The Talent Scout 02: Emma’s Rise

"This is very good Emma," the older woman said. "I had no idea you were so talented."

The woman examined the drawing closely while Emma squirmed in her seat, her face hot and flaming red in embarrassment.

"Who is he? Your grandfather?" she asked curiously. "He's not very... uh... handsome is he and that's a pretty strange expression on his face."

Emma stuttered and squirmed. Her teacher held a very well-drawn picture of Thomas' flat ugly face with the horrendous expression he'd made the moment he came inside her. She herself had orgasmed at that exact moment. Somehow the memory of that hideous face, with that gruesome expression, was indelibly imprinted in her mind.

It was a good thing neither of them flipped to the previous pages or they would've been disgusted to see page after page filled with pencil-drawn images of a man's thick veiny phallus, gleaming wetly, swollen with arousal and covered with thick wiry pubic hair. They were drawn from different angles and perspectives.

SHE didn't even know she could draw.

"I-I-It's someone I s-saw a long t-t-time ago," she stuttered shyly, her eyes darting from side to side as if looking for an escape route.

The teacher saw the pretty girl's panic and decided to let her off the hook.

"Fine, Emma, just make sure you're taking notes," she said.

She put down the notebook and tapped it with a blunt finger.

"You can't afford to fail this class so make sure you pay attention."

Emma nodded, flipped to a blank page and picked up her pencil, but not before glancing at the phone on her lap when the teacher turned to pace back to the front of the classroom.

A flood of text messages from a number she didn't recognize read:

*Meet me for your next shoot tomorrow night at 8*

*Wear a sexy outfit and don't bother with underwear*

*Make sure you hydrate ;)*

*Don't be late*

*DON'T BE LATE!*

She put her phone away and tried to concentrate but butterflies pounded at her belly and her stomach was in knots.

Every face turned towards her when a loud nervous giggle suddenly burst her lips.

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The rest of that day and the next went by in a haze. She had no appetite and walked around like a zombie, unable to concentrate. Her friends and family were worried at her obvious depression and attributed it to the possibility of being unable to graduate high school because of her grades and her inability to land a modeling gig.

Had any of them known the reality she faced, they would've spirited her away and had the old sexual predator taken away in chains and locked up for life.

Instead, when six thirty rolled around, she took a shower, spent half an hour on her makeup and picked out one of the sexier more risqué outfits she had in the back of her closet. It was an off-white low-cut blouse with elbow-length sleeves that fit her as tight as a glove, a matching miniskirt and a pair of matching open toe high heels.

She knew she looked good in white and decided to do exactly as he said.

She put the clothes in her bag along with the $468 dollars she'd saved up over the past few years, from birthdays and the odd babysitting job, and slipped on some comfortable clothes. She couldn't go out in the white outfit or her mom would instantly know something was up. Instead, she wore a pair of cut-off shorts, a pale blue t-shirt and her customary white Vans.

"I'm going to Beth's house mom. She's helping me with my English homework," she hollered as she ran out the door. "I'll be back in a few hours."

"Alright, honey. Be home before curfew," her mother said from the kitchen, unconcerned and blissfully unaware.

Emma hurried to her car, noting her disgusting neighbor's house was dark and his car wasn't in its customary spot.

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She pulled in beside his rickety old car in the photo store's small parking lot. She could see the place was dark, except for faint light streaming from the edges of the door leading to the studio.

Her stomach was in knots and it felt like hundreds of truck-sized butterflies were smashing around in her belly. She somehow managed to keep herself from giggling like an idiot the way she always did when she was nervous.

She looked around. The streets were empty, no vehicles, no pedestrians... nothing. Every building around was dark. She heard the faint sounds of traffic in the distance.

Before getting out of the car, she quickly slipped out of her clothes and put on the tight sexy white outfit she picked out for the night's "shoot."

Not wearing underwear felt strangely pleasant, airy and free.

The fear, anxiety, and shame she felt were tinged with anger at being blackmailed and extorted, but there was also an unexpected edge of excitement in every nerve. Her body felt electrified at the uncertainty of what was to come. Her heart hammered in her chest and she felt flushed and hot.

The thoughts going through her mind were another matter.

She didn't want to do it.

The old man was absolutely revolting. He was a gross pervert and he smelled worse than a sewer. He had no redeeming qualities whatsoever. She gripped the steering wheel and stared at the faint glow of light coming from the edges of the door deep inside the building, trying to figure out a way out of this.

Nothing came to mind. Not a single thing. The thought of anyone seeing her having sex with the nasty old slob and enjoying it, made her shiver with dread.

Taking a deep shuddery breath, she got out of the car and walked to the photo store's entrance.

Trembling with apprehension and fear, she gripped the door handle, took a deep breath then another, opened it and walked into the now familiar photo store. It felt as if she never left. It smelled of chemicals and looked almost clinically clean.

Her high-heeled shoes clicked on the tile floor, echoing ominously throughout the dark store like a metronome as she made her way to the studio door.

She stopped in front of it. The faint light glowing along its bottom edge lit her dainty toes in a golden glow. She nervously tossed back and smoothed her long golden hair, made sure her blouse lay properly, gripped the bottom of her skirt at mid-thigh and yanked it down to make sure it wasn't bunched up and knocked timidly on the door.

She gulped with anxiety and felt her pulse throb in her throat. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, messing up the makeup she wore.

She choked back a giggle as the door suddenly opened.

She lifted a hand to cover her eyes at the bright light streaming from the room. The acrid stench of the old man's rancid sweat and stale body odor filled her nostrils, bringing with it unwanted memories of the last time she'd been there.

Emma stood uncertainly, waiting for her tear-filled eyes to adjust. She felt rather than heard the old man standing there. His foul breath felt warm on her skin.

Thomas stood thunderstruck.

He'd made similar preparations as with the previous "shoot," but to be brutally honest with himself, he wasn't sure she would show. He was pretty sure she'd call his bluff about putting pics of them having sex on social media. He knew how bad it would fuck up her life. Though he was willing to do it to stay out of jail.

Everything was pretty much the same, but he brought a white Styrofoam cooler filled with ice, a six pack of Mike's Hard Lemonade, a six pack of Bud Light and several 16 ounce bottles of water. He wanted her relaxed and comfortable for the shoot and for what came after.

He wanted more pictures for the portfolio he was putting together for her. It was easy for him to put everything he had into making this his best work ever, she was the perfect subject.

And he still had every intention of having hot, sweaty, dirty sex with her.

When he heard her timid knock at the door, he snatched it open and gaped in stupefied awe.

Emma stood uncertainly on the other side and she was a vision of pure unrivaled beauty... untainted... lovely beyond words.

The tight-fitting white outfit she wore hugged every sweet curve and swell of her unbelievably luscious young body. The blouse hugged her torso, bulging at the swell of her breasts, and revealed a four inch strip of her bared navel. The skin-tight white miniskirt ended at mid-thigh and left most of her long toned legs bare to his stunned gaze.

Her face was turned away, squinting eyes blinded by the lights he'd set up in the studio. She held up one tiny hand to block the light flooding through the doorway. It washed over her, revealing every amazing detail of her glorious angelic beauty.

She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful girl he'd ever laid eyes on... and before the night was out he'd be between those perfect legs, balls-deep inside her, her big firm tits pressed against his chest, and her big blue eyes staring up at him in supplication just as they had two nights ago.

He didn't realize he was holding his breath until he blew out with a whoosh.

"Emma. Glad you could make it," he said breathlessly, stepping aside. "Come in, come in."

She stepped inside, nervously fidgeting with the bottom edge of her blouse. She heard the door close ominously behind her, heard the key turn and the clink as he shoved it in his pocket, just as he had two days before.

"Dry your tears and fix your makeup," his voice was professional and matter-of-fact. "We have work to do and you need to look your best."

He motioned her to the little desk. There was a lit mirror and a box of tissues on its surface.

She took a minute to fix her makeup then Thomas had her take a seat on the small couch, pulled a Hard Lemonade form the cooler, twisted off the top and offered it to her.

Up to this point, Emma had led a sheltered life. She didn't drink, she didn't hang out with boys, she didn't stay out late, and she didn't disobey her parents. Not once in her life had she ever taken even a sip of an alcoholic drink. Her parents even called it "devil's water" and never touched it themselves.

She hesitated, staring at the cold dripping bottle in the old man's large hairy paw. It was covered with small bits of crushed ice.

Her mother was adamant about alcohol. She was to stay away from it... period.

But the pale yellow liquid looked refreshing and her throat was as dry as the desert. She'd been so nervous and panicky at having to come again that she hadn't followed his directions about hydrating.

She reached out a trembling hand and took it from him. She looked up at his face for the first time since she entered the room.

He was smiling benignly. His expression was friendly and open, making him look almost human.

She brought the bottle to her lips and took a tentative sip. It was ice cold, it was sweet and it was delicious. It also had a strange a sharp aftertaste that seemed to filter up into her nose. So that's alcohol, she thought.

Shrugging, she tipped back the bottle and gulped down half of its contents.

Gasping, she took the bottle from her lips and wiped her mouth daintily with the back of her little hand, not caring how common and unladylike she looked. The ugly fat old man smiled and nodded in approval. The lights shone from his sweaty bald pate. The thin strands of gray hair he'd combed over it were plastered wetly to the age-spotted skin.

Her head was spinning, but instead of putting down the drink, she took a deep breath and drained the rest of the bottle. Might as well drink, she thought. She was already neck deep with the devil... might as well drink his water. Besides, maybe it would dull the pain of what was to come.

Thomas took another bottle out, twisted the top off, handed it to her and began to chat pleasantly, making no attempt to touch her or even sit close to her.

At first, Emma didn't respond, but after she put away another Hard Lemonade and started on a third, she relaxed and began to open up. She was buzzing pretty good at this point.

Thomas asked her about her childhood, about her friends, about school, about her parents and about her plans for the future. He didn't hold back, he wanted to know everything about her and she didn't disappoint.

She opened up unreservedly, unaware that she gave him all the ammunition he would ever possibly need to continue to blackmail her for the rest of her life if he wanted. The alcohol working its way through her bloodstream made her already slow-working brain even slower.

Thomas cracked open a Bud Light and sipped at it while she talked, admiring her lovely body the whole time.

Her white blouse had dark wet spots where water from the icy wet bottles she tipped back dripped onto it.

His cock had stood immediately to attention as soon as he clapped eyes on her. He felt it throb when the water dripping from the bottles soaked into her white blouse, showing pink where a small pert nipple poked at the pale material.

He was almost hyperventilating with lust.

Thomas shot-gunned an entire beer, trying to cool his boiling blood.

Panting to catch his breath, he watched in amazement as the girl glanced brazenly down at his bulging pants with an inebriated, self-satisfied smile on her lovely young face. She appeared pleased with the effect she had on him.

"Let's get started," Thomas said uneasily, adjusting his erection as he stood. "We have a lot to do."

Confused, Emma looked around for the twin mattress. It was nowhere to be found. Wasn't he going to rape her now, she wondered? She was strangely disappointed.

She put down her unfinished Hard Lemonade and stood uncertainly, wondering about this next "shoot" he mentioned in his text.

Thomas took her limp little hand in his large hairy paw and steered her to stand in front of the backdrop. Over the next hour, he guided, drove, encouraged, admonished and praised her, urging her to experiment with different poses and expressions.

When she saw he was keeping his hands to himself, she relaxed and settled into a rhythm, listening to his directions and following them to the letter.

Her alcohol-fuddled brain was on autopilot. Her inhibitions disappeared, her stuffy, prudish demeanor faded away until all that remained was a vivacious, cheerful, enthusiastic young woman in the flush of her youth and beauty.

She was relaxed and had no idea at what point she began truly enjoying herself. Her smiles were joyful and natural, her poses relaxed and unforced, and her body language screamed youthful delight, passion and confidence.

His excited shouted commands, his wide pleased smile and encouraging "HELL YEAH" when she did exactly as he asked drove her to greater and greater efforts to please him, to meet his standards.

At his direction, she was shy, bold, teasing, wicked, flirty, provocative, mocking, or mischievous, sometimes in different combinations.

His bulging pants stopped bothering her and instead became a guide that showed her how well she was doing. If the bulge sank down sadly, she knew she had to work harder and if it stayed throbbing and dominant, she knew her poses hit the mark.

When Thomas changed the first film roll, Emma polished off her third Hard Lemonade and opened a fourth. She couldn't taste the alcohol anymore. Maybe these other bottles didn't have any alcohol?

Forty-five minutes into the shoot, Emma's inebriated brain and the spark he ignited inside her two days before fired an urgent need within her... her fine young body demanded sexual satisfaction.

In other words, she was horny. She was VERY horny!

After three and a half Hard Lemonades she wasn't smashed but she was drunk. She was relaxed and her self-conscious reticence was completely gone. She was running completely on instinct.

Thomas finished the third roll, loaded a fresh one, and as he had two days before, set the camera's timer to snap a picture every two seconds.

It was time.

His cock was hard enough to carve granite and he could feel his body tremble with barely-restrained passion and urgent lustful need.

Emma stood swaying, watching him lumber towards her. There was no mistaking the look in his eyes. Her hazy mind screamed "NO!" It told her to fend him off, to run, to kick him in the balls, but all she did was stand petrified and watch him approach, her body trembling with trepidation and excited expectation.

She closed her eyes, crossed her arms in front of her chest and waited, but all she felt was the malodorous breeze of his passing as he walked around her and pulled the twin mattress out from behind the colorful backdrop.

He pushed her gently away and dropped the mattress flat on the spot where she'd been standing with a whoosh, bounce, thump.

"It's time for us to have some fun, baby," he graveled, pressing his wide sweaty belly against her back. He ran his hands up and down her ribs and wide flaring hips. His thumbs gently rubbed the bulging sides of her firm round braless breasts.

Emma gasped at his gentle touch and shook her head as if in denial, but she didn't do anything to stop him or move away.

Wrapping his arms around her, he dropped back onto his ass on the mattress, drawing her with him to sit on his lap, pushing her arms firmly away from her chest.

He pressed her against him, cupped her sensitive breasts, squeezing them gently but firmly, teasing her hard nipples with his thumbs. She dropped her hands and squirmed against his thick sweaty body. He was hot and she could feel her clothes absorb his disgusting smelly sweat. She knew from past experience that before long, she'd be drenched in it.

Her own body felt hot and electricity flowed from her nipples to her core when his thumbs teased her hard aching nipples ever so gently.

She writhed on his lap, feeling his engorged member nestle and throb between her clenched butt cheeks. Her back rested comfortably on his enormous fat belly.

She threw her head back. Her breath rasped raggedly in her throat and her vulva throbbed and pulsed to the beat of her heart. She felt pressure building deep inside her, like a teapot heating on the stove. She knew that when that pressure reached the boiling point, pure rapture would thrum throughout her body.

Thomas ran his hands down her bulging breasts, slipped his fingers under the bottom edge of her off-white blouse and cupped her bare sweaty flesh. Her hard little nipples pressed into his palms like sharp pebbles and he could feel the bumpy texture of her areola. Her large breasts were firm, moist with sweat and quivered under his touch.

He squeezed them, caressed them and pushed them tightly together. They oozed around his fingers and returned to their perfect teardrop shape when he released them. They were absolute perfection... flawless in every way.

All of her was flawless and he let his sweaty hands wander over her perfect body, lingering on certain areas when she reacted with gasps and mewls of pleasure and glossing over the ones that obviously drew no reaction.

She put her hands over his as he fondled her, pressing them against her body while she groaned at the sensual pleasure.

He left one hand to wander her torso while the other slithered between her breasts, down her taut roiling belly, down her inner thighs to slowly roll up her miniskirt, exposing her slick bald plump outer lips.

No panties, just as she'd been told.

"Good girl," he whispered breathily, nipping her little earlobe lightly. "You did as you were told."

Her head twisted in pleasure at the undeniably pleasurable sensation. She shivered and an electric thrill traveled down her spine at the gentle nip and at his hot breath blowing in her ear.

Her labia was flushed and swollen with arousal. Thomas looked down between the marvelous valley of her heaving tits to note those heavenly lips were red and swollen with arousal, as was the bright red little nub at the top of her vulva poking out from its protective hood.

Emma gasped and whined when he slipped his fingers between her outer and inner lips, feeling her slick feminine fluids soak him with her excitement. She was soaking wet and her buttery pussy was hot as an oven.