SHOOT: A Novel (12 page)

“You’re a
natural.” He said with a devilish smirk as he cleaned the lipstick off my face.
Then he walked away and pulled a whip off the wall before dragging the stool
off to the side.

“Stand strong,” he
instructed as he handed me the whip, but I just kept staring down at my hand
holding it. I didn’t know what he meant for me to do. Getting the hint, Brad
walked forward and adjusted me to stand with my legs shoulder width apart,
pushed my chest out, placed a hand on my hip, while my other hand held up the
whip at waist level.

 
“Look straight into the camera,” he told me
before taking a few snaps. I played with different facial expressions, but was
careful not to move from the pose.

He instructed me
to stand with a hip popped out, holding the whip at different heights as he took
photos. Sometimes he told me to smile, other times he told me to look serious.

“Now stand so that
your side is to me and pop your hip again and hold the whip between both hands.
Good. Now look over at me.” More snaps. “Turn to the other side and drape it
over your shoulder, like you’re a teen runaway in a cartoon leaving home with a
knapsack.”

I burst into
laughter, something Brad was sure to take plenty of pictures of. I wasn’t sure
how candid laughter fit into this sort of photo shoot, but he was the
professional. I turned to the side and threw the whip over my shoulder, wincing
when the tip of it licked my body.

“If you want to
get whipped that badly, all you have to do is ask,” Brad joked.

I laughed some
more and wagged my finger at him before posing exaggeratedly, the way I had
pictured the cartoon following his instructions. Brad snapped a dozen pictures
before we got serious with the pose.

 
“Crouch slightly, hold the whip between both
hands and lift your chin a bit.” He took more photos and I took the liberty of
changing up the pose, bending forward and pushing my ass out.

“Woah! There we
go.” Brad laughed as he took a few more shots at different angles.

As time wore on, I
eased into things more and more, enjoying all the poses and props he had for me.
Every time he touched me I felt a spark of electricity race up my back.

When he ran his
hand up my leg and kissed me, I shuddered and felt my face grow hot. That heat
swelled in my chest into a feeling of shame. I came to the city to be a model
and I was doing it, but I was also doing
this
.
I was dabbling in things I would have never thought possible. It was a
drastically different life than the one I had back in Iowa. I almost felt like
a different person. Something about doing this sort of photo shoot with Brad
and enjoying it made me feel guilty, but I wasn’t sure why.
 
 

The evening after
the leather-and-chains photo shoot, Brad took me to a fancy club in the West
Village. It was my first time at a place like that, while I was excited, I
couldn’t help but wonder if I should have made plans for something else. My
guilt from the previous night hadn’t completely worn off. More than anything, I
wanted to know where it came from because I loved the shoot. Despite its risqué
nature, Brad managed to make me feel completely comfortable.

He ordered bottle
service and praised me for a job well done, giving me pecks on the cheek and
brushing my hair off my face. He continuously asked if there was anything else I
wanted and checked to make sure I was having a good time.

“You were amazing
yesterday afternoon.” He said as he pulled me in close. He kissed the corner of
my mouth with a smile. I felt the charge between us growing. I crossed my legs
and steadied my breathing as I leaned into him.

 
“Fuck, if you’re not the sexiest woman in all
of New York City then I don’t know who is.” He whispered hot and heavy. His
lips brushed against the lobe of my ear as he spoke. A flutter of hot tingles
cascaded down the back of my neck, my grip on his knee tightening. Brad looked
at me with interest.

“Brad,” I
whispered, worried about the fact that we were out in public behaving like
this. Our sexual tension had never been so strong, much less in a public space
where anybody could see us, but it was pretty clear to me that was part of how
enticing it all was.

“How did you like
being tied up?”

I felt my cheeks
burn and not from the alcohol or constant attention he gave me. I was
embarrassed, but couldn’t deny the truth, “I loved it.”

I said it so
quietly I was unsure Brad heard over the noise of our surroundings. He smirked
and kissed me deep. I wanted to push him off purely out of concern that someone
we knew might see us. I wanted to feel his body pressed up against me.

 
“I wasn’t really joking yesterday.”

“What are you
talking about?”

“About whipping
you,” he said with biggest smirk I’d ever seen on him. He leaned in to whisper
in my ear, “Do you want to know what it’s like?”

I felt a knot in my
chest drop down to the very pit of my stomach, feeling like it was on fire.

I knew what it
was—I was turned on.

My thighs clenched
tight as I drew in a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves.
 

“Yes. I want to
know what it’s like.”

He pressed me up
against the wall behind the receptionist’s desk at Amorous Productions, both of
us too lost in the fervent kiss to care if a passerby could see us through the
large front windows. He ran his hands up my stomach stopping right under my
breasts, pulling back to look at my eyes in the dark.

“Let’s go to the
back,” I suggested, suddenly aware of the windows exposing us to the world. He
grabbed my hand and pulled me down the hall, thrusting the studio door open and
pushing me against the wall. He kissed me deep and hard for before pulling back
to catch his breath.

“Before we go any
further, I need to know you’re sure you want to go through with this.”

I slowed down and
thought about it. Sure, the feeling of shame came to mind, but it was far
overpowered by how turned on I was at the photo shoot. I wanted to try more and
I trusted Brad, not to mention he made my knees wobble and my heart race a
million miles an hour. That was something I had never experienced before.

“I’m sure.”

He brushed my hair
off my face and held my chin. “I don’t ever want you to feel pressured.”

“I don’t,” I
assured him.

 
Despite everything being so far out of my
comfort zone and pulling away from everything I had ever known, this was the
least pressured I’d ever felt to do something by another person. And this was
something I actually wanted.

“Really,” I told
him, leaning in and giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“Okay, you have to
know some things. I’m into a lot, but I’m experienced and I’m willing to guess
this is your first time?” I nodded. “So I won’t go too far. I’ll play off your
reactions. Most importantly, I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for.”
He paused to cradle my face in his hands, “You need a safety word, Chloe. It’s
a word for you to use to ask me to stop.”

“But why can’t I
just tell you to stop or say not to do something?”

“Sometimes, in the
heat of things or in a role you play, you might say things like ‘stop’ or ‘no’
as part of it. A safety word is a sure thing to make sure no boundaries are
crossed.”

I kissed him
again. I had been right in thinking he was the perfect man to try these things
with. He wasn’t a degenerate or some kind of lowlife who would ever dream of
taking advantage of me. When the kiss ended and I leaned my head back against
the wall I realized it wasn’t that easy to come up with a safety word. It had
to be something I would never say in this kind of situation.

“Blueberry?”

Brad chuckled. “You
would pick something like that,” he teased.

I playfully shoved
his shoulder, “What’s that ‘posed to mean?” I purposely adopted my heaviest
Iowa drawl to make him laugh even more. I flashed him a bright smile. That grin
was soon covered by Brad’s mouth. He pulled me into his arms for a sweeping
kiss before leading me over to the stool we had used for the photo shoot.

“Do you want me to
get into the leather body suit?” I asked, breathing heavily against his lips.

Brad pressed his
finger to my mouth and shook his head. “Don’t move,” he instructed before walking
off to the back room.

He turned the
lights on partially and dimmed them so we could see each other clear enough,
but the mood wasn’t ruined. I saw he was holding the same lipstick that I used
for the photoshoot. He uncapped it and wrapped my hair around his hand, pulling
it so that my head tilted upward. Then, he pressed it to my lips, smiling a
devilish-suggestive-grin as he did. My breath caught in my throat. I heard the
lipstick fall with a clatter to the floor as he stared into my eyes.

“That red just
makes me want to kiss that pretty mouth of yours even more.”

“So why don’t
you?” As soon as the question left my mouth I realized how defiant I sounded. My
mind wasn’t quick enough to think it would lead to punishment.

He grabbed my chin
roughly between his thumb and index finger, slightly crushing it. I winced. “I
will if I please,” he told me gruffly. “But do you think I want to mess up that
lipstick?” He kissed the corner of my mouth before turning my head to the side
so he could whisper in my ear, “I do but not yet. Not like this.”

My heart leapt to my
throat. This was a lot more intense than I had imagined. Although unsure how I
felt about it, I decided not to call it quits just yet. Brad wrapped his arms
around me only to find the zipper of my dress. He slid it down until he slipped
his hand under the opening to place it flat on my lower back, tips of his
fingers grazing just above the waistband of my thong. He still hadn’t let go of
my hair so he tugged on it again and looked into my eyes, bringing his face in
so close I would have bet on him kissing me– but he didn’t. Slowly, he loosened
his hold on my hair until he was pulling my dress down off my shoulders until
it fell on the floor.

I felt more
nervous now than the first time I stood in front of him wearing nothing but a
bra and panties. This time it was
intimate
.
This time it was passionate and rough. This time he didn’t need to hide the
desire in his eyes when he stepped back and looked over every inch of my body,
taking in my sizeable cleavage, flat and smooth stomach, the curve of my hips,
and my long, shapely legs.

I knew he was
thinking I was
damn sexy
and, if I
wasn’t so nervous, I would have felt like I was. Taking my hand, Brad led me
over to the wall where the many leather straps and chains hung. He walked back
over to grab the stool and ordered me to sit on it before pulling rope cuffs
off the wall. He pulled my arms around the back of the stool and secured them
with the rope cuffs, which didn’t scratch or chafe my skin as much as I had
expected. Then he grabbed a chain to secure the center of the rope cuffs to the
stretcher bar of the stool, effectively tugging my arms downward a bit.

It was an uncomfortable
position, but it still made my heart pump with excitement. The thrill of being
tied to the stool and at Brad’s mercy was almost more than I could handle.
Never before had I felt more vulnerable. My mind was abuzz with questions of
what would come next. He stood in front of me with a smile.

 
“You’re sure?” I nodded. “Not just about this
stuff,” he said nodding toward the items on the wall, “But about us… doing
this? You know…”

I bit back a grin.
I’d never seen him tongue tied with words. I found it endearing. “You mean have
sex? Yes, I’m sure.” I wanted to tell him he wasn’t the only one who found
someone sexy around there, but decided to save it for another time.

Brad leaned in and
almost kissed me, but instead playfully nibbled at the side of my neck. I drew
in a long breath between my teeth and shut my eyes when he left a trail of wet
kisses over my collarbone and down the center of my chest until his head was
buried in my cleavage. My skin tingled as he licked at the line between my
breasts. He wrapped his arms around me to unclasp my strapless bra, which fell
onto my lap at once. The cool air of the studio perked my nipples.

He brushed it off my
legs to lean in and run the tip of his tongue around one of my budding nipples.
I shuddered and suppressed a little moan, sucking my lower lip between my teeth.
I felt the tips of his fingers grazing the skin around my other breast before
he finally gave it a pinch. I squealed and jerked in the chair, even more so
when his mouth closed around my other breast and he started to teasingly suck.

Instinctively, I opened
my legs a bit wider and pressed my chest upward. My entire chest flushed a
crimson red as Brad messaged my breasts. Then a trail of kisses ran down my
stomach and the tops of my legs before he stood up to get the riding crop off
the wall. He walked in front of me with a devious smirk, slapping the crop
lightly on the open palm of his hand.

My skin was on
fire—electric and buzzing with excitement. I could still feel his wet kisses
cooling in the air as I looked up at him with eager eyes.

“Bet
this
is something you’re familiar with.”
He reached out and pressed the crop against my lips, motioning for me to remain
silent.

I held my breath.
If he was going to use this on me, then it was real; this was really happening.
I was really in a New York City studio with Brad Hastings, getting hot and
heavy, experimenting in the scariest and sexiest moment of my life. I struggled
to comprehend everything. It all seemed like a fantasy, but when I felt the tip
of the riding crop twirling in circles on my stomach I was quickly shocked back
to reality.

He lifted the crop
and lightly tapped the tops of my thighs. He tapped again, a bit harder. On the
third time, he got a wince out of me. When he had talked about whipping me I
imagined the long whip I posed with licking my back, but not this. Then I
realized what I envisioned would be much, much more painful and I was glad he
was easing me in.

He lifted the crop
higher and gave my legs a good smack. Then another. And another. He lifted it even
higher and came down with a swoosh of air, hitting me harder than before. I to
cried out. I clenched my teeth and felt another hit just as hot tears sprang to
the corners of my eyes. The riding crop fell on the floor with a clatter, but I
was too distracted by the feeling of Brad’s lips on my knee to care.

He kissed slowly
up my leg, leaving warm kisses on each spot the riding crop had struck. It was
sexy, soothing, and painful all at the same time. Then, he did the same on my
other leg, starting at the knee, but he didn’t stop at the top of my leg.
Instead, he kissed inward until I felt his hot breath on my center through the
fabric of my thong.

“Oh,” I breathed
with a whimper.

Brad pushed my
legs apart and shoved my panties to the side, dipping his head in to push his
face into me. I shuddered and curled my fingers into the palms of my hands,
drawing in a rattled breath to hold in my lungs. His warm, wet tongue ran along
my wetness before slipping in just a bit. My leg jolted, earning a little smirk
from Brad as he looked up at me from between my thighs. Then he trailed the tip
of his tongue up my wetness and circled around my sensitive nub.

He tilted his head
up and licked me again once before standing up and wiping his face clean with
the back of his hand. I was so turned on it was almost painful the way my
muscles trembled with excitement. The way he left me with just one teasing little
lick was enough to drive anyone crazy. I knew he had done everything on
purpose. His actions were carefully orchestrated to make me a shaking mess.
 

He eased my wrists
out of the rope cuffs only to reposition the stool near the wall so he could
sit on it and drape me over his lap.

“Hold onto this
bar,” he told me.

I grabbed onto the
bar affixed to the wall near some chains for some semblance of balance, my ass naked
and exposed entirely to him. His hand ran up the back of my leg and cupped my cheek,
kneading the flesh before giving me three quick smacks that echoed throughout
the quiet room.

 
I yelped and pulled away until he held onto my
waist so I wouldn’t fall off his lap. The tip of his finger ran right next to my
opening before smacking my ass again, this time with five spankings that packed
more power than the first three. He pinched the flesh and I wondered if he was
admiring the red marks on my fair skin.

He grabbed me by
the wrists and roughly helped me straddle him. His thumb pressed at the center
of my mouth, but he didn’t smear the lipstick.