Chapter 7
Audrey
With trembling legs, I stood and turned, placing my hands on the mattress as instructed. The position thrust my bottom out, the tiny thong doing nothing to hide the redness that still lingered from my spanking.
“Arch your back more,” Mona suggested, approaching to place a hand between my shoulder blades, pressing down gently while her other hand lifted my hips. “Like this. Bottom up, chest down.”
The position made me feel even more revealed, my barely covered pussy surely visible from behind. I quivered with helpless arousal, my body’s response confusing and shameful to me.
“Perfect,” Theodore murmured, the camera clicking steadily. “The innocent farmgirl with the spanked bottom. Sponsors will be lining up.”
The photo session continued for what felt like an eternity, Theodore directing me into increasingly revealing poses while Mona adjusted my lingerie, hair, and body position to best display my ‘assets,’ as she called them.
By the time they switched me to the babydoll nightgown for the second set of photos, I was trembling with a mixture of exhaustion, humiliation, and unwanted arousal.
The nightgown was even more revealing than the lingerie set—sheer white fabric that did nothing to hide my body beneath, with delicate lace trim that scratched against my sensitive nipples.
It barely reached mid-thigh, leaving my legs completely exposed.
To my dismay, I suddenly wished for the covering the nylons had provided.
“This look is perfect for the innocent-but-available image we want to project,” Mona explained, adjusting the straps on my shoulders so the neckline dipped lower, revealing more of my cleavage. “It suggests you’re ready for bed—but not necessarily for sleep.”
I swallowed hard, trying not to think about what she was implying.
The fabric was so sheer I could see my own nipples through it, pink and hard against the white material.
The thong I wore beneath did little to preserve my modesty, especially when Theodore had me sit on the edge of the bed, legs slightly parted.
“Look at the camera like you’re looking at your sponsor,” he instructed. “A little shy, but eager to please.”
I had no idea how to create such an expression, but I tried my best, lowering my eyes slightly before gazing up through my lashes at the lens. The camera clicked rapidly.
“Better,” Theodore murmured. “Now lie back on the bed. One knee bent, the other leg straight.”
I followed his instructions, sinking back against the white pillows. The position made the short nightgown ride up, exposing the edge of my thong. I resisted the urge to tug it down.
“Hand on your stomach,” Theodore directed. “Fingers just under the hem of the nightgown, like you’re thinking about touching yourself, but aren’t quite brave enough.”
My face flamed hot at his words, but I placed my hand as instructed, my fingers resting just below my navel, at the very edge of the flimsy garment. The camera clicked steadily.
“Good,” Theodore said. “Now I want you to pull the nightgown up slightly. Just enough to show a hint of your panties.”
I hesitated, then slowly drew the fabric upward, revealing more of my thong. The camera continued to capture every moment of my discomfort.
“More,” Theodore insisted. “Show us the panties completely.”
With trembling fingers, I pulled the nightgown up to my waist, fully exposing the tiny white thong. I lay there, the sheer babydoll bunched around my midriff, my nearly naked body on display for the camera.
“Perfect,” Theodore murmured. “Now slide your fingers into the waistband of your panties. Just slightly.”
“I thought these were supposed to be tasteful photos,” I protested weakly, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Oh, these will definitely be to the taste of your potential sponsors,” Mona replied with a wicked smile that brought a fresh surge of blood to my face.
I stared at the impossibly fashionable, fully dressed woman, helpless against the heat of humiliation that flooded through me. Her words seemed to echo in the studio, mingling with the steady hum of the air conditioning and the soft click of Theodore’s camera.
“I can’t,” I whispered, my fingers frozen at the waistband of the thong.
Theodore lowered his camera slightly, his expression hardening. “Ms. Campbell, we’ve already established the consequences of disobedience. Would you prefer another spanking?”
The memory of being bent over his knee, my bare bottom exposed and burning under his firm hand, made me shiver. Worse, the memory brought with it that same unwanted surge of arousal between my legs. I could feel myself growing wetter beneath the tiny scrap of lace barely covering me.
“No,” I said quickly, my voice small. “I’ll do it.”
“Good girl,” he murmured, raising the camera again. “Slide your fingers just inside the waistband. Imagine your sponsor has commanded you to touch yourself for him.”
My face burning, I slipped trembling fingers beneath the lace edge of the thong. The camera clicked rapidly, capturing my mortification for posterity.
“Now pull them down,” Theodore instructed. “Just to the top of your thighs.”
I swallowed hard, then hooked my thumbs into the sides of the thong and slowly drew it downward, exposing the bare, smooth skin of my freshly waxed mound. The cool air against my most intimate parts made me shiver, goosebumps rising across my exposed skin.
“Stop there,” Theodore said, the camera continuing its relentless documentation. “Now spread your legs a bit wider.”
I parted my thighs slightly, acutely aware of how exposed I was, how vulnerable. The thin strip of fabric still caught between my thighs seemed almost obscene now, emphasizing rather than hiding my nakedness.
“Perfect,” Theodore murmured. “Now touch yourself.”
I froze, certain I’d misheard him. “What?”
“Touch your pussy,” he repeated. “Just lightly. Run your fingers over yourself.”
“I can’t,” I whispered, horrified. “That’s… that’s too much.”
“Your sponsors will expect much more than this,” Mona interjected, moving closer to the bed. “They’ll want to see how thirsty you are, how obedient. This is nothing compared to what will be required of you once you’re claimed.”
Claimed. The word sent a shiver through me—fear mingled with that persistent, shameful arousal.
“I’ll help you get in the right mindset,” Mona continued, sitting on the edge of the bed beside me. Her perfume—something expensive and musky—enveloped me as she leaned close. “Close your eyes and imagine your sponsor has just spanked you for showing up late to a date.”
I closed my eyes, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. The scenario Mona described flooded my mind with vivid images: a faceless man in an expensive suit, his hand connecting firmly with my bare bottom as I lay across his lap.
The imagined sting seemed to blend with the real soreness from Theodore’s earlier punishment, making the fantasy feel disturbingly real.
“Your bottom is still pink and warm from his hand,” Mona continued, her voice dropping to a hypnotic murmur. “He’s told you that you need to show him how sorry you are. He wants to see your smooth pussy, to see if you’re wet from your punishment.”
My breath caught in my throat, the words painting pictures in my mind that make my body respond in ways I couldn’t control. I could feel myself growing wetter, my pulse quickening.
“Touch yourself now,” Mona instructed softly. “Show your sponsor how wet his spanking has made you.”
My hand moved as if it belonged to someone else, fingers trembling as they slid over the freshly waxed skin between my legs.
The unfamiliar smoothness startled me—I’d never felt my own flesh this way before, with nothing to buffer the touch.
It felt completely different from when I’d been made to masturbate in front of the nurse. I gasped at the sensitivity.
“That’s it,” Mona encouraged. “Spread your legs wider so he can see everything.”
I parted my thighs further, my fingers exploring my slick folds. The camera clicked continuously, capturing every moment of my surrender.
“Your sponsor finds that you’re very wet,” Mona narrated, her voice taking on a dreamy quality.
“He’s pleased that his discipline affects you this way.
Now he wants you to prepare yourself for him.
He makes you kneel down and suck his cock while you play with your little pussy, getting it ready for him. ”
I whimpered softly, my fingers finding my clitoris almost of their own accord. The slippery bundle of nerves seemed to pulse beneath my touch, sending jolts of pleasure through my body. My hips rose slightly off the bed, seeking more contact.
“Look at the camera,” Theodore commanded. “Show your sponsor your face while you pleasure yourself.”
I forced my eyes open, meeting the lens with a gaze I felt sure looked nothing like my own—cheeks flushed, lips parted, nostrils flaring. My fingers continued their intimate exploration, circling and stroking as Mona’s words painted explicit pictures in my mind.
“Your sponsor is going to take your virginity tonight,” she whispered, leaning closer so only I could hear. “He’s going to push his thick cock into your tight little pussy and make you his. You’re going to feel him stretching you open, claiming what he’s paid for.”
A moan escaped me, unbidden and uncontrolled. My body was betraying me completely now, responding to these shameful words with undeniable arousal. My fingers moved faster, pleasure building inside me like a wave.
“He’s going to fuck you in all your holes,” Mona whispered, her voice like silk sliding across a mirror. “He’s going to train you to please him in every way a woman can please a man. And you’re going to love it, because that’s what you were made for.”
My breathing quickened, my fingers moving faster over my slick flesh. The pleasure was building, coiling tight in my lower belly even in the throes of my mortification. I couldn’t believe what was happening, and yet the thought of it pushed my arousal even higher.
“That’s it,” Mona encouraged. “Show your sponsor how much you want him. Show him how your body responds to the thought of being taken, being owned.”
The camera clicked relentlessly, Theodore moving around the bed to capture different angles of my shame and surrender. My body had taken control, chasing the pleasure that seemed to build with each humiliating word Mona spoke.
“He’s going to make you come on his cock,” she continued, her voice dropping even lower. “He’s going to fuck you until you scream his name, until you beg him to claim you completely.”
Something inside me snapped. The pleasure crested suddenly, surges of it washing through me as my back arched off the bed, a cry escaping my lips. My fingers moved frantically against my flesh as I rode out the orgasm, my whole body trembling with release.
As the pleasure subsided, leaving me gasping and disoriented, reality came crashing back. I had just masturbated to orgasm while being photographed. While a strange woman whispered filthy scenarios in my ear. While a man I’d just met captured every moment of my surrender.
I jerked my hand away from my body as if burned, scrambling to pull up my panties and tug down the nightgown. Tears sprang to my eyes, hot and humiliating.
“What the hell?” I whispered, my voice breaking.
“Heaven, rather, my dear. That was beautiful,” Theodore replied, lowering his camera. “Those final shots will guarantee you a luxury sponsor.”
I sat up, drawing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I felt utterly exposed despite my attempts to cover myself, my body still tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure even as my mind recoiled in shame.
“I think we have what we need,” Theodore said to Mona, his tone casual, as if what had just happened was entirely ordinary. “She can get dressed.”
Mona nodded, standing from the bed. “Good job, darling,” she said to me, her voice carrying that same condescending approval I was growing to hate. “Your profile will be quite popular, I’m sure.”
I couldn’t look at either of them as I slid off the bed, my legs wobbly from both the towering heels and the intense orgasm. I got the lingerie off and scrambled into my plain panties and bra as fast as I could, then put on my blouse and skirt, kicked into my shoes, and headed for the door.
As I exited, I realized my state of dress must look exactly like that of the girl who had gone before me in the studio. Worse, another young woman waited outside, in the same chair I had occupied. My cheeks blazing, I made my way out into the hall, unable to look her or the receptionist in the eye.