Part 1

The door creaked open and an innocent-looking girl entered the room, flinching as the heavy metal door slammed back into place. She looked around the room uncertainly, perhaps wondering if she was in the right place.

"Hello," I greeted her, smiling serenely. Her eyes darted to me and a shy smile broke out across her features.

"Uhh.. H-Hi, sir. Are you The Bondsman?"

"That I am, girl. And you would be...?"

"Oh- Felicity Rivers, sir. I'm here for my appointment."

"You are, are you? I suppose I'd best get cracking, then!" I jumped to my feet, gesturing kindly for her to come closer. My cameraman had been waiting in the wings until now, so he stood up and readied the hefty camera that would record our entire session in glorious high definition. Felicity glanced at him as she approached me nervously, that shy smile still playing around her lips as if this whole situation was amusingly absurd to her.

I reached for her slim shoulders as she drew near, rotating her slowly to inspect the specimen and provide a good showcase for the camera. She was dressed somewhat modestly, which admittedly was quite a rarity my profession. A pale blue tank top covered her entire upper body, her bust protruding in two shapely mounds. A slim choker necklace encircled her neck, a large iridescent red-blue jewel sparkling at the front. Fake, obviously, but dazzling nonetheless. Short curls of raven-black hair curtained her jawline and a straggly fringe fell into her silvery-grey eyes. Her hips rocked a loose-fitting black miniskirt that covered only half of her thighs but gave not the slightest hint of her curves. The rest of her legs were smooth and slim, matching her petite frame. Her feet were enclosed in plain black shoes with slightly raised heels.

As I turned her back to face me, she averted my appraising gaze as though determined to present herself without providing any distractions. That suited me fine. I stared openly into her eyes, which were fixed on a point somewhere over my left shoulder. It was clear she'd applied a subtle amount of makeup, though her face hardly needed it. She possessed the naive beauty of a prom queen, and faint strokes of eye shadow contrasted her pale eyes to give a mildly ethereal look. Her lips sported a lightly-scented colourless lip gloss, and the soft laugh lines around her mouth betrayed her genial nature.

It looked like I had a fresh high-school graduate on my hands - at a guess, I'd place her not a day over 19. Of course, it remained to be seen if her pretty school-girl complexion extended to the rest of her body. That would be my pleasure to find out.

I slid my hands down her sides to lift up the tank top. "May I?" I enquired, pausing before the great reveal. She nodded and lifted her arms, the shy smile returning in full force. The thin blue material slipped off effortlessly, revealing the previously-obfuscated curves of her navel and a pearly-white bra. Without pausing to appreciate the view, I grabbed some jute rope and began twirling it around her forearms, which I had now arranged in a box-shaped position behind her back. After every second loop I reversed direction, creating a counter-lock to ensure the tie would not loosen. This I repeated for her upper arms, pulling them closer together to create the frame of the box tie. Soon I'd bound her arms securely and left a length of rope hanging for later use. Felicity endured all this passively, waiting patiently for me to be satisfied with the tie.

Next I applied the most iconic accessory of any submissive's attire: a bright red ball gag. My model opened her mouth obediently as I popped the ball into its slot with my thumbs and strapped it tightly in place. The ball gag was practically useless as an actual gag - while the user couldn't talk, they could still mumble or moan loudly - but were favoured for a number of other reasons. As they made any attempts at communication ineffectual, reducing every utterance to muffled moans and grunts, they forced the model to be expressive with their eyes for attention, which made for great entertainment. They also made the model drool uncontrollably, which was both humiliating for them and an excellent source of lubricant for me. Finally, for many viewers the image of a sexy bondage slave wasn't complete without one. Personally, I just didn't like my subjects talking back to me.

Once the gag was in place, I dropped any pretense of caring about her plight and continued by handling her like the mindless animal she now effectively was. Had she been able to, the girl might have complained, but as it was I doubted the shift would be considered noteworthy enough to stop the shoot. Needless to say, there was no trace of that smile now - only a nervous wide-eyed look.

Animals don't need clothes, so I decided it was high time to remove that bra and miniskirt. A single snip later and the bra was gone. I groped her round breasts from behind, tweaking her nipples and giving the camera a good shot of her head rolling back helplessly. By now the reality of her submission would have begun to hit home. Her arms were certainly testing their restraints, wriggling back and forth as though she expected the ropes to spring loose apologetically at the first display of discomfort. After all, there was a world of difference between seeing our bondage shoots from the safety of your computer chair and actually being the one getting tied up in the limelight. Unsurprisingly, this difference came as a shock to bondage virgins - which was, of course, the reason we tried to rope in as many nubile young girls as possible for new updates. Whether it was shock, discomfort, apprehension, indignation, or subjection, there was simply no substitute for the genuine reactions of helpless young models as I happily broke their innocence.

Felicity was now completely topless with tightly bound arms, but I wasn't anywhere near satisfied yet. I pushed her chest-first onto a padded bench, savouring that indignant grunt as the weight of her fall crushed her firm breasts. Her shoes came off with a sharp tug, revealing small clean feet with two sets of cute stubby toes. I slid off the miniskirt in one swift movement and chuckled at the pink-and-red polka dotted panties beneath. I grabbed one ankle and folded it back onto her thigh, binding it firmly in place, then repeated this with the other leg. She was now fully frogtied with only a thin strip of cotton concealing that most private womanly area.

Surprisingly, the thin material bore no signs of dampness - the girl must be nervous. Well, if she wasn't ready to give up that last defense just yet, I would contend myself with easing her into the mood a little first. Taking a large wand vibrator, I flicked it on to the lowest setting and began gently prodding the crotch of her panties with the rumbling device. On cue, moans escaped around the gag as she squirmed futilely. After a moment I flicked the intensity up a notch, watching happily as her struggles turned from trying to avoid the device to reluctantly spreading her legs further apart and pushing against it. Once she was warmed up and her panties were soiled with arousal, I withdrew the vibrator and set it aside to a pitiable moan of frustration. Now she was ready to give up that last covering.

Two more snips and it was done; Felicity now lay helpless and butt-naked on the bench, just how I liked my models. The camera lens zoomed in for a closeup of her freshly moist pussy as I massaged the lips softly. The girl started humping my finger weakly, hot with anticipation for her long-awaited climax. I chuckled and slapped her eager cunt reprovingly, her body flinching as she unsuccessfully attempted to pull her knees together.

"No getting off until my say-so, slut," I growled. She stopped wriggling her crotch immediately. I tickled her feet teasingly, drawing her attention to them instead. Her cute little feet twitched frantically atop her ass, but she had no hope of escaping my wriggling fingers.

While her heavy breathing was beginning to settle again, I set up an intimidating-looking machine behind her that would rhythmically thrust a shaft into her immobilised pussy without pause until turned off again - in other words, a fucking machine. This particular shaft also had a powerful vibrator duct-taped to it, so every thrust packed a double dose of merciless stimulation.

But there was one final touch to add before she rode that fucking machine into oblivion. This was, after all, a public bondage shoot, so I had to keep aesthetics in mind whenever possible. Our viewers would want to see her face as her holes were violated and her dignity destroyed, and they weren't going to get that with her grimacing at the stone floor. This meant I had to hold her head back; her hair would be just perfect for fulfilling this function. And where better to attach it to than the one hole that had been sadly neglected thus far?

I retrieved a shiny chrome hook and lubricated it with some of the girl's saliva. Then I grabbed the length of rope I'd previously left free and slipped it through the hook's loop - but I didn't want to slide it into her just yet. Instead I collected as much of her hair as possible into a short ponytail and looped the end of the rope around it, ensuring the strain would be equally distributed across her scalp. Once her hair was secured, I pulled the anal hook back slowly, bringing her head up with it. The camera moved around to her front, capturing her pale eyes as they widened with apprehension.

Holding the rope steady between three fingers and my palm, I pushed the cool metal into her satisfyingly-tight anus with my index finger. Her sphincter puckered and fought the intrusion, but undeterred I forced it in until the curved base would let it go no further. I adjusted its position so that it sat comfortably in the crack of her glowing cheeks, then tightened the rope to ensure it would stay put.

Felicity didn't like this one bit, of course - she bucked and squirmed for all she was worth, but fortunately for me and our viewers, her efforts weren't worth a whole lot at this point. And judging by the look of outright horror on her adorable face, she knew this all too well. With her head now attached to a hook in her rear, it was no surprise that she was straining her neck back as far as possible and staring determinedly straight ahead. I sure wouldn't envy her when those neck muscles started to give up.

But what mattered most was that her flushed face and grimacing expression was now plainly visible for the camera, as I suspected her attractive face would display some amusing expressions indeed in a few moments. Also, this position offered a fine view of the ample cleavage formed by her squashed breasts against the bench.

Pretending to move around behind her gathering equipment, I armed the sleek dildo with a dollop of lubricant before turning on the monstrous machine and vibrator that were aimed at her unsuspecting hole. The machine whirred to life slowly, humming contentedly as it began to slip in and out of its victim's pussy. Soon it was approaching the speed most men could thrust at, and Felicity was whimpering as an orgasm stirred within her. The machine had now reached the designated speed - which was still only a fraction of its potential - and the girl's moans had increased in intensity to match. For a few moments nothing happened, then I realised that her furtive mumbles had a purpose about them and that she was actually waiting for my permission to climax. Despite my indifference to the girl's plight, I was impressed. Few had such control in their first session with me. Maybe I'd give her a few extra orgasms in reward.

"You may cum, slut," I hissed, laughing at her shameless sexual fervour. With a great gasp, she spasmed uncontrollably as juices flowed from her throbbing pussy and her very first bound orgasm was captured in high-quality video for all the world to see.

As I walked around in front her, her eyes registered mild surprise. Evidently she'd thought I was the one responsible for the thrusting. I was flattered that she thought I had such endurance, but even more amused by how those misty eyes quickly turned to pleading. It was as if she didn't want to be fucked now that she knew it was by an unthinking machine - a machine that would not know when to stop and grant respite. I simply smiled at her pleading look and dialled up the speed on the machine's remote, putting it down next to her.

Her eyes were beginning to snap in and out of focus now, and her breathing had grown irregular between the frequent gasps and moans. I sat down in front of the bench and reached up for her craned neck, making as if to strangle her. I squeezed just tightly enough to impede the flow of blood to her head, but loose enough so as to cause no lasting damage. The idea was to heighten her sensitivity to the bliss-inducing endorphins released by the orgasms - well, that was the theory. I'd never had it done to myself, but bitches in heat seemed to dig this kind of thing. Her bound form began rocking back and forth, and for a moment I thought she might evade the reach of the fucking machine's shaft, but then realised that her pussy would simply be rotating slightly on the spot.

As my senseless model approached her fourth climax, I removed her gag and went to retrieve a cane, leaving the cameraman to take my place and capture the minute details of her desperate expression and drooling mouth. When I returned he had moved around behind her, recording the relentless machine's effects on her struggling body: the dripping opening that repeated impalings had created, the fine droplets of sweat condensing on her flushed ass cheeks, the pungent juices lining her lips and inner thighs, the repeated clenching-and-relaxing of her round toes, the misty film on the chrome ass hook formed by the heat of her body... I smiled with satisfaction, knowing that this was one no-holes-barred shoot that would leave nothing to the imagination.

As the fucking machine continued to exemplify its name, I unleashed a series of quick raps across the girl's glowing buttocks with the wooden cane. In her present state I needed to wait no time at all for fine red lines to spring into existence. Besides a slight wobble, though, Felicity didn't seem to notice the impacts. I moved to her thighs instead, tapping the soft flesh beside her sensitive pussy. This produced a much more satisfying reaction - she squealed and flapped her frogtied legs in protest. I continued, emboldened, until the girl was forced through her fifth and final climax. If pleasure could ever become pain, this orgasm was it. She actually yelped in agony and broke into tears just as her struggles ceased and her muscles merely twitched occasionally. Taking this as my cue to stop the onslaught, I pulled the machine away from her and turned it off, throwing her into an abrupt reprieve.

The ever-circling camera settled on her face, where her eyes were closed peacefully with a few tears trailing from them and her mouth was slightly agape, panting. I had to admit, as I gazed at her gently heaving form, that she created a most delightful aesthetic. Arms and legs packaged neatly behind her; her ass hook, hair and neck creating almost a perfect right-angled triangle; round breasts propping her up slightly; unblemished skin complemented by a gleaming film of perspiration; an unkempt fringe resting loosely against her vacant face. She opened her eyes and saw me staring at her with concern, giving me a weak smile.

Reassured that she was fine, or at least conscious, I began removing all of her restraints carefully. First the hair tie, then the ass hook, the frogtie, and finally the box tie. Soon Felicity sat on the bench freely, still nude but with her legs crossed as if eager for me to forget her earlier sluttiness. She was smiling attractively, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes, which were still slightly red from the tears. Perhaps I'd been a bit rough for a first-timer. I had no doubt our viewers would love her all the more for it, though. My cameraman knelt beside me, ready to capture our ensuing dialogue.

"So," I said conversationally as I pulled up a chair to face her. "How was that?"

"Great!" she replied quickly, smiling widely again. She was still breathing a bit more heavily than usual, so I waited a moment before continuing.

"What did you enjoy the most?"

She appeared to consider this for a moment before replying with confidence:

"The first orgasm," she said, giggling slightly.

"The first one, hey? So the others weren't as good?"

"Well, the second one was alright, but the rest left me pretty sore. The first was the best because I'd been waiting for it for so long." She said this very quickly with her eyes darting to the camera and back, clearly embarrassed to be talking about such a personal experience.

"So the wait was what made it good, then? Do you think I should have waited longer before letting you cum?"

At the word "cum" she giggled again and I smiled in encouragement.

"Well... Umm... I guess so," she admitted, surprised with her own answer. "But not too long, 'cos..." She appeared to struggle with exactly why denial shouldn't last too long, before settling with, "I mean, I don't want to wait all day!"

"Of course not," I agreed, smiling kindly. Now that her faculty of speech had been returned, it was probably best that I treat her as graciously as befits a girl of her beauty. "So on the other end of the spectrum, what did you like least?"

"That cold hook in my ass," she answered without a moment's hesitation, shivering slightly as she blushed. "I've never felt anything in there before, and it was so cold going in but I couldn't get away. And then I had to hold my head back, which got really painful after a while..." she broke off, massaging her sore neck absently.

"That's called predicament bondage," I informed her. "Some people really enjoy that sort of thing - not directly, I imagine, but they enjoy the challenge or something like that." I couldn't say exactly why people enjoyed it, because I didn't have a clue. As far as I was concerned, some people are just nutters.

Felicity seemed to pick up on my bewilderment as she added, "Crazy people," and we both laughed.

"And what did you think of the choking, and the cane?"

She frowned for a moment as though trying to remember these things. "Well, the choking wasn't too bad I suppose. It didn't hurt, but it sort of made me a bit fuzzy-headed - you know, dulling the pain and enhancing the pleasure." I nodded to show I understood, and she ploughed on. "The cane..." She shifted uncomfortably on the bench, evidently feeling the sting of the stripes on her ass. "Yeah... I didn't like that one so much."

She spread her legs wide open ran a finger up one thigh, over the numerous pink stripes I'd left as a reminder of our session. She winced and closed her legs again, but not before I noticed her pussy, still red and glistening with her juices.

"Don't worry about the marks, Felicity; they'll be gone in a few hours." She seemed greatly relieved by this, and a smile returned to light up her face.

"So, hopefully you enjoyed our time together overall. As it was your first time at eSensual Studios, I tried a few things just to see if you liked them - and now that I know what you didn't like, you won't have to go through the same discomfort in future sessions," I explained reassuringly. "Your payment will have already been processed, so don't worry about that. I just have one more question: would you like to have another session right now?"

This seemed to catch her by surprise. But she'd been encouraged by the mention of her pay, and now she appeared eager to earn some more. Or so I hoped, anyway - the more shoots the better, and she was a right supernova.

"Sure!" she finally decided, grinning nervously as she mentally prepared herself to go through it all again.

"Right! Well, let's get back to it, shall we?" I said spiritedly, grinning back. My fun was far from over, and I could think of plenty more bondage ties and accessories to "try" on her.

Several weeks later, I sat at a computer reviewing Felicity Rivers' shoots. She'd gone on to do a total of three sessions in a row, each lasting around 90 minutes. The editing guys had done a fantastic job of cutting together all the footage, creating three hour-long high-quality videos and a collection of still captures ready for upload. The cut content was mostly the less interesting ropework and setups, as well as a few more personal scenes I'd had with her that I'd requested they leave out - some of the later scenes she'd enjoyed so much that she'd felt the desire to reward me personally. I mean, what guy can resist a stunning helplessly-bound girl's request to satisfy the sexual desire aroused in him by simply looking at her? Not me, apparently.

So I flicked through the three videos with fondness, smiling as I remembered the fun we'd had. The other scenes had included strappado bondage, breast bondage, a suspended hogtie, vertical impalement, wooden stocks, nipple clamps and weights, sensory deprivation, and a variety of gags. She'd even been willing to take a dildo in her ass for me. As one of the few experienced riggers in the company, I shouldn't really express favouritism towards particular models, but sometimes there was no helping it. Felicity had simply been a delight to work with.

I opened up our company website and logged into my webmaster account. The videos would take a little while to upload, so as I began the process I drafted out the descriptions that would accompany each shoot. "Felicity Rivers Bound and Fucked Senseless," was the title of the first one. Normally we would have a more generic title for models unknown in the public eye, like "School Girl Cums to Tears" or the ever-favourite "Girl Next Door Humiliated and Destroyed", but I felt that Felicity Rivers would become a huge name if she returned for some more sessions in the future, so putting her name in the update's title was a good way of introducing her.

I opened up a document and wrote a description that I hoped would attract the views she deserved. It wasn't perfect, but nothing ever was. After writing two more descriptions for the other two shoots and selecting a handful of the sexiest still photos from each, I was ready to make the updates live. Well, the first one anyway. The rest would be added to the queue and made visible at an auspicious date in the future in order to stagger out the model's debut and cultivate popularity.

Logging out of my webmaster account, I navigated to the eSensual Studios homepage and clicked on the latest shoot's thumbnail to view the promo.

Felicity Rivers Bound and Fucked Senseless

Performers: Felicity Rivers, The Bondsman

A one-minute trailer occupied most of the page, and below it were downsized versions of the dozen photos I'd chosen. The description was below:

She walks into my room looking lost, so I tie her up and give her a reason to remember me. But don't be fooled by her innocent giggles - this little missy is insatiable. It may be her first time bound on camera, her first time with anal penetration, AND her first time with a fucking machine - but she takes it all and looks irresistible while doing it. Watch as she is mercilessly machine-pounded to multiple forced orgasms! Watch her struggle to minimise the pressure in her ass as she cums helplessly for the fourth time! Watch as we destroy this adorable young kitten for your viewing pleasure and give her an experience so intense that she's reduced to a blubbering mess! This is not an update for the faint of heart. And keep an eye out for the follow-up scenes coming soon - Felicity Rivers is one girl you don't want to miss.

In the ensuing weeks, my suspicions were proven correct as Felicity quickly amassed a large following in our viewerbase. Granted, there were one or two complaints about how I could hardly keep my hands off her, but who could blame me? I'd sent her a link to each of the shoots as they went live, but so far had heard nothing back from the would-be star. Perhaps she'd decided such a business was not for her; the shame of the initial publicity had alienated many a model in the past. Maybe she'd only really been tempted to our company for the money. After all, for a just a few hours of pleasure and pain, the compensation rivalled that of many top-paid specialists.

I didn't understand her hesitation, personally. No matter what her inhibitions, there would always be videos and pictures of her humiliating day of submission on consumer devices across the globe - once on the internet, always on the internet. So she might as well pursue such an easy source of income while she held the favour of her new fans. Of course, it also helped that the profits we were making off her shoots was almost unprecedented.

The weeks turned to months and slowly Felicity Rivers slipped from my memory in the wake of the countless models that followed. Some of these models were reluctant amateurs, others professional adult models - there were even some nubile young girls who proved equally as popular as the raven-haired one-hit wonder. As more and more girls passed through my dungeon to be subjected to the same toys and equipment I'd once used on Felicity, the latter model dropped from my mind.

But there was one person who never forget her explosive foray into the world of bondage. It was seven months later that I received the following email.

Dear Bondsman (sir),

You might remember me from a session we had a few months ago. Well, I'd like to give it another shot.

Please respond with a suitable time. I look forward to seeing you again (and much more!) :)

With respect,
Felicity Rivers.

Smiling, I began writing my reply.


Part 2 - Eight Months Earlier (added: 2014/01/17)

The response from my latest modelling application popped into my inbox on the screen before me.

I'd never imagined myself having such trouble finding a job. I knew exactly what I wanted to do - study plants. Not the most appealing of careers for most people, but I'd had my eyes set on botany since primary school. I wasn't fussed with the specifics - whether it was a groundbreaking research position or simply some grunt work involving plants, it'd be a good start. I'd even studied for three years straight out of high school to get my BSc. I felt ready to take on any job in the field, but I just kept getting turned down.

I had taken over a dozen failed applications for me to expand my search outside the natural sciences. Modelling wasn't my first choice, but a friend had put me on to this one after hearing of my continued failure to find a proper job. I mean, modelling is for blonde bimbos who have nothing other than their pampered body to offer. I liked to think I was capable of a more involving job than strutting around in swimwear.

But these were desperate times. I had rent to pay, food to buy, a phone plan to budget for... I really needed a job. So I'd applied to the modelling company. Swallowing your pride is probably a good exercise, anyhow.

I took a deep breath and clicked to open up the email, quickly scanning the first few lines. My heart sank. I grabbed my phone and selected Zoey from my contacts. She'd want to know that her job idea fell through.

"Kristina? What's up?" Her tone was guarded, as though she'd been expecting my call.

"Good news," I said neutrally, pausing for dramatic effect. "I'm not going to be a model."

"Oh, I'm so sorry girl. I was really hoping you'd get lucky this time. I mean, how could anyone look at your rocking body and pass up the opportunity to take photos?"

I blushed. It was true that I was probably the most attractive of the group of girls we used to hang with - well, the guys always seemed to think so, anyway. I didn't care for the attention - I had no interest in guys who just liked me for my looks. Besides, isn't beauty supposed to be subjective?

"You're such a tease, Zoe."

"Come on, you love it. So what are you going to do now?"

"Great question. I guess I really wasn't expecting to loose this job. I thought it'd be a no-brainer. Wow, I must be so shallow."

"Hey, I still love love you Krissy. I actually might have an idea... But you really won't like it."

"How would you know that? Try me."

"Seriously, you will really hate this idea... Just promise not to hang up on me, alright?"

"Sure, Zoe," I replied, now somewhat intrigued as to how this mystery occupation could be so bad.

"Alright. Here it comes... Have you ever thought about making some adult films?"

"Zoey!" I exclaimed in shock.

"Look, I know it's probably at the very bottom of the list for you. But it's not so different to modelling, really. And most importantly, the pay is amazing!"

I couldn't speak for a moment. I thought I knew my friend pretty well - how could she suggest such a thing? And she sounded like she was speaking from experience!

"Think it over, Kristina. You can even take on a stage name if you like - there's always a chance someone will recognise you, of course, but that risk is kinda exciting I reckon. And I can promise you the pay is brilliant - far better than any of the jobs you've been looking at. And I know some guys who are really professional - just turn up and they'll take care of everything."

"Zoey... I don't know what to say. I can't even act - and you're talking about filming me naked!" I heard her laugh gently.

"Don't worry, I won't be filming you Krissy. And trust me, you don't need to worry about your acting abilities. Everybody is just a natural at it. Look, think it over anyway - I mean, you really don't have any other options right now. The company I mentioned is called eSensual Studios - just Google them. Check out their work - even if you're not into some of the stuff they do, you've got to admit it's all top-quality production. Good luck, Krissy."

The line went dead. I sat for a moment in shock, trying to process everything. I couldn't believe I'd just had that conversation with one of my best friends. She'd gotten pretty into it towards the end, too. Maybe it was her enthusiasm rubbing off on me, but I found myself seriously entertaining the idea. It wasn't too different from modelling, after all, and I'd already resigned to accepting a modelling job if I got one. With this I'd just be wearing even less.

Half an hour later, I'd talked myself into at least checking out the website Zoey had recommended. I really did need the money, and if the pay was as good as she said... I think I could swallow my pride enough to make a nude flick.

The website loaded up quickly in my browser and a clean page layout greeting me. My first thought was that the website design was very intuitive - it really did look professional. Then I saw some of the preview images for their films and gasped. Girls of various builds and ethnicities populated the page, each of them stunningly attractive in their own right. But the most shocking thing was what they were doing. In one image, a girl was tied spread-eagle to a wall while a hooded man stood before her with a whip of some kind. In another frame, the girl had her arms bound behind her and her legs trussed up like a frog. She was lying on the floor, apparently in the process of squirming as a long wooden cane was rapped all over her naked form. In yet another preview, the girl was hanging upside-down with another woman's hand resting in the V of her parted legs.

These weren't adult films: these were perverted. I felt like turning away in disgust, but something held me there. I was entranced. Why would these girls put themselves through this? I doubted they were all in similar situations to me. I found myself clicking into each preview one by one and looking at the sample images. Each girl was captured in a number of different positions. Some looked downright painful, while others looked to be great for some sensual teasing. But one thing was consistent in each gallery - the girls were grinning boisterously by the end. They made even the most difficult of positions look sexy and fun.

I realised now that Zoey had misled me somewhat. These were not adult films in the conventional sense - they were actually much closer to modelling shoots. I wasn't sure what the girls were modelling - none of them were wearing a stitch - but the format of these videos were much like a modelling shoot. A number of unrelated scenes followed by a brief interview at the end. Having realised this, I now understood why acting skills were irrelevant. These girls weren't acting - their bodies were simply responding to everything done to them.

So ethics and pride aside, I could do this gig. The only qualification I needed was my figure - well-curved and unblemished as I was, I was bound to get a job. But - what if I didn't? What if I sent in a bunch of embarrassing photos of myself nude and then got rejected? Could I cope with that?

It was another two hours before I finally decided to submit an application. I'd asked myself every question I could think of and even answered most of them, but in the end my need for cold hard cash won out. As expected, their model applicant form wanted some embarrassingly personal details about my sexual health, orientation, breast size, and any "kinks" I might have. I just stated that I was open to trying new things in that last section, since I had no idea what kinks they might be talking about.

Then they wanted some photos. I stripped off and snapped a couple of full-body shots from my webcam, carefully ensuring that no one was looking in the window first. Then the application was off, and I left the website and pushed it to the back of my mind.

Well, I tried to, anyway. Stuff like that doesn't stay in the back of your mind for long. Soon I was thinking about what it would be like if I got a job - what should I expect? What should I wear? What stage name should I pick? I decided on Felicity Rivers in the end. It flowed off the tongue well - pun intended - and it looked like someone's real name, giving people no reason to suspect otherwise.

I got a reply to my application with startling speed. It hadn't even been 24 hours when I was congratulated and given a time when the shoot would take place. Their premises weren't too far from my old college, so I'd have no trouble getting there.

All that remained was to wait a few days until it was my time to shine.


Part 3 - Present Day (added: 2014/03/19)

As I walked into the familiar room, a wave of foreboding washed over me. The purpose of this room was no secret, even to a stranger: a dry musky aroma hung permanently in the air, infused by the countless girls who'd been stripped and dominated within its walls. The various fittings in the concrete walls and ceiling gave me the ominous feeling that any terrifying predicament could be made a reality in this place.

But that's what I wanted today. At least, some part of me did. The part that fired up the furnace in my loins whenever I reflected on my first visit here. The part that sent adrenaline pumping through my veins as I imagined rope wrapped tightly around me, holding me in a severely compromising position.

But the rest of me wasn't too sure why I'd come back. I was no longer desperate for hard cash, and I still had nightmares about close friends and relatives discovering my perverted secret. I'd never told Zoey that I'd followed her recommendation, but she was sure to know by now if she followed the website. Yet here I was, fuelling the flame that could so easily blaze out of control and burn me. But whatever my inhibitions, I was committed now. For the next few hours, my body was forfeit.

"Felicity!" a voice boomed from behind me. I spun to see The Bondsman entering the room, smiling in welcome. This man was responsible for the most intense sexual pleasure I'd ever experienced, and yet I didn't even know his real name. I had to confess that his handle was appropriate, though. His work on the eSensual Studios website was entrancing, and I knew first-hand that this man rigged naive girls with the skill and confidence of a master craftsman. I knew I was safe in his ropes - it was the man himself I feared.

I smiled in return, not wishing to speak lest my quavering voice betrayed my nerves.

"Shall we get started, then?" Without waiting for a response, he began helping me from my clothes. I cooperated somewhat resentfully, as I'd actually dressed the part this time and he'd barely acknowledged my effort. I was wearing my most provocative low-cut blouse, with a minimalistic bra that supported my breasts and offered ample cleavage while remaining concealed. A pair of those popular extra-short denims covered my hips, leaving my legs entirely bare and my pantyless crotch clearly visible when I sat down. Even fully "clothed" as I was, I thought there would be plenty of eye-candy for the viewers to enjoy. But now my clothes were gone, so apparently not.

Next The Bondsman held out a shiny blue ball gag to me. "Would you do the honours?"

I wasn't sure about this. Allowing restraints to be applied to me was one thing, but assisting in the process would take a resolve I'm not sure I had. But I hardly wanted to be branded a spoilt brat who had everything done for her, so with trembling hands I took the gag and filled my own mouth with it. Once I was happy with its tightness, The Bondsman examined my work and tightened it some more. Now my cheeks were now bulging out against the straps, flushing red with humiliation as I began drooling helplessly.

Suddenly my world went dark, and I let out an involuntary scream. What actually came out was just a vaguely alarmed mumble, however.

"That's right, that's what the gag's for," said The Bondsman in his deep, amused voice. He finished tightening what I assumed was a blindfold, then took my hands and led me over to the wall. I followed clumsily, like a blind mute sheep far from its home pastures. Against the wall was a saddle of some kind, which I was gently pushed onto. I gasped - well, I huffed - as a stiff dildo impaled me, slipping all the way in by the time my thighs rested against the saddle.

I shifted uncomfortably, trying to escape the abrupt feeling of being stretched to my limit. But the master rigger had already seen to my wrists, binding them in ropes that reached far over my head. Then the saddle was lifted upwards, and I really began panicking. I could no longer reach the ground - my entire body weight was pushing me down onto this devilish saddle.

To make matters worse, my ankles were then wrapped in rope and pulled outwards, lifting my thighs away from the sides of the saddle and leaving my crotch to take my full weight. Now I was blind, mute, nude, stretched out in all directions, and impaled like a popsicle on a stick. A very warm popsicle. My day couldn't get much worse.

It suddenly got a lot worse, however, when the saddle my crotch was crushed against roared to life. So this must be a sybian. I'd seen them online, but not with a massive dildo like this one. I might have known what I was in for if I hadn't been blindfolded, but as it was the powerful vibrations rocking my groin came as a complete surprise. They sure were powerful, too. I'd used vibrators before, but no magic wand could compare to this bliss. The machine's rapid throbbing sent my entire groin and inner thighs quivering, and the contented purr as it worked lulled me into a euphoric stupor.

I let my head slump back against the wall as the relentless machine quickly brought me to a climax. I breathed heavily and mumbled incoherently into my gag as waves of bliss washed over me, one after another. My pussy was trapped in a state of perpetual spasms, and it felt wonderful.

Soon enough, my chest was heaving and sweat trickled slowly across my navel. I'd lost count of the number of orgasms I'd had, and my pussy was aching with overexertion. It had felt stretched to begin with - now it was on fire. I moaned helplessly, wishing I could turn my hypersensitive nerve system off at will. My pussy was too sensitive, and the vibrations were too strong. I pulled desperately on the ropes, my feet flapping uselessly against the wall. To make matters worse, my clitoris was pressed flat against the vibrating saddle. I was well and truly stuck on this thing.

I shook my head wildly, mumbling as loudly as I could manage. "Make it stop... Please... Make it stop..." but only ragged huffs escaped the gag. Was The Bondsman still there? Had he just left me here alone? Or was he standing right in front of me, silently laughing at my plight? The latter seemed the most likely. I could picture him smiling ear-to-ear as I struggled in hopeless darkness. The all-seeing camera was probably panning across my perspiring form right now as I contributed to the musky stench of hundreds of girls before me.

With this thought my struggles intensified, stubbornly refusing to accept their futility. If I pulled my legs firmly together at the same time, my body lifted very slightly from the infernal saddle. I did this repeatedly, hoping to build up enough momentum to slide off the thing. But even with my wrists pulling against their bonds at the appropriate moment, I barely made it halfway up the stiff dildo inside me.

Collapsing back onto the saddle for the final time, I resigned myself to the sybian's merciless titillation. That was when it stopped.

"Still with us, then?" that deep voice intoned, breaking the monotonous drone of the device beneath me. "You wouldn't be the first girl the sybian has conquered," he said, as if to comfort me. I only wanted one thing right now, though, and it wasn't any amount of witty small talk. I wanted off. But with no way of conveying this, I just hung there, gingerly holding my sore pussy as still as possible on the massive dildo.

To my great relief, the saddle was suddenly pulled away from me - or rather, out of me. Of course, I was still very much helpless and exposed, but after surviving the sybian I couldn't imagine anything else more taxing. I even felt a strange sense of achievement for keeping my sanity throughout the ordeal.

So what was next? I was sexually exhausted and ready to call it a day, but I doubted I would be so lucky. I don't think it had even been an hour yet - I wasn't liable to be freed for at least another half an hour. Unless my endurance was far greater than I'd estimated, and the session had already finished.

I didn't have to wait long for a new sensation to tingle my skin, however. Slick latex-clad hands slid across my sweat-soaked abdomen, spreading some kind of lubricant wherever they touched. They traversed my entire torso, paying special attention to my breasts to ensure every inch was covered in the mystery fluid. I gasped as my nipples were tweaked, but the gloved hands moved on to my sides, my hips, my shoulders, and my back without lingering to tease. They didn't stop there, though.

I hung in humiliation as the hands explored every inch of my exposed body, from my toes to my fingertips and right up to my chin. Soon after the process had begun, I was completely coated in the slippery substance. Only then did I realise what it was. Oil! I'd been oiled chin-to-toe like some painted whore. I groaned in shame.

It was a bizarre practice, but I knew why girls in this business were oiled. It was to make them literally shine on camera, their every curve reflecting light to create the image of a flawless supermodel. The more they twisted and squirmed, the more spectacular their figure would appear. But I was no supermodel, and I hated the idea of my body being displayed so salaciously.

My blindfold was ripped away without warning, and I blinked quickly in the brightness. As my eyes adjusted, my first thought was that a complete stranger had walked into the room. But a stranger wouldn't be decked out in an intimidating assortment of latex, leather, and lace. Nor would a stranger look remarkably like...

"Mmmmf?" I said incredulously, momentarily forgetting I had no chance of being understood.

"Hello, Felicity," replied Zoey, looking mightily pleased with herself. "So you're even dressing like a slut now," she smirked, rolling her eyes towards the small pile of brazen clothing in the corner. I mumbled pathetically in protest.

Her eyes raked over my glossy body, making no effort to hide the wanton lust in her features. I stared back, wide-eyed, wondering if this was really happening to me. She was scarcely like the Zoey I knew, who was admittedly a bit of an extrovert, but hardly one to take up the mantle of a dominatrix for a living. Or so I'd thought.

Now she was geared up in every man's wet dream. Her feminine curves were exaggerated by a tightly-laced leather corset, pushing her otherwise modest bust upwards and into prominence. Her lightly-shadowed eyes stood out sharply against her pale ivory complexion, and her crimson hair was pulled back in a strict chignon that meant business. She wore a lacy black G-string that barely covered anything, and her long legs were encased in fishnet stockings supported by the corset. Her darkly glistening hands, when they weren't busy exploring my curves, were wrapped confidently around the handle of a black leather flogger. If I could have shrunk away in fear, I would have.

Zoey watched me examining her with an amused smirk. She must have decided I'd had enough time to think, "Oh, fuck" - which, in all fairness, had crossed my mind more than once - because she stood forward and slipped two of her latex digits into my suspended pussy. Her soft kneading drew a low moan from my lips. I blushed, ashamed at how good it felt even after all I'd been through.

As my eyes reopened, I caught sight of a large flatscreen monitor over Zoey's shoulder. It showed a stunning bound girl being fondled by a confident dominatrix... Oh wait. I looked closer at the miniature me on the screen. My dusky skin glowed with a golden sheen as though I was an exquisite angel who'd been captured and bent into submission. Literally bent, too - my form was stretched out across the wall in a sideways H-shape, my short curls hanging in tangled clumps around my head.

Every sensation I was feeling and every thought I had was reflected in my meek countenance. There was exhaustion, lust, shame, stubbornness, apprehension, and ultimately a reluctant resignation to my fate. I'd never have thought eyes alone could be so expressive, yet here I was, my countenance subconsciously revealing all the feelings my mouth could not.

I'd been watching Zoey's back on the monitor, so I didn't immediately realise she'd equipped a shiny new accessory. Before I knew it, she was thrusting a strap-on dildo into my dangling orifice, unceremoniously robbing me of my lesbian virginity. And I was sure she knew it.

This was more than a simple fucking, though. She clutched my outstretched legs with a vice-like grip, holding me against her as she plunged inside me again and again. This was a power play. Nothing but years of envy could explain the way she held me as she violated my sensitive pussy. Maybe those passing remarks about my looks hadn't always been in jest after all. Whatever the case, there was no questioning who was the dominant one now. There was nothing I could do as she groped my breasts in sexual frenzy and brought me to the brink of another orgasm. As though sensing my growing desire, Zoey pulled out just before I went over the edge. I moaned in frustration, rocking my hips in attempt to find my own stimulation. But there was nothing but empty air.

My sweat was now condensing into thick globules on the surface of my oiled skin. My heart was racing flat-out and I was struggling to suck in enough air through my nostrils alone. Yet I still wanted release. The sexual variety first, then from these ropes. But it soon became clear Zoey wasn't going to let me go anywhere without first submitting to her in more than body.

"You want to cum, don't you slut?" she laughed. A pause. Slowly I nodded, my cheeks flushing red. Drawing close, she whispered into my ear, "Say it." She unbuckled the ball gag from my head, and I pushed it out with relish, taking a few seconds to breathe deeply.

"Say it," she repeated sternly, sliding her fingers across my jaw. I was nearly delirious by this point, but I still had some pride left and it wasn't giving up easily.

Growing impatient, Zoey aimed several quick flicks of the flogger at my engorged pussy. Unbelievably it brought me to the edge again, albeit at the cost of searing pain. If a few light flicks stung that much, I dreaded what she could do if she decided to be any more sadistic.

"Please," I breathed, my voice croaking from disuse.

"Please what?" she said innocently.

"Please... let me cum," I mumbled.

"Sorry?" she prompted, feigning deafness to tease me. My eyes jumped to the camera behind her shoulder, my outstretched form darkly reflected in its lens. If I was really going to submit, there was no point in being half-assed about it.

"Please let me cum!" I cried out desperately.

"That's my girl," said Zoey, smiling. She fingered my soft labia with her latex gloves, slipping them inside to finger-fuck me to an orgasm. She withdrew as I climaxed, flicking my juices at me. My face burned with humiliation as flecks of my own cum hit my cheeks.

"That's right, slut, this is what you're so desperate for," she said, sticking those fingers into my mouth. I held my breath in disgust, but she squeezed my nose until I was forced to gulp down the taint of my arousal. Then the ball gag was back in before I could say another word. Zoey just grinned at my moans of protest.

A second later she was rolling her tongue around my nipples, quickly making them erect and sensitive. I knew what this meant, but there was nothing I could do as clover clamps sunk their teeth into both of my innocent areolas.

"Well, slut, this is your chance. Shake these babies off and I'll let you down." Zoey finished applying weights to the clamps and grinned at my despairing expression. I didn't need to speak to make my meaning clear: Really...?

"Yes, really, slut. I'll even give you some motivation," she said, retrieving a familiar dildo-headed shaft from the floor. It was identical to the shaft I'd been fucked with on my first visit to this place. It had been attached to a machine then, but it still bore the same features - a sleek dildo on a stick with a wand vibrator duct-taped to the side. Zoey slid it into my hole and propped it against the ground, standing back to admire the aesthetic. Then she turned it on.

I gasped and shook my hips, but the little sideways manoeuvrability I had was only enough to dislodge the rumbling head from my clit temporarily. There was no getting off the shaft. So I began heaving up and down as I had before, wincing as my breasts bounced with me. After a painstakingly long number of seconds, I felt the cruel clamps beginning to slip.

But then Zoey tickled my foot and I lost my rhythm, cursing into the gag. If she wasn't going to play fair there was little I could do to win this stupid challenge. But she didn't interfere again, instead stepping back to spectate as though I was the best thing on television.

"Hurry up, my gilded whore," she taunted. "I'm getting bored."

Bored!, I thought angrily. I'd like to see her do better! Of all the nipple clamps she could have chosen, clover clamps were surely the cruellest choice. They were simply not designed to be shaken off - far from it, shaking them only made them bite harder. It took a mammoth effort to even budge them, and this was coming from a girl who'd just spent an hour squirming on a sybian. At this point, the question was not how long but IF I could even get the darn clamps off.

"I tell you what. I feel bad about distracting you earlier, so I'll give you a bit of help," said Zoey. I could hardly believe my luck - until I saw her raise the flogger. She swung it directly at my nipples with uncanny accuracy. I watched the little leather strips arc towards me in slow motion, my dread swiftly rising within me and adrenaline flooding my veins in response. Most of the tips found their mark, brushing my right nipple with the force of a dozen miniature whips. If it wasn't for the gag stifling my vocals, I had a feeling I would have screamed like a little girl. Ironically, Zoey had hardly been good at anything in school - yet she seemed to have honed her accuracy with this torturous weapon as much as an Olympian marksman.

The second swing was no less accurate, this one actually moving the clamp's teeth slightly. Even with my breasts bouncing freely up and down between each strike, her aim was flawless. It took another four solid flailings to dislodge the darn thing, though. By that time my other nipple felt only vaguely tingly in contrast to the searing pain where the clamp had been flogged off. It would have felt better to just leave it attached, I thought grimly.

"There you go," said Zoey brightly, straightening her flogger's long tails with fondness. "The other one's all yours."

I rolled my eyes and began my vertical rhythm once more. Another orgasm was forced from my pussy, and I shook my hips in frustration as I cummed. This was just a distraction now - I had to focus on shaking that clamp off...

Once I'd built up a moderate amount of momentum again, the weights were bouncing up and down vigorously but still the clover clamp held on to the bitter end, trapping my nipple in its pincer grip. My face was scrunched up in concentration, my thighs were burning from all the pulling, and my arms had probably never seen such a workout.

In the end, though, it was not my strength that beat the clamp's grip, but pure effort. My nipples became so saturated with perspiration that the clamp just slid off in one final bounce. The sound as it clattered to the floor was the best music in the world.

Zoey had been examining her nails. "Oh, are you finally finished?" she said indifferently. I glared at her. "I suppose you want to be released now." I knew she was trying to infuriate me, but I couldn't help that it was working. She walked over and ran a finger lightly down my sternum.

"Hmmm..." she murmured, looking into my eyes. Her detached expression was inscrutable: was she about to break her word? Or did she just want to assert her dominance one last time? She could think whatever she liked, as far as I cared. Once this was over the back-stabbing bitch would be banished from every social network I had anything to do with.

"Oh, alright," she said finally, moving to untie my ankles and wrists. I kicked the shaft aside, yanked the ball gag out of my mouth and collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily. It was over.

When I came to my senses, The Bondsman was back in the room, sitting next to Zoey on a bench. He saw me and waved me to the stool opposite, where a camera was directed. I sighed. I wasn't really in the mood for an interview, but it was probably best to get it over and done with.

Still naked and gleaming with partially-dried oil, I stumbled over to the stool and sat down, pulling my legs up in front of my puffy red nipples.

"Well, wasn't that an adventure!" he began boisterously. "You look like you've run a marathon."

"You'd better believe it," I muttered.

"Now, I think you've met Mistress Zoey here." He winked at me as he inclined his head towards her. I wasn't sure if he was referring to our past acquaintance, or just trying to be funny. I was not amused, but attempted a smile all the same.

"Believe it or not, you held out longer than most models on the sybian," he told me with a hint of pride. "Any idea why that might be?"

"I get outdoors. I'm no stranger to exercise," I replied testily. I didn't like his assumption that I was as pampered as a typical porn star. But remembering this was a public interview, I continued with a bit more levity. "Healthy eating, clean living - you know, it all adds up," I said, smiling.

"Haha, yes, I suppose it does. So tell me, how did you enjoy being all saddled up and ready to buck?"

"Well..." I began, then paused. Was he calling me a horse? Or worse, a ponygirl? I couldn't tell if he was making fun of me or just being facetious. Knowing him, probably both. "It was much more intense than I imagined," I admitted.

"So you're familiar with sybians, then?" he prompted, leaning forwards.

"I've only seen them... online," I mumbled, ashamed to reveal that I'd looked at such things in my own free time. The truth was, there were a lot of kinky activities I'd engaged in since my first visit. I'd even ventured into self-bondage, trying to recreate that feeling of being bound and made to cum. But it just wasn't the same without a professional at the ropes.

"It's alright," he encouraged me. "You're in the presence of some truly perverted people, you know." Zoey shot him a quizzical glance, then shrugged in admission.

"So what are the fantasies?" he probed. "Tied up and fucked, forced submission, orgasm denial, a kinky threesome, publicly bound and fucked, abduction, rape, or is something else more your style?"

My jaw dropped steadily lower throughout that sentence, and I got the feeling he'd only said those last few to shock me. I had kinky fantasies, sure, but they seemed tame by comparison.

"Uh... Let's try the first one," I replied, laughing nervously.

"Now?" He jumped to his feet and sat down again grinning. "Well, you have the body for it. If you don't mind my saying so, you look delicious rubbed in oil."

I blushed, wishing I wasn't still gleaming like a plastic doll.

"Of course, even without the oil you have a beautifully dusky skin tone. What do you do for a living?"

"Gardening," I answered honestly, caught off-guard by the unexpected query. Not too long ago I could only have truthfully replied with "making porn". I can't imagine how embarrassing that would have been.

"Ah, that explains it," he said, nodding. Then with a sly grin, he added, "I do love a girl who doesn't mind getting dirty."

I shifted self-consciously on the stool, wondering if I had some dirt left on me somewhere, before I caught the innuendo and blushed even deeper.

"I suppose I should address the elephant in the room," he said in a more serious tone. "Menacingly beautiful elephant that you are, of course." He inclined his head towards Zoey, who frowned at the underhanded compliment, then turned back to me. "What did you think of the switch? Were you shocked to find Mistress Zoey in my place?"

Mistress Zoey... I still couldn't get over that name. To me she had always been simply Zoey, and were she introduced to me in any other way - that is to say, had she not been fucking me into submission and making me beg for release - I probably would have laughed. Yes, I had been extremely shocked to see her. But I didn't want to elaborate on the reason when my every twitch was being recorded for perverts everywhere to see.

"Shocked... Yes. I was worried something had happened to you," I lied. "That was a cruel trick."

"I'm flattered, girl, but you needn't worry about me. And alright, it was a bit unfair of me to leave you with her, but you have always said you'd like to try new things. Had you ever been with another girl before?"

"No," I said plainly, fixing my most incriminating stare at him. I'd never identified myself as a lesbian, and I felt it should be illegal to force someone to experience such an encounter unwillingly. Maybe it was illegal.

"Well, there's a first for everything," he said brusquely. "It wasn't too bad, I hope?"

Of course it hadn't been too bad. I'd been fucked and made to cum - that never feels bad. It didn't mean the experience wasn't traumatising, though. The Bondsman was giving me a leading question, and if I answered it directly then I'd just be playing into his hands and making it sound like I had a wonderful time. I began to wonder if the other girls on the website had ever felt similarly betrayed, but been led into a line of questioning that swept the issue under the rug.

"You tricked me," I said accusingly. "I enjoyed the orgasms, yes, but I felt betrayed and violated. Never do that to me again," I finished sternly, hoping that my glamorised naked form would not detract from the severity of my words.

"You're right. I apologise," he replied soothingly. That wasn't so bad. I'd gotten my courage all worked up for nothing.

"In light of your feedback," added Zoey, "thank you for being such a good sport." She smirked.

"Next time we'll go with one of your fantasies, shall we?" The Bondsman suggested. "Speaking of which, if you ever have a specific fantasy requiring an especially peculiar skill set... We would be too happy to oblige," he said, reprising his ardent manner. The interview seemed to coming to a close, so I stood up and looked around for my clothes.

"Now, I know you're exhausted and probably don't want to think about orgasms for days," he said sympathetically, "but I have an offer you may find tempting..."

His offer, as it transpired, was a chance to get back at Zoey. It would be my first stint as a domme, and from the look on her face, her first spell as a submissive. No matter how utterly spent I felt, it was an offer I could not refuse. I was shown to the changing rooms by a disgruntled Zoey, where I had a shower and selected a suitably intimidating outfit from their imaginative range.

A few minutes later I was back and feeling as energised as I'd ever been. The tables had turned.

I watched Felicity Rivers stroll from the room with a new spring in her step, immensely pleased with myself. Subjecting an amateur to such a ruthless dominatrix had been a massive gamble, but when Mistress Zoey had approached me with her request I'd had a feeling there would be some spectacular chemistry between them and I was not disappointed. It had been a good day, and after enticing the girl to stay on it was now turning out to be a great day.

Sure, she didn't like the whole girl-on-girl thing much, but that part of the interview could easily be omitted. What mattered was that I had her for another entire shoot - had them both, in fact. Even in this profession, it wasn't often you got to tie up and violate a sexy co-worker on camera. Technically Felicity would be in the dominant role for this session, but she would undoubtedly need my expertise throughout the shoot.

It was time for a change of scene, first. The concrete-dungeon aesthetic had an appealing claustrophobic quality to it, but there were plenty of other studios in the premises just waiting to be put to use. Some of them would currently be occupied, of course, but I seem to recall the cowshed set being free...