The first stage of my plan for Fleur had come to completion, which left me quite satisfied. It was annoying that I needed to stay away from her for a while, until she could process the guilt and the pleasure she felt at the moment of her capitulation. The fact that her husband, rendered temporarily impotent with a select potion regiment, would be unable to touch her made things even easier. Even better, he needed to travel a lot due to his job, leaving Fleur at home, alone.
There would be no goodbye sex for him, not with his wife still filled with my seed.
Still, with Fleur left to wallow in her mind, I needed something else to do. Or someone, I corrected myself a second later. After all, my favorite bushy-haired bookworm was perfectly available. I wrapped my cloak around and apparated to the attic of Grimmauld Place once more. Kreacher appeared with a crack instantly, only to bow respectfully without a word. I pulled my head free from the invisibility cloak and gave him a nod in appreciation before continuing my trek downward. Kreacher was a nasty critter towards the people he hated, and extremely helpful to people he respected, no matter how morally dubious their actions. A perfect elf for a family like Blacks.
It was late in the night, which was why I was surprised when I saw the Golden Trio in the living room, having a massive row. Admittedly, I should have expected it. By removing the amulet from Mungundus' hold, I had destroyed the only clue they had to find a Horcrux, leaving them more directionless than a headless chicken. And the fact that Hermione, who usually took the lead as the voice reason and understanding, was frazzled with the magically-enhanced arousal she was suffering didn't help any. Especially since she couldn't even think to resolve it with Potter or Weasley. A delicious situation all around.
The fight lasted almost for an hour, which I listened attentively despite feeling bored. It ended, not because they managed to resolve it, but when Hermione threw her hands up in frustration and walked back to her room, leaving the boys to their own devices. They continued their fight, but I couldn't care less about their argument, so I followed Hermione, managing to slip inside her room before she locked the door.
It was a treat to watch her undress, each little motion filled with anger and frustration, the clothes flying off her, more than one piece torn. But she didn't show the slightest concern, instead, throwing herself to her bed back first, her legs already parted open. One of her hands found her tits, mauling mercilessly, the other teasing the circle around her clit, and soon, her cries rose unbidden. It was a beautiful sight, so I just watched her play with herself until she had one of her fake climaxes. Fake because the curses over her didn't allow for a real climax, keeping her high strung despite the waves of pleasure that spread through her body. The only exception was her dreams, influenced by my spell, starring only me as the main role. I was curious how she would react in our first real-world encounter.
Unfortunately, I had another pseudo-dream for tonight's entertainment. I waited until she started to tremble in a rough climax, only to nail her with an underpowered stunner, followed by a confundus to make her believe it was just a dream. A few carefully curated spells, and the room was radically different. She was still lying in the bed, but this time, it was larger, with four posters, and green silk curtains. The room was interlaced with the illusion of another, thematically like Slytherin common room, only more opulent, with transparent silk curtains and flickering lights. But those didn't compare to the fact that her arms and legs were tied down with silk ropes, again green and silver, charmed to prevent any bruising in case she struggled.
Only after making sure that there were no signs remained that might clue her that we were still her room, I removed my invisibility cloak and enervated her. Her eyes fluttered open, only to grow in shock. "You're finally awake, Miss Granger," I whispered in an erotic, inviting tone. I know it worked, because she shivered with each word, overcome with the pleasure. I was glad to see that my scheme was working even better than I had hoped.
"Malfoy," she said angrily, or at least in a manner she intended to come across as angry, but with her arousal added, it was more like a second-rate actress, trying to feign anger. It was interesting to see that even in her dream, or what she thought as a dream, she was still trying to deny the attraction that was clawing her heart. "What are you doing here?"
"Why, Miss Granger, don't you remember. You've been captured, and I decided to take you as my reward." As I spoke, I walked towards her, standing above her as the last words left my mouth. I let my gaze trail her body, drinking her naked deliciousness. It was an amazing sight, her toned body, bathed in the flickering lights of the room. Truly delicious.
"Go to hell, Malfoy," she spat, her anger momentarily overcoming her arousal in my dismissive attitude. It didn't annoy me, it just excited me more. After all, she wouldn't be fun if she folded under the slightest bit of pressure.
"Gladly, my dear," I answered, dragging my finger gently over her cheek until it touched the edge of her lips, then pulled away, watching as her mouth opened reflexively, her tongue darting out for a moment, begging for a kiss.
"So be it, you bastard!" she exclaimed. "Do whatever you want." It would have been a good ultimatum, the pure princess declaring that she was above the bodily concerns, pitying the villain. But that effect was spoiled by a few small details. First, her mouth was forced open by her quickened breathing, trying to cool down her arousal. The second was her eyes, filled with desire, examining my body like she was trying to devour my body. The last, and the most damning was her core, shining wet under the arousal.
"You misunderstand me, Miss Granger, I will not do anything," I said, and her expression crushed like a child that learned the Santa wasn't real. "Anything you don't allow me beforehand," I corrected my statement, and arousal returned to her body, this time a dash of guilt with it. Even in a situation she thought as a dream, consenting to my attention was a heart-wrenching decision for her.
I decided to make the decision easier for her. I put my finger on her neck, slowly dragging down, passing the valley between her delicious breasts without any detour towards her peaks. "You didn't ask permission for that," she said vindictively, inordinately glad that she had caught such a small detail.
"Apologies," I answered with an overdone modest voice. "Should I go away and leave you alone," I said, standing up, readying myself to leave her alone. It wasn't a bluff either, if she said go away, I would have gone away. After all, I still had Narcissa to fulfill my needs, unlike her, who will continue to burn with arousal. But as I expected, no answer came other than a deep blush, and I sat down next to her once more, continuing my trek from where I left off. I traced her belly, drawing large, lazy circles around her navels before moving onto her thighs. The whimper that rose unbidden from her lips as I skipped her slit, but she was still above begging.
She had managed to stay above begging for five more minutes as I focused on her inner thighs, making passes closer and closer to her nether lips, but never touching. "Please," she murmured at last, or it would be more accurate to say she moaned, but somehow managed to pack an actual word into her wordless gasp of desperation.
"Please, what?" I said, looking at her with a smug smile. "I am not sure what you are expecting of me, Miss Granger, but I can't read your mind. I'm afraid you need to be clearer."
She looked at me, undecided for a while before her expression shifting serious. "Please," she whispered. "Please make me cum."
"My pleasure, Miss Granger," I answered and my hand did another pass over her inner thigh, but this time, it took a detour and grazed her nether lips. The cry of pleasure that left her mouth was nothing less than a small miracle. My fingers danced around her clit, and she cried, each echo boosting my own pleasure deeper. Like with Fleur, I wanted to dismiss all of my plans, focusing solely on the pleasure of assaulting her mercilessly, only the memory of my enjoyment as I took Fleur over her husband's sleeping body kept me back. Just like that, I wanted to wait until she was ready to surrender to me bodily, unaware that I had no intention to be satisfied with nothing less than the possession of her soul.
However, this didn't mean I wasn't entitled for a taste. I pulled my hand, only to earn a disappointed yelp, but I was already in my new position between her legs, enough to smell her musky arousal. "Malfoy, what are you doing-ggg," she started asking, only for her words to devolve into an intelligible mess with a touch of my tongue, proving how backed up she was. I almost felt bad for her. Almost.
Instead, my heart was filled with a dark joy as she tried her best to destroy her bindings, but no word of protest about her treatment reached her lips. Still, my enjoyment was short-lived, as shortly after the start, her body started bucking, her arousal flowing free around my tongue. She was more than ready for the next stage of my attention, I decided as I righted myself, only to see her collapsed unconscious, a serene expression on her face.
"God damn it," I murmured as I started the mission of dispelling my surroundings until only thing remained was her naked figure, lying in her bed. I could have enervated her, but decided otherwise. After all, we had more than enough time together, and I could make her pay for this insolence, however involuntarily, the next time.
The next day, I found myself having little to do. There was still a few days for school to start, allowing me to have some real progress in my plans without Voldemort's attention. Even with the Snape and the other Death Eaters, the school was a vast, unbounded place, and there was little limit of my actions, especially in the Slytherin Dorm, where the teacher presence was non-existent for all intents and purposes.
Then I remembered one beautiful detail. Hermione and Fleur might have been out, but there was still Narcissa to have some fun with. And fun, I was going to have, I decided as I walked towards her room. I was half-surprised not to catch her masturbating in her bed, as it was getting exceedingly common as each passing day removed a bit more of her sense of shame.
"Draco," she purred in satisfaction. "I wasn't expecting for you to visit today."
"Do I need a permit to visit my beautiful mother," I answered, watching in satisfaction as she blushed under the compliment. It was nice to see the words carrying a weight even after all those encounters. Even more welcome was the way she reached her robe, loosening it already. "No need to hurry up, mother," I said, placing my hand over hers, halting her movement. "I realized that we are spending most of our time in a certain kind of way." She blushed, as it wasn't really hard to deduce I was referring to the mind-blowing sex we were having. But with it, came a bit of fear, one I was happy to see. "So I decided we are going to have an outdoor date, complete with a shopping expedition."
"But…" she murmured, only fall silent, her face thick red. I could have completed the sentence but chose not to, watching her wallow in her shyness, trying to utter the sentence. It was puzzling to me how she could feel shy speaking about the things we were doing while she was more than happy to do in bed, but it didn't prevent me from enjoying the struggle on her face. "But, we won't be able to be intimate," she managed to say at the end.
"No worries," I said, dragging my hand over her face. "After all, we're going out for the muggle London, and I'm sure we won't meet anyone that knows us."
"But they are filthy barbarians," she answered automatically, an expression of revulsion on her face.
"Come on, mother. Have you ever been to Muggle London."
"Once," she murmured. "But everywhere was so noisy and crowded, I was only able to stand for it for a few minutes."
I chuckled. "Don't worry, the place I'm going to bring you will be better." She nodded, and I raised my wand, transfiguring her robe into a modest blouse and a medium length skirt, shifting my clothing alongside with hers. She checked herself in the mirror, clearly unsatisfied. To be fair, it wasn't my best work, as there was no real need for it as well, considering our initial target. "Don't worry about your clothing, our first stop is a department store where we'll find something much sexier to you," I said, caressing her leg for emphasis. Then, before she could say anything else, I grabbed her hand and apparated us to a side street near the city center. I had no fear of being noticed by muggles, because I had already set up a small bubble there in a previous visit, reinforced by defensive wards and notice-me-not charms.
"What do you think," I asked her as we walked through the streets, not really crowded since it was still working hours.
"It's better than my previous visit," she murmured in fascination. "The buildings are much taller, and everything looks nicer." She looked at the surroundings, her attention caught by the dresses on the store windows. "Such colorful dresses," she murmured. Her fascination with the dresses was understandable. While somehow the muggle fashion for underwear had permeated to the magical world, the same couldn't be said for the dresses. Ugly robes still reigned supreme. A disgrace, in my opinion, as the magical world had so many spectacular women, that it was a crime to hide them from the sight.
"It's nice to see you enjoy it, mother," I said even as I sneaked my hand around her waist, pulling her tight, noting the way she happily merged to my body, showing that she had lost even the slightest concern about our prolonged intimacy. It was good because it meant that I could push her even further.
Wordless, we walked through the upscale streets of London, affluent stores and people flowing on both sides, until we came to a stop in front of a store that displayed a range of evening dresses on its windows. None of them sported any price tag, but I knew that even the cheapest one cost in four figures. A sum that would be a concern for the most cases, especially with the exorbitant conversion ratio between galleon and pound. But I found a good solution. A nighttime visit to Latin America, to the compound of a mid-level drug lord, invisible. A few careful applications of the Imperius and I was richer by ten million, and an overpowered obliviate ensured that there was no sign of my presence.
Normally, using that money would be a huge problem, considering I had no income in the muggle side to explain the money. But, goblins were always ready to assist me in that kind of issues, for a hefty fee of forty percent. A different kind of robbery for sure, but it was worth it considering it provided me with a perfect paper trail for the money, including establishing a company which I could use for my further investment needs. And currying favor with Goblins through bringing them the additional business was always a welcome detail.
We walked inside the store, and one of the salespeople moved towards us, an obvious distaste in her face, assuming that we were not likely to afford anything based on the state of our clothing. I flashed a card towards her, and she continued her walk, but the expression on her face much more schooled now. An Amex Centurion was almost magical in its presence, after all.
"How can I help you," she said, her enthusiasm boundless now that she was aware of my bottomless pockets, signifying a significant commission.
"We are looking for some cocktail dresses," I answered before Narcissa could even speak.
"Of course, this way please," she said, leading us to the second floor, where a nice waiting room was waiting for us with a comfortable looking sofa and a table piled with light refreshments. I sat down, sipping some sparkling water as Narcissa stepped towards the multitude of dresses that rested on the hangers, each more elaborate than the last. The sales assistant moved with her, and they started a long discussion about the cuts, fabrics, and other aspects of the dresses. I said nothing, content to watch Narcissa switching through a set of dresses, each sexier than the last.
I left them at peace, just occasionally commenting on her choices as she cycled through them, her face bright with excitement, though I picked my comments very carefully. The first dresses she picked was quite conservative, long, flowing skirts, closed backs, almost nonexistent cleavages… In other words, barely better than a robe.
But after select comments, encouraging her to experiment, her choices started to get interesting. Even more interesting was her face, a delicious contradiction of panic, shame, excitement, and arousal, the mixture getting stronger inversely with the amount of skin that was covered by her dress.
Soon, she came to the end of the pile she selected, the ones she chose creating a smaller, yet still sizeable, pile, and during that, I picked some new clothes for myself as well, jeans and a light colored shirt. "They are so beautiful," she murmured in excitement as she looked at the carefully packaged dresses, her imagination running wild.
"They are only beautiful on you, Narcissa," I said as I wrapped my arms around her waist, placing a soft, lingering kiss on her neck, enjoying the way she melted on my arms, halfway there due to all the excitement she built up by trying an increasingly revealing set of clothes. I passed a dress to her and whispered. "Why don't you try this one as well."
"Of course," she answered, and walked to the dressing room before even checking the dress. I watched behind, waiting for her to close the door, fully intending to follow her as soon as I made sure the assistant wasn't around.
Author notes: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Also, just a reminder, you can find my original writing in my P/atreon, Dark Erotica. Also, you can find the first chapter of one of the stories in there, the Photographer. I hope you all enjoy.
It was a weird feeling to look at the new place that was going to be my home for the next year. It was a nice, two-story building, one that would be an achievement to own as a fresh college graduate, even to rent.
Unfortunately, it was only the basement I was able to afford. Sad, but not unexpected. After all, I had chosen my major in visual arts, focusing on photography, willfully ignoring the fact that it was almost impossible to get a well-paying job, or even a job, after graduation. I believed that I had the ability to burst through the unbreakable ceiling, working with the best magazines, spending my nights with models who were desperately trying to get a photo shoot with me…
The reality didn't agree with my generous plans. There were no cushy jobs in top magazines, nor models desperately begging, willing to anything for a favor, and the student loans were crushing. The only luck I had was to find a freelance gig for an online shopping site, and even for that, the pay dwindled into nothing after I subtracted the pay for the models and the rent for the studio.
Which was why I was standing in front of this house. I was lucky enough to come across the ad a few days ago, where I was desperately looking for an affordable place to stay, since I had to leave the dorm. The basement was amazing, completely lacking windows, but with a tall enough ceiling that I could leverage it as a makeshift studio until I could make some money, freeing me from one of the biggest costs, renting a studio for each photo shoot. The landlady wasn't intending to rent it to a male, but a bit of playing the good boy, together with the offer to pay first three months in advance was enough to change her mind.
I even managed to stop myself from flirting with her, which was a veritable challenge. The landlady was a drop-dead gorgeous lady in her early thirties, one of the best bonuses of the place. I pressed the doorbell, and the door opened after a small delay, and the landlady stood on the other side, dressed in comfortable looking, but very conservative, sweatpants. "Stephen, welcome to your new residence," she said in a kind, welcoming voice, inviting me inside with a gesture, though it wasn't hard to catch an underlying reticence in her tone.
I wasn't really surprised to sense the reservation in her tone. She had mentioned me that her husband died a few years ago, and she was living with her daughters. It made sense that she was feeling stressed about a stranger about to reside in their house. Still, she was lucky, as the safety and happiness of the children were sacrosanct to me. I would do my best to protect and assist them. Unfortunately for her, the same protection didn't extend to sexy, voluptuous widows.
I followed her to the living room, my eyes were firmly on her bottom, watching as it shifted enticingly despite her loose pants. I spend a bit of time imagining the treasures that lay underneath, and how long it would take to convince her to reveal those treasures to my eyes. I opened my mouth to ask for whether the basement was ready for me to move in, but only a strangled gasp left my mouth.
I wasn't proud of the noise that I made, but I had a good reason for it. I wasn't expecting for a young woman to walk down the stairs, clad only in her underwear, no matter how conservative, and a pair of fluffy rabbit slippers, her eyes half-closed lazily. Curious, my landlady followed my gaze and looked upstairs, only to start shouting. "Nancy, what the hell are you doing! I told you that we are going to have a guest!"
Nancy's eyes popped open, and a strangled gasp left her mouth. "Mom!" she shouted, the mortification clear in her tone before turning and dashing through the stairs. I knew that it was wrong to look, but knowing its wrongness and actually refraining from watching as she climbed up the stairs was two different things, so I stayed focused on the lithe body that bounced the stairs. I was lucky that my landlady was busy watching her disappear instead of looking towards me. I didn't think that she would have taken well that I was watching her daughter run away.
"I'm so sorry for embarrassing you," she said as she turned towards me, reading the reason for my redness wrong. "It's my fault, I should have reminded her that you were going to arrive today. My oldest is a bit absentminded."
"Not a problem," I answered, but my mind was already on the next issue, trying come up with a nice way of asking. When she had first mentioned having a daughter, I assumed she would be a small child, considering my landlady didn't look a year over thirty, and even that was a stretch. But the girl who called her mother was clearly in her twenties.
She spoke before I could verbalize the question. "She is one of the daughters my late husband had from his first marriage," she explained, resolving the minor mystery. "But the lack of direct blood bond doesn't make her my daughter any less," she added, complete with the threatening gesture. The message was clear. They were under her full protection.
"Understood," I said with a placid smile. She was off-limits, if there was a risk of my landlady being aware, of course. Otherwise, it was the free season. "Is the basement ready? Sooner I set-up there, the better. I already have a shoot that I need to clear until tomorrow, and the model I arranged is going to be here in a couple hours."
She nodded, and I grabbed my luggage once more, trying to ignore their crushing weight. A few minutes later, I was looking at the room that was going to double as my workplace and my residence for a foreseeable future. On the one side, all of my personal effects were piled over a small bed, not that there was many, as I had to sell a lot of my belongings just to raise some capital for the tools of my trade.
I looked proudly to the items that rested on the left side of the room, and an early model camera that was perched over a worn-out tripod, the reflectors with more than one patch to repair the holes left by the careless smoking of the previous owner. Lenses rested in a beaten box, dirty with scratches. Still, I looked at them lovingly, knowing just how lucky I was to get them for less than two grand. They would have cost well above ten thousand if I tried to buy them brand-new.
I left my clothes as a pile, and turned my attention to my studio instead. I wanted everything to be perfect for my first shoot…
I was trying to contain my annoyance as I climbed the stairs, but it was a difficult task when an uppity slut had screwed up most of my plans, just because she remembered that she was supposed to attend a party at the last minute.
It wasn't that she was a unique beauty that was hard to replace. On the contrary, she was sub-par, both in attitude and in beauty. But there was one advantage that was hard to beat, that she was willing to work below the industry standards. It was important, because the job itself wasn't very lucrative. I tried to call a couple other cheap models that I occasionally worked with, but none of them were available for the day, which left me in a bind. I was supposed to finish the three dresses I had today.
Of course, I could always reach for an agency for a model, but their rates were much higher, high enough that I might actually lose money if the process if the shoot was delayed for any reason and I had to keep her for an extra hour.
"You look distracted," I heard my landlady saying. I turned, and saw her in the living room, watching TV.
"A bit," I answered. "My model just canceled on me. I'm trying to arrange a replacement, but with the time crunch, I'm not having much luck." Then, I noticed something important, one I might not have noticed if I wasn't under such a big pressure. Her sizes looked very similar to the model that was supposed to come. I wasn't completely sure with the loose clothing she was wearing, but I was sure enough to risk it. I let her continue talking, trying to come up with a delicate way to breach the topic, one that wouldn't leave me on the curb on the first day of my tenancy.
"Too bad that you couldn't use me as your model, right?" she said with a soft laugh. From her expression, it was obvious to see that it was a self-deprecating joke that wasn't meant to be taken seriously.
But I wasn't an idiot, so I pushed forward. I took a step forward, and let my gaze browse through her body in an obvious manner until she shifted in discomfort. "Actually, I'm not sure about that," I added, using the most professional and calm voice I could muster.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her discomfort taking the backseat for a moment as her curiosity asserted itself.
"You are a tall, beautiful young woman with a well-cared body. I fail to see why you can't be a model."
A blush much thicker than I have expected spread on her face. "But, I can't… It's not proper. And I'm not exactly young anymore"
"It's a job like any other," I said, a bit of passion infecting my voice despite my best effort. "There is no shame involved in modeling."
"I don't know…" she murmured once more, looking like she was about to reject the proposition.
I decided to change the tracks, focusing on the most important detail. She needed money enough to rent her basement to a man she didn't know, for a sum of a few thousand, indicating that she was having severe financial issues. "The pay is two hundred dollars per session," I said.
Her expression changed immediately. "Two hundred for a days' work?"
"Not for a day's work," I added, then continued hurriedly as her enthusiasm seemed to drain. "For two hours, or three hours tops." It was actually a bit more than what I was going to pay for today's model, but still well below what an agency would charge.
"A hundred dollars an hour," she murmured, shocked.
"A hundred that IRS has no idea about its existence," I said.
She looked conflicted, and for a moment, I was sure that she was about to accept, but then she spoke once more. "No, I can't," she said, though the conflict was obvious in her tone.
"You can put on a wig, some make-up, and a bit of careful digital retouching later, I can make sure that no one could identify you," I added, trying to break the most likely cause of her unwillingness. Luckily, there was actually a wig in today's set, because the company was obsessive about the hair color of their model.
"Really, no one?" she murmured, making me smile inwardly with the satisfaction of a perfect hit.
"Sure, let me prove you," I said, turned back and started walking. She followed me and soon we were in the basement.
"It looks nice," she said, her attention grabbed by the changes.
"I did my best," I added even as I reached for the clothes pack that was sent by the company, pulling the wig out. For once, their cheapness was helpful for my needs. They were quite peculiar about the hair color they wanted their clothes matched with, but they were not willing to pay enough to actually find a model that had that color naturally or as a die. "Why don't you put that on and walk just in front of the screen, so I could prove just how different I can make you."
She said nothing, but followed my directions nevertheless, which was the important face. Soon, she was cycling through a few basic poses based on my commands. "Good instincts," I said, impressed. She was quite easy to work with, despite the fact that it was the first time she was posing professionally. Not only she was able to follow the commands correctly after a few tries, she also didn't have the undeserved ego the failed models I usually worked with, wasting half of the shoot with their pointless opinions and bickering. "Now let's see just how different we can make you without destroying your beauty," I added, leaving a big blush on her face. A bit of flattery was never amiss.
I worked on the computer silently for a couple of minutes, mostly applying predefined filters and some broad strokes, prioritizing speed over the quality since it was not a final product but just a conceptual sample. "It's so beautiful and foreign," she murmured when I showed her the picture.
"Just foreign," I said, and her expression started to sour until I uttered my next words. "You are already beautiful, we just changed a few details." And just like I expected, she blushed once more, surprising me with the vulnerability she was showing towards even the simplest components. She must have stayed away from the dating scene for a while to take care of her stepdaughters, or the fact that she had daughters scared a lot of guys, like I expected to share the home with a few brats instead of hot twenty-somethings. "So, are you ready to start?"
"I don't know…" she murmured yet again, but this time, I could see that I was close to victory.
"You know, if they like the poses, there is no reason for us to not to work together for the other shootings as well. I'm sure that the extra revenue of a thousand wouldn't hurt."
"A thousand a month?" she repeated in surprise. "Do you think I can earn that much?"
"I don't see a reason not to, you are young, beautiful, and skilled," I repeated. "Why don't you go and try the clothes on the pack. And as an added perk, I'm sure that I could convince the company to gift them to you, including the make-up set they added to keep the color."
"Really," she said with a clear enthusiasm, making me realize that I should have started on that. Women and clothes, I would never understand it. Ironic, considering what I was making my living off. She picked the clothes and went upstairs, ignoring the small section I separated as a makeshift dressing room.
I turned my attention to the set as I waited for her arrival, conducting one last check on the equipment. I wanted everything to be ready before she came back. More time I spent trying to fix things, more time she would have to change her mind, and I didn't want that to happen. I needed this job to be completed without a hitch.
I raised my gaze as I heard the door open, only to see my landlady dressed in a nice dress, a bit tighter than it should be owing to her generous bosom and voluptuous bottom, but it worked even better like that. I was sure the company wouldn't have any problem. I certainly didn't have any. "It looks perfect," I said.
"Really," she said, doubt clear on her words, but nevertheless climbing down the stairs. "Don't you think it's a bit too tight?"
"Nope," I answered without skipping a beat. "It's just perfect. Now, stand in the middle, and give me a relaxed pose." She complied. "Now raise your hand a bit, and give me a bright smile…"
The next half an hour passed in a similar vein until I was able to gather an appropriate amount of decent pictures, a nice surprise. Even with the best estimation, I was expecting it to last more than an hour for the first set, owing for her lack of experience, but that she adapted much better than I had hoped to. She wasn't suddenly a top-tier model, but her ability to emote and pose was more than enough for the third rate website I was working for. More importantly, she followed my every command without any delay.
"Excellent. You're a natural," I said, breaking the flow. "Why don't you take five minutes to rest, maybe drink some fluids, then we can move onto the dress."
"Really!" she asked, her face bright with excitement, acting more like a teenager. "You're not telling me just to make me feel better, right?"
"Certainly not, Nicole," I said, deciding to take the chance to use her first name, testing the closeness that had inevitably built up during the period where she followed my every order.
"It's a relief," she answered, not commenting on my usage of her first name, instead of walking towards the package that was holding the second dress. "Isn't it a bit on the small side," she murmured, raising the dress over her silhouette.
I certainly agreed. It was much more revealing compared to the other dress, but thankfully, not as much as the one that would come after it. I had a feeling that she would have called off the shoot if she saw the other dress, but my luck held true, and her attention was firmly on the second one instead. She disappeared, holding the dress in her hands, only to appear a few minutes more, wrapped tightly in blue fabric. It fitted even better than I had hoped for, the dress hinting everything while leaving the mystery intact.
"Ready? Go back to the screen," I ordered, already looking through her through the camera. I could see that she wasn't completely sure about the dress, so I decided to push her a little. And to my pleasant surprise, she followed it almost automatically.
I was happy to be holding the camera in a way that would block my face, because it hid the sudden predatory smile that bloomed on my face. I noticed that my landlady was displaying several submissive tendencies, so it was like an unexpected gift. Even better, with still two dresses remaining, I had the perfect excuse to test just how far I could push her.
Still, I did nothing out of the ordinary for the first few minutes, allowing her to come to terms with being recorded while wearing a revealing dress, at least to her sensibilities. But her hesitance drained quickly once she bathed under the reflectors, signaling it was finally the time to push forward with the plan.
"Now, turn your back," I ordered, and she did like she had done several times before. The next part, however, was something new. "Now, lean forward like you were about to pick something from a low table." She followed my command, but decided to bend her knees instead of leaning forward. "Knees straight," my voice rang, sharper, more commanding than the usual.
Her body complied automatically, and she leaned forward, the dress riding up, displaying her milky thighs. I pressed the clicker with the full knowledge that I couldn't use that one for the site, as it was much more suggestive than they would be comfortable for such a dress.
The realization passed through her face a second later and she turned, her expression telling that she was about to complain, but I interjected before she could verbalize her grievance. "Good job, now, stand straight, and look to the side with a smile." And just like that, her argument was stalled as she rushed to her new pose.
"Turn towards me and reach towards the ground, your knees bending a bit," I ordered, and she did so. To her defense, she raised her hand to cover the cleavage that would occur in such move. Until my next order, that was. "Press your finger to your lips like you were surprised," I ordered. She tried to bring the hand she was using for the fake reach, but my voice rang commanding. "Keep your right hand in position," I ordered. It wasn't that I shouted, but my tone brokered no argument, demanding obedience. I had a submissive girlfriend when I was in college, and I knew what would work best in that case.
This time, the panicked expression came before the motion, fully aware that she was going to reveal more than she initially intended, but she did nevertheless. She brought her hand to her lips, leaving her cleavage, which would be quite modest if it wasn't for the peculiarity of the pose, revealing a delicious hint of flesh.
I could have let her go up, in the same way a lion that just caught a deer might let her go. Theoretically possible, but not very likely. "I want a bigger smile from you, but without erasing the surprise."
"How?" she murmured.
"Try to imagine yourself in that pose unwittingly, but try to enjoy the feeling that someone is looking down into your dress, captivated by your amazing breasts."
"But-" she started, only to fade when I let the camera fall down a bit, peering into her eyes, my face stern, without inflection. Without saying anything else, she took the pose once more, her lips tugging with a hesitant imitation of a smile.
"Better," I said with a soft tone, rewarding her for her good behavior. "A smile fits your beautiful face much better than a frown." Her smile trembled for a second, but this time, instead of trying to disappear, it was struggling to expand. A second later, the smile won the impromptu contest, spreading on her face. I took several shots even though it wasn't the pose that I had in mind, there was little reason to associate happiness with punishment. "Now, try to add a little mischievousness in that smile," I gently directed her. "Like you are playing a little joke at me."
She did so, causing my pants to go tighter. There was something innately erotic with that particular pose, one that awakened a desire to taste it without delay. Unfortunately, that was not a possibility, at least, not yet. Still, there was no harm in a bit of a preview. "Bring your arms to the side of your breasts, but keep the position stable otherwise," I ordered, and to my surprise, she did so without hesitation, enhancing the view even further. "Excellent," I added. "Now why don't you stand up once more," I added, letting her pull out from that particular revealing pose. I could have pushed further, of course, but there was little point testing her resistance until the third dress, where the real fun was about to begin.
"That's it for this one as well," I said, calling the session for a close.
"Was it as good as the first one," she asked, her face glowing with excitement.
"Even better," I answered. "You have a real talent for modeling. Now, why don't you change for this," I added, passing the dress to her. "Hurry up, we are a bit restricted for time." It was bullshit, of course, as I have informed her earlier that there was no time crunch. But just as I hoped, with the elation of a well-done job, she missed the contradiction with my earlier statement, just as she missed checking the type of the dress she just picked up.
Fifteen minutes passed, a time that was more than enough to change, leaving me worried that she had a change of mind after seeing the dress. But just as I was about to walk to upstairs, to check whether I could convince her, when the door opened, and her head pointed out from the entrance, rest of her body hidden behind the door. "I don't think this dress is the correct size," she murmured.
"Hard for me to comment without seeing," I said, letting just the right amount of annoyance to slip into my tone. She ducked her head in shame, yet appeared in the doorway. She looked amazing with the small black dress around her body, tight and short enough that even a slutty girl would have thought twice before wearing it to a club, and the fact that the dress was sized for someone less curvy than her made things even better. "Why are you waiting there, come down so I can take a good look of you," I added, watched satisfyingly as she climbed down the stairs, the tightness of the dress failing to hide the way her body trembled with each step.
"It seems perfectly okay for me," I said, trying my best to sound clinical, hoping that my arousal was going to be unnoticed. "Stand in the center, we are starting the shoot in a minute."
"But-" she murmured, her complaint aborted by a glare once more, and she took a relaxed pose in the middle of the room. I started, excitement blossoming in my heart. The time for compliance was getting shorter with each order, making me curious that just how far I could push her. Again, I kept my orders strictly limited to the safe poses for a while, until I decided it was the time.
"It's not working," I said, with a sudden sharp tone. "I can see the line of the underwear. Go and remove your panties."
That comment was more than enough to break her silence. "What?" she murmured in shock.
"You need to remove your panties," I repeated, pointing at the small section I sectioned to change clothes. "We can't use the poses where the lines are caressed." She looked like about to argue, even though my sharp tone had drained the fervor her first comment carried. "Hurry up, we need to finish it in a bit." In actuality, we were already finished, the pictures I took were more than appropriate. The rest was just for my personal enjoyment.
It was a delicious view to see her walking towards the curtain of the changing section. Slow, hesitant, blushing, but walking nevertheless. She disappeared behind the fabric, invisible other than the rustling of the curtain. The blush on her face, and the insistent grasp of her fingers around the skirt was the proof for the absence of her panties. I assumed she left them on the rack. But I decided to risk flying closer to the sun. "Why are you still wearing your bra," I said.
"That needs to go as well?" she questioned, only to receive a stiff, unforgiving nod in response. She ducked her head, but walked behind the screen nonetheless.
She was out once more after another round of fumbling, in a visual that would be enough to trigger arousal in a rock. Her tits squeezed by the tight grasp of the chest area, the lines mysteriously alluding to the treasure underneath, her nipples shouting their presence proudly. "Excellent," I said. "You are an amazing model, Nicole," I said, once again rewarding her for her good behavior. "Why don't you walk back to the set so we can continue our business."
She followed my command, once again without a complaint, cycling through the poses, though in every pause, her hands found the hem of the dress, pulling down obsessively to ensure nothing was revealed. I said nothing to prevent it, because that action had a side effect she failed to notice. With each pull, the dress was getting lower, enhancing the cleavage she was sporting. I decided to use it to the maximum effect. "Remember the pose we took with the last dress, where you lean forward, surprised. Do it."
It was a testament of her obedience instinct that she followed my command without even a blink, one of her hands pointing the ground, the other pressing to her lips in a facsimile of naughty surprise, both arms pressing on the sides of her breasts, when combined with the angle, providing the perfect view for my attention. I was tempted to ask her to pull her dress even lower, but I was afraid that the spell would be broken if I push too hard.
Instead, I decided to use some reverse psychology. "Nicole, pull your dress up a bit, you are displaying too much cleavage for the pose." She looked down, only to blush into a painful red when she realized the extent of flesh she was showing. She tried to rise, but I was ready to prevent it. "Don't break the pose," I ordered. She kept the pose, but grabbed and pulled the dress until the cleavage turned downright modest. Just as I planned, I noted as I took a few more pictures. "Now, the same pose, but turn your back to me."
Distracted by the latest realization, she failed to realize just how shorter the skirt had become when she pulled to overcompensate for the cleavage. With the dress riding upwards, I was treated with the perfect view of her pussy, its shining wetness a good confirmation about her particular inclination of following orders. I took a few quick photos before ordering her to stand up for another, more conservative pose. I would have liked to continue in that pose, of course, but unfortunately, it wasn't worth the risk.
"I think we can call it a day," I said with a smile, noticing a discernible expression of disappointment passing through her face. Another sign that I wasn't the only one that enjoyed the proceedings. "You were an amazing model, Nicole, and an absolute delight to work with." I left the camera fixed on the tripod and took a few steps towards her. "Now why don't you give me a hug, it's traditional."
"If it's traditional," she murmured in reticence, standing passively as I walked towards them. Her arms rose, wrapping tight around my shoulder, and I put mine on the small of her back. I would have preferred to slid it under her skirt to molest her poorly covered bottom, but unfortunately, that wasn't a probability. Instead, I focused on the sensation of her breasts pressing against my chest, barely reduced by the soft fabric of the dress. It was a long hug, one that would be awkward if her hold was any looser, but with the mood she was in, it wasn't hard to guess I wasn't the only one enjoying it.
"Anyway," I said as I unwrapped my arms around her. "I need to process the photos, but we can go over them after the dinner, before I sent them out. Would that work for you?" She nodded. "Also," I asked. "I don't have any time to go out for a dinner. It wouldn't be a bother if I joined you for the dinner, right?" I received another nod, then she turned and climbed upwards. In her distracted state, she had managed to miss the effect it would have when she walked upstairs while wearing a short dress made shorter by her fixing, especially since her panties lay forgotten on my impromptu dressing room.
My new tenancy was going to be more fun than I had initially envisioned, I realized as I watched the amazing view my landlady created.