tagNonConsent/ReluctanceModelling Shoot Turns Into More

Modelling Shoot Turns Into More


Yesterday afternoon I had a shoot in an old building with a new photographer. We had been trying to connect for several weeks to do a shoot together, but something had kept coming up, and so when we finally met for coffee and got to know each other it was a great relief to find that he was not just a talented photographer, but pretty nice as well. We chatted and talked about our pasts, getting comfortable with each other during an hour of walking along the water.

By the time we parted with plans for a shoot the following Monday, I had a good feeling about him. He was genuinely warm and I felt we had a connection that would work well during a shoot. He was clear about being a professional, and that he prided himself on maintaining a clear boundary between himself and his models. He seemed very sincere and I felt I could trust him. I have been modelling for years, and found that it is important when some nudity is involved to have a good trusting rapport with the photographer established beforehand.

I picked out a few outfits that I thought would look good for the shoot, emailing him the images so he would know how I would be dressed, and I felt nervous in anticipation of the day, as if it were my first time modelling.

The morning of the shoot, I awoke already horny, just as I always do before a shoot. My husband recognized my horniness, mirrored in his own erection, probably the result of his imagining, just as I had, of how horny I would get posing nude for a strange man. I knew that my husband always gets excited anticipating my shoots, knowing that he is sharing my body, so precious to him, not only only with the photographer that day but also with the hordes of men who would eventually look at the resulting images. How many men (and hopefully women!) would be so excited at seeing my body that they would themselves get turned on, perhaps horny enough to reach between their legs and masturbate while gazing at my naked body, imagining that they were having sex with me?

We exchanged knowing smiles as I climbed atop his turgid cock, exceptionally hard with the excitement of knowing I would soon be exposing myself to another man. We fucked with animal lust, our bodies covered with the sweat of exertion. He whispered in my ear, "Are you going to get wet today?" I groaned "yes" and he spanked me, telling me I was a naughty slut. "What if he wants to fuck you? Are you going to let him stick his hard cock in your wet cunt?" I shook my head, but he knew that it would be hard for me to refuse if I became that horny. "Are you going to beg him to fuck you? Are you going to scream with desire when his hard cock fills your hungry cunt?" I felt the same burning shame that always fills my body during erotic nude shoots, knowing that I would not be able to resist my carnal desires. My eyes squeezed shut with embarrassment as I nodded, whispering "yes, I'll beg for him to fuck me..."

I felt the stinging pain of his hand slapping my buttocks, the tingling coursing through my body each time his open palm struck me, the room reverberating with the echo of each loud smack. "You're such a slut. Say it, tell me what a slut you are;" I began to feel the familiar tightening in my legs and crotch as an orgasm began to develop. "I'm such a slut," I whispered, "I'm such a dirty slut." Each time I uttered the words my voice grew louder, until finally I was shouting "I'm a slut, I'm a slut, spank me, please spank me!" An incredible orgasm wracked my body at the same time that my husband groaned and began shooting his gift of sperm deep into my cunt.

My husband dropped me off at the location, an old rundown building that the photographer warned me would be dirty but would end up looking great in the photos. When I entered, it was even older and more rundown than I imagined. I wasn't sure that this shoot would be worth it, but I decided to forge ahead anyway. We started shooting and I really enjoyed the dynamic that we established. He had a strong voice, almost hypnotic as he gave me firm instructions on how to pose, what to do next.

He shot me through the window from the hallway, with the lights dim and only the bare bulb overhead and his flash. I had worn a slinky dress without any underwear as my first outfit, and after taking a series of shots in the dress, I did a series of poses taking the dress off slowly.

The feeling of the slinky dress sliding off sent a familiar warmth through my body. I could feel my lips beginning to swell with heat and a moist sweat began to cover my skin.

Whatever doubts I had about his abilities as a photographer, or the suitability of the location, were dispelled as he showed me some of the images in the display screen of the camera. They really were amazing, just as he promised they would be.

He was also masterful in the way in which he gave direction, and I began to lose my inhibitions and just follow the command of his voice, becoming the ideal model, my body an extension of his voice, imagining myself as seen through the gaze of his lens.

After the dress was just a pile at my feet, he came into the room and took photos while I posed naked. I sat on an old chair in the middle of the room and began to touch myself. First my breasts, and then I realized my legs had naturally opened, spreading ever wider to welcome his gaze. Each click of the camera captured a moment of increasing sexual excitement, spreading the heat from my swollen wetness outwards, gaping and aching for his eyes to ravish me.

As I became ever hornier and wet, and with his encouragement, I touched my swollen wet lips.

It was so different than masturbating by myself in private. It was as if the world would be watching my most intimate pleasure, every person who saw these photos looking at me in this moment of revealing myself.

I fantasized about a cock inside me, or a tongue, thrilled with the feeling of penetration as one and then two of my fingers slipped inside.

Without any prompting, I took my fingers out of my musky wetness and tasted them, licking the deliciously slick mucous with my tongue.

I spread my swollen lips for the camera to see inside me.

I was lost now in a sexual reverie, my mind focused on the pleasurable feelings of my fingers rubbing my most intimate flesh.

He told me to get on the chair and I squatted, embarrassed at how obscene I must look from behind, like a horny cat in heat.

I have always been ashamed of how fleshy and swollen my lips become when I am excited. They must look so ugly, but at this moment I didn't care. I was filled with sexual desire.

His commanding voice told me to see how many fingers I could put inside myself, and I responded by putting one, and then two fingers inside my slippery cunt. I took it as a challenge from him to put more, and so I slipped a third finger and then a fourth inside, stretching myself until I could only groan with the pleasure of the feeling of fullness.

I could hear the sound of groaning and realized it was my own voice, disembodied, far away from the hot sexual desire that surrounded my wet fingers deep inside.

Suddenly I felt the warmth of his tongue and soft lips. He did not ask. He just began licking me. I was shocked, and felt a sense of betrayal, both myself and for my husband. What would he think if a strange man began using me sexually without his permission? But I was so horny...

I did not say no. It felt too good to stop him, and I was carried along on the waves of pleasure as his warm lips first licked and sucked and then his fingers replaced his soft tongue inside me. Hard long fingers that began fucking me harder and harder until I was gasping and shaking and moaning with lust. He was good at performing oral sex, and his lips and tongue on my clit were having the intended effect.

I suddenly came as he finger fucked me, his lips sucking on my clitoris in rhythm to his hard thrusts. I was still standing with my face against the wall, my arms supporting me as he kneeled behind me, licking and finger fucking me. I almost collapsed, lightheaded and knees weak from the ecstasy overwhelming me. With a last gentle coaxing from his fingers, a final wave of pleasure shivered through my body and with a wet plop his fingers slid out, leaving me standing with my arms stretched out to the wall and my legs still spread wide. I heard the shutter of his camera click as he took closeups of my wet open cunt. My lips must be gaping open and dripping, I thought to myself, embarrassed now and feeling ashamed that he had betrayed me and forced me to betray my husband. But I was still feeling lightheaded and in his power and his commanded me to change to the next outfit. He never mentioned what he had just done, acting as if it had never happened, and his voice controlled my body as if I had no will.

As I caught my breath, I followed his command and put on the next outfit. Without a word about the orgasm I had just experienced and how he had caused it, we began taking more photos in the hallway. There was window where everyone below on the street could see me. He told me to sit on the ledge and to open my legs and begin touching myself again.

I was still in a state of rumbling horniness, the orgasm I'd had just whetting my appetite for more. I was still wet and swollen, and posing and masturbating at the window, where anyone outside could have seen me, made me even hornier.

Again as I touched myself I felt the familiar tingle of animal desire.

What could he see, I wondered, beyond my wet fingers slipping inside my swollen lips? Could he see just how much of a slut I really was?

As I sat on the window sill and spread my legs, he came ever closer, the click of the camera shutter measuring his slow progress toward me.

Click click, ever closer, my hot breath panting and anticipating his proximity, the camera taking close ups of my open cunt.

Without a word, he was on his knees between my legs licking me again, whispering that I was "delicious." I abandoned myself to the wonderful feeling of his warm tongue and lips pleasuring my swollen lips and clit. The sunlight streaming through the window warmed my back, and I wondered if people out on the street outside could tell that he was kneeling between my open legs.

The minutes dripped by as his saliva and my leaking wetness flowed down my thighs. His warm tongue mingled with the growing heat of my crotch. My mind could not separate the two, and I lost track of time as the pleasure coursed through my stomach and legs and spread into every part of my body. I was now lost in a reverie of sexual lust, my brain on auto-pilot, my body controlled by his voice and my desire to submit to my pleasure and to his.

One more outfit change, and yet another series of shots of my skirt hiking up to reveal my shameful desire, my top pulled down to reveal my breasts. Pinching my hard nipples as the arousal that began from the first moments of anticipating this photo shoot crested ever higher. As my legs spread wider, my fingers flicked and rubbed my hard clit, each flick across it sending ever more powerful surges through my body. I felt his hot breath on my thigh and he licked me again, the feeling of his talented tongue now familiar and welcome.

He asked if he could fuck me. I hesitated but for the first time I was shocked out of my reverie. Why had he asked? Why hadn't he just commanded me to open my legs and fucked me? Why had he forced me to think instead of following his commanding voice and my own lust? I said no.

He said he had a big cock. I still said no. He asked if he could masturbate. I said no, knowing that if I saw his hard cock I would immediately want it inside me, and I could not resist taking it into my mouth and down my throat. I love sucking and especially a big thick cock.

If only he had not asked! If he had just began fucking me, I would not have stopped him. But being asked, having to make a decision, I could only say no. I felt torn, even as I stopped him, my horny body wanting to just quietly nod assent. just whisper yes, wanting him to just ignore my doubts and ravish me against my will. If he had just unveiled his cock and told me to suck it, or silently stepped behind me and suddenly slipped his hard cock inside my gaping wet cunt without asking, then I would not have been responsible. I could have blamed him for taking advantage of me. I would not have made any decision. But by asking, and by having to say no, I had become human again, the pure animal desire tamed again by conscious thought.

I would have loved to have known what it was like to be fucked there. I wish he would have taken photos as his cock entered me, to have seen pictures framed and lit just as well as the erotic nude he took, except showing his glistening hard cock as it pumped in and out of me, or of long strands of sticky white cum shooting out onto my face and body.

He sent me photos of his hard cock later on. Seeing how long and thick his uncut meat was, and imagining what it would have felt like shoving inside my wet cunt, filling my mouth and throat, spraying cum all over me, I wished he would have just fucked me, or that I would have said yes. Ah, regrets.

My husband would have understood. Even as it was, later on that day in bed, when I told him every little detail about what had happened with the photographer, he was so turned on at being cuckolded by another man that we had one of the best sessions of hard bondage fucking we have ever had. He punished me for my transgression, spanking and slapping and whipping me until I was begging and screaming for forgiveness. The tears of contrition were real. The hot tears cooled as they flowed out of my eyes washed the stinging heat from his palm slapping my face. As my multiple orgasms subsided along with the burning pain he had inflicted on my nipples and buttocks, I felt his redemption and forgiveness wash through my body like cooling waters.

Maybe he'll let me plan another shoot?

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