Sissy Pornstar Pt. 02
I'm sitting on a couch in Roy's studio, my legs spread wide, hands stroking my body as Roy takes photos. He's got a handheld camera, a rotating lens on a tripod, and one camera for overhead shots.
I make love to the camera with my eyes, moaning and whining as if getting turned on. My hair is gelled back on top and cut to almost the skin on the sides. My eyes are decorated with heavy wing-tip mascara, blue eye shadow, and elongated lashes. I made my lips look twice their normal size with a combination of wet pink gloss and white lip liner.
"Tilt your head up and stick your tongue out," says Roy. I follow the instruction, closing my eyes to not see the leer on Roy's face. "Good girl," he says. He's taken to calling me a girl during this shoot, which is better than the other names. Still, it's early. Only about six minutes into a 2.5 hour session.
After the last photo shoot, my first time with Roy and my first professional shoot, I'd sworn off the whole lifestyle. I'd gone home, showered, and vomited in disgust at myself. I'd washed my mouth five times to get the taste of Roy's spit from my tongue. All my cross dressing clothes immediately went in the trash, and I deleted all my accounts that I used for posting pictures on the internet.
If that fetish had led me to Roy, then I was done. The idea that I'd debased myself by putting on a show for Roy made my stomach turn. Emasculation and humiliation were part of the sissy cross dressing appeal, but what Roy had done crossed the line. He'd treated me like a toy, like something less than human.
I spent the next eight weeks living a normal life. I woke up at 5:00 to drive to work, sat at my cubicle, stressed over spreadsheets, and came home for about an hour of relaxation. It was the expected life of a man in his mid-twenties with my athletic build, quality college education, and work-ethic.
Roy sent me money each week, along with a message saying he'd like to do another shoot. The money came from proceeds when people bought the VIP package to my photo set. The members paid a fee to access the site, and then could pay extra for particular models and photo sets. I received 30% of the profit from those extra sales.
I didn't respond to Roy until he sent me a login for the members site, and I was able to view my photo set. I looked so hot. I glanced in the mirror at my face: clear jawline, light stubble, forehead creases, bags under my eyes, and some pockmarks from pimples and blackheads. Then I stared at my photos on the website and saw a perfect bimbo, a flawless porn slut with smooth shiny skin and nothing but sex on her mind. I looked fierce and desirable. I looked like a fantasy with my ass in a g-string bending and arching for the camera.
For Roy.
In the photos, there was no indication of Roy's harassment. You couldn't tell that he'd called me names, or made me beg. The photos of me licking the floor didn't show Roy spitting or his vile smile as I cleaned his spit puddle with my tongue. When I crawled on a leash you couldn't even see Roy. No one would know that he'd used dog commands or that he'd pulled the leash just tight enough to make it uncomfortable.
All the clients saw was my perfect toned body, with tanned skin exposed behind nearly invisible clothing. They saw my face painted with makeup, my tongue dripping with saliva, and my round ass on display.
Roy had posted captions under the photos describing what was happening in each scene. In one picture I'm staring up with my plump lips parted, my eyes full of lust, as the chain leash pulls tight against my neck. The caption read: The slut learns her place. On another picture where I'm sucking up spit from the floor you can see my thong clad ass raised into the air. My eyes stare aggressively into the camera. Roy wrote: Sloppy little bitch.
I poured some lotion into my hand and rubbed my cock, staring at myself on the screen. My dick grew hard in my hand, pulsing and throbbing as I stroked faster and faster. I put the photo set on a continuous loop so I could pump my penis. With my other hand I fondled my balls.
I tried to avoid the captions, but the harder I stroked, the more I heard it--Roy's voice calling me a slut.
I didn't stop pumping. My dick got harder as Roy's voice became more clear. I tilted my head back, not even looking at the pictures, just remembering my session with Roy. His gross, fat stomach and beady eyes came to my mind. His yellow teeth and chapped lips formed the words "whore."
I came harder than ever in my life.
The next day I couldn't focus at work. It seemed so ridiculous, so false to be this person. I wanted to be the girl in those pictures. Roy was a disgusting creep, but I'd also let him take advantage. It was my first time and I hadn't stood up for myself. I'd let him get away with too much, but he hadn't actually touched or assaulted me.
I messaged Roy and told him I wanted to work together again, but I said he needed to tone down the harassment. Roy said that as long as I was obedient and followed instructions there wouldn't be any problems. He said he couldn't complete a shoot if I wasn't following orders.
So now I'm here on his couch in a matching metallic blue thong and bra set. The thong has a wider back then last time, still showing my ass cheeks but its not the single thin strap that sent the wrong message to Roy. I realized, as I went into the makeup and costume room, that choosing the outfit was Roy's first way to degrade his models. He made us choose our outfits so that we were responsible for our own humiliating fantasy. We took part in turning ourselves into sex objects. The last time I chose a tiny g-string and leash, which must have made Roy think I was easy to abuse. So this time I chose an outfit with a bit more coverage. Roy hadn't said anything, he'd just added a gold chain around my waist saying that it accentuated my abs and hips.
"Put one hand on that hard clit and lick your other fingers," says Roy.
I do as instructed, watching the big screen behind Roy where my wet pink tongue slobbers over my fingers. My eyes smolder with lust.
"Yes, lick your fingers like that. Isn't life easier as an obedient slut," Roy says.
I lick from the base of my middle finger to the top of the nail, then stick the top in my mouth and stare at the camera. "I said I wasn't dealing with the name calling," I said.
Roy's fat stomach jiggles as he scoffs. "That's part of being obedient," he said.
"I'm not here to be obedient. I'm here to do a photo shoot," I snapped back. My tone is harsh but necessary. I stare at the big screen and realize I must look amusing to Roy. I'm a man dressed as a pornstar getting angry when he calls me a slut. My attempts to preserve my dignity must seem laughable.
Roy puts the camera down. "I told you I can't waste time on disobedient bitches. It takes a lot of time to set up these shoots, edit the pictures, and get them posted. If you're not going to follow orders we need to stop," says Roy. He doesn't look annoyed or frustrated, just amused. I realize Roy must have a lot of practice breaking down a model's self-respect.
I look down at the floor and bite my lip, knowing I'm about to lose this battle.
"So, are you going to be an obedient bitch?" asks Roy.
He takes a close up shot of my face. This is how I have to play the game. Roy can get away with some of the harassment, but in the end I walk away with my money and no one knows except for me and Roy. I open my mouth wide and stick out my tongue, opening my throat. "I'll be an obedient bitch," I say.
Roy smiles but I can tell we're not done. I've been defiant and he can't let that go. "Who's obedient bitch?" he asks.
I look away, close my eyes and remember the money. I can make enough money in one photo shoot to spend the rest of the month relaxing. I can leave behind all those ridiculous responsibilities of the modern world. All I need to do is spend a few hours getting bullied by Roy.
"I'll be your obedient bitch, Roy," I say, staring back at the camera.
"Good." Roy picks up the camera and takes a few more pictures. I run my hands across my oil soaked body, stroking my flesh as I pant and moan for the camera. I play with the bra, teasing that it might come off soon. I don't have tits, but men who like sissies don't care--it's about the fantasy. I'm not a man to them, I'm something lower than human; a living sex toy to be degraded and humiliated for their sexual amusement.
"So, you came back," says Roy. "Did you finally admit that you're a whore?"
"I'm not a whore."
"Then you must have come back to my studio because you liked posing for me," says Roy. He scratches at his hairy stomach and then smells his fingers.
He's gotten me into a trap. I'm either here for the money or I'm here because I enjoy being photographed by Roy. I'm not going to say I'm a whore, but the alternative is too much to bear. I try to remain silent but I realize that won't work. Silence will be seen as submission, at which point Roy will call me whatever slurs he wants.
"I'm not a whore," I say again. Roy takes close up shots of the thong straps riding high on my hips. I pull them higher and then let the thin straps snap against my tanned flesh. I lean forward off the couch, placing my hands on the floor while keeping my fat ass in the air. I spread my legs and press my cock into the couch, and then repeat this up and down action.
Roy likes this and it distracts him from his attempt at humiliating me further. He snaps a bunch of pictures first of my whole body, then of my ass and legs as I hump the couch.
Then Roy trains the camera on my face. "So why are you here posing for me? Do you like posing for me?"
I nod my head, hoping but knowing that won't be good enough. "Tell me, bitch" says Roy.
"I like posing for you Roy," I say.
Roy reaches down and adjusts his cargo shorts. I can see the bulge forming in his groin and I gag slightly. "I'm glad you're being so much better this time. So let's start by turning around and acting like your getting fucked," he says.
I stand up and turn, gripping the top of the couch so that my ass is bent towards the camera. My legs gleam under the lights, the toned muscles wrapped in green strap stockings. Six inch clear heals lift my ass cheeks into a perfect round shape.
"Look back at me," says Roy. I turn to look over my shoulder, mouth open, tongue out and drooling. Saliva drips from my tongue. I stretch out more into the pose, arching my back and lifting my hips to really make my ass front and center.
I roll my hips seductively, keeping time with the music streaming through Roy's studio. I watch his face as he photographs my ass. I can tell he's excited watching me dance, my ass swaying in seductive arcs. For a moment I feel something like pride that Roy is so turned on, and then the feeling turns to disgust. He takes a few close ups of my flesh with the oil dripping across the cheeks.
Roy shakes his head. "Getting a little too much thong in the shot," he mutters. He approaches as I continue to swerve my hips. Suddenly, the camera is in front of my face. I feel Roy's rough, thick fingers grip the thong waist band. On camera only my face is visible as Roy pulls the thong up my ass crack. I moan from a mixture of pain, pleasure, and disgust at Roy's hand touching my backside.
"You think it should go higher?" asks Roy.
I don't answer, not sure of what to say. He pulls the thong up and I feel the string grinding into my asshole. Roy looks down at my ass while keeping the camera focused on my facial reactions. This close, I can smell the mixture of salami and sweet perspiration that exudes from Roy's fat rolls. There are dark pit stains on his shirt.
"Should I keep pulling?" he asks.
"Don't touch me again," I say. Roy grunts, starts to walk away, and gives my right ass cheek a parting pat with his hand. It's barely anything, yet in this battle of wills it was a clear communication: he'll touch me however he wants.
He takes a few more close ups of my swinging ass and then grunts approvingly. "Now take off the panties. You can keep the bra."
I look at Roy and the camera captures something like fear on my face. He wants my bottom naked, ass exposed.
"Strip off the panties," he says again.
I grip the waist band and slowly lower the thong. The fabric peels from my asshole as I roll the lingerie below my cheeks. I keep the blue thong there for a moment and bend over, my hands on my ass. Then I drop the thong all the way off, so I'm completely naked below the waist.
"Now bend over the couch and act like your getting fucked again, slut" says Roy.
I ignore the slur and just get to work. I'm bent over staring back at the camera, faking as if a man is driving his hard cock into my ass. I pump backwards and forwards, my gleaming ass shaking. Roy shakes his head and comes closer. He puts the camera in front of my face and then grabs the back of my hair with his hand. The camera captures my neck stretching and the cries of pleasure as my head is tilted back.
"Now, slut," says Roy. "I told you to act like your getting fucked."
Roy presses forward and I feel his cargo shorts bulging against my ass. I gasp and my breath escapes. Roy tells me to twerk and I follow his instructions, grinding and bouncing my ass against his crotch.
Roy whispers into my ear., "That's a good obedient slut," and then releases my head. His camera captures my back and hips grinding, my naked ass bouncing, and the look of orgasmic ecstasy on my face. Roy is not in the camera shot. No one will know that I'm grinding up against his overhanging stomach and hard bulge. My naked ass is protected from Roy's cock by only a few layers of fabric. I close my eyes and turn my head forward, trying to disappear. The pictures will make a lot of money. No one will know that I was twerking for Roy.
He grabs my chin and cheeks between his fingers. His hands are calloused and smell like bologna. Roy squeezes so that my glossy lips are forced into a kissing face.
"That's right. Look at me like that bitch," says Roy. I pull my face away angrily, attempting to maintain some level of separation. I tell him again not to touch me, even as I roll my ass against his groin.
My act of defiance makes Roy bolder. He slips two thick fingers into my left cheek and pulls my face towards him. On camera, it just looks like I'm staring back with a combination of trepidation, pleasure, and annoyance. My mouth is not in the shot and so there's no way to know that this ogre has fish hooked me like a cheap whore.
I grab his arm and pull away, spitting as his fingers leave my mouth. Roy grabs my face again and squeezes my cheeks together.
"You said you'd be an obedient bitch," says Roy.
"I'm not your bitch. I don't want your fingers in my mouth," I fire back.
Roy licks his lips, leaving a string of spit on the cracked skin. "I make these pictures look good. Without my direction you're just another slut fantasizing on the internet. Now, I'm not joking about being obedient. I'm in charge here and you're my toy."
I don't answer, just turn my eyes away.
"So, open your mouth, slut" says Roy. I hesitate for a moment, unwilling to admit the truth of Roy's statement. In this place, I'm Roy's toy. I'm a fat ogre's sex object that he'll abuse in any way he finds amusing. The worst part though, is that I'm complicit. I want this treatment because the alternative--a normal life in modern society--is somehow worse than these few hours of objectification.
I open up my mouth. "Wider," says Roy. I open my mouth as wide as I can and stick out my tongue. Roy scratches his crotch, then takes his hand and slips his fingers into my mouth.
His fingers taste like old sweat which makes me gag. On camera it looks great as my eyes narrow and my face convulses, seemingly in pleasure. I'm staring at Roy who licks his yellow teeth behind the camera.
"Now bounce that ass, bitch," he says. Roy pulls harder on my cheek and presses closer against my ass. His thick bulge is now pressed against my asshole. I grind my ass into Roy's crotch, feeling any semblance of dignity disappearing.
Roy tells me to spread my cheeks. I shake my head and try to say no with with his fingers in my mouth. It comes out garbled, but Roy gets that I'm trying to disobey his order.
Roy removes his fingers and lays a light slap on my ass. "Obedient sluts get paid. The disobedient ones get dropped and have to go back to their 9-5 bullshit," he says.
Roys breath is hot on my neck. The smell of his arousal is thick in my nostrils, making me gag. The camera points directly into my face as I close eyes and reach back my hands to spread my cheeks. Roy presses his groin closer, catches a picture of me exhaling in shock, and then backs away. I watch the screen as Roy aims the camera at my spread asshole. The oil drips down my crack.
"Good little bitch," says Roy. "Now get into a split."
I do as I'm told, spreading my legs and then bouncing my ass on the couch. I twerk my ass as Roy takes pictures from every angle. I bend forward so that on camera all that's visible is my round butt cheeks shaking.
Roy sets the camera on a tripod and then takes a seat on a folding chair. He has to spread his fat legs so that his stomach can hang down between his thighs. The bulge in his pants stands out against his left leg. Roy tells me to come to him and I stand up to walk over.
"No," says Roy. "Sluts crawl here."
I put my hands on my hips and glare at Roy. I try to work up the self-respect to argue but the only words that will come out are a pitiful plea. "Please stop calling me a slut," I say.
Roy only grunts and adjusts the bulge. He heard the brokenness in my voice and there's no way he's going to pass up the opportunity to degrade me more. "Come on over bitch, on your hands and knees. Since you're wasting time, take the bra off first," says Roy.
I untie the straps and let the bra fall away. Like I said, I don't have tits, still, I feel totally exposed. Especially with Roy fully clothed, my nakedness is heightened. I'm naked because Roy commanded me to take off my clothes. That fact settles on my mind and makes stomach bile rise up into my throat. I taste the hot vomit on my tongue.
My only clothing is the gold chain, and it occurs to me that the only item Roy's allowing me to wear is the one piece he gave me. It's a subtle trick, stripping me of everything but Roy's chain.
I lower myself to the floor and get onto all fours. The camera tracks me as I crawl forward, my hips swaying, my long legs moving feline like in my wake.
Roy raises his hand for me to stop about six inches from where he's seated. The camera shows me on my hands and knees, staring up expectantly. My smooth, athletic body glimmers under the lights. Oil drips from my toned muscular frame.
"Lower your face to the floor," says Roy. I do as instructed, place my face against the cold tile and my ass propped up into the air. The chain dangles against the floor. "Do you want to get invited back for another shoot?"he asks.
"Yes," I say. My voice sounds small and submissive, pathetic when compared to this male before whom I'm bowing. His legs are spread wide with the print of his cock visible against the shorts.
Roy snorts as he talks down to my naked body. He grabs the bottle of oil and sprays some more directly onto my ass crack. I shudder as the cool liquid seeps down my flesh. "Say my name when you talk to me," says Roy.
"Yes, Roy."
Roy grunts. "I'm not so sure that's good enough. I think when you're being an annoying disobedient bitch like this, 'Daddy Roy' would be better," he says.
I'm silent. Is this the moment that all of Roy's little harassments become too much? Can I tolerate calling this disgusting pig Daddy? I'm naked, prostrating myself before his groin, hoping that he'll except my supplication. He's right, in a way. I have been a disobedient little bitch. Fear runs through me as I realize that I might need Roy more than he needs me.r"
http://ranobelist.com/author.cgi?i=142
http://ranobelist.com/author.cgi?t=ka&p=illust
http://ranobe-mori.net/link/illust-boy-ka.php
http://raovatsoctrang.com/showthread.php?t=233616
http://rapeboard.net/forum/showthread.php?p=2005086&mode=linear
http://raumbur.soup.io/post/612334175/Jamb-Result-Is-Awesome-From-Many-Perspectives
http://ravda.net/rf/include.php?path=forum/showthread.php&entries=0&threadid=57398&setsig=1&postid=
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