After graduation, she did what was expected of any woman her age. She went away to college in New Orleans, where she majored in Art, hoping to eventually become a Professor, and she got a part-time job in a coffee shop. She didn’t so much break up with Johnny, as drift away from him. Like him, Cleo remained in Lake Arrington, and Terri soon lost touch with her, too. As sad as this was, she also felt a sense of relief at the distance that was now between herself and Lake Arrington, and all the baggage that the little backwoods town had loaded onto her during her final months there.
Knowing she needed a new start, she dedicated herself to work and study, knelt in worship in the Saint Louis Cathedral every Sunday, and continued to go to confession often. Her erotic dreams arrived and departed with the ebb and flow of her blood each month, and she tried to enjoy them for what they were without guilt. After all, she couldn’t control what she dreamed.
Then, she met Molly.
There was something about Molly that seemed familiar. Maybe it was because she reminded her of Cleo, in the way she dressed, and in some of her spiritual beliefs. Only, Molly wasn’t Wiccan—she didn’t belong to any particular sect of Neo-Paganism, and wasn’t interested in trying to fit strictly into one. Molly was just Molly. She was even wilder than Cleo had been. She played electric guitar in a local metal band, she read Aleister Crowley, and she talked all the time about “the Holy Mother.” The first time they’d met had been when Molly had been sitting in one of the courtyards near her dorm building, practicing on an acoustic guitar. When they’d somehow started talking about religion, Terri had thought at first that Molly had been talking about the Virgin Mary. Hardly—soon enough, she’d learned that Molly was actually referring to the Goddess which she worshipped.
“She goes by many names, just like God does,” Molly had told her. “Kali, Gaia, Juno, Isis—on the list goes, but they’re all the same, in the end, they’re all just pieces of one great deity. Even your Virgin Mary is a piece of Her puzzle.”
“Mary isn’t a goddess.”
“That’s what Catholics like to tell themselves,” Molly had said casually, “but subconsciously, worshipping Mary is your way of filling in the void left by an otherwise strictly male-oriented belief system.”
“We don’t worship Mary, we worship God.”
“Oh? Then what’s the Rosary, what’s the Hail Mary, and what are with the shrines with statues of her, where people bring roses, burn candles, and kneel to pray? That’s sublimated Goddess-worship.”
“She’s a Saint, not a deity,” Terri had insisted.
“Right,” Molly had chuckled, rolling her eyes, “just like your plethora of patron Saints of this and that isn’t thinly-disguised polytheism. Just because you dress something up with a different name, doesn’t make it something other than what it is. Anyone living now, in the age of the language of political correctness, should know that.”
Terri had known she should have been offended, but Molly was so sure of herself, and she spoke of her convictions so smoothly, that Terri was intrigued rather than put off by her forthrightness. She sensed that Molly had an edge, a darker and perhaps dangerous side, and even though this disturbed her, she felt a desire to learn from her. Learn what, she wasn’t sure exactly, but she couldn’t resist the draw towards whatever it was. She started going to church less, and hanging out with Molly more.
Her resolve to return to and remain on the straight-and-narrow certainly hadn’t lasted long, she reflected one evening as she sat on the porch of Molly’s trailer. Molly and two of Molly’s friends were there—two strippers from a 24-hour, 1920’s-style burlesque club called The Red Velvet Room. They were visiting from Darwell. One called herself Star E. Nite, and the other called herself Rosetta Stone. Terri never did find out their real names.
“Look at how the moon is glowing tonight. It’s orange,” Star half-slurred, gesturing towards the horizon with the neck of a wine bottle.
“The moon doesn’t emit light. It reflects the light of the sun when it’s shining from the other side of the Earth. And the moon just looks orange because of the gasses and dust and crap in the atmosphere,” Rosetta told her.
“Have I told you lately how annoying you are?” Star asked, but her tone was good-natured.
“Hey, Terri, could you help me clean up the kitchen a little bit?” Molly asked.
Once they were inside, Terri wasn’t sure what to do. The kitchen looked fine.
“You’ve been real quiet today,” Molly said, “and not your normal, everyday kind of quiet. I can tell the difference. Something is bothering you.”
She sighed. “I wasn’t going to mention this until after Star and Rosetta left, because I didn’t want to drag the evening down, but, you couldn’t be more right—the coffee shop is going out of business next week. We all just found out today, and I doubt I’ll have found another job by the time they close their doors. You know how it is these days. I’d thought they were doing fine, it looked like they were, and then the GM called a meeting and this got dumped on us out of the blue today, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”
“Shit! And you’ve been drinking tea all evening? If I was you, I’d be hitting the bottle right about now—hell, I’d have hit it already, a few hours ago, probably.”
“You know I don’t drink.”
“Tonight might not be a bad time to start.”
“I’m serious. I don’t know what to do. The least they could’ve done was give us more warning. When you’re working somewhere and you plan to leave, you have to tell them two weeks ahead of time, but your employer can give you one week’s notice before pulling the rug out from under your feet and that’s okay? It doesn’t seem right to me.”
“I have a suggestion, but I don’t know if you’ll want to hear it.”
“Any ideas you have would be helpful.”
“There’s this guy I know, a photographer, named Seth. I can find one of his business cards for you. I’ve worked with him a few times, and I could put in a good word for you if you want.”
“Oh, I know who he is. I go past his studio all the time on my way to work. He’s looking to hire someone? I’m an Art major and all, but I don’t know if I have the kind of experience he’d be looking for.”
“It’s not exactly the kind of job where you have to turn in a resume.”
Terri was confused. “Well, what’s the position?”
“It wouldn’t be in his studio. Aside from running the studio, he works for a fetish magazine, for extra money. He’s always looking to work with new models.”
Terri gasped. “That’s what you do?”
Molly laughed a little. “Yeah, with him, and a few other photographers, for magazines and web sites. Rosetta has some connections in the business, and that’s how I was able to get in.”
It actually made sense. Molly had never mentioned what she did, and yet she always seemed to have money.
“So you model naked? And you’re suggesting I…”
Molly shrugged. “It’s a fetish mag. You don’t have to pose nude if you don’t want to.”
“If I don’t want to?” she repeated. She couldn’t believe how casual Molly was being about this.
“All I mean is, you don’t do anything you don’t consent to, and fetish porn doesn’t always necessarily involve nudity anyway. In fact, a fetish can be focused on clothing in some cases—like the magazine Seth is working for on the side. It’s latex fetish porn.”
“Well, what is it you do? Do you have to get whipped or tied up or something? Do you get…”
“Do I get fucked?”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I was trying to ask.” Her stomach was clenching in thrilled dread at the image in her mind, of wearing something revealing and tight and acting like a slut in front of a clicking camera.
“Like I said, I never have to do anything I don’t want to. Hell, sometimes a photo session can be a chance to act out fantasies you’ve wanted to try and haven’t been able to anywhere else.”
“I can’t believe I’m even considering this.”
“If you’re interested, I can talk with Seth about it, and if you like, I could be there to guide you through it. Maybe we could even do a shoot together.”
“I can’t do that. It’s just not me.”
“If you’re really in that tough a spot, I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss the thought. That’s all it is—just a thought. It helps pay the bills, but it’s about more than that. It really is a lot of fun. Anybody who gets into this business only for the cash isn’t going to last long. You really have to like it.”
“No. I can’t believe I’m talking about this, or even thinking about it. I could never do something like that.”
“I know you say that now, but… I’ll tell you what—I’ll just give you his business card, and you take some time to think it over. If it helps any, I would enjoy doing a session with you.”
What did that mean?
After Star and Rosetta had caught the bus back to Darwell, Terri was about to leave too, but Molly asked her to stay awhile longer. They sat on the couch, channel surfing until they found some black-and-white science fiction movie, and then mostly ignored it and talked while the TV ran on minimum volume. After a while, Terri asked her if she’d like to make some popcorn.
“Maybe later. There’s something else on my mind right now.”
Molly draped her arms loosely around her shoulders, and began to lean in to kiss her.
Terri jerked backward. “Molly? I don’t mean to be rude, but I think you’ve had one too many tonight.”
“I might still have a little residual buzz going,” she acknowledged, “but I know exactly what I’m doing right now. Have you not ever noticed the way I look at you sometimes? Have you not been able to tell what I think of you? I’ve wondered sometimes whether I was being obvious.”
“What are you talking about?” She knew exactly what Molly was talking about—she’d caught those unsettling looks Molly was referring to, and hadn’t failed to notice her own odd, secret excitement at such moments, even though she had all but convinced herself that it was her imagination—but she felt a need to stall, to figure out what to say next, and what she wanted to do.
“I’m talking about how I want you.”
“And how… is that?” She ran her tongue along her lips nervously, and then wondered what that might look like to Molly.
“How do I want you?” Never one to mince words, she said, “Surrendering to me. On your back. Hot and begging. Thinking about me when you’re going about your day, and sitting soaking in a little pool of your own juices because you’ve drenched your panties with your own perverted thoughts—if I’ve told you you’re allowed to wear panties.”
“Allowed to? What do you mean…”
Molly interrupted her with a kiss—a soft meeting and melding of lips that had begun before she could stop it, and ended much sooner than she, deep down, wanted it to.
And still Terri tried to fight it. Weakly, she pulled back and whispered, more to herself than to Molly, “‘If a man lies with a man as one lies with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination–‘”
“Well, then, we should both be glad we’re female, shouldn’t we?”
“That’s just because they didn’t see women as being important enough to mention back then. Please don’t joke.”
“Alright, I’ll ask you a serious question: do you really believe that? Do you really know what you believe anymore?”
“Maybe I don’t,” she conceded.
Molly leaned close again, and Terri let her kiss her a second time. She couldn’t tell if it excited her this much because it felt rebellious and wrong, or because it did simply feel good. She felt the tip of Molly’s tongue brush lightly against her bottom lip, a suggestion rather than a demand, letting her make the call this time, and her control started slipping fast. She willingly parted her lips, letting Molly inside.
Suddenly, she became aware of Molly’s fingers at the top button of her sweater, and she pulled back again.
“Are you not curious?”
“I am,” Terri admitted. “But I’m also scared, and… I don’t know. This is… hard for me.”
Molly nodded, understanding. “Let me make it a little easier.” She took off the decorative scarf she was so fond of wearing, and started to place it over Terri’s eyes.
“Why… Why is it that you always wear a red scarf?”
Molly shrugged. “Sylvia Plath wore one. She mentioned it in one of her journals.”
“Here—sensory deprivation makes it easier. You can let yourself feel sealed-off, and relax.” She placed the strip of scarlet silk over Terri’s eyes again, and began to tie it behind her head. “Just trust me.”
Once she was blindfolded, Terri let herself be led into the bedroom, though her entire body trembled. Molly started undressing her, and the throbbing tightness between her damp lower lips became suddenly painful to her. She needed release so badly now, that she knew, with certainty and dread and excitement, that she was going to give herself to Molly, no matter what the consequences might be.
The darkness of the blindfold abruptly gave way to a vision: she was in a bathhouse just outside the Crimson Queen’s palace, naked, freshly-washed, and being lifted out of a steaming tub by three of the Queen’s female servants. They laid her out on a low table, where they toweled her off, and locked a jeweled collar around her neck that was similar to the ones which the animals that were brought to the Queen for her pleasure wore. One of the servants poured some oil from a bottle into her palm, and it smelled like crushed berries, and was a deep shade of red. While the other two servants held her ankles apart, the first woman began to massage the oil into her inner lips and her clitoris, pigmenting them an even darker red than her arousal had already suffused them with.
Darkness returned. Her senses were once again both constrained and heightened by the blindfold, and no sooner did she realize she was on Molly’s bed, with Molly fingering her clitoris, than she slid over the edge into a deep, hard orgasm.
“Please,” she panted afterward, “I want to see you.”
Molly untied the scarf, and used it to bind Terri’s wrists together above her head. She got up just long enough to apply some black lipstick, and then returned to the bed and kissed Terri, hard, marking her territory, outlining it with lipstick the color of midnight. She then straddled her, and took off her shirt. She was braless, and she lowered one heavily-rounded breast to Terri’s lips. Accepting the firm point of Molly’s nipple into her mouth, Terri closed her eyes, and slipped away into the realm of the Crimson Queen again…
While one of the servants placed a translucent black veil over her face, which reached down just to the tops of her breasts, the other two bound her legs. They did it with a strip of thick silk, winding and looping it from her ankles to the tops of her thighs, lacing her legs together in a manner similar to lacing up a corset. This should have been a relief to her, but instead, it inspired a strong desire to get her thighs open again which brought her near the verge of panic. The pulsations between her tightly pressed-together sex-lips caused her to wonder whether the pigmenting oil that had been rubbed into the flesh there didn’t also have a sensitizing effect. The servants lifted her off the table, and placed her into a velvet-lined, lidless coffin. They carried her out of the bathhouse in this, towards the palace proper. Rain fell in a cool drizzle, and the contrast of it touching her bathwater-warmed skin was a mild and oddly welcome shock as it tightened and erected her nipples…
The misty, steel gray sky faded, to be replaced by the ceiling of Molly’s bedroom. Molly was sucking on one of her tautly-straining nipples, and when Terri looked down, moaning, she saw that she had midnight black kiss-marks all over her body. She begged Molly to kiss her. Their breasts pressed intimately—familiarly, she would dare say– together as they Frenched, and…
The servants set the coffin down in the Queen’s bedchamber, and lifted Terri out of it and set her soundlessly onto the bed in a sitting position. A fourth servant, a man, was there, with a chalice. He lifted her black veil, and held the cold metal rim to her lips. When he tipped the cup, she had no choice but to drink, and she was grateful that, whatever was in it, it wasn’t bitter at all—it tasted like the juice of blackberries, with a drop or two of honey in it. It slid coolly down into her stomach, but from there, while the servant arranged the veil carefully over her face again, she felt a warming, a spreading glow, a soft opening of her most secret parts, and she knew the liquid had been some kind of aphrodisiac.
When she came to in Molly’s room again, Molly was naked, straddling her, and she was now lapping at Molly’s dripping sex-crease, and Molly’s arched body was gripped and shaking in the throes of release. Terri had never tasted the essence of a woman’s pleasure before. In that instant, she felt that she had been missing out on something beautiful, and that she could easily come to crave this taste, this act.
Her mounting desire was sending her gliding back and forth between worlds. The vision of the Queen’s bedchamber engulfed her again. The male servant was gone, and one of the female servants was brushing a glue or some other kind of sticky, warm liquid onto her upper back. The other two women placed a pair of gold-feathered wings between her shoulder blades, held it pressed there until the adhesive dried, and then helped her to lie back on the bed. One of them went to the window and pulled the curtains closed, and lit a lantern that hung from the ceiling by a chain nearby. All three servants departed, closing the door behind them. She was left there with her body silently crying out for the intimate attentions it needed, only to be answered by the emptiness of the room, the absence of touch.
She was drawn back into reality by the sound of a match being struck. Molly was lighting a pink taper. She brought it over to the bed, and sat on the edge of the mattress. They both watched the golden-orange flicker at the candle’s tip, and the wax pooling around it. Terri held her breath. She knew what was coming. She wasn’t sure how she knew, she just knew. Molly held the taper out, above Terri’s breasts.
The first fiery pin-pricks between her breasts made her jump, made her entire body arch almost all the way up off the bed for a few moments. Then, once she knew how it felt and what to expect, she willed herself to lie still as Molly started to trail the wax-drips downward. She sucked in a breath and clenched her jaws. The prickles of liquid heat edged closer to her thighs, and she found herself transcending the pain, sliding back across the divide into the Crimson Queen’s world…
The Queen entered the bedchamber, and immediately metamorphosed into a lioness. She lunged up and planted her front paws on the foot of the bed. While Terri, crying out, looked out helplessly through the dark, confining mist of the veil, the lioness-Queen shredded the silk holding her legs closed with her claws, swiping it all away and leaving deep scratches on her thighs. When the fierce creature climbed the rest of the way up onto the mattress, there was nothing Terri could do but spread for her. The lioness-Queen reached her long, thick tongue out and ran it in a sweeping scrape from the bottom of Terri’s vulva up to her clitoris…
…And the rapidly-building orgasm pulled her back into reality once more, where Molly was lying between her legs, urging her body towards the peak of pleasure with her mouth, and there was no turning back…
The next day, undeterred by the fact that Terri had gone back to her dorm in a state of confusion instead of staying the night with her, Molly called her and asked her if she wanted to have lunch somewhere off-campus.
During the long break between the last of her afternoon classes and her one evening class that day, Molly picked her up, and after some seemingly mandatory chit-chat, she got to the point, and asked Terri, “What are your thoughts on last night?”
“I’m not sure what to say. If you want me to say I enjoyed it…”
“I want you to say what you felt, not what I want to hear.”
“Well… it’s true, I did enjoy it.”
“And I… would like to… do it again.”
“I’ve seen your type before, Terri. You’re one of those girls, who want to try things, but you can’t bring yourself to do them of your own accord, you need somebody to make you do them.” Her tone was not scornful, or accusatory, or anything other than matter-of-fact.
It was cold out, and the car had been welcomingly warm when she’d first gotten in. Now, it felt too hot to Terri. She avoided looking at Molly, and tried not to squirm in her seat. Neither one of them said anything else until Molly had pulled into a spot at the back of the parking lot behind the restaurant.
Once she’d cut the engine, she turned to Terri and asked her, “Was what I said a few minutes ago about you true?”
“Then look at me.”
Terri did, not knowing why she was suddenly so afraid. She was embarrassed that she was blushing, which only made her blush more.
“Put your right hand under your sweater, and cup your left breast.”
“What?” Terri gasped.
Molly repeated herself, patiently, as if she was a teacher explaining something that should’ve been very simple to a student. And Terri, glad she hadn’t ditched her coat earlier as she’d been tempted to, did as Molly said, pulling the flimsy lace of her bra cup down so that the warm, bared mound of her breast filled her hand.
“Touch your nipple,” Molly instructed, speaking more quietly, almost in a whisper now. “Is it erect? Tell me the truth.” Terri shook her head, and Molly asked, “Is that a ‘No, I won’t answer,’ or a ‘No, it’s not hard?'”
“No, it’s not hard.” Now Terri realized she was whispering.
“Then I want you to pinch it, and rub it, until it’s stiff. And as soon as it is, you tell me.”
Terri didn’t know which shocked her more—that she was being made to do this, or that she was letting it happen. But she, as discreetly as she could, teased her own nipple between her cool fingertips until it was firm and extended, and then told Molly, “It’s hard.” She hoped they could go inside now, since Molly had proven her point.
But Molly was nowhere near finished. “Now, take your right hand away, and reach up under your sweater with your other hand and do the same thing to your other nipple.”
“No.” The word trembled out, unconvincingly.
“Don’t tell me no.”
“There are people around. Any minute, somebody could—”
“Do it now.”
Terri gasped in shock at her friend talking to her this way, but Molly’s swift refusal to be defied was enough to make her obey. Correction: to make her want to obey.
“And this time, you’re going to moan for me,” Molly added.
Not only did Terri moan for her, she didn’t even need to be reminded to let Molly know, “My… nipple is hard.”
“Very good.” A long pause, marked by the unbearable pulsations between Terri’s clenched thighs. Then, Molly told her, “Take your panties off.”
“Don’t tell me no again.”
“Molly, please, it’s broad daylight!”
“I said—take your panties off.”
With a small whimper—a sound of shame, fear, and devastating arousal all mingled into one—Terri managed to wrestle out of her panties without having to lift her skirt, or attracting the attention of any of the departing restaurant patrons strolling past in the car’s rearview mirror. Once they were down around her ankles, she reached down and tugged them quickly off, leaving them in a small, gauzy pink heap on the car’s floor.
Molly nodded. “That’s good, you’re learning. Now, work your hand under your skirt and finger your clit.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Yes, you do. If you really didn’t want to, you wouldn’t still be sitting here, with your panties on the floor– you would be disregarding my words and getting out of the car. Now, if you’ll agree to do what I say with no more arguing, I’ll let you put your jacket over your lap. Would that make you feel better?” Terri nodded. “No more arguing?”
“Alright, no more arguing,” Terri answered meekly.
She couldn’t believe she was agreeing. Was this all it took—just being told to do things in an unrelentingly self-assured manner? Was she really that easy? Molly was showing her that she, in fact, was. She took her jacket off, and she knew Molly was staring at her nipples pressing against her sweater while she spread the jacket over her lap, worked her hand up her skirt, and reached between her lips…
“Have you ever done this before?”
“Do you mean in public, or in front of someone, or at all?”
“All the above.”
“Never in public, never in front of anybody.”
“At all, by yourself?”
“What made you do it? What turned you on enough to make you finger your clit?”
“Describe it while you play with your clit for me, slut.”
Terri gasped again. But she had agreed not to argue. Besides, she had no valid argument against that word anymore. It did describe her accurately.
“I was… displayed, naked, in front of a crowd of people. They… were laughing at my shame. I had done… something… wrong. I was… punished. I was whipped, by a woman… and… and I was so embarrassed, and… I wanted to be… punished.”
“Why did you want to be punished?”
“So the woman in the dream would… love me again.”
“I knew it. I knew you were one of those girls– horny, dirty, and just silently screaming, all but fucking begging to be put in your place. Say it’s true.”
“Yes… It’s true.”
“You like fingering your clit?”
“I like it, yes…”
“Say, ‘I like fingering my clit.'”
“I… I like… fingering my clit.”
“You’re going to come over to my place tonight.”
“What do you want me to do to you when you get in bed with me tonight, slut? Tell me. No hesitation now. And no euphemisms—say it just like the gutter-slut you are.”
“I want you to spank and fuck me,” Terri answered in a shuddering whimper, and came.
Terri decided to take Molly up on her suggestion, on one condition: she was interested in modeling for Seth, as long as they could do the session together. Molly talked with Seth about it, and he, like Molly, was more than happy to oblige.
A few days later, she met Molly and Seth at a hotel. She’d been half-afraid the photo shoot would take place in a seedy dump of a room, but it turned out to be a rather upscale place. This, along with Molly’s presence, made her feel safer.
It seemed everything had already been set up by the time she arrived. Furniture had been pushed out of the way, and lights, a couple of cameras up on tripods, and other pieces of equipment she couldn’t name but that were familiar enough when she saw them were set up around the bed. Molly, who’d already changed into gold glitter-coated high heels, and a ruffley black latex evening gown with matching opera gloves, was busy applying makeup.
In the foyer next to the bathroom, a small rack of various articles of latex and vinyl clothing had been set, and next to the sink, quite incongruous amidst the gleaming chrome fixtures, the rose wallpaper, and the vases of silk orchids, a few sex toys sealed in plastic packaging had been laid out on the marble countertop.
After identification was checked and some paperwork taken care of, it was time to get started.
Having grown up never being allowed to wear makeup, Terri wasn’t sure what to do, so Molly did hers for her. She applied makeup to her body as well as her face, so the lights wouldn’t make her skin look washed-out. It felt strange, but not bad. When she looked in the mirror once Molly had finished, she was startled by how different she looked. She couldn’t say she minded the sense of semi-anonymity this imparted, though, and at least her lips were tinted carnation pink, instead of the amarelle red Molly had stained her own lips with.
It took a little while to decide what to change into. There was a black vinyl bra which seemed elegant to her in its simplicity, but she didn’t feel ready to be photographed in anything that skimpy. There was a pair of pink latex panties trimmed with yellow faux lace (actually latex cut to look like lace), and she had to admit those looked nice, too, but then again, should she bother wearing them when she didn’t plan on letting things get far enough for her to end up stripping down to undergarments in front of some stranger’s camera? There was a metallic blue latex swimsuit, but that seemed like it would clash with Molly’s almost regal-looking dress. There was a white rubber corset with miniature silk roses glued onto it, which she actually really liked, but that would have left her breasts bare.
“Oh, well, here’s what you do, then,” Molly said when Terri mentioned the last of these to her. She pulled a bright red, full-body latex suit with a long zipper down the back from the rack. “Just put this on, and then I’ll put the corset onto you over it, and cinch you up. You’d need to take off your undergarments, though—they don’t want any bra straps or panty-lines showing. Oh, and you’ll need this.” Molly handed her a small bottle of talc powder. “Sprinkle some of this onto the inside of the suit and spread it around, and rub plenty of it onto your skin, too– it’ll help make it easier to put on.”
The skintight garment’s appearance alone hadn’t prepared her for how intimately it would cling to her curves, and hug and cup her most sensitive parts. The suit wasn’t see-through, but she still blushed once she’d gotten the zipper closed and stepped back out of the bathroom into the foyer to take a look at herself in the mirror, and saw the way her nipples, pushing out against the material, were outlined by it, down to the last details of the crinkling flesh of her areolas.
While she stood there and let Molly cinch her up, and polish the garments with silicone spray, Terri felt naked, despite being covered and sealed up from her neck to her toes.
Seth began by taking a few pictures of Molly by herself, in a few different poses, which moved quickly from suggestive to blatantly sexual. While Terri watched, Molly and Seth actually talked about her band’s next gig while Molly lay on the bed with her skirts up, proudly displaying the fact that no panties were covering her mostly-shaven sex.
Seth had Terri join Molly on the bed, and had both kneel up facing each other. The flashbulb went off while they twined their arms around each other’s shoulders, and kissed.
Things moved quickly from there, the poses becoming steadily more graphic: Molly pinching Terri’s nipples through the thin layer of red latex covering them… Molly sitting at the end of the bed with the top of her dress pulled down and Terri kneeling behind her and reaching around to cover her breasts… Terri kneeling on the floor with her arms tied behind her back with Molly’s red scarf while she just touched the tip of her tongue to Molly’s nipples… Terri lying on the bed facing the camera, with the scarf tied around her head as a gag, and Molly standing beside the bed, looming over Terri and posing with a metal paddle… Terri on all fours with her back to the camera and her bottom pushed out and knees apart while Molly cupped her crotch in one gloved hand… Molly propped up against the pillows with Terri lifting the hem of her dress and leaning forward as if to lick her there…
Seth asked them to each change into “something a little more revealing.” Molly took off her dress but left the latex opera gloves on, and chose a pair of metallic gray latex stockings, and the vinyl bra Terri had been looking at earlier. Terri put on the pink panties she’d been eyeing, and what looked like a matching pink latex babydoll-style nightgown.
Once they were back on the bed, Seth tore open the packaging containing a glass dildo, and handed it to Molly, suggesting the girls do “something a little more real” as opposed to simply posing.
Molly took the lead, kneeling up with her legs open while having Terri stretch out on her back in front of her. While Molly spread her own lower lips with one hand, touching the tip of one finger to her erect clitoris, she lowered the end of the dildo to Terri’s mouth, telling her, “Get it good and wet for me.”
The surrealism of the scenario was mind-spinning, but Terri was moving dangerously close to the point of no longer caring. The shutter clicked while Terri sucked the tip into her mouth, and swirled her tongue around it. The dildo was not sleekly phallic—rather, it was a seamlessly tapering series of little glass globes. While Terri licked the shaft, Molly prodded at her own vaginal opening, and easily stuck two fingers inside.
The tension building within, and the moisture leaking from, the desirous stricture of Terri’s sex had become familiar to her, but she knew she still couldn’t bear it much longer– despite how frightened she was by how quickly the session seemed to be spiraling out of control, she would inevitably need to come before it was over.
“Fuck my cunt,” Molly moaned languidly, and Terri gasped in scandalized astonishment as Molly handed the dildo to her and lay back once again against the plush pile of pillows at the head of the bed.
Kneeling between Molly’s legs and gliding the oddly-shaped phallus carefully in and out of her, she thought to herself that she had never seen an object that looked at once both so crude and so elegant. Molly had a beautiful vagina, and Terri admired the way it puckered and blushed and gaped as she moved through the different stages of arousal, the only possible conclusion of which Molly brought it all to with her fingertips, tightly circling and tugging at the hood of her own clitoris.
Molly abandoned herself to the peaking of her pleasure, and all the while, the camera clicked away.
Terri had not meant for it to go this far. She had not meant to let herself be led anywhere even close to this point, but there was no turning back. She was weak, and she knew it—too weak to resist the yearnings of her flesh.
When Seth unwrapped the string of anal beads, and handed it and a tube of lubricant to Molly, and asked Terri to pull her panties down, she did so with no objections.
As she lowered the tight pink latex panties to her knees and exposed her most private and feminine part, the shutter clicked, humiliating her, exciting her further. How many men would see that image? How many men would get hard looking at that picture of her, exposing herself, in full color on a glossy page in some sleazy magazine? How many men would masturbate until they jetted their seed all over that photograph? She knew that still more degrading images of her would be captured before the session was finished, and yet, she felt helpless to put a stop to where it was heading. Her own now-not-so-secret wish for this very degradation, and for the carnal liberation of orgasm, wouldn’t allow her to. Was Seth hard? He maintained such a professional demeanor, but she, having grown up hearing about how all men were the same, couldn’t help but wonder. Did she dare look, at the crotch of his tight jeans? No, she couldn’t—he would know what she was looking for, what she was thinking about him.
Molly guided her down onto her elbows and knees, positioning her so that her hips were held up high and her anus relaxed and opened. She moaned at the cool touch of Molly’s gloved fingertips spreading the gel around on her involuntarily-quivering opening. When Molly poked the very ends of two fingers into her, smoothing the lubricant along just inside of the rim of her anus, she felt a subtle cramping deep in her bowels. Molly soothed her, telling her it was just nerves, and to breathe the tension out, steadily, evenly.
She thought about how the pure beliefs she’d cherished for so long were becoming twisted in her mind, while the camera flashed, and Molly coated the string of purple plastic beads with lubricant, and gradually filled her rectum with them until it felt stuffed. She longed for deliverance, and for that deliverance, she must be humble and suffer—only now, in this room, her “suffering” was a perversion, a mockery, of the spiritual act it had once been. Her reward at the end, too, would be the flipside-shadow of the Heaven she had once so fervently striven to ensure her entry into.
Her knees shaking, she managed to get the panties the rest of the way off before gingerly laying down on her belly. The inside of her bottom felt bloated and stretched for some reason, even though she had seen for herself that the beads were not that big at all. Even the plastic ring resting against the outside of her anus seemed to exert an enormous pressure. Seth told her to roll onto her back.
Molly hooked one slender finger through the ring sticking out from between Terri’s bottom-cheeks, and leaned down and pressed her lips to the apex of her vulval folds in one passionate, crushed-cherry kiss, which burnt itself into the retina of Seth’s camera.
Molly told her to masturbate, and she obeyed.
As soon as Terri finally released her weak, token grip on the edge of the abyss of sensuality, Molly began to very slowly draw the beads out of her. It didn’t matter anymore whether Terri was unable to, or simply would not, fight and deny herself—the beads gently popped out of her anal orifice, one after the other, and nothing could stop her steady ascent now.
“Yes,” she gasped, swooning into it with that single word of acceptance—acceptance of her body’s desires, of this moment, of what she was doing, of the climactic contractions spreading from her sex up into her womb, and of what she had become:a remorselessly filthy, exhibitionistic whore, lost to unnatural lusts.