"No." Gary smiled."We told her that we wouldn’t release the tapes of her cheating on the English exam and fucking with Neil. We said nothing about any pictures we might take in the future. Besides, we won’t be selling these pictures to mainstream magazines. I doubt anyone in town will see them. Including Stacy. Probably."
"Well… OK." Sharon was convinced. "I’ll set it up with my uncle for later this week."
"Fuckin A!" Neil was excited. "I can’t wait."
Stacy’s short skirt was once again bunched up around her waist. Her sleek legs were spread wide, and wrapped around the bulky form of Bob Pearson as he pistoned his cock brutally in and out of her dry pussy. They were in one of the supply rooms at Greenwood; Stacy’s ass was propped up on a narrow shelf and her back was against the wall as Barry fucked her. In vain, she tried to re-discover some of the excitement of the previous weekend up at BCN. Her responses that night had been more than a little degrading, but at least she had been able to deal with the sex without this pain; perhaps even get a little enjoyment out of it.
No matter how hard she tried, however, she was unable to feel anything other than the intense pain of the ordeal, as Barry’s large cock sawed in and out of her raw pussy.
Please, she thought wearily as he panted and grunted his lust, please come!
Just let it be over.
As instructed, Stacy showed up at the photography studio at 8:00 PM two nights later. The mid-December weather was unusually cold, and she was wearing a heavy denim jacket over her jeans and sweater. She was, however, carrying a duffel bag which contained some clothing of a less practical nature. Sharon had ordered Stacy to bring along various items of apparel, such as underwear, stockings, short skirts and, in particular, a couple of swimsuits from last year’s swim team. Stacy had been apprehensive, but she was now pretty much past the stage of arguing or pleading. It never did any good. All that mattered was that she reach number sixty-five before the end of the year. She had managed number fifteen earlier that day (her pussy still ached); only fifty more to go! At her wrist, the rapidly filling charm bracelet attested to her "success".
The studio itself was basically a large, high-ceilinged single room with a cloth backdrop against the rear wall. The backdrop was a neutral white, designed to take on the hue of whatever colored light was being directed at it. There was a long metal bar on the ceiling which held a number of different lights set there for this purpose. The floor in front of the backdrop was covered by a dark mat. In front of this mat was another bank of lights, not colored, and a camera. At the back of the room was a wooden door with a red light hanging above it; a small sign identified it as the darkroom.
"Stacy."
Gary walked up to her as she stood by the door, put his arm over her shoulder, and directed her into the room. Stacy shuddered slightly at his touch, but allowed herself to be led. Sharon, standing behind the camera, looked over and smirked. There was a belch from the back of the room; Stacy looked over and saw Neil, sitting back against the wall with his feet propped up on a small table and a beer in his hand. He grinned over at her and raised the beer can in mock greeting. Behind her, the door to the studio clicked shut.
Sharon made a small adjustment to the camera, and then walked over to where Gary had begun emptying out the contents of Stacy’s duffel bag onto the floor.
"Let’s see what we’ve got," she muttered, sorting through the clothes. Stacy watched, numb and frightened, as Sharon and Gary sorted through the various items of apparel, rejecting some and laughing at others.
"Don’t forget this stuff." Neil had left his seat and was approaching with another bag, the contents of which he dumped onto the floor beside Stacy’s clothes. It contained a number of leather and rubber outfits, including, Stacy noted queasily, the outfit she had worn up at BCN last weekend. She swallowed, fighting to keep her features impassive; she had resolved not to let them see her cry again.
Finally, they were done. Gary looked up at her.
"You know what’s going on?" He gestured towards the camera.
Stacy nodded reluctantly.
"Yes," she answered. It hadn’t been difficult to figure out. She had cried in her bedroom when Gary had ordered her to show up at the photography studio with the clothing, but she wasn’t going to cry now. She wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction.
Gary grinned. "Then let’s get started." He turned to his girlfriend. "Sharon?"
"Yeah, OK," Sharon nodded, "but let’s give her a drink first. It’s going to be hot under those lights."
Stacy looked up. Huh?
Sharon picked up an open can of coke from a nearby table and handed it to her. "Drink up," she instructed. "We don’t want you fainting on the set. We’ve got lots of stuff to get through tonight."
Confused, Stacy did as ordered; she drank the coke and handing the empty can back to the impatiently waiting Sharon.
The other girl nodded and took the bottle.
"OK," she announced, "I think we’ll start with…"
Stacy spent the next few hours in front of the lights, running through countless degrading poses in dozens of different outfits. Humiliatingly, they started her out with some of her own clothes which she had brought: mini-skirt, blouse and high heels.
"Look at the camera."
The colored lights placed her in front of a soft, yellow backdrop. As instructed, Stacy looked at the camera.
"Lean forward… legs apart."
She bent down and spread her legs, causing the skirt to ride up. Her blonde hair, combed out straight, hung down over her left shoulder, framing her breasts for the camera. Behind the bank of lights, her three tormentors were only shadowed silhouettes. Stacy was reminded of her dreams of stripping in front of such lights.
"Open the blouse… now cup your breasts and look sexy. Keep looking up; we want to see your face."
Her hands trembled as they undid the buttons. She had known it would come to this, but it was still so hard; particularly in front of the camera. She cupped her small breasts in her hands, involuntarily teasing her own nipples. They hardened immediately. Would they notice?
"That’s it. Nice nipples. Now, lick your lips…"
Stacy wetted her lips and did her best to look sexy and inviting. Her nipples stayed hard.
"Bend over a bit more… let’s see some more leg…"
Then they dressed her in one of her old swimsuits, now at least one size too smalclass="underline"
"That’s right… other way, now…"
Stacy stood, side on to the camera. They had soaked the suit before dressing her in it, and it clung tenaciously to every curve. Worse, the cold water caused her nipples to become hard again, and it was plainly visible through the thin swimsuit.
"Shoulders back… good, that pushes out your tits… play with the nipples, make them nice and hard… there you go…"
Stacy flushed red.
"OK… now run your hand through your hair… look like you need a good fuck…"
Stacy did as ordered. She slid her fingers through her blonde hair, shaking it out at the back as she did so. She was beginning to feel a queer sort of arousal in the pit of her stomach. She fought to hide it, but it was difficult to do while trying to look sexy.
Then came the outfit she had worn for the party at BCN. It quickly became apparent to Stacy that they had not cleaned it since that night; it stank of dried sweat and sperm.
This time, Sharon put on some music, and had Stacy dance a slow striptease. Neil called encouragement as Stacy slowly divested herself of first the cum-encrusted shirt, and then the tight leather skirt.
And, just like in her dream, she became more and more aroused…