Céleste was going to do all of those things, and more. Again Sarah began to draw, this time with one hand between her thighs, gently massaging the plump puffy mound of her sex. That made it easier, growing bolder as she masturbated. Four frames took care of Céleste’s rising excitement, just as Sarah had imagined it, with the last showing Céleste’s bottom with her black lace panties pulled aside, her sex wet with juice and a finger tip just about to be inserted into the tight brown anus.
A few quick lines took care of the final frame, leaving a big irregular white space. Now kneading her pussy with mounting urgency, Sarah began to fill in with two drawings, one showing Céleste from the front, now mounted on Raoul as she sucked on Marcel’s cock, with the grotesque Lamond about to insert his stumpy penis between her open buttocks, open because she herself was holding them wide in expectation of a good hard buggering.
The second showed Céleste’s final disgrace, Raoul pumping into her from beneath, Marcel with his hideous cock jammed deep down her throat, Lamond with his face set in idiot glee, her anus a taut glistening ring on his cock shaft, her fingers clearly busy with her sex as the men used her. It was good, and Sarah knew that her hand was going down her panties the instant she was finished, but it could still be better. She needed three close-ups as the men came, small frames positioned around the main drawing.
First was Raoul’s, his cock deep in Céleste’s gaping hole, the spunk exploding out around his shaft, her anus a gaping black hole as Lamond prepared to enter her again, her fingers plainly visible among the slippery folds of her sex. Next was Marcel’s, his long cock in his hand, tossing great gouts of thick white spunk into Céleste’s face, her mouth held wide to catch it, her expression one of dopey ecstasy as she revelled in being soiled. Last was Lamond’s, cock in hand, pumping spunk into Céleste’s open anal passage, from which it had begun to dribble down into her now vacant cunt as she brought herself to orgasm.
Sarah wasn’t even going to have to put a hand down her knickers. The pencil lead broke as she sketched in the final lines and she had given in to her excitement, massaging her pussy through her jeans as hard as she could. It was enough, grinding the panty material to her clitoris, and she was coming, crying out again and again as the waves of ecstasy swept over her.
The moment it was over she knew she was going to have to get drunk again in order to pluck up the courage to ink it in, but that wasn’t really a problem. For the moment she felt distinctly sticky and wanted a leisurely bath, which she ran while she undressed, finally climbing into it with the last of the bottle for company.
As she lay soaking it dawned on her that she was in fact going to have to tone her artwork down, not because of what she’d shown being done to Céleste, but because it was way beyond the limits acceptable in the guidelines. The thought put a wry smile on her face and she had closed her eyes, relaxing in the hot water, drunk and happy. After a while she heard the door bang as Mak returned, but she paid no attention save to call out a greeting, perfectly happy for him to come in and talk to her if he wanted to. It was ridiculous to be shy in front of a man for whom her body held no interest whatsoever.
Having him see a drawing she had done of a woman getting gang-banged by roughs was another matter, especially the final frames, but it was already too late. She heard him call out in admiration, and a moment later he had come in, looking down on her with his hands on his hips and an expression of mock severity on his face.
‘You are one bad girl!’ he told her. ‘And one good artist. If only that was a guy you’d shown getting it three ways!’
He finished with a long whistle and Sarah found herself smiling and blushing for the compliment and what he’d seen, not, she told herself, because despite being low in the water her breasts still rose out of the bubbles like two enormous pink jellies.
‘How could a man take it three ways anyway?’ she asked after a moment.
‘One in the mouth, two up his arse,’ he replied casually. ‘But I thought you said it couldn’t get that strong anyway?’
‘I have to tone it down,’ she admitted. ‘I got a bit carried away.’
‘You bet you did!’ he answered her. ‘But you can’t lose that, it’s too good.’
‘Maybe I’ll ink it in anyway,’ she said, ‘just for myself.’
‘You do that.’
She did, using her back light to create a less pornographic version of her artwork and inking in both over a period of several days and several bottles of wine. In the second version the men’s erections were hidden in shade or visible only as bulges in their clothing, while she removed all the frames that showed close-ups of cocks and Céleste’s body. The result was still good, but less so than the original, and for the first time she found herself wishing she could go beyond the guidelines rather than worrying about her work being strong enough for male tastes.
Hugh Bowle was delighted with the official version, but she kept the other to herself and Giles, who was so taken with it that they ended up having sex on the floor. It was hurried and passionate, but when she came with his cock in her mouth and her sex and bottom spread to his face, she was imagining how it would feel to be made to satisfy both him and the three roughs together.
The rest of the day was spent with him in her flat, watching two of Mak’s old films and snacking, and for the first time Sarah began to feel that there was more to their relationship than a string of exciting sexual encounters. Giles ate at the flat too, and Sarah finally introduced him to Mak, who was better behaved than she had expected, neither trying to flirt with him nor making remarks about the sexual preferences of public school boys.
By the time she fell asleep after a long and intimate sex session that for once didn’t involve her being rolled bottom-up for his orgasm, she had decided that she would be faithful to him, in practice, and in so far as it was possible in her fantasy life. Céleste, who she was coming to think of as real Céleste rather than cartoon Céleste, might have other ideas, but there was a way around it.
Céleste was a creature of Paris, cosmopolitan and quintessentially French. If the real Céleste was true to the cartoon Céleste, then she would avoid London and certainly never come to grimy grotty Stepney. Otherwise … but otherwise was too much to think about. The solution was simple. Sarah would avoid Paris.
They slept late, and Sarah was still drinking her morning coffee when she heard the letterbox go. Knowing that the house would be deserted save for the two of them, she ran downstairs in her bathrobe to check the post. Two letters were for her, a cheque from Ehrmann and Black that put a smile the full width of her face, and a thick brown envelope. She guessed what it was immediately and took it upstairs unopened and with her sense of embarrassment already rising.
Giles was slumped on the sofa, dressed in his shirt and a pair of boxer shorts, a cup of coffee in one hand. Sarah flashed the cheque in front of his face and sat down next to him.
‘Pay,’ she said, ‘and this …’
She trailed off as she dug her thumb into the envelope flap, tearing it across to reveal the top of not one magazine, but two, with the titles visible as she tore the paper. One was Boobie Babes, the other Hotties at Home.
‘I’m not sure I can look!’ she said, the blood already rising to her face as she saw the top of her own head on the cover of the first magazine.
‘I can,’ Giles said eagerly as he snatched the magazines from the envelope. ‘Oh my, look at her will you? I bet you don’t get many of those to the pound! Oh, it’s you, sorry.’
There was laughter in his voice and Sarah slapped his leg, blushing darker still as she saw the picture. Sid had managed to catch her with a still as she took her bra off in the phone box, so that her breasts showed through the main panel of the door. They looked simply enormous, lolling forward from her chest like a pair of great pink water balloons, and while her nipples were still concealed by the trim of her wet bra, it was obvious that they were erect. To make matters worse her face showed too, clearly recognisable in
a frame of hair, her chagrined expression making it look as if she’d been caught out being naughty rather than posing on purpose.
‘That’s my Sarah!’ Giles said happily. ‘I’m going to frame this and keep it on my wall.’
‘Don’t you dare!’ she exclaimed. ‘What about your parents, and Rebecca!’
‘They won’t mind,’ he assured her.
‘It’s the cover of a pornographic magazine, Giles, and a pretty smutty one at that!’
‘All the better,’ he answered, and began to flick through the pages.
Sarah snuggled close, embarrassed and worried for the possible consequences, but unable to look away. The DVD attached to the cover of Boobie Babes showed the same picture of her, but there were more inside, captures of her shoot including her with her top wet, changing in the phone box and, worst of all, when she’d fallen out onto the pavement, rolling on her back with every single private detail of her body on show, including her anal star and her puffy and all too obviously excited sex. Giles gave a pleased sigh and squeezed the bulge in his boxer shorts, which was notably larger than before.
‘God you’re a turn-on!’ he said, dropping Boobie Babes and picking up Hotties at Home instead.
There was only a single picture, to Sarah’s relief, the same one as on the cover of Boobie Babes and a great deal smaller, but as Giles began to read out the text beneath her feelings changed.
‘What’s this then? “Meet Sarah from Boobie Babes, the bustiest bounciest bubble-butt babe out and a flasher too. Her 36F chest is all natural and she loves to get them out for the boys. She’ll be in next month’s issue, bare about the house and in kinky corner too, so don’t miss it!”’
‘They might at least have changed my name,’ Sarah sighed. ‘Not that it makes much difference, but what’s this about me being in the next issue? They don’t expect me to pose again, do they?’
‘It looks like it,’ Giles admitted.
‘Cheek! They haven’t even asked.’
‘No? Did you read the stuff Hugh gave you to sign?’
‘No. He said it was a model release.’
‘Yes, but maybe for more than one shoot. Check your pay slip too.’
Sarah quickly burrowed her hand into the smaller of the envelopes and drew out the payslip from Ehrmann and Black. Sure enough, at the bottom of the detailed list of what she had been paid for was two hundred and fifty pounds credited from Hotties at Home.
‘Shit!’ she swore. ‘The sneaky bastards!’
‘That’s Hugh all over,’ Giles agreed, rather more casually than she would have liked. ‘Let’s see what the kinky corner is.’
He’d been flicking through the pages as he spoke, and stopped, opening the magazine out to show a double-page spread of photos, all showing the same girl as she went about what would have been ordinary household chores had she not been gradually undressing, from the first shot which showed her panties beneath a short skirt as she did the hoovering, to the last, in which she was scrubbing the bathroom floor, on her knees, stark naked and photographed from an angle that left nothing whatsoever to the imagination. Giles turned back a page to show another picture of the same girl, fully dressed with the title ‘Bare about the House’ at the top.
‘So I have to do that?’ Sarah said, knowing full well that she did, and would.
‘It looks like it,’ Giles agreed, flicking forward to another full-page picture, the same girl again, but bent into the bath with her bottom lifted and both pussy and anus on blatant display. ‘She’s cute, isn’t she? Nice bumhole.’
Sarah slapped his leg for a second time, harder than before.
‘Not as cute as you,’ Giles said quickly. ‘You’d look great like that!’
‘Thanks a lot!’
‘You would,’ he insisted. ‘Your boobs are twice the size of hers for one thing, and you’ve got a much bigger bum.’
‘You really know how to flatter a girl, Giles Compton-Bassett,’ Sarah answered him.
‘Any time,’ he told her. ‘Shall we watch the DVD?’
‘I suppose we’d better.’
Sarah was trying not to sulk as Giles set up the DVD. It looked as if she was going to have to let her panties down again, if not actually in public then for a large magazine audience. Effectively she had been tricked into it, although she could already hear the mock hurt in Hugh Bowle’s voice if she dared to complain, explaining how she should have read the papers she’d signed. She knew she wouldn’t dare anyway.
Giles sat back down, putting his arm around her as the DVD began to play. Sarah watched with rising chagrin as she appeared, seated at the pub table, having Pimms thrown all over her, and with her breasts looking huge beneath her wet top. Giles had been massaging his cock as he watched, and now pulled it out. It stuck up half-erect from the opening of his boxer shorts.
‘Wank me off, darling,’ he said, a casual instruction rather than a request.
Sarah hesitated only a moment before reaching out to take his cock in hand. It felt bizarre, masturbating her boyfriend over her own public exposure and humiliation, but there was no denying it was getting to her, just as it was getting to him. To watch herself strip in the phone box was hideously embarrassing, especially as she pushed her bottom and boobs to the glass. It made her look clumsy and foolish, and gave the impression that she was little more than a pair of outsize tits and a big round bottom.
Seeing her attempt to struggle into the impossibly small panties was worse still, but nothing to the moment when she fell out of the phone box, rolling up on the pavement with her bottom spread and the three black youths plainly visible in the background. She thought of all the men watching, some laughing at her, some with their cocks in their hands, some actually coming over the sight of her wobbling boobs and wet ready sex, or, like Giles, the rude pink star of her anus. And suddenly he had come, the thick white spunk running down over her fingers as his cock erupted in her hand.
She gave in to the unequal struggle between her arousal and her feelings of embarrassment and shame, sticking her fingers in her mouth to suck up Giles’ come even as she was tugging her clothes open. Her hand was still dirty, and she smeared the mess onto her breasts, enjoying the sensation of soiling herself and wishing she was doing it in public or in front of a camera as her sticky nipples poked up between fingers and thumbs.
The DVD had finished, and she shut her eyes, imagining herself back in the phone box, nude and squirming with embarrassment and panic, her body seemingly all bottom and boobs. Giles was right, it was good. It was good to have great big heavy breasts and a round cheeky bottom. It made her sexy, it made her a woman, it made her the object of men’s desire, not aesthetically perhaps, but at a deep primitive level. She wanted them to enjoy her too, to see her nude in some smutty magazine.
Her body tightened with her approaching orgasm, one hand clutching at her breasts, the other busy with her sex. She felt Giles’ touch, his hand sliding under one thigh, to tickle the plump swell of her bottom where her cheeks stuck out over the edge of the sofa, and push between. Her thighs came wide, inviting him to touch her anus, which he did, starting to tease, one finger circling the tiny hole as her ring began to contract in sympathy with her sex and bottom cheeks.
She was coming, on a wave of ecstasy as she imagined hundreds and thousands of men all masturbating over her naked body, every single one erect for her, coming for her, making her suck them, fucking her, buggering her. As she cried out, Giles penetrated her anus, slipping his finger deep up with her own juice to lubricate her passage. Again she screamed out, thinking of taking three cocks at once with a great queue of men also waiting to enjoy her. Her orgasm rose once more, then it began to fade, leaving her with the thought that what she’d just come over couldn’t exactly be described as faithful, then that Giles seemed to love showing her off to other men anyway, if not necessarily having her taken three at a time.
Nine
Hugh Bowle rang the next day, his voice bland and professional as he asked Sarah
if the weekend would be convenient to photograph her for ‘Bare about the House’ and the ‘Kinky Corner’. Having already surrendered to what she felt was inevitable, she agreed, telling herself that having been in Boobie Babes already there was no point in fighting to preserve whatever modesty had not already been stripped away.
She consoled herself with the thought that she would at least be on her own, not sucking cock or penetrated like the girls in the harder magazines. It was also helpful to have a boyfriend who encouraged her and supported her instead of becoming possessive or prudish about her body.
‘Bare about the House’ followed the same routine in every issue, with a girl stripping as she did her housework, from fully clothed in the opening shot to stark naked in the final one. It was rude, sexist and humiliating, an utterly inappropriate way to treat a woman and, for Sarah, intensely arousing. ‘Kinky Corner’ was simpler, a single full-page shot of a girl in a mildly unusual sexual situation. In the case of the issue Sarah had seen it was a buxom girl with her blouse pulled down around her waist as baked beans were poured into her cleavage from above. Just to look at it made Sarah think she could feel the mixture of beans and sauce slithering down over her breasts and pooling around her tummy as they got under her blouse, but she knew her own fate would be different.
Saturday arrived and she found herself no less nervous than the time before, blushing every time she thought of what was ahead, her nipples inclined to go stiff at a touch and her belly and sex tight with anticipation. Giles was coming over, and Mak knew what was going on and had promised to be there for her, but the prospect of having them watch only added to her embarrassment, for all that one was her boyfriend and the other was gay. When the doorbell went she was further horrified to discover not only Hugh Bowle and Sid, but lighting and sound technicians as well.
The men promptly took over the flat, Mak and Giles helping them with Sarah left to sit on the sofa and contemplate her coming strip. She knew it had to be all the way, and that the last couple of shots would show everything, and not as if it was accidental either, but on blatant display. Somehow that made it worse, with no excuse save her own lewd nature, and she was biting her lip as Hugh came in to the living room, rubbing his hands in satisfaction as he spoke.
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