We are new to Literotica but have published our stories on other sites which now seem to be dead or have serious technical issues. Perhaps some of you have seen our stories there. Now we have decided to publish here for new readers. We appreciate any feedback.
The two main characters in this story describe us very well. As we wrote, these characters became more and more ‘us,’ until we started referring to them in the first person when she and I talked about our characters and what we wrote. Our style of writing is different from most. In this story my co-author wrote the first part of each chapter and I responded in the second part. There was no overall outline or plan, just an idea, and then each of us responded to what the other wrote. We created our story on the fly so to speak and we believe it turned out well.
Chapter 1
I love vanilla wafers. And prefer vanilla tart flavored froyo at Yogurtdreams. But my vanilla social life was not working, and I was becoming more and more desperate and testy about it.
If had been up to my parents, vanilla would have been my flavor of choice. Both were born in Asia and their expectations of their only child were drummed into my head early in life. High grades were the priority. I was not allowed to date in high school; their idea of being “understanding” was to allow a Caucasian girl to visit our home to study for a common class.
Many times I asked, no, begged to go to a football game, or to skip my piano lesson just once to see a movie with friends. The answer was always the same: study, study, study. 4 point oh. Only those activities that served to build up my college app were allowed.
And this would have been the only life I would have known, had I not happened to take a somewhat different walk home from school one day. A boy asked to treat me to a frap at Starbucks, and so I got approval to stay after school for “extra chem practice.”
We walked along Colorado Blvd, past a used book store. There was a rack outside and I merely glanced at it, noting the paperbacks that were displayed. I almost stumbled, trying to hide my surprise and shock. On the cover was a picture, actually art, of a girl, nearly naked, kneeling on the ground. But what really startled me was that she had a collar around her neck, and a long metal chain trailing behind her.
I could not stop at that moment, nor draw attention to myself and let Jeremy know what had caused me to stumble. Throughout the treat at Starbucks, my mind was back at the bookstore. I had already agreed to let him walk me close to home, certainly not home, and I was calculating if I could pretend to depart towards my house and then double back.
It was already 4:30, so I had to go directly home, or face an inquisition that I might not have survived. I was totally unable to lie and deceive my parents. They seemed to see through me as though I was transparent.
Throughout the night and school the next day, I knew I had to return to the bookstore. I skipped lunch, to save the money for the book, and literally ran to the store, praying that the book was still there, and that I could purchase it quickly and not be home too late.
What a relief! There it was. There she was! The book was entitled Captive of Gor, and since readers may not know of this place, I will not diverge too deeply. It is a fantasy world, not about guts and blood, not that kind of gore, but Gor, a sci fi planet where women are slaves.
That night, under my covers, I read about this girl from earth that was taken to Gor and there her dreams and fantasies were fulfilled. She was collared, branded, pierced and enslaved. Lucky girl, because for me, though I eventually read many books of the series, my dreams and fantasies were not being realized.
My parents would not allow any socializing with guys in high school. I must have been the only girl on campus without pierced ears. Masturbation was my only escape. You think I should have rebelled. Well, then you just do not know how it is to be an Asian girl with strict parents.
I got into UCLA, which for my parents was a deep disappointment. It was not about grades, but about extracurricular activities, I think. I had nothing to enrich my application and Asians with 4.0 GPA’s are a dime a dozen.
I did rebel slightly at UCLA. My first day, I walked into the village and got my ears pierced; the second day my belly button. Needless to say, my parents were horrified, but they got used to it.
Yes, I did date, but I could not bring myself to yield to temptation and toss my virginity away like a used tampon.
And then my desires and needs and fantasies got the best of me. I often checked out the LA Weekly, a free paper that told of Los Angeles entertainment and included a few ads about fetish clubs and other bondage-related locations. What caught my eye was an ad for a fetish model.
I knew I could not afford all the bondage paraphernalia that excited me on my meager allowance. I loved the various gags and leather and metal bondage gear that I saw flashing by on my Tumblr, and it occurred to me that I could at least ask about this photo opp. I was too short at 5’4″ to be a real model, but if I could somehow have a secret part time job, with the guarantee that my face would not be shown completely, well that would be the best of all worlds. The location on Sunset Blvd in Hollywood was not far from campus and while I would not venture there at night, in broad daylight, it had to be safe.
So Tuesday after my last class, I caught a bus from campus and after one transfer, arrived at the location. I had called ahead, asking about the job, and made a reservation for an interview. I could not ask a friend to come along, so I admit, I was a little scared and yet, I was in control and if it seemed unsafe, I would get out of there in a flash.
~~~~*
I was all ready for this round of interviews and had a little time to just sit and reflect. How times had changed. Then again maybe not times but I sure had. I looked back and remembered how being the “nice guy” was responsible for some really bad relationships. How was I supposed to know that many women either took advantage of that or ignored you altogether and went after that bad boy? Maybe I should take some solace that in doing so they wound up with a lot of heartache. But some of them were later my own friends and family and I felt sorry for them. That might have been partially what sent me on my quest to learn about abused women, why they stayed in those relationships, and about submissive women and above all both their differences and similarities.
I read recently on Facebook a post from a young friend. “Bad boys ain’t no good but good boys ain’t no fun.” Unfortunately both are mostly true. Mostly.
I had a few of the worst relationships because of being one of those nice guys, then I went into exploration mode. I did make up for some of my lost time trying to develop and learn about my wild side. After a few very interesting encounters, I found out some things about myself though. That I loved learning about and sometimes fulfilling a woman’s fantasies. I did research about the subject and learned a LOT. Case in point. I met one woman on a telephone chat line whose fantasy was to “have her virgin ass fucked.” I obliged. One of my fondest memories. And in a few more memorable trysts, I also met a woman that needed to be spanked to cum. Another that wanted to be tied to the bed. One that wanted to be choked. Whoa… that one kinda freaked me out and still doesn’t really interest me. Oh and yes… a woman that could cum just by roughly grabbing her by the shoulders and cum even harder if you pushed her up against a wall. Yes. I had been really naive. But there was one brief encounter with a Chinese woman that really started my total fascination with Asian women.
Not long after that, the internet came to my rescue. Still naive though, I was browsing the chat rooms and came upon one called “Rapesex.” I was a little confused and entered it to lurk and learn. After a while I sent a Hello to one woman who changed the course of my life forever. She explained her rape fantasy as not really wanting to be harmed but having someone take complete control. To feel helpless. That led to an online, then phone, then a real life romance all in the roles of Master and slave. And though the relationship only lasted a couple years, it had brought out a fascination in me that opened up so many new doors. Let’s just say I learned a lot from that point on. I had no idea before her just how common rape fantasies were in women.
Though I am still too nice probably, with a lot of research and experience behind me I have brought out a side of me that women seem to like. The Dominant, the Master, and what better way to meet new women than by turning my newfound wisdom and skills into fulfilling my own fantasies, as a fetish and bondage photographer and sometimes director of course.
Being the nice guy though did help me in several ways. Women found me non-threatening. It was easy to talk them out of their clothes or just be around my bi and lesbian female friends when they were “busy” with other women. But I soon learned that plain old vanilla sex held no interest for me anymore. Intercourse was boring. If there wasn’t some fetish, bondage, or risqué element to it, then why bother. It was just not exciting.
I guess this is what sent me down this road. The thrill of naked or nearly naked women in leather and steel. Bound, helpless, and in a deep state of desire even when it appeared it was all against their will. They craved being used in so many ways.
I had taken hundreds of pictures of my female friends in the past, so, when I retired, I accumulated all the props for my dungeon. Oops, I mean studio of course. Everything needed to take extremely believable bondage and fetish photos and videos when needed.
Being retired, this is more a hobby than extra income. I would be doing it even if I never sold a picture. Just the same, real bondage shots are very desirable. It’s easy to find beautiful models that will dress up in latex or leather and smile. Sorry but that is totally boring and way too common. What I specialize in is the total bondage package and more important seeing fear in the girl’s eyes and capturing it with the camera.
Most experienced models are just there for the pay. Their mind is a million miles away and it shows. These never get past my interview. There are others that are curious but only superficial. No commitment when pressed. There are a few that have that inner total sub desire. They can’t help it. It’s what they are. These make good bondage models but I was still looking for something even deeper.
Breaking from my reverie I started thinking about the interviews. I scheduled six of them over a six hour period. Some might last fifteen minutes. Conversely, ones that showed promise would get a much more intensive interview and take considerably longer. All part of the biz.
I had two release forms, though the second was more of a contract. The first covered the interview and sufficed also as the application. The second was for anything and everything that could and would happen if the suitable model signed up. There was enough fine print and legalese that most women would just sign and might regret later. I hadn’t had to use those options yet but I had not yet found the woman I wanted to push to her limits.
The first applicant had some modeling experience. But she was typical. She wanted high dollars and had the totally wrong attitude. I dismissed her rather quickly with the obligatory, “Don’t call us, we’ll call you” though with a bit more subtlety. Next.
The next was a very experienced fetish model. Definitely not what I wanted. Though good ones were rare, they were again just pretty faces that wanted to show off in fetish wear.
I was getting frustrated and bored. Though a couple of them showed promise, it was one of those days when I was just really particular. A different day, perhaps different results. Then the last of my interviewees walked in.
I tried not to be stunned at her looks and to focus. I had my own idea of perfection of course even though never expecting it to materialize in an interview. I had to get my composure now though. A Master must always be in control of himself, the first and most important rule. Physically she was perfect. My preference has always been slender and/or tiny women. 5′ 5″ tops and as tiny as 4’8″. Give or take, dependent on other factors. Height proportionate to weight of course. Huge breasts and big bottoms hold no interest for me. Tiny women just looked more vulnerable and submissive. An Amazon just didn’t fill the bill. But physical traits are only a part of the submissive look.
What she was wearing showed a lot of skin. A good sign. She was also adorned in “fuck me” hoop earrings. A subliminal message that told what she wanted, even if she didn’t know it.
I am good at reading women. It comes with experience. There are small signs. The way she looked at me then lowered her eyes. The way she postured herself when she was standing and sitting. I could tell. Though she kept her legs closed, subconsciously she really wanted to spread them, even though she may not have even been aware of that. This would be confirmed when she left by a dampness on her chair. I decided to throw most of my caution to the winds and see what she could handle. Nothing ventured, nothing gained as they say. And nothing lost if she bolted for the door. I changed to my most authoritative voice and asked her for her resume. I anticipated and was glad there was no modeling experience at all.
“Tell me. Why are you here?”
That question would catch the right women off guard. If they came back with a canned retort, they were not acceptable. Bye bye.
The opposite of most interviews, the lowering of eyes, the hesitation and quivering of voice was the more acceptable response. I hardened my voice. “Why are you here? Must I repeat myself?”
Even at this juncture some women would bolt. All part of the screening process. Then she said, “I am not sure, Sir”.
“Good”, I responded. “An honest answer.” This was a simple but a first and important test.
“Before we go any farther, are you 18 and do you have proof?” She acknowledged affirmatively as I expected though with Asians it was hard to tell sometimes. Yes, she was Asian and already feeding my hidden fantasies and hopes. Her ID said she was 20 years old. No doubt a local college girl. Jennifer Hu.
“Read the form. This is only for the interview. I will ask you to do things that will help me decide whether you are what I need for this and future photo shoots. If at any time you feel they are too much, you can leave immediately, but the process is then over and you cannot come back. Understood? If you agree though, you can sign the application. There is another and more detailed form if you decide to sign with me for a rather lucrative contract. Do you understand?” She nodded in agreement.
“Good. I have questions for you and I expect you have some of me. All must be answered and agreed upon before any contract between us.”
Such concerns for the details were, of course, only meant to allay her fears and get her to agree and sign. This was always the tricky part. Her first question and obvious fear was for her anonymity. That was understandable, though she did not know of course, that the cameras were already rolling. I explained to her that there were ways of hiding her identity with masks, hoods, makeup and camera angles or photo shop, though the pay was less if her face could not be shown. She accepted that but what I read between the lines was that money was not what brought her here. Also a good sign. But all this was a ploy. What good is a bondage model if you can’t see the fear in her eyes, feigned or real? Minor point.
“Look around you at the pictures on the walls. You can see various types of fetish modeling. From women in fetish wear to the more hard core bondage pictures. What I am looking for could be classified as an actress as well as a model but I want her reactions to the bondage situations to be more real than just acted.”
I stood up and pointed to a large picture on the wall of a woman chained and her mouth spread open with a wire apparatus. The look of fear in her eyes was all too real. “This is what I want to see. And this one.” Again I pointed to another photo enlarged to poster size. It was a woman cuffed, collared and shackled in shiny steel, and chained with her knees and legs wide spread to show her open shaved cunt and her engorged clit. Next to this was an extreme close up of those intimate parts of the same girl.
I knew I had her attention. Her eyes were wide in half shock and half something else.
“Have I scared you away, yet?”
I could see her body slightly tremble but she could not take her eyes away from the pictures yet. Hesitantly she shook her head no.
“Good,” I said. “But saying this is one thing. You must be ready to commit and know what you are getting into. Meaning the willingness to be naked and posed like you see in front of you, at my whim with any and all types of bondage equipment. You must follow my orders completely. My camera will capture everything.”
At that point I was standing next to another wall poster of a woman being fucked by two dildos attached to a machine. Ass and pussy both filled. It was very easy to tell by the face in the picture that the woman was being forced to orgasm and she was rubbing her own clit to make it happen faster. I could see her staring at it. All as planned.
“At this point, if you are still interested I want you to fill out the application and give me your driver’s license so I can make a copy for age verification. So far I am pleased with your candor and reactions. I will quickly review your application and decide if I should give you one further test before letting you go and making my decision among the applicants. You are one of six.” I wanted to instill in her mind before she filled out the application that there was competition. While she filled it out, I copied her driver’s license and left the room so I could observe her through a one way mirror while she was alone.
I watched her as she read the different parts of the application form. Besides the mundane of height, weight, measurements, there was a section of types of pictures the applicant was willing to allow. They started with bikini, lingerie, nudity, and led to bondage, interaction with toys, women, men and of course allowing full face exposure. I knew this section would be her hardest and she may have questions. I walked back into the room just as I saw she was about to finish. I asked her if she had any questions before finishing the application.
“Yes. A few things, sir. If I don’t agree to my face being photographed, will that exclude me from being chosen?”
I said, “No. Though definitely preferable, we can still work with that. This is an application. Not a contract. All things will be considered in comparison with you and the other applicants. If they are willing to do more then you may be at some disadvantage. Next question.”
“You have here ‘interaction’ with toys, women and men. Are you talking real penetration with toys and real sex with men and women?”
“Good question.” I responded. “At first probably just the presence of each and alluding to more. No doubt penetration by toys will be common in the future. Sexual situations with women and men may be required at times for some special projects but that is not what I am looking for right now. Why? Is this a problem? You are not a virgin are you?”
Her silence was confirmation. “Oh, I understand. Then let’s say that there is much money to be made even in non-penetration photographs. When and if you are willing to have that tiny bit of skin shredded and you are willing to have it done on camera… there will be a sizable bonus.”
She quickly finished the application and handed it to me with shaking hands. I scanned it briefly, already knowing pretty much what it said.
“Now, for you there is one more phase of the interview, and I will let you know that only two others so far have come to this point. I want to see how well you react and respond to my directions and commands which is really what bondage is all about. Dominance and submission. Right now there is no camera (a lie of course). But you will have to believe you are a slave and completely submissive. My slave, for this role. You will address me as Master. Understood?”
“Yes, Master”
“Good. Remember you can walk out the door at anytime but I am hoping that you will not. There is more to why you are here than you may as yet realize. Are we clear?”
Again she lowered her eyes and meekly agreed with another, “Yes Master.” I couldn’t help get my hopes up a little.
“Obviously from the pictures you can see a lot of what will be expected of you. You will need to be both trusting and obedient. Let’s just dress you up a bit to give you the feel of your role as a fetish and bondage model. No nudity necessary until you are being photographed and paid, of course.”
I saw her breathe a small sigh of relief. I didn’t want to push her too hard at first. I already had more interest in her than just a new model for my camera. But time would tell if she was ‘the one’.
I reached into a drawer in my desk and handed her a box. “Take this into the dressing room and return wearing it. You should also find a pair of shoes there that will fit. This will help you feel your part as the submissive or captive.”
I admit that with other women in the past, I was often much more direct. I knew with them it was a combination of reasons. Not really caring whether they stayed or left, or perhaps reading them that they were ready for most anything to get the job. The one thing I had learned by now was that many women would do more things with, for and in front of a total stranger than with people that they knew. That was part of the excitement for many, because they also felt more free and anonymous. Both could have dangerous consequences of course. With this girl though I would go a bit slower since she was already nervous and I really did not want to scare her away.
“Oh, one more thing. Do not wear your underwear under this outfit. For one it would not look right at all. But more important is that I want you to feel naughty about being bare under it. Don’t worry. It will cover you completely.”
I opened the door to the hall and pointed to another door marked ‘dressing room’ on the left. As she entered it, I closed the hall door again, then swung a full length mirror away from the wall which revealed the opposite side of the one way mirror in the dressing room where she now stood. Though I could easily watch the video later, and would, there is nothing like being the voyeur to live action.
I watched her open the box. At first her jaw dropped and she shook her head slightly but her eyes were transfixed on the garment. She felt the soft leather and saw the shiny buckles. I knew she would not be able to resist at least trying it on.
The outfit was the finest leather, soft and smooth, a very short mini-skirt and matching top. But what set it off was the amount of skin it showed. The front of the top was all buckles showing a generous about of cleavage. In fact top to bottom but covering most of her breasts from the other sides. The skirt had matching buckles on the side from the top nearly to the bottom. Lots of flesh exposed but still much more covered than many club outfits. It was very hot and sexy.
With a deep sigh she removed her clothes and donned the garment. That of course did not mean the she would have the nerve to come back out to me wearing it. I noticed she had a small landing strip of hair above her otherwise smooth pussy. Cute but it would have to go.
I watched her dress only inches in front of me. Inspecting her new look from every angle. There was a look of mischief in her eyes. She tried to tug on the skirt, to lower it slightly, but it barely budged. After a few attempts, she gave up with a shrug of her shoulders.
I had this outfit made long ago but never found the right girl or one of the right measurements to wear it. Maybe this was a sign. She looked at the selection of shoes for something that matched. All were about 5 inch heels of course. I was surprised she seemed to handle the heels quite well. Either she had worn similar spikes in the past, or she had very good natural balance.
Another deep sigh breath and she reached for the door. I had just enough time to close my side of the mirror and retreat to my desk.
She entered the room and stood in front of me with downcast eyes. I got up and approached her then put my finger under her chin and raising her gaze to mine. I held that for a few long seconds then slowly walked around her, drinking in every inch. As I re-entered her field of view, I finally spoke.
“Beautiful. Leather suits you well. It goes perfectly with your skin tone and the color of your hair and the outfit looks like it was custom made for your body.” It really did.
“Thank you, Master.”
“A while ago when you were looking at the pictures on the wall, I think there were a few that caught your attention and maybe one in particular. Tell me which one that was.”
“So many but maybe this one, Master.”
I was enjoying hearing her address me that way and it seemed to be so easy for her to fall into that role. She had the true inner slave that I wanted, at least in her fantasies. But could she handle it in reality? I knew I had to put her to the test, but I was in no hurry.
She pointed to the one of the girl in steel. Wrists, ankles and collar. The picture of a slave. I was not surprised.
“Ahhh, yes. Very good. Now. Would you like to feel what it is like to wear such ornaments? There will be no chains yet. That will come later. You must learn to trust me completely before that.”
Her eyes lit up and she nodded.
I produced the same steel cuffs, shackles and collar that she had seen in the pictures. There was a ring on each cuff and the collar for attaching chains. The key was similar to an Allen wrench that slid into a hole in the edge of each cuff. I took my time putting them on her with a combination of light touching and then locking them into place. The tactile sensitivity and response of her body to my touch was more than I had hoped for. She could not hide her whimpers, a sound that I much loved and found rare in today’s women. When I spoke to her my lips were so close to her ear that she could feel my breath.
“Look into that mirror now and see how much more beautiful you are in your collar than you have ever been before.” I saw her eyes transfixed at what she saw. A different woman staring back than the one that entered only minutes ago. “Look at yourself. Then look at all the other pictures on the wall and imagine yourself in these positions.”
I watched her and could see the excitement in her eyes. I noticed she closed her legs and rubbed her upper thighs together. I was fairly certain a trickle of her juices was beginning to work its way down her inner thigh from her bare pussy under the leather skirt. I wanted her to know that I had noticed. I put my hands on her shoulders and turned her toward me.
“Excellent. I can see how all this is affecting you.”
Then she realized what I meant and dropped her eyes again, embarrassed almost to the point of humiliation.
“No. This is a very good thing.” I slowly reached down, very slowly so not to scare her off, and just inserted two fingers slightly below the skirt hemline, touching only the skirt at first. I felt her shiver, and paused.
“Look at me, straight in the eyes,” and when she did I continued, touching her skin and feeling the moisture. Her eyes began to water, but she did not move, and I wiped my fingers along her thigh. I brought them out and held them between our faces. I then touched one finger to my lips and then one to her own lips. “This is exactly what I want. A girl that feels excitement at the very thought of being bound and photographed as well.”
I handed her a tissue and she turned her back to me briefly. When she turned back, I held out my hand for the tissue. She was mortified as I took it and laid it on my desk.
Changing the subject to distract her I said, “You seem so comfortable with the steel. Would you like to wear them home? I will give you the key to remove them later and return tomorrow. I usually don’t give any clues to how well an applicant has done but I will assure you that I am pleased. I will say you are in the top 2 at this time.”
I waited. Forcing her to make the decision.
“Yes, Master. I would like that.”
“Go back to the dressing room and change then and I will check my book for tomorrow’s appointment.”
Again I watched her as she looked long and amazed at her image in the mirror till it seemed, reluctantly she removed the garment and returned.
“The reason I want you to wear the cuffs and collar home is so you can feel them, get used to them, even sleep in them. Feel your role as a slave girl. I am trusting you to come back, of course. Dominance and submission is all about complete trust. Even as a paid model, the bond between you and your photographer is important. If your trust is complete you will be far more believable, and you will be a huge success. The world of Dominance and Submission can seep into you, though. Down deep. Especially for those who are seeking something different. Something, shall we say, less vanilla in their lives.”
I saw that flash of recognition in her eyes. I knew I had hit on something important to her.
“Here, let me show you how the cuffs unlock,” and I showed her how the key worked in the locks of the cuffs. What I didn’t tell her was that the collar needed a different key.
“I want you to go home wearing your new adornments. It’s dark outside now and few will see. But here is a light windbreaker that will hide your wrists cuffs and most of your collar. At least wear those home. If you do wish to take off the ankle cuffs then you can, but I hope you don’t. Master and slave relationships are all about doing things your Master wants just to please him. A Master may push your limits, but you will find that you will love that. Wearing steel in public is a very minor thing. I am betting that it gets your juices flowing even more. Am I right?”
“Yes, Master,” she quietly replied.
“Come back tomorrow at the same time for a second interview and I will make my decision then.” All business now I wanted her to still feel the pressure of competition. In reality, so far, she was exactly what I wanted.
“Yes, Master”.
As I watched her leave I thought to myself, the very fact that at this point she remembered the correct response or better yet, it felt natural to her to say it, spoke volumes. My hopes were at a peak. Time would tell.