Then she slid her thumbs around the front of the child’s hips and deliberately held her in a firm grip. Emma’s eyes were closed and I heard a quiet whimper coming from her lips. “How’s that? Are your arms better now?” Emma’s voice was weak and quiet as she replied, “They are fine now. Thank you.” “You really seem to have a magic touch.” I wanted her to know that her involvement with the model was approved by me. Then an idea suddenly occurred to me. “Annabel, I wonder whether her arms would ache less if you actually tied them to the cross? She wouldn’t have to grip and hold anything.” Annabel held her chin in her hands for a few moments as she considered this. “That’s an excellent idea Christine. Now why didn’t I think of that? I can see you’re not just a concerned mother; you have ideas as well.” Oh, I had ideas all right. I was just hoping she’d be able to share them. She went over to the cupboard and returned to Emma with a length of thin blue rope. “Now, don’t be afraid, sweetheart.
No one is going to hurt you. This will only help you hold your position for longer without becoming tired.” First she tied her wrists firmly to the horizontal cross bar so her hands were outstretched in a common crucifixion pose. Gripping her legs she placed them at the foot of the cross and tied her ankles with another piece of rope. Then she guided her upper body into an arch that together with her slightly bent knees formed ‘S’. “How’s that?” she smiled and Emma nodded her approval. Annabel went back to her easel. “How long do you take to complete a life drawing?” I asked. “Generally about an hour-and-a-half to two hours,” she replied. “Any background work I can complete in the studio without the model.” Again she worked swiftly for a while but then her movements became less sweeping and smaller.
I realised that she must be putting in some detail. Thirty minutes later Emma’s arms were fine but her leg bearing most of her weight were starting to feel the strain. “Another break?” asked Annabel, once again wiping her hands. Emma readily agreed. “How are your arms now?” “My arms seem OK,” she replied. “It’s my legs that are beginning to ache now.” Once more Annabel joined her on the podium. Without a word she knelt down in front of her and gripped her left leg, just above her ankle, between both her hands and started the circling movements just as she had done before with Emma’s arms. Slowly she made her way up the leg. When she got to her knee she ran her fingers deeply into the muscles behind it. “That feels good,” Emma whispered feeling the hands run up her legs. Annabel continued up her thigh and increased the kneading of her muscles. Soon she was almost up to the child’s little pussy and I think I saw her fingers brush against the bottom of her vulva.
She repeated all this with Emma’s other leg, then brushed her hands swiftly up her legs occasionally making firm contact with Emma’s pussy as she did so. Then suddenly she stepped away and said, “Oh dear. We forgot about that thermometer up in your bottom. Let me take it out for you now.” Of course, I thought. I forgot all about it myself. It was incredible Emma haven’t complained all this time. Perhaps she like the feeling. It’s not the first time someone inserted something in her anus. Such things were required part of modelling from time to time and she was taught that every proper model has to follow directions of people who hire her. As Annabel knelt behind the little girl I stepped closer to see the extraction of the instrument. It was a slow process accompanied only by Emma’s trembling sighs until eventually the long glass tube was held free in Annabel’s hand. “Quite long, wasn’t it?” She asked looking at me. “Long and hard,” I agreed looking proud of what my daughter was capable to take inside her. “Perhaps she could help you clean it up now?” “What do you mean?” Annabel looked at me genuinely confused. “Here, let me show you,” I took the thermometer from her hand and approached Emma.
“Open your mouth, sweetheart.” “But mum…!” “No arguing, Emma. You know what you must do to be a proper little model, don’t you? Be nice and do what people tell you. Now open your mouth as I asked you to.” Reluctantly she parted her full lips coated in lip gloss and looked at me with her big sad eyes as I slowly sank the the thermometer between them and along her tongue, deep inside her oral cavity until it touched the back of her throat. “Now suck on it, nice and slow.” “I never thought you’d be so… adventurous,” Annabel’s words came behind me while we both watched Emma working her little mouth on the thermometer that only recently was buried deep inside her rectum. “I’ve learned over time what our customers like to see.” “I see…” she said as if hypnotised by thermometer going in and out of Emma’s sucking lips. “Of course,” I added, “Performances like this one are charged at special rate.” “Yes… I can see why…” Annabel breathed behind my shoulder while her hand furiously worked between her thighs. —
We went into the third session. Emma was feeling better after a short rest and a drink of coke to wash out the taste of her own… Well, you get the picture. “I must say you are an excellent model,” stated Annabel for a hundredth time. “Not only just to look at, but you hold the pose so well. You are more than a model. You’re a performer, you’re very talented.” By the end of that session I was beginning to think she wanted to nominate her for Oscars. “We’ll have another break now,” she announced. “Would you like a cookie to give you back the energy?” “I’d love one,” Emma replied. “Chocolate or plain?” “Chocolate please.” Annabel went over to the shelves near the wall and picked up a packet of cookies. When she returned she untied Emma’s hands. “I expect you’re beginning to ache everywhere by now, sweetheart,” she said. Emma agreed and stretched her arms high above her head. She stood on tiptoe and wiggled her hips from side to side. Annabel took in every movement the little girl made with what seemed like appreciation.
Then she went over to the cupboard and returned with a bottle of baby oil. “Lie down on the edge of the podium and I’ll give you a quick massage.” Emma needed no second bidding. She was lying on her tummy in a flash. Annabel poured out some baby oil on her hands, rubbed them together and then started kneading the muscles on the tops of Emma’s shoulders. It must have been relaxing for her after being tied to the cross for so long and it helped the tension ebb away. Annabel’s firm hands moved down the child’s back. She spread her fingers and worked both thumbs up her spine, then her hands moved around to her sides as though taking her little body in a firm hold. From where I sat near the podium, enjoying my role of a voyeur, I could see her fingers probing Emma’s ribs as she worked her way down to her waist then around her hips circling under her bottom and up the cleavage between.
There was a pause. She spread her right hand flat on Emma’s little bubble bottom and swiftly moved them sideways in both directions. The wiggling effect was fantastic to watch; it was as though she was applying an electric shock between the child’s legs and I knew she was deliberately trying to turn her on. She was succeeding too! Her fingertips brushed the lips of Emma’s vulva as she moulded her inner thighs and then right down to her little feet which she plied with her strong fingers. At that point I decided to give them a little room. I said I needed to go to bathroom and it was partially true because I wanted to bring myself off after so much accumulated eroticism in a relatively short time. For a few minutes I was finally alone and I had time to reflect at the things I’ve put my daughter through and it made me horny more than I like to admit. My imagination took over again as I saw her alone in the room being humiliated and molested by Annabel who by now had clear idea of how far she is allowed to take things with Emma.
If that made me a bad mother then I had nothing to say in my defence. I simply enjoyed seeing my daughter used in sexual ways by complete strangers. It was made even sweeter by knowing that allowing people to molest Emma provided us with money to live on quite comfortably. Returning from my short intermission, I decided to do a little spying. I hid behind the wall next to the studio door and peered behind the corner. Emma was still lying on her tummy but not for much longer. “Now, turn over and I’ll finish you off.” Annabel whispered in her ear and Emma instantly obeyed. Again she poured baby oil on her hands and rubbed them together. She started to work quite gently on the muscles on the sides of her neck quite near her ears, the same circling movements that I saw spur such pleasure in her. Then she massaged the top of Emma chest with left to right movements and tapping movements with her fingers leaving sleek, oily trails all over her soft glowing skin.
She moved her hands right across to the edges of little girl’s chest and down her ribs to her slim waist. Annabel touched her wrists together as her hands flattened out on Emma’s upper tummy and then pushed upwards covering her budding breasts which she kneaded in strokes upwards and outwards. I watched as she pinched her tiny nipples between two fingers and squeezed them hard until Emma winced in pain. After she released hem they stood hard and erected like two little soldiers. My feelings of recent sexual gratification were nothing compared to the effect I felt by the next move Annabel made on Emma’s defenceless little body. After twice circling her tummy, she touched her thumbs together and, with considerable pressure, moved her hands down over her smooth pubic area, down over her opening vulva and onto her thighs.
After taking hold of Emma’s ankles and deliberately moving them further apart, she continued up her legs making great play between her open thighs. Watching this from my hideout even I could feel Emma’s pangs of pleasure shooting from her crotch to every part of her body. It was obvious Emma was becoming sexually aroused. I’ve never seen anyone being so intense with her before. Sure, others took advantage of her before; they licked her and prodded her, fingered her, pinched, spanked and slapped her. They rubbed her, they rubbed against her, they gagged her, tied her, abused her and cummed on her. But no one has been so sensual with her before. No one made her feel as good as it felt for them. Annabel then bent over her and kissed her lightly on the tummy. “How do you feel now, sweetheart?” Emma arched her back and stretched her arms above her head. “I’m feeling kind of sexy.” she answered quite shamelessly. “Good!” Annabel retorted. “I’m going to put the finishing touches to my painting now, and I want you to look like a really sexy slave.” She handed her a cookie and as she ate it, Annabel just sat and looked at her hardly saying a word but deeply conscious of her growing love for the little girl.
Right then I decided it was a good time to come out of my hiding place and return to the studio. Annabel blushed a little when she saw me back and we both smiled at each other. “How are you two doing?” I asked to break the ice. “We’ve been getting to know each other, haven’t we Emma? But now it’s time to finish what we started.” Annabel returned the cookies to their place and then went back to the podium. “Right, slave, let’s tie you up again,” she said smiling. Emma looked directly up into her face. “Yes please,” she said and Annabel playfully kissed her on the forehead before proceeding to tie the little girl to the cross. It was while she was doing this that I once again looked closer at Emma’s pussy and saw her vaginal lips swollen and thrusting out from between her legs. I could also see a glint of moisture on them. It was fascinating to watch her remain in this state of high arousal until eventually Annabel announced “I think that’s it. I’ve finished.” She wiped her hands again and stood back from the easel to regard her work.
She came over to Emma and untied her hands. “Would you like to see my naked slave girl painting?” “Yes! I’d love to!” She clapped her hands in delight. She hurried over and reached it before me and Annabel. She stood in front of the easel and gazed in admiration. “Wow! I’m pretty.” Although it had a photographic quality that revealed every detail, it was also painterly to the eye. “That is really astonishing.” I said when I saw it. “What do you think of it Annabel?” She came around the easel and stood behind me looking over my shoulder. “Frankly I think it’s the best figure drawing I’ve done so far. Your little girl really inspired me, Christine.” “That is what I’d call a really sexy slave girl.” I gave a little laugh. “I’d say it’s a really sexually aroused little slave girl,” Annabel replied. “Do you approve?” I moved slightly closer and rested my hands on Emma’s waist. “Oh yes, I certainly do approve. I approve utterly.” I moved my hands across her slim little tummy and my fingers touched. “Then that makes us unanimous.”
I moved behind Emma and took hold of her hands in firm hold behind her back which arched her back and pushed her chest forward. “We’re going to play slave girl with you now. You’ll like it, you’ll see,” I tried to reassure her. Annabel moved her hands upwards over Emma’s bud-like breasts and held them cupped in palms of her hands. Once again she held two prepubescent nipples between her strong fingers and squeezed. Emma moaned either from pain in her nipples or pleasure in her pussy and arched her back deliberately, pushing her breasts even firmer into Annabel’s punishing hands. Annabel alternately squeezed and released the nipples. Realising the extent of Emma sexual enjoyment, I reached between her legs with one hand. I moved swiftly and cupped her bold and swollen little vulva. With two fingers I traced small circles between the open wet lips of my child’s vagina who gasped in ecstasy and moved her head back to rest on her shoulder and face her other assailant who was still torturing her painful nipples.
I watched as Annabel’s head moved closer to seek out Emma’s parted lips and they kissed their first lovers’ kiss. I released Emma from my restraining hold as Annabel greedily embraced the little girl. She put her arms around her back while Emma tried to hold for dear life with her arms around her lover’s neck. She was pulled down onto Annabel’s mouth and their tongues danced an electrified erotic dance, twisting and twirling like sexual dervishes. Then Annabel broke away from her grasp, put one hand behind Emma’s waist and the other behind her knees and lifted her up gently into her arms. She carried Emma over to the podium and sat her on one corner. “Lie down,” she ordered as she looked down at her little lover and started to unbutton her own smock. Within seconds she flung it to the side and I saw she was completely naked underneath.
She had a firm body and bust with muscles which showed rather more than the average woman. I was impressed. She knelt down between my daughter’s ankles near the corner of the podium and their warm bodies met as she moved up to kiss her. Again their tongues intertwined urgently and they both gasped as the erotic tides swept through their bodies. Annabel moved down to Emma’s tiny breasts and her lips sought out her nipple. Her mouth encompassed the entire golf-sized breast as she sucked in the flesh while poor little Emma who was on verge of her first sexual peak groaned and panted. After giving her other breast the same treatment she moved downward with her tongue in little licking motions. When she arrived at Emma’s navel her tongue moved round in quick circles as she licked her naked skin. Then she held her mouth close as she blew on the moist patch. The result was incredible and I watched Emma’s head move from side to side in sheer ecstasy. I didn’t know how much more of this she could stand.
As Annabel’s mouth moved lower over the little girl’s smooth pubic area, her kissing and licking took on a new urgency and then her thick strong tongue drew a line right down over the child’s wide open labia. I felt as though my groin was on fire as I watched my fantasy unravel before my eyes. She continued to press her lips all around the area, even going as far as bathing Emma’s pink little anus with her tongue. She then put the tip of her tongue between the lips of Emma’s vagina and made rapid movements with it from side to side as it moved upwards. I saw how Emma’s back arched and her little legs spread ever wider. This woman was doing magic things to her little slave girl.. Next she took Emma’s enlarged sexual lips right inside her mouth in a passionate kiss. Her tongue darted inside her, then back out. In again, then out and so she kept going finally ending up inside Emma whose juice by now was pouring out of her and who was almost beside herself.
Then Annabel suddenly pounced on the child’s clitoris and took it into her mouth where she continued to suck it and bite it and move her tongue around it. Finally she used just the tip of her tongue and licked her little abused clitoris at an amazing speed and, as she did so, it seemed as though something exploded inside Emma and I watched as the juice shoot out and run down between her legs. She was panting almost uncontrollably and her chest was heaving as she realised that she has experienced her first ever orgasm. Until now Emma’s customers were all men. They enjoyed using her small body for their own gratification but rarely gave anything in return. I never realised it could be like this with a woman and I was determined from now to seek out more female customers for Emma. I came closer to Emma and held her protectively in my arms. She was hot and sweaty but smiled when she saw me. Gradually her breathing returned to normal and then I looked Annabel in the face. She was panting slightly too.
I wondered if she also had had an orgasm too. I smoothed my baby’s hair and the side of her face with my hands. “You were wonderful model today, darling.” “Thank you, sweetheart. That was wonderful.” Annabel joined me in caressing the tired little girl. Emma smiled proud of her achievement. She let her nude body rest on ours and it rekindled our desires once again. I lifted my legs and coiled them around Emma’s body, crossing my ankles and holding her close. Annabel did the same from the other side. Effectively we encircled the child between our spread open thighs. We moved her small naked body rhythmically between our legs, rubbing her shamelessly against our open vaginas. It was happening again. We clasped her close in our arms, spread our legs wide open and wrapped our arms firmly around her. I arched my back and pushed my hips hard against my own little girl and Annabel did the same. “Lets take her again, Annabel!” I pleaded. “After all, she’s our naked little slave girl.” – It was your typical London gallery opening.
The din of humanity clashed and echoed against the hard white surfaces and the art jumped off the walls in a Munch silent scream. I had been in and out of London art scene not because of my great love of art but because it was the place where I could easily find new clients and promote my daughter’s modeling career. After Emma’s session with Annabel, things were looking better than ever. Thanks to Annabel’s contacts in art world, Emma was receiving more offers than ever before and not only for sleazy child erotica web sites and private photo collections but genuine artistic work with renown British and international artists. Although the money was always better when nudity or sex was involved, I was also happy to see Emma become a muse for artists who used her body to pursue their artistic visions. I enjoyed walking around the gallery, hand in hand with Emma, wile heads turned in our directions and people’s eyes followed us in a silent awe. I presumed it was because of the way I dressed my daughter. Slutty would be an understatement.
She wore shortest, tiniest skirt I could find. It offered tantalising glimpses of her little round bottom and a thong buried somewhere between her cheeks. Her legs were bare and she wore a pair of high heels that arched her feet in a permanent tiptoe position. The top she wore was a thin white shirt, transparent enough to show impressions of her two perky pink nipples. I wasn’t embarrassed by openly advertising my daughter’s sexiness and I don’t think she was bothered by it either. In fact, I felt people watching us felt more embarrassed by their reactions to what they saw then me or Emma were. Most guests were aghast at the sight of Emma’s erotic display. Some pretended to look away while others gawked with their mouths open. Then there were those who openly smiled at her and shamelessly undressed her with their eyes. They were the ones I was mostly interested in and among them I tried to pick those who looked like they could afford hiring an exclusive little child model for a few hours of artistic indulgence.
I didn’t need poor art students who couldn’t afford their next meal, nor bashful art merchants with their calculating middle class morals. I wanted true artists types with penchant for illicit, tendency for self destruction and money to burn. I was scanning the large space for the fourteenth time, wine goblet tipped to my palette when I saw her over the rim of my glass. She entered the gallery with a flourish and my attention was riveted by her sudden presence and purpose. She strode confidently, cutting a swift arc through the gallery crowd and up to the owner, whom she embraced as an old friend. Annabel was right. I was drawn to her immediately. Now London has way more than its share of talented women. They’re everywhere; on every street corner and in every neighborhood. One gets inured to the preponderance of artists after awhile and begins to accept it as commonplace. After meeting Annabel, I became intrigued every time I saw a beautiful and talented woman. It’s some sort of unspoken vibe or pose that sets certain women apart.
Perhaps it’s their confident demeanor or otherworldly allure. I’ve never been able to put my finger on it, really. But certain women attract me at a visceral level that transcends good looks. Granted, I was after anyone with money who could afford to hire my 10-year-old daughter as a model, but if Annabel had taught me anything, it was that women are far superior choices when it comes to hiring an erotic artist for your child’s modeling work. She was tall and her demeanor obviously lesbian. Her high heeled boots added a couple of inches to her long lithe frame. Her long wavy hair was brown and parted to the side. It came below her shoulders and bounced lusciously as she walked. Her face was strong and intense with deep set brown eyes and well defined bone structure. She was beautiful in a sort of Germanic way. Her skin was pale and glowed with a smooth luminescent quality. Annabel said her name was Susan, a talented photographer specialising in erotic photography.
Most of her work is sold to private collectors and prestigious galleries. She came recommended as someone who would be interested in hiring Emma for a little private photo session. There were chances of even more lucrative deal if it was later sold to Russian and Japanese clients. I watched her move and stand with the grace of a dancer. She engaged Leo, the owner of the gallery, in an intense exchange, with hands on her hips and her proud butt protruding at a judicious angle. The thin silk hugged her tight little ass, then flared loosely to just above her knees. It was hard believing that someone successful and talented like her would be engaged in a shady world of child erotica. I felt her seductive force as I orbited the room with Emma by my side. Emma knew why we were here. She enjoyed her recent experience with Annabel and if she had a choice between modeling for men or women, I’m pretty sure she would pick a woman again. I looked down at her drinking her apple juice and smiled.
She looked deliciously innocent, like a perfect little porn star. As we neared closer to Susan, her eyes caught Emma in her sight and for a moment she seemed transfixed. I could only imagine what was going through her mind as she followed the half-naked child walking ever closer in her direction. “You must be Susan Sanders,” I said and offered a hand. Susan smiled in a sultry way and shook my hand with slender but powerful grip. Her skin was warm and her hand lingered just a second too long after our handshake. “Let me guess… Christine. And this must be little Emma. Am I right?” “So Annabel must have already told you about us?” “Just yesterday. We talked on the phone. She said you’re trying to find some modeling work for Emma. Have you seen my photography work yet?” “Can’t say that I have, but I love photography,” I said, pretending I knew nothing about her. “Some people would say it’s inappropriate for Emma’s tender age. On the other hand, maybe not.
I don’t know where you stand on this but I don’t have any problem hiring her as a model. There are always people who are willing to pay for something more… taboo.” She smiled and blundered ahead. “I couldn’t help but notice your entrance before. Emma is quite a little stunner, if you don’t mind me being blunt. And honest,” she added. “Of course not. She receives compliments all the time. People find her quite fascinating to work with.” Standing now closer to her I had a better look at her. Sometimes the beauty of a woman from afar doesn’t hold up on closer inspection. Susan was quite the opposite. Once I was within her sphere, talking to her at close range, I was drawn to her strong physical presence and intoxicating eyes. She was even more beautiful and alluring from her inner orbit. I found out she was a former ballerina, turned model, turned artist. Once the general introductions were out of the way and we became more familiar with each other’s interests, we talked about her art.
She said while portrait photography is her bread and butter, and has always paid the bills, black and white art photography is still what sustains her and brings her the most pleasure and joy. I was careful not to take up too much of her time. But as we parted company, I gave her my telephone number and told her to call me if she finds time to do a photo session with Emma. She smiled and said what a pleasure it had been meeting me and especially Emma, then turned and walked away. I watched her perfect, wiggling little butt fade into the crowd and sighed. I figured that was the end of the story: a pleasant conversation and inconclusive promise of a possible but undecided modeling offer. We left a little while later and headed back home.
So it was with surprise that I picked up the phone a few days later and Susan was on the other end. “Hi Christine. I hope I’m not bothering you. Listen, I was thinking about your offer this afternoon and… well, I have a proposition for you.” I was pretty ecstatic but didn’t want to rush her, so I waited for her to continue. “I’m working on a project right now and I need a model about Emma’s age.” “Susan, we’d be happy to help. If you need Emma for a shot, it would be my privilege.” My heart was racing with the fact that this talented young woman was reaching out and asking me to bring her my daughter for a modeling session. Little did I know, at that moment, what was in store for us. “Well, thank you. But photography is not exactly the final product this time. Let me explain. I have a client who’s working on a new collection right now that centers on children’s bodies.
Basically she makes sculptures that are loosely based on the contours of the body, in an abstract and exaggerated scale. And what she needs is… well, this a little embarrassing, but… what she needs is detailed photographs of a child’s body. Up close. Black and white, preferably.” There was a pause. “Think of them as artistic or erotic nudes.” I caught my breath and hoped she hadn’t heard. I did my best to maintain my composure. She continued. “She asked me to provide her with photographs she needs to make the sculptures. Her intent is to use these photographs as bases for her sculpture project; sculptures based on child’s body, but at such a scale and dimension that the true inspiration will be somewhat difficult, but not impossible, to detect. Does that make sense?” “Yes, it does. And it’s an honor to be asked. But I have to say, that’s not the kind of photography Emma usually does.
I mean, there are probably a lot of talented models that are more skilled and experienced with this sort of thing. Emma’s done virtually no nude photography, to be quite blunt.” What the hell was I doing? Trying to talk her out of it? The idea was to play the game in order to boost the price but I think I might have taken it too far. I waited for a reply. “Well, actually, that’s why I want to photograph Emma. First, I saw how talented she is; how alluring and, forgive me for saying this… how sexy she is for her age. Secondly, I don’t want someone who has preconceived ideas on erotic modeling. And, finally, I want you to be involved with your daughter in directing the shoot and figured that we’d find a nice balance in terms of finding out how to get out of the shoot what I want.” It was hard to argue with logic like that. I heaved a silent sigh of relief and acquiesced to her request.
“I know it probably doesn’t matter very much, but the client is very wealthy and she is offering a substantial compensation for modelling work plus travel expenses.” “That sounds wonderful. Thank you. So do you have a studio that might work for this project?” “I do. My studio is in Hampstead and has a large north facing bay window filled with a mattress covered window seat. And I have props, chairs, a bed, a table that can be used in creative ways. I’m sure we can figure it out.” “Do you have a macro lens?” I asked. “I do. And a very good one at that.” I could almost hear her smile through the telephone. We talked logistics and made a date to meet the following Thursday in the early afternoon.
I hung up the phone in a daze. I could not believe that Emma would be photographed by this lovely woman in her studio, nude and in close up. It was too much to process and I let the whole idea percolate over the next few days as we went about our normal business. — While waiting for Emma’s scheduled photo session, I researched Susan’s work on the Internet. She had done mostly erotic photography over the years, and while there was also some interest in nature photography, it had been a large percentage of her body of work. In her own words, she figured that her skills in working with people and their bodies would come in handy. And certainly from what I have seen of her work, her familiarity with the light in her studio would go a long way in creating a perfect atmosphere for the type of shoot she seemed to want.