleavage than supporting anything. It pushed in, rather than up. While I fiddled with them, trying to get them to sit right, Amelia pulled a pair of red and white heeled boots and a black wig out of her closet.

"Those look really cool," I said, surprising myself with my enthusiasm. "You really went all out on this, huh?"

Amelia ducked her head and nodded, set them on the edge of the bed, and pulled out a makeup kit. The boots were a close fit around my toes, and especially snug around my calves, but it was nothing I couldn't deal with if it helped her. Then I turned.

"Oh God," I whined, looking at myself in the mirror. "Are you sure about this?"

"I'm very sure," Amelia said, looking up from dusting her brush with eyeshadow. "I was worried you'd need some kind of bra or something to fill this bustier, but your tits are... I mean, have they gotten bigger since Christmas?"

"Maybe?" I said nervously, knowing for sure they had but not really being comfortable owning that.

"Well don't let Dad see. He's always talking about your breast reduction like it's just a matter of time. There are fucking brochures everywhere normally, but they'vesomehowall vanished this weekend." She waved the brush around like a magic wand and rolled her eyes. "Poof."

"Are you serious?" I said, a shiver of fear running down my spine.

"Yeah. He's, like, obsessed. Brings it up at dinner all the time, like I really want to talk about your tits when I'm trying to eat." Her lips formed a thin line as she leaned in and began applying makeup. "If those were mine, I wouldn't let anyone near them."

I smiled. "No, I—"

"Face still," she snapped.

I stilled my features, trying to keep them even. "I don'tintendto, but you know, they are kind of 'on display' in this costume. Is Wonder Woman supposed to show this much cleavage?" I asked, looking directly at her. She didn't meet my gaze. "Like, who is going to see this? If the school finds out I've done something even remotely risque I'll lose my scholarship at best, and that's if they don't just throw me out."

"Don't worry," Amelia said, not pausing. "No, you don't look too slutty, if that's what you're worried about. And yes, Wonder Woman has big tits. Great big tits and great big muscles. You look amazing, as always, and no. This isn't going to risk your scholarship. I'm going to crop the shots right here." She held her hand flat in front of her face, against the tip of her nose and perpendicular to the ground, and this time she looked right at me. Very intensely. "Right here."

"But isn't there someone else that could do this?" I asked. "Maybe?" In a momentary pause while she changed palettes, I shifted nervously looking down to see how short the tight blue-and-white-starred shorts were on my thighs. "These shorts arereallysmall," I added.

"Shel, you wear a leotard, in front of thousands of people, thatjust barely covers your cunt. These shorts are bigger than that. Look up." Amelia furrowed her brow as she applied some eyeliner in soft, sweeping strokes, and I couldn't help but admire her technique. Her art was often dense and, to me, inscrutable, but she had a deft hand. "Plus, you're kidding yourself if you think I know anyone else with the body of a goddess."

"I don't know Amelia, these shorts, they just feel more... I don't know.. This feels different than a leotard. Leotards kind of... I don't know, smooth out the curves with elastic force. This is more...sexual? Does that make sense?"

"You really have no idea, do you? You look hot ineverything, so stop worrying. You'll be fine, now let me finish. The more you talk, the longer this is going to take."

"Could I at least have a pair of pantyhose or something?" I asked, a last request.

"No." Amelia said. "That wouldn't look right. Stop fidgeting."

I pushed the rest of my questions down. She was right about the crowds. I'd always tried not to think about how much of the fan enjoyment was watching us little girls dance around in very little, but at the end of the day it was what it was. What was harder to push down was that casual way she'd compared me to a goddess. I let that compliment settle in my core like a warm little light.

Amelia paused, at that moment, and stared at me. Almost certainly because my cheeks were flushing with color.

I didn't say anything, and after a moment she continued. I wouldn't have known what to say anyway. I was flattered, but it didn't seem right to say that. Amelia had always been good at humanizing me and making me feel normal. She could effortlessly balance all of Dad's pressure so that I never lost perspective. It really hit home how much I'd missed her.

After she was done, she carefully tied up my hair and pulled the black wig on top of my blonde hair. She grumbled under her breath, about not having time to dye it properly, but the wig looked really good. I found myself twisting at the waist in front of the mirror while she went to get the wrist bracelets to complete the outfit.

"You really think I look okay?"

Amelia just gave me an expectant look before handing me two bags, one long, one short. The shorter one was much heavier than the other, and the objects within that clinked like hard plastic or metal. The longer one was more awkward to carry.

Amelia watched me lift them and then shouldered her small camera bag. I felt like a pack horse, albeit a very underdressed one.

"Follow behind me, but not too close. If I run into Mom or Dad, wait around the corner. I'll distract them. We're going out to the stream, to the hickory. Got it?"

"Um," I said, blinking slowly. "Yes?"

She nodded and set off. I counted down from fifteen and crept after her.

Amelia's planning had been unnecessary. Mom was elbow deep in some cleaning in the dining room and Dad was still working out down in the basement, singing at the top of his lungs. Amelia went straight across the middle of the yard, but I crept along the edge of the house until I hit the tree line and scurried out to meet her. I felt a little ridiculous, and a little bit of a disgrace to the uniform to be so sneaky. Wonder Woman herself would probably stride through broad daylight not caring who saw, but I was afraid.

Or maybe she'd turn invisible? I couldn't remember if that was a thing or not.

With my hands full I had no way of pulling up the bustier. I couldn't remember a time I'd ever shown this much, and it was uncomfortable to see them bouncing with every step. Then, each bounce seemed to cause the top to slide lower and lower. I was sure my nipples were exposed by the time I got there.

Amelia was waiting for me beside the stream. She had looked overdressed in her room. Out out there in the late afternoon sun she should have been cooking, but she looked as cool and composed as ever. I dropped the bags in front of her and immediately started fussing with the costume.

"Woah," she said, scolding me. "Be careful! That's not gymnastics equipment you can just throw around! This is delicate stuff."

She pointed next to the hickory while she knelt down and started pulling things out. Setting things up.

There was organization in the chaos. She already had a layout in mind, and even though none of the objects came out of the bags in any orientation I could see, she had places for each that spoke of practice and care. It was a dedication to a craft that I could recognize and appreciate. I'd never once 'gotten' one of her paintings, but this I could follow. In fact, I was ecstatic to see how she was planning to use each of the items. The cameras were obvious, and the tripod seemed a no-brainer. Things started to get more confusing with the lights and their stands, and so many batteries, but the clear bottles of fluid were a complete mystery and I couldn't imagine what she'd need to hang from a branch to need that much rope.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked, as I waited by the tree. It was hell fighting my urge to try and pull the shorts down, or the bustier up.

"No, and I don't have time to explain. It'll be quicker if I do it," Amelia said.

I watched a while longer. I was intrigued by the massive light she set up behind the tree.

"All this looks expensive," I said, feeling a need to fill the silence. Feeling more and more self-conscious the longer I stood waiting. Wishing I'd thought to wear a coat or a robe, or something.

At first, Amelia said nothing as she continued setting everything out with intense concentration. I almost thought she hadn't heard me. Eventually, after almost a full minute, she said, "I got a commission, so I bought some stuff. Most of this is cheap enough, and a lot of it is reusable. That costume was probably the most expensive bit."

"Oh right," I said, searching for some common ground. "Well, like, if I take care of it, would you be able to take it back or something?"

"It was a custom."

"Okay," I said, pretending I knew what that meant.

Amelia sighed and stopped screwing a light bulb onto a stand. "It's a one-off, so it was adjusted specifically." Amelia said. "I guessed at your measurements, but it's basically tailored just for you. I can't take it back and it's not like it's going to fit many other people. Besides you're probably already sweating into it. Those things aren't exactly breathable." Then she returned her attention to the light.

"Oh... right," I said.

Amelia struggled with the stand for a moment and then looked up at me. "You know what? Come here and put those muscles to good use," she said.

I walked over straight away, pleased to be of use and trying to ignore my bouncing chest. The urge to cover them with my arm was strong.

"Can you get that little clip off there, and then put this bit in and then clip it back together."

I did as she asked. It was easy enough for me.

"I might be able tosellthe costume afterwards," Amelia said. "I know a guy." She looked at me and smiled. It felt like she was making an effort to include me.

"Okay, cool, well I can wash it afterwards for you." I said.

"There won't be a need for that."

"But, er... I'm not wearing anything under it."

"Oh my God," Amelia mumbled, pressing her forehead down into her palm. "Stop worrying, okay? It'll be fine. I know you are trying to help, but all you need to do is just stand there and look pretty. I promise."

I nodded, and that seemed to appease her, so I went back to the tree and wondered who might want a used costume.

After she had everything out and set, she stopped for a minute. Her eyes kept darting toward me, if not quite high enough to meet my gaze, while her tongue darted over her lips.

"Okay Shel, put your back up against the tree. Right up, as tight as you can go," Amelia said, as she picked up a length of rope. I did as she asked though, intrigued by what was going to happen next. The bark was uncomfortable against my naked shoulders and the shorts were snagging.

"This is really rough. Do you have maybe a towel or something I could put behind me?" I asked.

Amelia rolled her eyes. "You are supposed to be Wonder Woman, not Paris Hilton. Come on."

"You aren't the one tied to the tree," I said.

"Not this time," Amelia muttered under her breath. Just for a moment, there was a flash of nameless panic. An old fear stirring at the bottom of the muck. It was a throw away comment and I was about to pick up on it when she interrupted my thoughts. "Put your arms behind you, to either side of the tree."

"Amelia, what... er... Why?" I asked, even as I did as she asked.

Her back stiffened. "Are you going to back out now? After I've set everything up and after you've got the costume dirty? This is shitty timing."

"No, no, I said I'd help out, but just, like... What are you doing? What am I doing?"

"I'm tying you up," she said tying a loop around my wrist. Pulling it tight. "You are standing still and looking pretty."

"I can see that," I said, rolling my eyes, "but why? Aren't I Wonder Woman? Why would I be tied up?"

"It's just for show. You'll be able to pull your arms free if you want."

"No, I mean, that's great, butwhyare you tying me up?"

Amelia sighed as if it was obvious.

"Humor me?" I added.

"Okay..." She took a deep breath as she walked back around in front of me. "Wonder Woman represents liberation and feminism,even though she was created by a guy who had more than a passing acquaintance with bondage. Same guy invented the lie detector, by the way." Her hands moved almost as fast as her thoughts. "So you have this female icon, who is supposed to represent a feminist ideal, who is in reality just a male sex fantasy. The idea here is that, by showing Wonder Woman tied up, I am showing how far feminism has to go. But also, on another level, it's ironic because it shows Wonder Woman for what she really is. It strips away the layers that have been added to her. Do you understand?"

I wasn't sure that I did. I wasn't sure that it made any sense at all. Maybe it did and I just wasn't thinking about it hard enough, but it was a struggle to think while Amelia was tying my other wrist tightly and then looping the rope around the back of the tree so that my arms were pulled behind me.

I looked down. The pose had made my chest press out and, predictably, the top had dropped.

"Could you, er, fix my top?" I asked.

"What is wrong with it?" Amelia asked, still tying knots behind the tree.

"It's dropped a bit," I said.

She leaned around the tree and groaned. "For fuck's sake..."

"Please?" I said, but she interrupted me.

"Shel, I promise this will not get you kicked off the gymnastic squad," she growled, "but I'm not gonna sit here and fix your tits every time I move your arms! I've got a long way to go here. I'll fix them when I'm done."

"Well, it's not just that," I said. I wasn't keen on being photographed showing much more cleavage than this. How many models had figures like mine? It wouldn't be hard for anyone to work out who had been the model if they knew she was the photographer. My mind was racing, but she blazed on before I could get any of that out.

"Please be quiet and let me concentrate." She circled around the tree, pulling the rope across my chest just below my breasts. "Is that too tight? Can you breathe?"

I could breathe, but it also felt too tight and I didn't like the effect it had on my breasts. Instead of saying that, though, I simply nodded since I felt like I was already on the verge of complaining too much. She went back behind me again, cinching and tugging, and I tested out the knots at my wrists.

"Stop wiggling," she said.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked. There was so much I didn't feel comfortable about.

"Yes, I'm sure," Amelia said as she started tying the heels of my red and white boots together and to the tree. "I've planned this out very carefully, and I know what I'm doing."

"I know that, but like, do I have to be tied up so elaborately? And like, does it have to be outdoors? Couldn't we do this inside somewhere that no one else would see?" I could hear my voice getting higher, and hated how whiney it sounded. "Maybe just put Mom's ficus and a couple plants behind me to make it look outdoors-y?"

"This is nothing. No one else can see you through the trees, alright? It's just me," Amelia said, "and I've seen you naked like a bazillion times." Her features darkened as she looped the rope across my middle, just above my hips. "Plus it's not like you don't love the attention. I've seen you smiling during your shows so don't pretend you're shy."

"Come on, you know that is different," I said. "I don't like attention." The last part, though, didn't even sounding convincing to me.

"Youso love the attention, and how is this different?" Amelia said from behind me somewhere.

"Cause gymnastics is about skill. I'm in control of... ofhow I lookandwhat I do. This, right now? I'm not doing anything other than standing here with my breasts hanging out. Like, it feels like it'spurelyabout what I look like."

"Stop overthinking this! You look great! I'll cover your tits back up as soon as I'm done tying you, okay?" Amelia ran another rope around my chest, this time above my breasts. The rope felt rough against my skin.