Getting Naked: A Romance of Bondage and Discipline Read online

  He didn't want to keep this woman safe for another man; he wanted her for his own.

  "Can you see my nipples through the bra?” She wanted to know. “I can pinch them harder if you like."

  Morgan was playing with him already, trying to seize the sexual offensive, putting him off base. She wasn't a lightweight, it was true, but Nick was still the professional here and he aimed to reassert his authority.

  "No, that's quite all right. I only like natural arousal in my models."

  "Of course,” she said dryly. “Have you another little scenario for me? I can masturbate while you tell me. Or would that send you running back behind your desk again?"

  Nick felt a pique of anger. The woman had a knack for pushing his buttons. “Yes, Morgan, I do have a scenario, as a matter of fact, but first I'd like you up on your knees, please, legs apart."

  Morgan moved defiantly into position, ready for battle. “Like this?” she purred.

  Nick clenched his fists. Got to keep the upper hand, he told himself. “Un-hook your bra, let's get a look at your breasts."

  She reached behind her back, shaking out her hair. Her breathing was slow and rhythmic. She must have had ice water in her veins to stay so calm. One at a time she slipped the straps from her shoulders.

  "Tell me,” she asked, “what are your models supposed to do when you're done, and they're still all ... charged up?"

  He gritted his teeth as she cupped her globes, holding the bra in place. Five long heartbeats passed, each timed with a pulse of his cock before she lowered her hands, baring them.

  They were more magnificent than he'd imagined. White and pure and healthy, tipped with dark pink nipples and perfectly round aureoles. With every breath they rose, strong and vibrant as if they'd had silicone in them and yet they were obviously natural, perfectly sized for her ribcage.

  "That isn't my concern,” he told her. “This is about business, not sex."

  "Yes, so you'd told me. Unless you're the man ... or woman at the other end of the process ... then you can be as sexy as you like. Do you ever use your own pictures to jerk off on? Merilee's, for example?"

  The question struck him as strange. He simply didn't see the woman, or any of his other models that way. That's how it was supposed to be. Which is what made this, here and now, so totally unethical.

  "No. I don't. Let's get to your scenario. You are a young woman playing with fire. Signing a contract to do modeling without reading the fine print."

  "Ooh, sounds juicy."

  Nick stooped over the camera, snapping a picture of her juicy little half smile. If he were really an honorable man, he wouldn't even use film. He wouldn't keep these though; he just wanted to make them. “It is,” he agreed. “Touch your nipples for me, Morgan."

  She sighed at the contact. Instantly they rose to attention. “So what happens to her?"

  "Assuming no one bails her out? Well she starts out innocently enough, doing some cheesecake shots, maybe a little masturbation, but very quickly it escalates."

  "Escalates?” She was rotating her finger, round and round, making herself moan very slightly.

  "Other models are brought in. She has to perform sexual acts. There are cocks to be sucked, pussies to lick. Finally she's told to get down on all fours so a man can fuck her."

  Morgan's fingers slid down her flat belly, toned and well exercised. “What if she doesn't want to?"

  "But it's in her contract. That's my point. She didn't read closely enough. She's obligated to do these things. And that's not all."

  "It's not?"

  Her body was perfectly framed, exquisitely feminine and flawless, a total magnet for male libido as she readied herself for love. Already he could tell these would be among the best pictures he'd ever taken in his life, no prep, no nothing. It was their rapport; it had to be. A natural chemistry between them that reached across the camera, effectively erasing the barrier. The photos would reveal that. Each one would be a window to her soul, he was sure of it.

  No one, he vowed a second time, must ever lay eye on these.

  "No, it isn't. The woman has also signed off to be in movies. With men and other women. Underground movies, where she will be tied, whipped, used."

  "Against her will?” Morgan's eyes were wide. “How can that be?"

  "She can say no to specific scenes or acts, but it's her name on the films and she has to show up for work, and trust me, they will try very hard to persuade her to cooperate, threatening legal action if need be."

  "That's horrible,” she whispered.

  "Put your hands under the waistband of your panties. Don't show your pussy, just let me know it's there and you're playing with it."

  Morgan did so, her eyes sliding shut. Had she figured out that the woman would have been her if he hadn't rescued her from Wally Evers sleazy contract? Maybe she wasn't thanking him just yet, but she would. As soon as he'd finished giving her a taste of the kind of humiliation she'd have gotten from the man.

  "Are you wet, Morgan?"

  "Yes,” she cried. “I'm drenched. And horny, too. I could take on two cocks, or three. Want to film me, Mr. Tremaine?"

  He focused in on her face. She was looking right at him, winking.

  Nick stepped back from the camera like he'd been zapped with electricity. Morgan Baines hadn't folded at all. She'd been playing possum, stringing him along. Son of a bitch. Now what?

  "No. Film is not my medium. Let's lose the panties, Morgan. You seem more than ready."

  She made a show of it, the little minx, slipping them down over her hips, giving him tiny glimpses of her pussy at a time. She was gorgeous there, too, neatly trimmed, a landing strip, made for a man's cock to rocket home on.

  "Don't you want pictures of this, too?” She asked innocently, more than a little aware of her effect on him.

  Witch.

  "Actually, I have something a little different in mind."

  Nick had to be out of his mind walking to the prop box for a dildo. How the hell would he be able to handle seeing her push a fake cock inside herself when he would give his left nut to put his own there?

  But he was determined to teach her a lesson. She was a girl next door med student, a lady, she had no business being here and he would prove that to her, no matter how much of a slut he had to turn her into to do it. Okay, so the logic left a little to be desired, but he knew what he was doing. His gut never steered him wrong.

  In business at least, if not in his personal life.

  Nick chose a gel one, light green, and see through. It was flesh-like, with a nice pair of balls to match. I'll make her suck it, too, he thought, if I don't come in my pants first. Finding a rag and some natural spray cleaner in the large plastic storage box, he wiped it down. Cleanliness was important. The last thing he did was wipe it again, drying it and wiping away the taste that might be left from the cleaner.

  As an afterthought, he chose a second item. A pair of handcuffs, gleaming silver. Genuine police issue. Stuffing them in his back pocket, having no intent of ever using them, he returned to his rookie model.

  "Oh, that's a nice one,” Morgan weighed the penis in both her hands as he presented it for her inspection and ultimate insertion. “Very realistic. Of course I'm speaking only as a med student,” she winked. “And not a woman."

  "Of course."

  She was naked now, the little panties laid out next to her with the bra. A much better place for them, he decided, than covering up any of her glorious body. How could he think of her as anything but a woman, though? She could be bringing him the cures for cancer, AIDS and Parkinson's Disease all rolled into one and he'd have a damned difficult time not trading it all for fifteen uninterrupted minutes unencumbered between her legs.

  Tongue time, finger time and cock time.

  But then he wasn't a doctor, or anything else particularly noble. He was a man who'd loved to look at beautiful sexy woman all his life and who'd felt there should be no shame in wanting to get off on the sight of one, cl
assily and artistically rendered.

  "I want you to look long and hard at that cock, Morgan."

  "Is it going to do tricks?"

  "Yea, as a matter of fact, it is. When I say so, it's going to go to your lips. You're going to kiss it. Then you are going to put out your quick, too-clever-for-your-own-good tongue and you're going to lick it. And while you lick it, slow and sweet, you will think about what's in store. You will think about think about how that cock, fake and foolish as it is, is going to be inside you. You will be surrendering to it. In your mouth and your pussy."

  She rolled her eyes. “Is that all?"

  His smile angled to one side. She was a little flushed. Could it be the iron maiden was cracking?

  Nick took the camera off the tripod, aiming the lens. “It's time to start."

  * * * *

  Morgan fought the urge to clamp her legs. And her mouth too. “Bring it on,” she said, though she wasn't ready to follow his commands, not at all.

  "Kiss it,” Nick ordered, following through on the first of his promises.

  She used both hands, neither hand alone being steady enough. The man was in front of her, pointing the camera, directing, commanding her to nude obscenities. She felt like a total wench, a little sex animal, hot and horny. Men would come on these pictures; they would shoot their wads all over them ... all over her.

  "Eyes open,” he demanded. “Look at the camera, always."

  Her privacy denied, she showed her fear, her anxiety. Her arousal. Pursing her lips, she made contact, gingerly. Immediately she pulled back. If only that had been the end of it. But there'd be more, much more. It would have to go on her tongue, and then inside her mouth—deep and wet.

  "Lick it, Morgan, let me see how bad you need the real thing."

  Morgan almost melted on the spot. Was this still acting? Her heart pinging like a bunny rabbit's as she dabbed her silver tongue. The dildo tasted wicked, like solidified sperm, soft, wet gelatin made of come.

  "Put it in your mouth now."

  She opened, tentatively, pushing it up over her tongue. She slid it, in and out.

  "You're playing with your food,” he chided. “No one is paying to see his doctor pristinely nibbling on a cock, they want to see a sexy little bitch, starved for come, begging for it any way she can get it."

  Nick's words hit something deep and primal, verbal triggers to some sort of mental clitoris she'd been waiting her whole life to have stimulated. “Yes...” she hissed. “Oh, fuck yes."

  Her jaw went slack as she worked the camera and the cock at once, thinking of the men who'd see the pictures, and above all the one man, the one snapping the shutter, slicing her raw movements into razor thin sheets of ecstasy, transportable, digital, positive, negative, to be laid on the eye, melted on the tongue.

  Morgan took it deep, way fucking deep. She wasn't gagging, she was servicing cock, like a good bitch, a good and hungry cock bitch ... oh, lord this man and his words, his presence ... were there no limits to what he could do to her? She bit lightly on the gel, wishing it were him, wondering what he'd smell like and taste like. Why didn't he just make this about fucking? Why did it have to keep being about pictures? Wasn't it obvious by now what they both needed?

  "Get it nice and lubricated. I want it deep in your pussy; all the way, Morgan, I am going to have you take it all the way."

  She moaned, slurping wildly, the gelatinous balls slapping at her chin, over and over. The freaking teasing ... this game between them. But she couldn't crack first. She wouldn't be the one, no matter if it killed her.

  "This isn't how you imagined things, is it? It's never the way you imagine. We all want something ... different. Better. Take the cock out, Morgan, let me see how wet it is."

  She held it up. The camera was going crazy, picture after picture birthing itself as the man moved the tiny machine about, hitting from every angle. Who would buy so many? There were going to be enough dirty photos of her for every red blooded, masturbatory male in the country at this rate.

  "Rub it between your breasts. Push your tits together. Cradle it for me."

  Nick's speech was getting faster, more energetic. She pressed the wet sex aide eagerly between her generous orbs, letting them envelop the light green shaft and balls.

  "Yes, this is for you, isn't it?” She seized upon his phrasing. “Why won't you just admit it? It's as clear as that hard cock of yours."

  Nick's jaw tensed; another layer of denial had just been cracked. Still, he'd go down swinging. “You're here to do as you're told, Morgan. You wanted this, remember? So you can either take it in the pussy like a good girl or we can see about having that dildo up your ass, which I assure you would be quite a bit more taxing on your energies."

  Oh, so now he wanted to get nasty, did he? Well he was about to find out just why it was her two older brothers had given up trying to win fights with her by the time she'd turned the ripe old age of six.

  "I'm not a girl, I'm a woman. And I'll take that dildo any way you want to give it. In fact, I insist.” She held it up to him like a torch. “Fuck my ass, Mr. Tremaine. Get out all your pasha fantasies out of your system; then you can happily shut me away till I'm an old woman. But don't worry, my pictures will always be nice and young for you."

  "That's enough, Morgan."

  She was taunting him badly, but what did she want from him, really? Did she want anal intrusion? Another photo set? Or maybe a white flag of surrender? Or did she really want what her deepest heart said she did—to be laid on her back on the bed and taken?

  It was going to have to be up to him. She didn't know any longer and she was tired of trying to figure everything out all by herself. A proponent of women's lib she might be, but there were some areas where she recognized male prerogative.

  "Here is my ass,” she put herself on her belly, half tease, half submission. “Do with it what you will."

  "I'm tempted to spank you,” he groused.

  Morgan felt a tingle in her belly. Was the man serious? “It's not in my contract,” she declared, just to see how he'd reply.

  "What? The one you didn't read at Wally's office? The one I saved you from?"

  "I have nothing to say,” she replied. “You already told me I talk too much. It's all about my ass now, Mr. Tremaine. The balls are in your court,” she shot a glance at his engorged balls like an arrow piercing the bulls eye.

  Nick took hold of her wrist, pulling it behind her back. Morgan felt the clasp of steel, cold and hard.

  "What the hell are you doing?” She demanded.

  She lost control of her second wrist as he pulled it behind her back with the first. Another cuff was waiting, just as cold. Fuck ... the bastard had handcuffed her.

  "Hey, I don't do bondage,” she squirmed.

  "Lay still and stop complaining,” Nick chided. “I want to take more pictures."

  Morgan tugged at the handcuffs. There was no way to get free. This was hot. Totally fucking hot but she couldn't let him know that. This way handsome, sexy man whom she wanted to take advantage of her hot little body so bad had just chained her up, effectively rendering her helpless to his advances.

  He could touch, taste, and take...

  "Does this make you feel like more of a man, Tremaine?” She craned her neck, needing him engaged with her, firm and hard. “Now the mean old girl can't hurt you?"

  "It's not about me, Morgan, it's about giving you your precious modeling experience. No expenses spared to bring you all the thrills your little heart desires. Bondage is part of my business. A substantial percent of my clients want to see pretty women confined. Some even want to see them abused and humiliated. We don't do real violence here, though if I have a model who enjoys submission and degradation, I will make that as real as possible."

  Nick was kneeling on the bed, getting close-ups of her helpless, cuffed hands, as well as her exposed ass and back.

  "What a guy,” she snorted. “A regular Albert Schweitzer."

  She didn't like him
talking this way about other women, especially because it meant he was seeing them naked and doing things to them.

  "I suppose they are all blondes,” she added in a huff.

  "Some. Why do you ask?"

  "No reason."

  Typical male. Thick as a brick.

  "On your side, Morgan, I want some front shots."

  If occurred to her now that if she refused, he would have to do it himself. Move her, that is. And that would involve touching. Wonder how Mr. Stubbornness Incarnate would handle that.

  "No."

  "I'm serious, Morgan."

  "So am I. I'm tired. If you want me in some other position, you put me there. Otherwise, I'm taking a nap."

  "You know very well I cannot touch a model. It's a cardinal rule."

  "Oh, well."

  "Why must you be so difficult?” He demanded.

  "The same reason you're such a dick. It's biology."

  Nick tried to outsmart her by lifting up the velour bedspread to turn her. Morgan countered the move by continuing to roll right across the bed onto the floor. She banged her arm and thigh up a little bit, but it was worth it.

  "Now you'll have to touch me for sure, huh?” She called.

  "Get up, Morgan. I've had enough nonsense.” He didn't sound particularly amused.

  "I can't,” she lied. “I think I sprained my ankle."

  Nick cursed under his breath. She was trying hard to keep a straight face. By the time he came around the edge of the bed, she was ready.

  "What the-?” Nick stopped short, the woman's toes pushed deep into his crotch.

  "Fuck me,” she demanded. “Pasha."

  Nick hoisted her in his arms and set her down imperiously in the middle of the bed. “Fine,” he declared. “But you'll bloody well stay chained. And I'll leave the camera set to take pictures on automatic, because this is not personal."

  "Whatever you say, Tremaine.” She watched mesmerized as he put the camera back on the tripod and then attended to his clothes. He wore no undershirt under the button down silk. His chest was covered in soft, hair, not an overabundance. He was lean, with a narrow waist and a nice six pack abdomen. His biceps were firm, not overdeveloped. He had a strong chest and nice brown nipples.