My Life As A Fetish Model

Disclaimer: This story is purely fictional and any resemblance to anyone dead or alive is coincidental. I welcome comments (and suggestions for future chapters!) so please feel free to email me – kace.lee at gmail. Thanks! Kacey.

MY LIFE AS A FETISH MODEL

My name is Christine Lee, and this the story of my life as a fetish model.

Coming out of school as an 18 year-old was a liberating feeling, and it wasn’t long before I had to move away from home to go to college. I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted to study – my grades in school were pretty good, but I had no idea exactly what it was that I wanted to do. In school I had been known a little bit as a dancer, and so I enrolled in a performing arts college, and moved out of home.

The classes weren’t particularly interesting, but one day, I saw an errant piece of paper fluttering around in the courtyard. Going to pick it up, I saw that it was an adult flier – probably straight off some porno magazine. As I read it, though, I saw it was more of an advertisement. Some fetish magazine was looking for new models, and the money they were offering seemed quite good. In particular, they said they were looking for Asian girls – bingo.

I’m your typical Asian girl – petite, about 5’2, with long black hair, and a small, tight butt. The magazine wasn’t looking for naked pictures, and the flier assured me that it would just mean provocative poses in some rather interesting clothing, with no nudity involved. Harmless enough. So I gave the number a ring, and arranged a coffee meeting with a “Max Hugo”, the photographer and supposed man in charge of this division of the magazine.

“You’re beautiful,” Max complimented me as we shook hands and sat down. He ordered himself a coffee and opened a business folder. He was well-dressed in a suit, a man in his mid-forties. He was a big man – I guessed at least 6’5, and his frame was filled out with plenty of muscle. A fitness trainer in a former life, probably. He wasted no time in getting to the point.

“So we’re not asking you to pose naked; you’ll just be wearing a few different costumes. If the section is received well, we might want you back, and then you can decide what you want to do.”

“What sort of costumes are we talking about?” I asked.

“I thought you might ask that.” He withdrew a magazine and slid it across the table. “This is last month’s issue.”

I leafed through it, and shivered a little with excitement. There were girls here in impossibly-tight latex corsets, high-heeled boots, French maid outfits, scandalous schoolgirl uniforms. I was no stranger to sex – I expect I’d had as much action as any of the other cheerleading girls in my last three years at school – but those experiences paled in comparison to the kinky eroticism of these photo shoots. There was a bondage section as well, showcasing girls in tight hogties, or spread wide with metal bars.

“I’d like to do it, if you’ll have me,” I said, firmly.

“Excellent.” Max handed me his card. “How about we schedule for a shoot in a couple of days’ time? Don’t worry about what you wear – we’ll have all the costumes there for you, although you’ll need to give me your measurements so we can tailor them just right.”

After these details were fixed, Max paid up for his coffee (and mine), and we shook hands again. “Look forward to it!” he said. As I mumbled something along those same lines, I turned to go – and before I knew it, he’d reached out with a cheeky hand to squeeze my right buttock. It wasn’t just a pinch, it was a full-on gratuitous ass-fondle. Deciding I couldn’t really object and have the possibility of losing this new stream of income, I forced a smile and continued on my way.

“Christine! Good to see you.” It was Max, and I had just arrived at his studio apartment. There were a couple of other people there with him, another guy who I assumed to be an assistant photographer, and a girl who must be the wardrobe lady. “That gorgeous ass is still looking as deliciously tight as the last time I saw it,” Max winked, mischievously, and as he came to help me with my bags, he gave my butt another squeeze. This Max was definitely an ass man, the way he was lewdly looking at me and groping my bottom when I didn’t even really know him.

“Alright, Christine,” the lady came over to introduce herself. “I’m Jessica, and I’ll be helping you with all your clothing. Nothing too adventurous today – just a little latex ensemble to get you started.”

Thankfully there was a makeshift dressing room, where I could flee from the prying eyes of Max and his assistant. Jessica explained the items to me and helped me fit them on. First came some boots with skyscraper platform heels – they laced up to my mid-thigh, and were apparently a 6.5” heel. Asian girls aren’t the tallest going around, so this was definitely a new viewpoint for me.

There was also a black g-string, and black PVC gloves. They also wanted me to wear a cute little rhinestone collar. The corset took the longest to get on – Jessica insisted on lacing it as tightly as she could – and it was already tiny. The cups hugged my breasts and squeezed my waist to uncomfortably small proportions. This was verified when Max came over, and clasped my waist in his big hands – and his hands nearly met!

“Now that’s a petite, corseted waist,” he remarked. I felt like a tiny doll in his hands, and his large frame seemed to block out everything else. “Alright, come on over and strike a few poses. Let’s see what material we can get.”

The first few poses were nothing special; sitting seductively across a couch, posing upright on a stool. Then came the more risqué instructions.

“Let’s see you fondle your tits…that’s right, cup them, hold them up.”

“Get down on your hands and knees, and look back over your shoulder. That’s it. Push your ass up higher. Good.”

Max looked across to his assistant, whose name I had recently gathered was Andrew. “Now let’s see how flexible you are. You said you’re studying dance…so maybe we can get this shot. The last few girls couldn’t do it.”

I was intrigued. “What do you want me to do?” I asked him.

“Can you lock your ankles behind your head?” Max said.

I jumped up on the couch, and after a little bit of manoeuvring, had assumed the pose that he wanted. I was flexible and limber, and petite girls don’t have much trouble doing these especially if they’re dancers. I had drawn my long legs up, until my ankles were right up by my ears, and then I pushed a little further and locked them behind my neck. The latex thigh-high boots were straining, just as their cameras started clicking away.

“That’s excellent,” Max said, and Andrew nodded. “Possibly even cover material. Which would mean more money for you.”

More money? That sounded good. “So am I done?” I asked. He nodded. The photo-shoot had only taken thirty minutes altogether. Not bad for the agreed sum of $1000. This must be a really high-class magazine to pay that much for so little work.

“Do you want a lift home?” Max said, as he gathered up his equipment. “I don’t live too far from you, if I remember your address correctly.”

“Sure,” I said, as I hadn’t really thought of transport on the way back. “Let me just get my stuff.”

“Why don’t you stay wearing that costume?” Max said, again with that mischievous tone. “No one will see you…and it’ll be fun. I’ll let you keep the clothes if you wear them until you get home.”

I did like these clothes. And I’d be in a car, going straight to my place. No one would really see me. So I recklessly agreed, and after a few more minutes of packing up, I wound up in the passenger’s seat of his car. In an erotic latex outfit. But his windows were tinted, so no one really noticed on the journey.

As we got closer to my place, he made a wrong turn. I pointed this out. “Oh, no,” he said, “I was meaning to drop by my place first, if that’s ok with you. I need to pick a few things up before I run some errands, I’ll drop you on the way then if you don’t waiting a little while.”

This was getting a little dicier, but I didn’t really have any choice but to agree. “In fact, why don’t you come up and see my apartment? It’s a pretty cool place. And you can get a drink there.”

I was thirsty, come to think of it, and so, in line with my reckless behaviour so far, I followed him up to his apartment. He was predictably in the penthouse – clearly this magazine was doing well. Max gave every indication of being a successful forty-something year-old businessman.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing to the couches. “I’ll be back in a second.” Still in my skyscraper platform boots, I managed to make my way to one of the couches without falling over. I had gradually adjusted to breathing in the corset, at least. I considered taking the elbow-length gloves off, but they made a nice look with the rest of the outfit, so kept them on in the end. Trying to think of small talk, I called after him.

“So how long have you been in the magazine business?” I asked.

“Only the last few years, actually,” came the muffled reply from the bedroom. “A few years ago I retired from my old job, did a course in photography, and then came across to the magazine.”

“What was your old job?” I said, taking the bait.

And that was his cue to step out from behind the bedroom door and back into the lounge room. He was stark naked. “I used to be a pornstar,” he grinned. And I could believe it. He was stroking one massive hardon as he said it, stepping closer into the lounge. I wasn’t quite sure how to react, and I was a little bit mesmerised by the sight of this gigantic penis. I’m not very good at guessing, but this was definitely the biggest I’d ever seen, probably about ten inches long, ramrod straight, and fearsomely thick.

“Christine, you’re a beautiful young girl, and I’m sure you’re not a virgin. Not with a body like that. And I’m head of the photography department – I could get you that cover shot you want, and all the money that comes with it.” That was his pitch. And now he’d closed the gap between us until he was holding me again, his huge hands enveloping my tiny waist. His huge cock slapped up against my corseted stomach.

Meekly I followed him into the bedroom. I couldn’t resist, and I couldn’t think of any salvageable way of extricating myself from the situation. I’d only sleep with him once, it’d be over soon, then I could go home, and I’d have him doing me favours afterwards. He pulled my g-string down and tossed it away. “The great thing about your latex outfit…is that you can have sex in it, while I still have access to everywhere I want.”

He was a big man, and I was a small Asian girl, so he had no trouble manhandling me into whatever position he wanted. Soon I found myself under him on his bed, my legs spread obscenely high as he aimed his enormous erection against my pussy lips. “They call this the ‘squashing of the deckchair’,” Max noted, and I could see why. I certainly felt like I was being squashed. He pushed, and soon his cock was forcing its way in between my lips, a warm, thick snake slithering up my tight love tunnel. He was so big, I couldn’t resist moaning. No one had filled me up this much before. All the while his shoulders were pressing down on my outstretched legs, so that my ankles were resting on either side of his head as he pumped. He was so forceful and violent that my little body was bouncing beneath him with every thrust, and I was unconsciously crying out with each new pounding.

After ten minutes of this non-stop action, he finally came, shooting deep within me. Lucky I had taken my birth control pills. I was exhausted. He had ridden me like I was some sort of brood mare. “Ok, so you’ve slept with me, can I…” I began to say, but he put a finger to my lips, silencing me. With growing realisation I noticed his cock hadn’t softened. It was still rock hard. No doubt being a male pornstar had honed his libido to a razor-sharp edge.

“I want you to suck on it, Christine,” he said. It seemed like an order. I gingerly picked myself up off the bed, and knelt before this massive cock. I could feel some of his cum dripping down my inner thighs. The head of his cock was so huge I could barely fit it in my mouth. I sucked on the first few inches, while pumping the shaft with my right hand. It was more a handjob with me kissing the head rather than a blowjob. But after he came a second time, he still wasn’t done.

“That position we got you in for the final photo…” Max began to say, and I knew what he wanted me to do. “It’s called the Viennese Oyster. I’ve known very few girls who are talented enough to actually do it…” He could see I was reluctant. “I’ll pay you a thousand dollar bonus, and I’ll get you that cover shoot bonus as well on top of that,” he promised.

Now I felt a bit like a prostitute. Having sex for money. But he’d already fucked me once, and I’d already sucked him off, so what was the harm in one more time? He found a chair for me, and positioned it perfectly. It had arms, so I wasn’t going to lose my position and fall off to either side – which would have definitely put a dampener on things. I hooked up my legs like I had before, and locked them behind my head.

Before I knew it, Max had snapped some ankle cuffs around behind my neck, securing my ankles in that position until he chose to release them. “Hey!” I said, surprised, and now a little scared. He laughed as I struggled, but couldn’t budge. I was locked into this stupid Viennese Oyster position.

“Relax…by cuffing your ankles, you don’t have to strain to keep them there.” He reached for a bottle of lube. Almost tenderly, he knelt by the chair, and began to stroke my pussy with his fingers. “Shh. Relax. You’ll love it.” He continued stroking, before unloading some lube on his index finger.

Without warning, he slid a finger down to the exposed crack of my ass. “Christine, I’ve wanted to fuck this little ass of yours ever since I laid eyes on you that day in the coffee shop.” I started to protest.

“Wait…I never said yes to anal sex.”

He stopped stroking, and withdrew another item out of a nearby bag.

“You’re too big…it’s going to hu-“

A bright red ball gag was now in my mouth. He strapped it firmly behind my head, and resumed his stroking of my poor little asshole.

He stroked my ass for another ten minutes. He was good, I’ll give him that. His fingers rubbed lightly around my pucker, teasing and lubing it up, fingers dancing across my butt and spreading my cheeks wide. Cuffed and gagged as I was, there was nothing I could do to stop him.

He stood up, and his glistening cock came into view. It was so big. And my ass was so tight, even after he had loosened it up. “Christine,” he said, “Your gorgeous butt is mine.”

And he pushed the first two inches in. I cried out from behind my ball gag.

“I’ve fucked lots of girls in the ass. Some pornstars are real anal sluts. But your ass has to be one of the tightest and most delicious asses I’ve plundered.”

Three more inches in.

“You could go far, Christine. Stick with me, and I’ll have you earning bucketloads.”

Three more inches. Eight inches so far.

“Quit your college course and move in with me. I’ll support you. I have millions of dollars in assets. We could just fuck all day.”

All ten inches were in, and his balls were resting up against my butt. My legs were hurting from the strain of this outrageous sex position I was finding myself in.

“With an ass like yours, Christine, I would just want to fuck all day…” and he presumed to pound me. I had never had anal sex like this before – surrendering all control to my male partner, who was disregarding me completely and just taking what he wanted. It was strangely erotic, if a bit demeaning. His huge tool pistoned in and out of my buttcheeks, which were uncontrollably clenching around him, and it was not long before he let a warm stream of cum spurt up my tight anus.

He released me from my ankle cuffs and unlocked the ball gag, handing me a towel to clean myself up. “I suppose I’d better take you home now,” he said, with that silly little grin of his again.

A few days later I had to collect a few things from the studio like my payslip. Jessica let me in, and I wandered on down to the office where I could get it. I heard some raucous laughter coming from another room – at least four or five different male voices – and curiosity got the better of me. It was the boardroom across the corridor, so I could only steal a surreptitious glance, but Max was unmistakeably there, as well as another six executives of the magazine. They appeared to be watching something on the TV. I managed to find myself a small corner window to peek in – they all had their backs to me, watching the TV, so I wasn’t going to be spotted.

“I’ve now broken in every single model that this magazine has had in the past three years,” Max was saying. What was this?

“I saw that new girl the other day – Christine Lee,” one of the executives said. I just managed to stop myself from gasping and giving myself away as an eavesdropper. They were talking about me as if I were meat. “Great ass on her.”

Another agreed, “But the bitch has no tits. We need to get her some plastic tits. Max, you can tell her that we’ll pay for them. DD-cup knockers on a girl of her size would look fantastic.”

Max nodded thoughtfully. “Then she’d be perfect. Oh, by the way, I sampled all of her holes the other day. She isn’t that great a cocksucker, but that can be trained. By far the best ass I’ve ever had, though.” He hit a button on the TV remote, and a video came up on the screen.

It was of us fucking. The bastard had taped that whole encounter!

“Look at the little whore,” he said, smiling. “I plundered her poop chute like nothing else. I’ll be surprised if that little bitch can walk after the pounding I gave her.” The executives smiled as they watched the homemade film. “However innocent she may be, I’m going to turn her into a pure anal slut by the time I’m done with her.”

“I’m going to get her to move in with me,” he continued to boast. “I’ve always wanted a live-in anal pet. She’ll get those big tits, I’ll train her as an obedient little cocksucker. Maybe she can come to some of the conventions. I always like showing off an 18 year-old slut on the arm of a 48 year-old executive!” They all laughed.

I was fuming on the inside. But why was I also getting a bit wet? I had to get away. I hurried off out of the office, out of the studio, and back onto the street. I needed to think about this job real hard.