13 comments/ 174960 views/ 70 favorites Photo Shoot Gone Badly Wrong By: CeeBeeThreee Sometimes vanity can be such a flaw. In my case it proved to be more than that, as you'll see. About me: I'm 40 years old, although I do make an effort to look after myself by going to the gym regularly so I'm still reasonably slim at 36/24/36 In my younger days I was a natural blonde with lovely long hair, these days I wear it slightly shorter in a bob around my neck, but I'm lucky that my hair (with a little help from a bottle) has retained its blonde lustre. I'm 5'5" with blue/green eyes. One thing that has changed about me over the years are my breasts. I was always a nice full d cup in my younger days but after breastfeeding two daughters and the ongoing effects of gravity, my boobs, while still quite large, had gotten very saggy. I do take pride in the fact that I can still attract plenty of admiring glances from men of all ages, as I'm taking pride in describing myself to you now. As I said, vanity can be a flaw, and I admit it's definitely one of mine. so I decided to take action about my breasts. Yes, I went and got a "job". Why did I do this? I mainly did it to please myself. My hubby has always been very happy with the way I look, bless him, so to be honest it was really all about me. Call it ego if you like, but I do enjoy those admiring glances and comments I mentioned before, and while I'd never cheated on my husband I've certainly done my share of prick teasing. In my business (real estate) a bit of sex appeal has definitely helped me close the odd deal now and then. My boob job was fantastic, I was so pleased with it. In fact I had them slightly enlarged as well as uplifted, so they were now dd -- and they didn't look overly out of proportion with my curvy hips and slim waist. My mistake was the decision I took to "celebrate" my new and improved figure. I'd always enjoyed having my picture taken, and I even did some part time modelling to make a few dollars when I was a starving student (an arts degree that never went anywhere). So I thought it would be fun to get some lingerie style studio portraits done to show off my brand new boobs. I was telling myself that the pictures were for hubby but when I look back on it I guess my real motivation was to feel good about myself. Hey, all women love to feel sexy! I searched the internet for a company in my local area that would do some portraits. It didn't take long before I found what I thought was the ideal place. They were called "Hot Modelz", and they did lingerie and topless shoots (if requested), and there was a money-back guarantee if you weren't perfectly happy with your pictures. There were some sample photos of some very attractive women on the site in bikinis and negligee, it all seemed perfect. I booked the session via phone. The guy on the other end introduced himself as Paul -- he was very polite and professional in his phone manner, which made me feel even more confident and excited about the shoot. A week passed and the day of the shoot arrived. I was a little nervous, not having done modelling for a long time, and certainly not having done any risqué style work. But I was also excited. I packed some different bikinis, one piece swimsuits, some lingerie and some short and tight dresses with low necklines. I wasn't really sure what I wanted to be photographed in but I figured the more options the better. I made sure I was dressed nicely too, wearing a short and tight black dress with a halter neck, some high black pumps and a black g string. I didn't bother with a bra as my breasts looked much nicer in the dress without one, and they were pretty gravity-proof now! The studio was a short drive to the industrial section of town, and after a bit of searching I found what looked like an old warehouse. It was definitely the right place, the sign "Hot Modelz Photo Studio" hung above the door, and I knocked quietly and nervously, actually I was starting to tremble! The door opened and I was greeted by a tall man, about 6', with brown eyes, greying hair and a slim build. He was smiling warmly, and pretty darn good looking. He extended his hand. "Hi, I'm Paul, and I'm guessing that you must be Susanne?" "Hi, y-you can call me Suzie if you like." I said, taking his hand and shaking it, a little too weakly. Why did I say he could call me Suzie? I hadn't been called that since my student days...gosh I was nervous. "Hm. Suzie. Cute," said Paul with a grin. He briefly looked me up and down, eyes resting on my brand new breasts for a second before meeting my gaze. "Well come in, I'm sure you'd like to see the studio and get started". He gestured for me to follow him inside the warehouse, and when I did I must say my nerves started to ease just a little. Inside was a very professional looking setup with various lights set up around a couch, a table, a chair, a blank screen and a bed. There were various still and video cameras on stands, these big silver umbrella looking things which they use to reflect the light (remembered that from years ago) and lots of different screens for backgrounds plus several wardrobes with outfits and props. There was also a fairly sophisticated looking office set up with a couple of computers and some other technical looking equipment that must have been for picture editing. As I was taking it all in, Paul started to fiddle with one of the cameras. He briefly looked up and asked if I remembered what the arrangement would be. "I think so, it was $2000 and for that I get a two hour photography session with as many different outfits and poses as I like, I get digital copies of all the pictures, you will organise to print my favourite ones on photographic paper in various sizes, and If I'm not entirely happy with the pictures I get to keep them for nothing." Paul grinned again -- cute grin, too. "That's pretty much it. You're obviously a good listener Suzie." I blushed and lowered my eyes. Not my normal behaviour I have to tell you but this guy was making me feel like a giddy school girl for some reason. I think it was his position of power as photographer and my only slightly abated nervousness. "Ok Suzie, let's get started. I see you've brought some things to wear, but first tell me what are you hoping to achieve with these shots?" So I explained the story of my boob job and that I wanted to show them off to best advantage in a sexy and seductive kind of way. "Does that mean you want to go topless?" "Ummmm...." OMG blushing big time, what was wrong with me? "You're not sure are you?" "No I guess not, I'm a bit nervous..." "Really." Again that little grin. He was so disarming! "Well how about we start off nice and conservative and you can tell me if you're comfortable to go topless later on. We won't do anything you're not OK with." Relief swept over me. This guy really was a professional. "That would be great". We did a few bikini shots which were going really well. Really hot. Actually I was getting quite hot myself with this very attractive and damn nice guy looking at me, paying me compliments and telling me how nice my tits looked. Did I say tits? I never call them that. But he was, so I started to feel comfortable with the word. "Suzie, did you want to try some lingerie shots? I see you're starting to enjoy this, so perhaps we should move to the next level." Damn...what did he mean by "enjoy this?" I was too, but in a way that was a little too sexually arousing for my own comfort. I hoped he hadn't noticed. I guess he couldn't have. "ummm...yeah sure I have some nice lingerie I can try on." I decided to wear a white see through top that was quite short, just covering my round bottom, with a white g string and some high white high heels. I went to the shoot not knowing if I would try this outfit on, but it did show me off well, I was getting very comfortable with Paul, who apart from calling my breasts "tits" was very professional, and it wasn't like I was completely topless or naked. There was a changing Area out the back and soon I emerged from it with the new outfit on. "Wow, now that's impressive!" said Paul with a big smile. "Thanks Paul!" I really was enjoying this. I sat on the couch and did a few shots. Following Paul's instructions, turn your head this way, move your leg over here, place your hand here, that sort of thing. After a while Paul stood back from his camera and looked at me, a bit critically, in fact frowning. "What's wrong?" "You know what would look much better?" "What?" "Those big fucking titties would look so much nicer if your nipples were harder, almost poking through the material of your nightie, what do you think?" "P-Paul my b-big f-fucking titties? You mean my breasts?" "Oh come on Suzie. We're grown ups. You have gorgeous big fucking titties. Don't be shy about it. Why else did you get them pumped up like that, why are we here? If you're not going to be professional we can end the shoot with no charge, I don't want to offend you but I like to work with people who are mature about their bodies." "oh no please Paul don't stop. I'm really enjoying this, sorry I d-didn't realise how silly I was being. You can call them b-b-big fucking titties." What was coming over me? He had this ability to make me feel so sexy one moment and so silly the next. I needed to stop interfering with what he was trying to do. After all he was a professional used to working with silly women like me. "That's OK Suzie, you're new to this. Repeat after me: I have big fucking titties" "I have big f-fucking titties". Suitably admonished. "haha, good girl! OK now as I was saying I would like to see those nipples harder. Although interestingly they seem to be hardening up a little by themselves. That's good but we haven't got all day, so you need to help me out. Can you please give your nipples a bit of stimulation so they poke against the material of your nightie?" Oh the shame, I was actually becoming aroused by all the "titty" talk and my nipples were hardening of their own accord, and Paul had seen it. I blushed even more deeply but didn't want to seem silly again, so I started to gently rub my fingers on my nipples. Gawd it felt good! "That's it, keep doing that Suzie". I did. I closed my eyes. I leaned back slightly. I kept fingering my nipples. By now they were rock hard and I was really quite aroused. I spread my knees slightly and leaned back further. Paul took photo after photo. Suddenly I heard a subtle moan. It was me! Oh my god I was so turned on and I could feel myself becoming quite wet. Suddenly panic went through me as I realised my decision to change to white panties may not have been that intelligent. My knees had been spread in full view of the camera. "Hey Suzie?" "Y-yes Paul?" How about you take that nightie off so we only have you in panties and heels? The camera will be able to focus more on those lovely hard nipples and those dirty great big tits of yours." "Oh I-I don't know..." "I think you really want to. Don't you want to see those sexy tits in all their glory in the photos? Plus you really do seem to be enjoying yourself. Of course if you want to stop I respect your wishes, you can throw your clothes on and head home, I'll work through the shots we've got and send you my bill." Somehow the mere thought of stopping filled me disappointment. Actually more than that it was almost like panic. "No, no, please I don't want to stop yet. OK I will take my top off, keep shooting, I want you to see my...my...BIG FUCKING TITS!" Shit, what was happening to me? I couldn't believe I said that out loud. But goddamn was I turned on, my panties were nearly soaked through. Paul hadn't commented on this but he had to have seen it. Hell, he probably had 100 photos of it. So off came my nightie and there I was in dripping wet panties and white high heels. Paul moved me into various positions on the couch. There were shots of me from behind with my bottom ("fat ass", he had me calling it after a while) in the air, my legs spread, holding my heels, pinching my nipples, licking my big fucking tits, you name it, we did it. Well I did it, he just told me what to do and I meekly obliged, all the while getting wetter and wetter, more and more turned on to the point where I was almost hovering on the edge of an orgasm, all this without him touching me once, and with my panties still on. I was so turned on I was sort of cooing, moaning and gasping with each new position. I was ashamed of myself but somehow found myself enjoying being held in the psychological and sexual grip of this man, and reducing myself from a mature and sophisticated 40 year old woman to a wanton and compliant little girl. Then, things got really out of hand. Suddenly Paul stopped taking pictures and started staring at the couch. "Oh, Suzie, you naughty girl, what have you done to my couch? I followed his gaze to the spot where he was looking and I could see what he was talking about. My wetness had seeped through my panties and stained a couple of spots on the couch where I had been sitting. No surprise really, but Paul seemed quite horrified. "Fucking hell Suzie, that is a new couch and it wasn't cheap. I can't believe you did that. How could you be so unprofessional? Do you think top glamour models allow themselves to become so caught up that they let their pussies drool all over the furniture? You really are a bit of a slut aren't you?" I was mortified. I wanted so much to please Paul that I couldn't stand the thought of him being disappointed. I thought I was doing a good job as a model, how wrong I was! He was right, it was so unprofessional of me to get turned on when all he was doing was taking shots of me that I asked him to take! I really was a slut, how else could I explain my behaviour, especially for a married woman. Paul just stood there, staring at the couch, as if he didn't know what to do next. I waited for him to say something else. After a while he did. "OK I'll tell you what. I have another professional model that I work with. If you agree to do some work with him now it will save me hiring another female model. This means that I will save money, which means I won't have to charge you $8000 for that couch. I'll even throw in your pics for free." It was a lot to take in at once. I wanted to redeem myself and please Paul, but couldn't quite latch on to what he was asking me to do, particularly in my highly aroused and ashamed state. "Sorry, you want me to do what...?" Paul's tone suddenly intensified. "Listen, I'll make it simple for you. You have just ruined an $8000 couch -- you don't just shampoo cum out of it. You've come in here wanting me to take pictures of you, to be honest you've been difficult to work with, I've had to give you a lot of instruction, you've been churlish about the language I've used, you've waved your big fucking cow udders around, you've rubbed your fat ass on my couch, you've grunted and moaned like a fucking bitch on heat. By rights I should be charging you $8000 and kicking you out on your ass. So I'm offering you a chance to help me with another photo shoot, which means more pictures for you, no charge for the couch and your original pictures for free. I'm sick of being nice about this so that's my offer, take it or leave it." "O-Oh my god Paul I'm so so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen...I don't know what came over me. I'm so sorry. Yes OK I will help you, please don't be mad at me..." Paul seemed to visibly calm down. Thank goodness I had another chance to prove myself. Then all of a sudden he picked up the phone. He dialled a number and only said two words: "Got one". Then he hung up. "Ummm...Paul?" "Yes Suzie?" He was smiling again, and this smile wasn't quite as warm as the previous one. "What happens now?" "My professional model will be here soon and we will continue your photo shoot. I'm assuming that you've never worked with another model before given your lack of experience and professionalism?" Ow that stung. "N-no I haven't." "Well can you take instruction?" "Yes Paul" I was really quite hurt now and desperate to get back in his good books. "Well then you have nothing to worry about. He'll be here in five minutes. In the interim you can continue to play with your udders while I take some more shots." I felt an intense heat of shame burn in me as he called my big fucking tits "udders". But somewhere deep inside me it also turned me on in a way that is very hard to explain. Somehow the humiliation of being treated like this only fuelled my arousal more, which seemed to open me up for more shameful treatment. I should have argued. I should have protested. I should have walked out there and then. But no, I sat there, wet pussy and hard nipples. And played with my udders. Around this time I noticed that Paul had stopped taking photos and was instead standing behind an expensive looking video camera. As I tweaked my nipples and squeezed my tits somewhere deep in the fog of my highly aroused mind I remember thinking "that can't be good". Presently there was a knock on the door. Paul greeted someone (I couldn't see who), and then they both walked over to where I was on the couch, knees apart, heels on, tits in hands, panties soaked through, couch stained. "Suzie, this is Joel. Say hi to Joel, Suzie" "H-Hi Joel". Joel was a very impressive looking guy. He would have been about 6'2", was wearing a tight t shirt and jeans. He was a lot younger than me, looked about 25, and had close cropped brown hair and brown eyes. I could tell even from under his shirt that he spent a lot of time in the gym, as he had a very toned and muscular frame. Hot would be the only word to describe him. "Joel, say hi to Suzie" "Hi Slut" Paul chuckled while my cheeks burned with shame. "Joel is a professional model who will be working with you. Your role will be to take instruction and do as you are asked so I can get some great shots. If you do well you can consider your debt wiped. Does that make sense, Suzie?" "Yes Paul". "Great, you can start by getting your hands off your tits, if you think you can stop playing with yourself for five seconds." Chuckling again. "Joel, go to work". Paul jumped behind the camera again. I wasn't sure what "go to work" meant but I soon found out. Without further ado, Joel walked up to me and said "stand up" I stood up. "Take my shirt off" I hesitated for just a second, which brought a sharp reprimand. "Take the fucking shirt off bitch." I started to protest, thought better of it, and raised Joel's shirt above his head. As I suspected, he was ripped. I started to trace my nails down Joel's finely muscled torso, but he was having none of it. "Sit down" I did. Joel dropped his jeans to reveal no underwear, but a fully erect cock which sprang to life as his jeans dropped. It must have been all of 8 inches long, and was thick. Joel then sat down next to me, his cock sitting up proudly. I didn't know what was going to happen next, things were moving very fast indeed and I thought I was going to die from either arousal or humiliation. So I just stared at that massive prong and waited. Suddenly Paul spoke. "Suzie. I'm going to ask you a few questions before I continue the shoot, just so we all know where we stand, is that OK?" "Y-yes Paul, anything.." "Good girl. Now Suzie, I want you to repeat after me...'I have been a bad girl'" "I-I have been a bad girl" "I have messed Paul's couch"...oh the shame! "I have messed Pauls' couch" "I am a filthy little slut" "Oh Paul...but that's not.." "Now Suzie, we all know you're a filthy little slut otherwise why would your slut pussy have drooled all over your panties and then my couch when I was simply taking a few photos?" That was very hard to argue with..."I-I am a filthy little slut" Photo Shoot Gone Badly Wrong Pt. 02 The days after the photo shoot were a mess of confusion for me. I tried hard to concentrate at work, but showing properties and getting my commissions were the last thing I was able to focus on during that time. I was barely able to function cognitively at all. Every piece of spare mental energy I had was spent reconciling the depraved actions I had undertaken and the intense but terrifying feelings and desires that they had awoken in me. Had I really said and done those things? Had I really transformed from suburban wife to some kind of desperate cock-craving whore over the course of one afternoon? I just couldn't wrap my head around how it had happened, and how I had been so complicit in my own swift demise. The other thing that changed for me was my sexual behaviour. In the bedroom I was more frustrated than ever. To be honest my husband and I didn't make love that often anyway, but this frustration was now overlaid with the fact that his "vanilla" approach just didn't seem to do it for me at all any more. And worse, I found I was locking myself away and masturbating at least twice daily - sometimes more often. And each time all I could think about was Paul, his demeaning language and his dismissive, arrogant but somehow compelling aura, as I performed wanton sexual acts on command for his camera, stuck somewhere halfway between a porn star and a trained seal. I would often finish these masturbation sessions deeply ashamed and humiliated, quietly weeping at my own lack of moral fortitude. I would frequently resolve to put these thoughts out of my mind. Which I did, until a few hours later when I became insatiably aroused again, and the cycle of masturbation and shame started afresh. And then it came. As I knew it would. As I knew it HAD to. A plain white rectangular package arrived at work. I discovered it when I returned to the office from a morning out running open inspections to pick up some paperwork for my afternoon client visits. When I filled out the various paperwork/waivers etc for my "modelling" job (yeah - right), for some reason I had put my work rather than my home address as my primary contact. Some lightning burst of intuition had made me do it. Whatever the reason, at that precise moment I silently thanked my lucky stars, because I was certain I knew what would be in the package. And I was quite certain it was something I definitely didn't want going home to hubby. The package had been left for me on my desk by our receptionist, Alyssa. It was addressed to me by name, care of the office, and the address label had been printed out of a word processor. There was no return address on the package, but none was needed, I knew where it had come from. As was often the case during the day, no-one else was in the office except for Alyssa. She was right out the front behind the reception desk, and with a closed door between her and me in the inner office where all the salespeople worked, I knew I was unlikely to be disturbed as I ripped open the paper packaging with trembling hands. And sure enough, a DVD in plastic casing fell out of my hands onto my desk with a quiet clatter. The casing of the DVD was clear plastic, it did not have a title or pictures like one you might buy or hire. The DVD itself was also blank looking, just plain silver. However inside the casing was a folded handwritten note. I opened up the plastic container and read the following: "Impressive. You might want to discuss your future. Regards, Paul." Beneath this short note was his phone number. I still had it in my phone from our initial session. Although I had been anticipating this moment, the reality of it came crashing down on me hard. For a second I felt like I couldn't breathe - and my head was spinning with emotions of fear, anger, confusion and I'll admit, arousal. Questions were running through my mind so fast, and my silly head wouldn't be calm and quietly long enough to allow me to focus and answer them. How many copies of this film were there? Had he put this on the internet? What exactly was in those damn release forms I signed when I went to the studio? I hardly read them I was that nervous... Had he sent other copies elsewhere - to my house? No, he didn't have my address...I thought...hoped. What were the exact things I actually said and did, and how much of it was captured on camera, and in what level of detail? I mean, I was sober and complicit, but I was in such a heightened state of arousal and shame that my exact memory of what occurred had dimmed slightly...how bad was it? Oh god - was it as bad as I thought? Worse? When is the first chance I'll have to watch this without being interrupted? And the big one...what was he going to do next, and what did he want from me? Even though I hadn't viewed the film yet, I decided to ring him straight away. I had to deal with this issue and deal with it now. I could watch the movie and marinate in my own shame later. I hurriedly picked up the DVD, slipped it into my bag, grabbed the paperwork I was after, and headed for some privacy - being my car. I had an easy drive to my next meeting, so I figured I could talk to Paul via Bluetooth on the way. That way no-one could overhear or interrupt. As I dialled the number, a part of me was wishing he wouldn't pick up. No such luck. A confident male voice, unmistakably Paul's, answered the phone. "Hot Modelz modelling agency." "Paul, listen. It's me, Suzie, I need to talk to you about this video, you see it's..." Paul cut me off. "I'm sorry, who is this speaking please?" "It's Suzie, come on please Paul, I need..." My voice was rising in panic and embarrassingly girlish, and somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind I briefly wondered how simply hearing his voice had reduced me to this uncharacteristic loss of control already - we were only talking on the phone, dammit! Again, he calmly interrupted me. "Look I'm really sorry and I don't mean to be rude, but you're going to have to be more specific. We do deal with a lot of girls here at the agency, and we do a lot of videos. Now it might help if you can slow down a bit honey - and try and explain to me who you are, what modelling job you did for me, and which video you wanted to discuss. Then we'll all be on the same page and I'm sure I can help you." OK, of course. He deals with lots of models. Probably lots of "Suzie's" to boot. Stop being so silly and get it together, girl! I took a deep breath and tried to be calm and clear, just like Paul said. "Ok, wait, I'll pull my car over." "Great idea." I pulled my Honda sedan over to the side of the road so I could concentrate properly. I pulled up next to a suburban park which had a playground and basketball court, but not too much passing traffic. Then I took a deep breath. "Right, my name is Suzie [Surname], and about two weeks ago I came in to do a photo shoot for my husband. Do you remember me now?" He hesitated. "Umm...look we do a bit of that sort of work, sorry I still can't quite place it. Are you not happy with how the pictures turned out?" "No, no, no nothing like that..." I tried to continue, but got cut off again, by that maddeningly calm and controlled voice. "Oh good then! We do pride ourselves on top notch work here. Anyway, sorry to interrupt you, what did you want to talk about?" "Well, you see it wasn't the photo shoot. You must be able to remember - I started out wanting to do some bikini or lingerie shots, but..." At that moment, I couldn't bring myself to say out loud what had happened, what I'd done. "Yes Suzie, but what?" "But, b-but the whole shoot degenerated, somehow I got...um...I guess...turned on, and you made me s-suck a guy's cock, and you filmed it, and then you called me n-names, and then you made me..." "I made you?" Quietly interrupting me yet again as I descended into babbly little girl talk, "Oh my dear I don't remember making you do anything at all. Are you sure you've got the right number Suzie?" "OF COURSE I"VE GOT THE RIGHT FUCKING NUMBER! YOU SENT ME THE GODDAMN VIDEO IN THE POST!" I was screaming hysterically. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a couple of young men, who had entered the basketball court, turn and look my way. The windows of my car were shut, but I still must have distracted them with my rather loud outburst. Oh well, whatever. I lowered my voice. "Paul, please listen, you MUST remember me, I ended up, you know..." my voice tailed off quietly. "I know what, Suzie?" "You know, I ended up fucking myself with a dildo on the floor for your goddamn camera!" I hissed the last few words through gritted teeth, trying to be quiet so as not to draw further attention to myself, but still putting emphasis on the words. Paul was very quiet for a second. Then, just as I was about to ask if he was still there, he said "Ahhhh, yes. I remember you now. Of course. However if you think I made you do those things, I suggest you review the video. Have you watched the video Suzie?" "N-no." "Mmmm. I see. Well, let me give you a quick reminder of what occurred. Somehow the events of that afternoon are coming back to me more clearly now that you painted that lovely mental picture of you rutting like a pig on that dildo and calling yourself every nasty name under the sun. "I believe it was YOU who said 'I want you to see my big fucking tits', proud as you were of your surgery, is that not right, Suzie?" Well, it wasn't like I walked in proudly announcing that from the get-go, but he did have me there. I did seem to remember saying that as things heated up, kind of against my will. Worse still, the mere mention by Paul of my "big fucking tits", and in fact the conversation in general, was doing very warm, tingly and not-really-appropriate- for-a-real-estate-agent-during-the-day type things to my body. "Yes, Paul, I-I guess I did." Stuttering and shuddering dammit! "How are those big fucking tits now, Suzie? Do you want to pinch your nipples now, just like you did in the photo shoot? I seem to remember that just from posing and pinching those big cow udders that you got rather wet, and it was YOU, not me, who soiled my expensive couch!" "ohhh..hhhh" was about all I was able to reply. The mention of what I did and his rough language had an immediate and physical effect on my body. My nipples were rock hard with arousal, and I felt a flood of wetness in my sex. "P-paul I-I-I..." "I think you should give your nipples a nice tweaking now, just to refresh your memory, so you don't accuse me of having done anything else that you did YOURSELF, you silly little WHORE." He interrupted my foolish stuttering with a calm, authoritative command. "uhhh- huhh," I moaned and worked my hands into my business shirt. I'd already started unbuttoning the shirt in an almost involuntary but desperate attempt to get pleasure myself and had now popped both my surgically enhanced DD breasts (udders?) up over my bra. I was pinching both nipples hard, twisting them, ashamedly but enthusiastically enjoying the effect it was having on my now quite wet pussy. Unbelievably, in a matter of seconds he had reduced me to the same state I was in during the photo shoot. And this time he'd done it much quicker. The memory of that erotic and humiliating afternoon lurched to the front of my mind, bringing with it waves of hot, tingling, maddening arousal. I was writhing, cooing and moaning as I pinched my nipples. "Now Suzie, while we're on the subject of jogging your memory, I seem to remember that YOU told me that you have 'a big ass and big slutty udders like a cow'. Is that right?" "Oooohhhhhhhhh..." "I can't hear you Suzie. Is that right, cock whore?" "F-ffcuk..Ughhhhh.. YES YES it's right...oh God please..." I had really lost it now, one hand had moved up under my skirt and down my panties, tickling my clit, while the other pinched first my left then my right nipple harder and harder." "And I believe you did say you were 'a good for nothing fuckpig'. Is that correct?" "Ohhhh fuck yes Paul! I'm a GOOD FOR NOTHING FUCKPIG! Are you happy?" Oh god I was so close to bringing myself off as Paul abused me verbally and I abused myself physically. My hand was frantically working my clit, my other hand was attacking my fully exposed tits with gusto, and I was moaning, screaming and calling myself nasty names as I brought myself closer and closer. Nearly there Suzie you dirty slut, nearly there... "Yes I'm happy. Bye." And with that he hung up. I let out an anguished shriek of frustration and arousal. Just at that moment, there was a tap on my car window that absolutely scared the life out of me. The two young men who were playing basketball were right up at my car window, eyes wide open, slack jawed and happily filming me in my dishevelled and exposed state with their phones. And if I wasn't mistaken, the bulge in their respective shorts suggested they were might impressed with what they'd seen and heard thus far. Oh fuck... Photo Shoot Gone Badly Wrong Pt. 03 The absolute shock of my predicament startled me into action. Panic-stricken, and despite teetering on the edge of what surely would have been a massive orgasm, I turned the ignition back on and gunned my Honda. I wasn't really thinking clearly, I just knew I had to get away from those young men and their phones. As my car lurched down the road, I unsteadily stuffed my oversized boobs back into my bra. I wasn't really able to button my shirt back up while driving, but at least I wasn't hanging out all over the place now. I found my way onto a main road, and slowly started to calm down from my startled adrenaline rush, which allowed for a far greater clarity of thought. OK, that was not good. I started to think through the potential consequences of what had happened. I wasn't sure exactly how long those boys (they couldn't have been much more than 20 years old) had been filming me, and what they'd been able to capture through my raised car window on their phones, but I knew I had been making a bit of noise and they would have had a good sight of my tits, nipples and one hand diving up under my skirt. I hated to admit it but the thought of it was quite arousing, and I wasn't coming down from the edge of my orgasm quite as quickly as I'd hoped. What if I'd let them enter my car and satisfy me with those big cocks I'd seen bulging in their shorts? Mmm... No. Get a grip on yourself Suzanne, for fuck's sake. That's what I tried to tell myself, anyway. As I drove along, trying to push those insidiously creeping sexual thoughts from my mind and let rationality come back to hold sway, I mentally tried to map out the next steps of what I needed to do. Firstly, I needed to watch this DVD. I still hadn't seen it and to be honest was dreading watching myself work through acts of sexual depravity on screen. However I needed to know what I was dealing with so I could confront Paul, and hopefully work out a way to prevent him from whatever he was planning. I had no idea what that was, but I was fairly certain it would either involve distribution or blackmail - the thought of either filled me with dread. Secondly, my next confrontation with Paul needed to be face to face. This would obviously be tricky, but it was clear that in a verbal discussion he held too much power over me. If I could look him in the eye and let him know I was serious to stop this, that would have to be my best chance of extricating myself from whatever mess he intended for me. Thirdly, what to do about these young men and their phones, filming me through the window of my car? The further I drove, the less it worried me, and I actually started to feel a lot better, if no less horny. They didn't know me - I supposed they would circulate whatever footage they had captured amongst their buddies. Very entertaining, amateur MILF with big tits masturbates in her car! But it would die a natural death. There was enough porn out there on the net already and therefore it certainly wasn't unique or special enough to go viral, and it would hardly be high quality. And with no way to trace it back to me, I was pretty confident I'd be safe on that score. I decided to cancel my next meeting and instead head home to gather my thoughts. My husband was out at work and my teenage daughters were both at school so I'd have the place to myself for a couple of hours. It would also give me a chance to watch that dreaded DVD. Before long I arrived home, to our very nice suburban home. It was a lot like many of the places I sold for a living, nicely manicured front yard, garage spots for two cars, four bedrooms, two living areas, a nice suburban home that told volumes about the comfortable upper middle-class life my family led. Today however, I was wasting no time admiring my home on the way in. As I approached the front door, my mind started to race again in anticipation of seeing the DVD. I could feel my heart start to hammer away hard and fast as I let myself inside, practically sprinting up the stairs (as much as my heels and suit would allow) to my bedroom. Perched at the end of the bed on a tallboy was a large 40 inch TV, with its own DVD player. With trembling hands, I placed the disc into the player, and settled myself on the bed to watch, still fully clothed including my pumps. And I watched my abject humiliation at the hands of a man I barely knew unfold before my eyes, in full colour and high definition sound. I watched as a vain suburban housewife turned none too slowly into a foul-mouthed cock-gobbling slut, who begged to be used like a piece of meat. I watched as the woman on the film drooled, slobbered, moaned and whimpered as she fucked herself with a dildo, desperate to bring herself to orgasm, which she'd been denied by the man off camera. And that woman was me. And the worst bit? I was almost as turned on watching it back as I'd been at the time the whole sorry episode unfolded. My shame and humiliation at seeing myself so degraded in this fashion was only matched by my incredibly intense state of arousal. Soon I realised that the moans I could hear weren't coming from the screen, but my own, as I brought myself to a loud and earth-shattering climax while fully clothed on the bed. Four fingers had disappeared up my soaking pussy, and I fucked myself into oblivion with my own hand. As the contractions slowly subsided, I lay on my own bed, fully clothed, hand still engaged with my sex beneath my skirt, wondering what I'd become. *** It's funny how a good night's sleep and the morning sunlight can bring a fresh perspective to one's mindset. That was how I felt, anyway, when I awoke the next day with new resolve. I felt confident that I could still put an end to this. OK, yes the DVD was pretty bad, but as the subject of same I figured I still had some negotiating power, if I could just confront Paul. After our morning meeting in the office, I had a couple of appointments for property inspections, but then a free afternoon. My plan was to turn up unannounced at "Hot Modelz" and try and catch Paul on the back foot with little time to prepare. From there I would give him some ultimatums around how he could and couldn't use the little show of me he'd filmed, or I would legally withdraw my consent. I figured I'd give a little to gain a lot. It actually felt nice to be back in control of my own destiny for a little while. However before that I had some work to contend with. The first inspection was for a regular client who had been looking around for a while at suburban homes similar to mine. I dealt with that meeting in a routine fashion. I had already shown him a few properties and he was looking to add to his investment portfolio. The meeting went well and I had the feeling that soon he'd be making a decision, which would mean a nice commission for me. This day was going well indeed! My next inspection was something more of a mystery. It had only been booked yesterday afternoon, and was for a gentleman named Brad. I knew little else except that he wanted me to show him a more high-end property we had recently listed. This place was very special indeed, and could be considered almost a mansion, with a sprawling yard, large pool, multiple bedrooms and massive living areas. A very special home to be sure, and I was looking forward to the meeting. It was priced to sell at close to $2mil, which would mean a significant payday for the lucky agent - me, if I could get it sold! As I turned up to the property, which was currently vacant, I saw the car of what I presumed was my prospective buyer Brad. Hard not to notice it, it was an Audi R8 - bright red and making the sort of statement that cars like this are supposed to. It had heavily tinted windows but I could see that my buyer was inside, and looked like he may have had a friend with him. I was a little early, so I parked my own Honda, and walked up to the house to open the front door and let some air in. No doubt Brad would follow me in soon. I entered, and started to busy myself opening blinds to allow the natural light show off the best features of the house, paying particular attention to the large, well-appointed kitchen - a well-known selling point of any house these days. It had a massive island bench and was adorned with all the latest German appliances. I was lost admiring it myself for a moment when I heard a soft knock at the front door. I hastened to the front, quickly checking my appearance - there was no mirror, but a quick rub down of my pin-striped business suit to make sure it sat straight and was lint free was a habit I'd gotten into before meeting clients. I was also dressed in a rather tight blouse with a few buttons undone to give a good hint of cleavage - another habit I'd gotten into, particularly since my "boob job" and when dealing with male clients. This, combined with my above the knee tight skirt and perhaps slightly higher-than-strictly-decent heels gave me a look that I hoped men found sexually attractive without putting it "out there" too much. Hey, sex sells, right? I opened the door, and it swang back to reveal the two young gentlemen from the park the day before. Oh my fucking God! No basketball gear this time, instead they were both well-dressed in casual polo shirts and jeans. But I recognised those smug, leering faces from the day before instantly . I actually heard myself gasp as I stared at them both in sheer, unadulterated shock and horror. I must have been quite a sight, all tarted up in my "sexy businesswoman" gear, staring at them slack-jawed and speechless, as one of them started to chuckle, "Ok...so...you gonna let us in or do we have to go through you to buy this joint?" I can't honestly tell you what ridiculous answer I stammered at them, but I said something inane, and unsteadily backpedaled a couple of steps to let them in. As the boys stepped in, I took a second to properly register their looks. The one who had spoken and I assumed to be Brad, was about 6'2", dark brown hair and eyes. His friend was slightly shorter, maybe 6' even, sandier coloured hair. Both of the young men clearly spent a fair amount of time on that basketball court or in the gym, as they moved with a certain athletic grace, and filled their tight-fitting polo shirts very nicely indeed. As I had thought before, they both appeared to be about 20 years old or thereabouts. And why was I noticing all this? Oh my god, who knew? What I did know was that I needed to pull myself together very quickly. Starting with how these guys found me. "S-so Brad..." "Yes?" Aha, he was the taller one. "Ummm...how did you guys..ummm you know..." "Find you?" he interrupted with a clearly amused look on his face. "What, a guy can't buy a house these days? Thought it was a free country!" More smirking. Brad's buddy stifling a laugh. Very funny, boys. I managed to regain a modicum of composure and stop acting like a blushing school girl for a change. "Yeah I'm sure this is just one big coincidence that you happened to make an appointment with me, of all people. Spill it boys, (emphasis on the 'boys', trying to assert my authority) what, did you stalk me home or something?" Brad laughed out loud. It wasn't a kind laugh either. The type of laugh that makes you realise that you've been played. "Don't flatter yourself," he snorted. "Well how then?" Oh dear, that sounded altogether far too girlish and plaintive. "Are you seriously that dumb?" This was Brad's as-yet unnamed buddy. Clearly my blank look said I was, as Brad continued on without waiting for my response, "What's on the side of your car, you balloon-titted bimbo?" Oh fuck. Of course. When I'm at work, I place a large advertising magnet on my front doors, and the name of the Real Estate firm is there for all to see. Well, I guess that cleared up the great mystery of how they found me. I heard myself let out a pathetic little whimper, as the realisation of my own stupidity hit me. My mind was spinning out of control, and my body was acting against my will. To my own humiliation, I could actually feel the first signs of arousal hit me as the words "balloon-titted bimbo" registered. What sort of a person was I that I was turned on by this sort of demeaning and vulgar language? "Aha, looks like she gets it now, Danny." "She's gonna get it, alright." That ominous phrase from my sandy-haired antagonist briefly woke me from my self-pity. "Now just hang on a sec..." I began, attempting to be somewhat forceful. "No, YOU hang on, Suzanne." Brad took control of the conversation again. "There's a couple of things you need to be aware of. One, Danny and I are here as customers, and want to be shown this house, which we CAN afford. We may be young but our parents are loaded. You wouldn't want a call to your boss about any poor customer service, now would you? Two. You seem to have forgotten about a little video we both have of you. I have lots of friends. How many of them see it is up to you. You can start by being a lot nicer to us." And with that, Danny started playing his version of my "video". He held his phone up so I could see, and sure enough, there I was, clearly visible through the closed window of my car. You couldn't hear what I was saying overly well, it just sounded like general abuse and grunts and groans, but you could certainly see my boobs, which I'd pulled out of my bra, and there was no mistake what my hand was doing under my skirt. Not good. I looked at Brad, then at Danny, then back at Brad, crestfallen. "I-I'm sorry. If you really want to buy the house, I can show you it. I th-think we got off on the wrong foot, boys". I could hear how pathetic and scared my voice sounded, all my power stripped away, again. Brad looked at Danny and smirked. "Now that's more like it, Suzanne!" "Y-you can call me S-Suzie." Just like when I was with Paul, it just sort of came out, and for the life of me I didn't (and still don't) know why. Brad laughed that cruel laugh again. "OK, Suzie it is! Although you know what? I think I prefer 'Balloon Tits'. Can I call you 'Balloon Tits', Balloon Tits?" The boys thought that was hilarious. Loud laughter ensued, as I blushed bright red with shame, somehow unable to respond verbally. My body was certainly responding, and not in a way I hoped was noticeable. I could feel my nipples hardening under my blouse and bra, and that familiar warm tingling of arousal was starting to take hold in my sex. That my body would betray me like this only added to my deep personal humiliation. I tried to get things going again no my own terms. Without a proper sense of how to respond to the "Balloon Tits" comment, I walked towards the kitchen. "OK, s-so if you want to inspect the house, let's start downstairs here in the kitchen. I could hear the young men following me, and I continued with my patter, starting to get into something like my normal routine. "As you can see this is a fabulously large space, and you'll note it's been well appointed with the latest German cook top, oven and dishwasher. There's ample room for a large double fridge if you like, and there's this magnificent large island bench in the middle." Brad and Danny were close behind me, and as I turned I was slightly startled at how far into my personal space they'd gotten. Brad looked over at the island bench. "Hmmm. Nice, Suzie. Let's give this bench a closer look." We all walked over a couple of paces to the bench. "Now Suzie," said Brad, "what would you say this bench top is made of?" "N-no expense spared here, B-brad. It's granite." I was now blushing really hard, could feel my breath deepening, as these boys were standing REALLY close to me. "Mmmm. Granite you say. OK, would you mind just turning around and giving the granite a feel with your hands? Just to make sure it is up to the required quality and there's no scratches or dents in the surface." Smirking again...and Danny was nearly choking in his attempts to suppress his laughter. "Well Brad I'm sure you could do it?" I ventured. "Oh no, not at all. I'd really like you to do it. You're the expert after all." "O-OK." So I turned around and felt the bench top with my hands. Cool, smooth, top quality stone. As I felt the bench top, one or both of the young men took the opportunity to feel the fabric of my skirt. The part covering my ass. "OH!" I started bolt upright with a little yelp and turned around to face two leering faces. "P-please boys, don't..." "Now, now," soothed Brad, "remember, we're the customer and you wouldn't want us complaining would you? Then there's that nasty little video you made. This is nothing compared to that, I wonder what your boss would think of that film of you behaving so badly in the work car?" Well it wasn't a work car, it was my car, but point taken. I guessed a little ass rub through my skirt material wouldn't kill me. It certainly wasn't killing them. "Now be a good girl Suzie and turn around and rub that bench for me again. Really bend over and make sure you get as much of it as you can. We want to be sure there's nothing at all wrong with it." I heard myself utter a pathetic little sound somewhere deep in my throat, as I turned around and did exactly as I was told. Of course this made my ass stick out even more prominently, and the boys made sure they felt every contour of it. Then I felt the zipper on my skirt being slowly lowered. Now I should have turned around and said something, but for some reason, all I did was utter a deep groan, as I felt another flood of wetness hit me down below. Then I felt hands expertly easing my skirt slowly down over my thighs, until it was below my knees. I knew now that my assailants would be staring directly at my well-toned ass cheeks, separated only by the tiniest black thong. Then I heard Brad speak again. "Oh fuck yes! Fuck yes! Hey Suzie, turn around!" I did, somewhat unsteadily due to my skirt being around my ankles. "You have a fantastic ass. Now it's time to get those balloon tits out again for us. Jacket off. Now." I didn't react at first. Just sort of stared. I was becoming completely overwhelmed by the situation and also the extreme level of my arousal. My heart felt like it was going to pound through my rib cage, my whole body was feeling a prickly heat, and I was definitely soaking wet downstairs. "NOW!" Danny this time. That shocked me into action, and I removed my jacket in a fumbling manner, without even a hint of a protest. "Look at how she wears her shirt, Brad. She wants it so bad, she's practically showing her tits already." "You're right Danny. Showing much cleavage there, Suzie?" he chortled. "You may as well finish what you appear to have started. You can unbutton your shirt, don't take it off though, it's kind of hot, all tight like that." I fumbled with my buttons, and soon I was standing there, giving the men a good look at my black DD-cup bra. It was a half-cup style so you could see plenty of my cleavage, with my areolae and nipples just hidden. I watched Brad and Danny's eyes widen as they got their first close up look at my breasts. "Well don't just stand there, fucking get them out." Danny again. Nervously, I fumbled around in my bra, and did exactly as I was told. I eased my surgically-enhanced boobs out over the top of my bra, which was now hanging uselessly just under them. My nipples were almost painfully erect, a fact not lost on Brad and Danny. "Fuck me would you get a look at that," said Danny, almost in awe. "Mmmm. Yep. Looks like you're enjoying this a little more than you might be letting on, Suzie," smirked Brad. I really couldn't say much, as it was pretty hard to argue with the visible facts. I just stared at Brad plaintively as I felt my exposed chest heaving up and down with my ever deepening and quickening breath. Photo Shoot Gone Badly Wrong Pt. 03 "OK, turn around again Suzie. I think your nipples need to test the feel of that bench top, right now." And without waiting for any kind of response, Brad sort of whirled me around by my waist, shoved me forward and over the bench with a hand in the small of my back, and slapped my ass all in the same motion. I made a small wordless exclamation, which was partially at the feeling of the cool granite on my nipples, and partly the result of the sharp smack on the bum. I didn't have much time to savour the feeling of granite on my nipples, however, as Brad was now rubbing my swollen pussy lips through my g-string, which would have been nicely presented to him with me bending over the island bench. His rubbing became deeper, more insistent, as I started to quietly moan at his ministrations. Brad started chuckling quietly and ominously. "Oh you dumb balloon-titted slut, you'll be making a lot more noise than that in a second," he said, almost to himself. I wanted to protest, say no, stop him, something, but the maddening pleasure between my legs was growing, and I could do nothing but submit to the intense arousal overcoming my entire body. All I was able to manage was an indignant whimper as I yet again felt my pussy flooding with wetness. A token protest, at best. Seemingly taking this as a sign to proceed, Brad very quickly lifted my feet off the ground and kicked my skirt away, before lowering me again and kicking my feet further apart, which had the dual result of lowering my pussy to what was no doubt a more accessible height, and opening it up. He then pulled my now soaking g-string down to mid-thigh height, the thin material easily stretching to accommodate this. I was now fully exposed and presented to him like a piece of meat. My heart was racing at incredible speed as the realisation of how I must look to these men, and the anticipation of what was about to come hit home. Here I was, being completely taken advantage of, and all that was occupying my mind was a deep, wanton hunger for sexual fulfilment. I needed to be brought to climax by these men in whatever way they wanted. Needed to be used, needed to be fucked. Not by a dildo, not by my fingers, but by a big, hard cock. I heard Brad's zipper and belt being hastily fumbled with, and the next feeling was something hard, insistent but teasing rubbing up against my labia. First one side, then the other. "Mmmm," it was Brad. "Do you know what I've got here, Balloon Tits?" "Ohhhhh," was all I could manage. I didn't want to talk. I wanted to fuck. Why was he teasing me when I wanted him to fuck me? "Normally I like it when dumb bitches like you don't talk. But just for now I need you to tell me what you think I've got here for you. Do it NOW, slut!" Accompanied by another sharp slap on my ass. My heightened state of arousal only increased as he physically and verbally abused me. In spite of all this, I made the supreme effort to verbally communicate with Brad, if only to get what I wanted. "Ohhhhh...gawd...it's...it's your big hard cock, B-Brad...hard c-cock..." "That's right dumbass. Do you know what I'm going to do with it?" "Ohhh..." "SAY IT!" "F-Fuck me?" It was more of a plaintive question than a statement. Surely I wouldn't be denied this time? "YOU'D BETTER FUCKIN' BELIEVE IT, BITCH!" he almost yelled. And with that, he rammed his cock home, deep into my accommodating wet pussy. "Aarrrrrggghhhh!!" My scream of released frustration, arousal, shame and desire all rolled into one guttural noise as my hungry pussy finally earned its prize. Brad wasted no time, slamming his cock (and it was big, from what I could tell) hard into my pussy, grunting like a rutting beast over and over again as he assaulted me with waves of pleasure. His grunts were matched with my squeals and whimpers, making little animals noises as his massive member dominated me from behind. As his thrusts slammed into me, my exposed nipples rubbed back and forth across the granite of the kitchen bench, only driving my sexual arousal further. My blouse and bra hung uselessly open as my oversized tits bounced around in time to the urgent and powerful pounding of his hips into my ass. Somehow through my haze of ecstacy, I was able to focus on Danny, who had come around to the side of the bench and was now in my peripheral vision. He had his hard cock out, and was waving it in my face. I stared at it but was almost unseeing as my entire sense was caught up in the sexual domination I was receiving at the hands of Brad. "Suck that cock you fuckin' balloon-titted SLUT!" grunted Brad as he continued to hammer in to me from behind. As these words left his mouth, he grabbed a handful of my hair and pushed my head low and to the right, so I could reach Danny's cock. Another unintelligible whimper of humiliation and arousal escaped my lips, and Danny wasted no time jamming his meat into my mouth before I could protest or even take in what was happening. Now I was whimpering, protesting, cajoling, moaning around a mouthful of cock. My eyes were wide and pleading, but even I didn't know what I was pleading for, lost as I was in a haze of sexual excitement I'd never before come close to experiencing. "Mmmffff..,mmmmfff...mmfffff!!" "Ohhh, fuck yeah. Listen to this bitch. She fuckin' loves it. Oh fuck...yeah suck that cock you dirty MILF bitch." This was Danny, crudely urging me on. I knew I should tell him not to call me these names. But I couldn't, as each bit of abuse seemed to be brining me closer to what I knew would be the biggest orgasm of my life. Plus it's hard to argue around a mouthful of cock. "MMMMFFFFF!!" was all I could manage. I didn't know what it meant anyway. The men both laughed at my helpless, pathetic reaction as they continued to saw away at me from both ends. However I could feel Danny starting to become irregular in his thrusting, and knew what was about to happen to him. "Oh shit, fuck, this bitch, fuck already! I'm gonna...FUCK!" And in that instant Danny pulled out of my mouth, his orgasm hitting him violently, and clearly sooner than he'd hoped or expected. As he pulled out his cock sprayed what seemed like a bucket of cum, rope upon rope hitting me in my face, eyes, hair. "Oh, you fucking BITCH!" he yelled as he spent his seed all over me. "D-Danny, n...urgh...ufff...ohhhh...ohhh...nno-...ohhh...please...ufff.." I tried to protest as some sensible part of my mind was considering the consequences of being bathed in cum. But between Brad hammering me hard from behind while holding my head into Danny's geyser-like spray, and wave after wave of cum glazing my face like a donut, it was pretty much useless. Danny continued to yell abuse at me as his orgasm subsided. I could feel his cum dripping down my face and onto my tits, and the thought of what this must look like combined with everything Brad was doing to me brought my own orgasm crashing down upon me. "Oohhh..ufff...ufff...ohhhhh...fuck...fuck...yes...Brad...fuck...yes...YES...FUCKING YES...YESSSSSSS...GONNNA CUMMMM.. CUM NMMNMMNMM!!" I was shrieking as my orgasm hit me with the force of a tsunami. As I was lost in my own world screaming with needy delight, Brad just increased his intense masculine pistoning as he grabbed my hair again and pulled my head up from behind. Held helplessly like this as Brad continued smashing me, wave after wave of body-wracking pleasure sent me spasming and convulsing all over his massive cock. I screamed, moaned and almost cried as my ecstatic body exploded in a manner I'd never imagined possible. Eventually my orgasm gave way to a more general feeling of pleasure and wellbeing, as Brad continued to pummel into me. After what could have only been a few more minutes, his grunting became more intense, and I knew he wasn't too far away from his climax. Every few thrusts, he now started to slap my ass, hard. And with his grip on my hair still firm, my big tits were fully exposed, bouncing and shaking erotically in time to Brad's ever-more-urgent thrusting.. This was Danny's queue to pull my nipples, which started to maddeningly increasing my arousal levels again, along with the ass-slapping. "Fuck yeah, Danny. Slap those balloon titties". Danny needed no further encouragement, and started playfully slapping my DD's around as Brad continued to fuck my incredibly wet pussy. "Oh you fucking bitch, you're loving this. I'm going to come on your dumb slut face, Balloon Tits, what do you say to that?" "Y-yes...ok Brad". "ok what"? "OK you can come on my d-dumb s-slut face". Oh god, what? I was so aroused...I was doing it again, calling myself names, and was that another orgasm building? Surely not. With that, Brad pulled me down to my knees by my hair, and wasted no time in shoving his cock into my face. It was my first time actually seeing it, and boy it looked big alright. I didn't have much time to take measurements though as Brad immediately started grunting loudly and began spurting into my face, hair, eyes, collar of my blouse. It didn't seem quite as much as Danny, but between the two of them I was well and truly coated in cum. Brad waved his now spent cock in my face. "Clean it, Balloon Tits". I knew what I was expected to do, and found myself enthusiastically and noisily slurping on his softening cock. It was somehow a turn on to lovingly clean this cock that had so dominated and given me pleasure. "Hey check this bitch out, Danny," "What?" "She's such a fucking slut, she's humping my foot!" Oh god no. I hadn't even realised it, but yes, caught up in the moment and I guess subconsciously hoping for a second orgasm, I had involuntarily started grinding my hips while sucking Brad's cock, and was effectively humping his big toe with my naughty, slutty, skanky pussy! I stopped immediately. "Oh no, balloon tits. You can keep doing it. In fact, I insist", Brad laughed that slightly evil laugh again. Danny, why don't you give her some motivation? "N-no Brad. I'm sorry, I'll stop. I didn't mean to..." "You'll fucking do what you're told." Punctuated with a big SLAP on my left breast. "Ohhhhhh...fuckkk" I slowly started rocking on his toe again. Actually it did feel damn good. It felt even better when Danny kneeled down behind me and started to gently pull my nipples and kiss my neck. Soon I was right on the edge and my dog-like humping of Brad's foot was about to bring me the release I craved. "Oohhhh...FUCCKKKKKKKK...gonna ...CUMMMMMM," I screamed, as the boys laughed. Danny pulled my nipples violently to accompany my orgasm, as Brad jammed his toe hard into my pussy. As I hit my climax I could hear the young men laughing, calling me names like "Balloon Tits", "slut", "dumb MILF bitch". But I didn't care, I was caught up in cumming - and those names, well they were just names. And sort of true. And a turn on. This orgasm was different to the first. Less body-wracking, more deeply satisfying. I collapsed fully to the floor, high heels still on, panties still at mid-thigh height, bra and blouse on but undone, tits hanging out, nipples erect, face and hair coated in now-drying cum. It seemed a while, but it probably wasn't long before the noise of the boys zipping up their pants made me look up, trying to think of something to say. I was still searching for something half dignified to utter as I watched them pick up their phones. Oh fuck. Pick up their phones! Pick up their phones, which I only now realised had been propped up on the other end of the kitchen bench top. Pick up their phones, which had obviously been recording everything that had just occurred. Oh no. Photo Shoot Gone Badly Wrong "I Have a big ass and big fucking slutty udders like a cow." "P-please Paul don't make me say that... please." I felt so humiliated. I thought my new breasts were perfect and now this was the third or fourth time Paul was comparing them to udders. "Yes, Suzie you have to say it because you know it's true. You even had your cow udders made larger after all the years of milking you've had, because you're an old cow. Or, you could pay me the $8000 you owe me..." "Oh god" "Say it, moo cow" "I have a big ass and b-big fucking slutty u-udders like a cow." "I moan and grunt like a rutting pig when I should sit quietly for a portrait" That one was true. "I moan and grunt like a rutting pig when I should sit quietly for a portrait". "Very well done Suzie." At last, I thought. My humiliation is now complete. I can't sink any lower. How wrong I was. "Ok so now that we understand each other," Paul continued, "I want you to get on your hands and knees on the bed. You may leave your panties and heels on. Arch your back and stick that fat ass of yours high in the air." I did exactly as told. My panties were by now completely saturated and my nipples were sticking out so hard they were almost painful. Joel moved in behind me, looking at me lustfully, his massive cock throbbing. By now I was pretty sure what was going to happen to me next and to be honest I was looking forward to it. Really looking forward to it. Except once again, I was wrong. Joel reached around and pulled down on my nipple, just the way a farmer might milk a cow. Oh no, this was getting too much. All this attention was taking me right to the edge but it was not enough to bring me release. Paul started grinning again. "Hey, moo cow. What should you be saying?" "P-please Joel. Please f-f-fuck me. Make me cum. I need it so bad lover..." Joel and Paul both burst out laughing, and hard. "Wow you really are a slut Suzie," chuckled Paul. "Unfortunately this is not a Mills and Boon novel and this is not all about you. Therefore what I want you to say when Joel pulls one of those massive udders is what all good cows should say...'moo'". Oh fuck no. Every time I thought this couldn't get any more humiliating... Joel tugged hard on my right nipple. "Moo" Then my left one. "Moo" Then really hard and long on my right nipple again "MoooOOOOOO" The boys both fell about laughing as I gasped in shame. Then, finally, I felt something up against my labia. For a second I thought it was Joels young hard cock but I soon realised it was his fingers, teasing, probing my lips through my panties. "Holy fuck Paul she is absolutely dripping. How did you get her like this?" "Actually mate she more or less did it to herself. Isn't that right Suzie?" "Y=yes." That was the worst part. It was right. Paul had not touched me. Not once. Joel continued to stroke the outside of my panties, stimulating me infuriatingly. I started to whimper and move my ass closer to his hand and his maddening fingers. I knew it was useless but instinct took over. I had to have something inside me to make me cum. Then, from Joel: "Nah uh, not yet you old fuckpig. You have to earn it." Oh no, please no. I just wanted to cum. Joel grabbed me by the hair and pulled me down to the floor, on my knees, while he sat at the end of the bed. His cock was hard and he was certainly turned on as the head was glistening with pre cum. "Grab your heels" he ordered thickly. I reached behind myself, one hand on each heel. Without warning, Joel (who still hand a handful of my hair) pushed my head down onto his cock. All of a sudden I had as much of its length as I could take deep in my throat. He held me down there and shook my head over his hard cock. I could feel my throat, eyes and nose burn as he did it and I reached up to grab his thighs and push myself off his cock. As I did, Joel pulled me rapidly off his cock. "Naughty, naughty, fat assed cow, " said Paul from across the room. "I said hands on HEELS" said Joel forcefully. As he said "HEELS" he slapped my big fucking fat cow tits, hard. "S-sorry J-Joel" I whimpered. "Try again slut", and again the cock was in my throat. This time he was pushing my head up and down on his cock, and I was choking, gagging, making obscene noises. Suddenly a thick trail of drool rose up through my throat, out the sides of my mouth, all over Joel's cock. Joel released me again. "Oh a sloppy little slut," said Joel. He watched as drool dribbled all over my dd titties, and my mascara started to run from the burn in my eyes. For the next few minutes or so, this is how I was treated, throat fucked like a street whore, when all I originally wanted was to have my beautifully maintained 40 year old body, including brand new tits, worshipped as some unattainable trophy. How low had I sunk in such a short time? Then, Joel uttered a massive groan and pulled my head away from his cock. I looked up just in time to see his cock head suddenly puff up and then release a massive gush of semen. I couldn't tell much after that as it splattered my eyes, my hair, my face, my chin and my tits, but it must have been three of four good thick loads. "Awesome dude!" exclaimed Paul. Joel didn't say much, as he hadn't all along. He walked away from me without as much as a "thank you", and left me wiping cum from my eyes. By now I was desperate. I had never been so close to such a large orgasm for so long without satisfaction. Especially with my panties still on! Paul knew this too. "Would you like to cum now Suzie?" "Oh y-yes please Paul. Please" "Ok well I think you know by now the sort of things I need to hear you say. But in case you're not sure, the word 'lover' is not required." That chuckle again....fuck I really should have more dignity but I needed to cum so bad I would say, do and endure anything, and he knew it. "Please Paul, fuck me. Fuck me in my slutty pussy. I know I'm just a good for nothing fuckpig who thinks she's a model. I'm a 40 year old slut who got her tits enhanced because she is a prick teasing whore with cow udders. I'm a filthy bitch with a fat ass who gets wet and drools on the couch without even being touched. I'm such a whore I will say moo when my tits are pulled just so I can get some cock. But please, please, please end this now and fuck me so I can cum." There I was, now fully debased. Words had come out of my mouth that I'd never used. I was kneeling on the floor of Paul's office with my face and hair covered in cum, my tits covered in my own drool, my panties absolutely soaking through, and I hadn't even noticed that while I was begging my hands had gone up to my tits again. And now I was asking for the final humiliation, for Paul to fuck me hard so I could cum, and no doubt he'd make me say and do all of the above and worse all over again. "Good girl. Except for one thing. I don't fuck slutty fat assed cows, so here take this and have fun. " With that, he threw me a vibrator. "And be quick, the camera is still rolling."