Date: Thu, 18 Mar 2010 01:03:18 EDT
From: ldavis4@hotmail.com
Subject: Ellen

Ellen by Laura Davis F/F  Bnd, mild torture
(mailto:ldavis4@hotmail.com)  (Laura Davis)
I was twenty-nine years old and two months pregnant with  my first child
when my husband walked out on me. If he'd had a good reason I  might have
understood. I would have been mad and hurt but I might have  understood. But he
didn't have a good reason. He just said, "I've decided that I  don't want
to be married anymore." And then he was  gone.
I had a good job with good benefits so I filed for  divorce and went on
with my life. Two weeks later, without any prior warning,  the company I worked
for closed. I showed up for work one Friday morning and the  doors were
locked. A company representative, protected by two armed guards, was  there to
pass out final paychecks and a small severance  payment.
I didn't know what to do. I had little money and suddenly  I had no
benefits. And I was almost three months pregnant. It was near the end  of the
month. Rent would be due in a few days. The doctor wanted money. There  were
groceries to buy, bills to pay, decisions to be made - keep the baby or put  it
up for adoption. Abortion was out of the  question.
The next morning I got up and went for a walk in the park  after breakfast.
I was wearing a cropped tank top, denim cutoffs, and sandals.  My belly was
still flat but my breasts had gone from a B-cup to a C-cup. I'm not
beautiful, or even particularly pretty, but I am attractive and sexy. I have
black hair, olive skin, a good figure, and pretty nice  legs.
I'd been in the park for about twenty minutes and was  starting to feel the
heat. It was late July and the weather was typically hot  and humid. I saw
a young woman taking pictures near the duck pond. She snapped a  couple of
shots and then turned and walked toward me. We smiled at each other,  the way
women do when there are no men around, and nodded. She continued on past
but a moment later I heard a soft voice say, "Excuse  me...."
I turned and saw the photographer standing a few feet  away. "I don't want
to bother you but I was wondering if you'd pose for  me."
She was blonde and pretty in a tomboyish way and she had  a nice smile.
After a moment's hesitation I nodded and said, "Okay. But you'll  have to tell
me what to do. I've never modeled."
She grinned. "No problem. Let's go over by the  greenhouse." We walked
across the park to the greenhouse, chatting  companionably. Her name was Louise
and she told me she was new to the area, just  out of grad school, and
working at a local TV  station.
When we reached the greenhouse I posed in the outside  garden. Then we went
inside for a few shots. It was extremely hot and I began  perspiring
heavily. She wouldn't let me wipe it away because she said my skin  gleamed nicely
when covered with sweat. She told me I was pretty and a natural  model. She
said I had beautiful legs and a nice figure. She flattered me  shamelessly
and I loved it!
She posed me outside, under a tree, holding a tree limb a  couple of feet
over my head. My top rode up, exposing my bra. She frowned.  She coaxed me
into taking my bra off.  She said I looked very sexy with the lower curves of
my breasts visible. She  told me to hold the pose and she came over and
unbuttoned my shorts, undoing the  zipper just a little, showing more of my
lower belly. "Very sexy," she  said.
She had me hold the pose again, both hands firmly  gripping the branch. She
came over and eased the zipper down a little  further.  She told me I was
beautiful, staring right into my eyes as she spoke.  She put her hand on my
belly for a  moment. I told myself I wasn't getting aroused. I was  lying.
We were at the edge of small but very dense grove of  trees that mark the
western boundary of the park. We went a little deeper into  the grove. There
was nobody around. It was too early and too hot for most people  to be out.
I let her talk me into taking my top off.  Within a couple of minutes I was
posing  nude. She shot another full roll of film, her last. When it was done
she walked  over and said, "You're a fantastic model. Will you come back
and pose in my  studio?" As she spoke, she put her hand on the back of my
neck and rubbed  gently. I was still nude, my clothes on the ground  nearby.
She put her mouth close to my ear and whispered, "I want  you."
She was still rubbing my neck, something that has always  aroused me.
It was an effort to turn my head and speak. "I'm not a  lesbian."
She grinned and tightened her grip on the back of my neck  and began rubbi
ng my belly with her left hand. "I am. Come back to my place and  pose for me.
"
I moaned softly as her hand made wider circles on my  belly. "I thought you
wanted me ...."
Her hand dipped between my legs. "I do. I'm just not sure  which I want
more - sex or pictures. You're so damn  sexy!"
I thrust forward with my hips, pushing myself against her  hand. I was very
wet and her middle finger slid into me without meeting the  slightest
resistance! I closed my eyes and whimpered with pleasure as her finger  explored
my wet cunt. "Do whatever you want. Just let me  come!"
She masturbated me for a minute or two and then stopped!  I moaned and
begged her to continue. She refused. She made me get dressed and  then we walked
back across the park to the parking lot. She was driving a new  Land Rover,
the first hint I had that she wasn't hurting for money. She ushered  me
into the passenger seat and stroked my thigh while I fastened my seat  belt.
She lived over in the Cedar Hill section of town, an area  of older homes
that was becoming fashionable again. Young married couples with  money were
buying the homes and fixing them up. Her place was a fairly modest  Victorian
on a two-acre lot. The land was worth much more than the house. The  house
was a shambles. She was remodeling it herself, not to save money, but
because she just wanted to do it, to have the house be truly  hers.
She had a studio set up in a large room over the  three-car detached
garage. The garage was completely renovated. There was a  workshop where you'd
normally park. Upstairs was one big room with the exception  of a small
bathroom in one corner. It was a combination studio, exercise room,  and bedroom.
She had a sleeping bag in the corner near the  bathroom.
She unlocked the door and stepped aside so I could enter  first.
"Take your clothes off, please, and I'll show you  around." I dropped my
clothes just inside the door and followed her around the  room.  "I'd turn
on the  air-conditioning but I want you to sweat. Please, get on the
stationary bike and  ride it as hard as you can."
I mounted the bike and began to pedal. Being nude on the  bike was
arousing. As was the way the seat rubbed against my vulva. Louise began  to shot,
alternating between a 35mm Nikon and a Sony digital camera. She  encouraged me
with soft words, crooned in a honeyed voice. She told me that if I  were a
good girl she'd fuck my brains out when we were done  working.
I had an orgasm on the bike and she caught a good shot of  my face as I
came! She drew my hands behind my back and cuffed them with soft  leather
restraints. She made me pedal harder. The sweat poured off my body, my  hair was
plastered to my head, and I grew aroused again.  I had a second orgasm and
she let me  stop and rest. She removed the leather cuffs and put a collar
around my neck.  She had me pose on my hands and knees, like a cat. Had me move
around the room  on my hands and knees while she continued to shoot.
She snapped a leash onto the collar and shot another roll  of film.
Between shots I drank bottled water to keep from getting  dehydrated.
After a few minutes she  found a bowl somewhere and filled it with water.  "
Drink."
I glanced at her for a moment before lowering my head to  lap water from
the bowl. I heard her shutter clicking like a machine gun. We  worked steadily
and it was suddenly past three p.m. The light was no longer  suitable,
according to Louise, and I realized I was starved.  She took a quick shower and
changed.  Then she took me to my place and I showered and changed into a
sundress and  sandals so she could take me out to eat.
She came into my bedroom as I was stepping into a pair of  thong panties
and said, "No underwear. Just put your dress on and we'll get  going." My
dress was a few years old, shorter than I would have bought then, and  it
showed a lot of leg. I felt very sexy. Part of it was being nude under the
dress. Part of it was the way Louise looked at me.
She took me to a nice place over by the lake. We talked  before, during,
and after dinner. I told her about my situation. Everything  about my
situation. She listened quietly and when I was done she said, "I want  you to move
in with me. I want you to pose for me every day. I'll pay you well,
including benefits." She was, as I quickly realized, a woman who didn't agonize
over decisions.
I glanced away and then back, locking her eyes with mine.  "And what about
sex?"
She grinned and patted my hand. "Don't worry about sex.  I'll keep you
satisfied!"
I blushed. "That's not what I  meant!"
She nodded, still smiling. "I know but I couldn't  resist." She paused for
a sip of wine. "I want you in my bed. Actually, in my  sleeping bag. But I
want you more as a model so if you don't want to share my  bed I'll respect
your wishes. But my offer still stands.  I'll take care of you until the
baby  arrives and you're back on your feet again."
So I moved in with her. I slept in a separate sleeping  bag for three days
while I tested her resolve. She worked nights, from 3 p.m.  `till midnight,
and spent her days photographing me. I spent most of my days  nude and I
loved it. Modeling was fun and the results were spectacular! She was  very
excited and couldn't wait to show the prints to her  agent.
On our fourth day together I zipped the sleeping bags  together and
pretended to be asleep when she got home shortly after 12:30. I  was, of course,
naked. She crawled in with me and promptly fell asleep! I lay  there, seething
with frustration, for nearly an hour before I was able to fall  asleep.
She woke me the next morning by rubbing my belly. When  she saw that I was
awake she leaned and kissed me softly, her lips barely  brushing mine. "Roll
over on your belly and clasp your hands behind your neck."  I obeyed
without hesitation. "Draw your knees up under you." Again, I obeyed  without
hesitation. My head and shoulders were on the floor and my butt was  raised to
the right level. She eased a big, handheld dildo into my pussy while I
whimpered with pleasure. She fucked me gently until I was fully lubricated. Then
she fucked me harder and deeper while I moaned and whimpered. My submissive
 position was most exciting!
I screamed with pleasure when I came! She leaned close  and whispered, "Don'
t move." Then she began to stroke my back, buttocks, and  thighs until I
was aroused once again. This time she used her fingers and tongue  to bring me
to orgasm. There was no posing that day. She was falling behind on  the
house so we spent the day working after a quick trip to buy me some work
boots, gloves, and safety glasses, jeans, and a couple of denim  shirts.
Months passed. The baby was born but I never saw it. I'd  decided adoption
was the best course. Louise took me home and let me mope around  for a few
days. Then she took charge and made me start working out. When I  didn't
perform up to her expectations she took a strap to me. I spent hours on  the
treadmill and the stationary bike and the rowing machine. She kept me nude  and
worked me hard. We worked on the house, too, the only time I was allowed to
 wear clothing. Sex was forbidden to me but I had to satisfy her with my
fingers  and tongue.  When I complained that  it wasn't fair she smiled and
spanked me until I was sobbing and pleading for  mercy.
By the following July I was in the best shape of my life.  My body was firm
and taut. I had a nice tan with no tan lines at all. I was  healthy and
vibrant, my eyes bright, my skin clear. Then she gave me a choice.  Actually,
she gave me several choices. I could find a job and leave. I could  stay with
her but as her slave. Or she could find me a master/mistress more to  my
liking.
I had no intention of leaving her but I wanted to tease  her. "How would
you find me a more suitable master or  mistress?"
She shrugged. If she was upset she hid it well. "There  are places I could
take you to show you off. You're totally untrained, not  really suitable to
be a slave, but you're very sexy and you have a fantastic  body. You'd go
for a good price if I put you on the  block."
I shivered. "Would you actually sell  me?"
She grinned. "In an instant. You'd look good on the  block. You'd be nude
and oiled, collared and cuffed, and you'd be forced to  perform for the
buyers."
"What do you mean by perform?" My voice quavered,  betraying my anxiety.
"You'd have to dance for them. Suck cock. Eat pussy. Let  a variety of
potential buyers fuck you. They'd want to know how you take pain so  they'd
whip you. Maybe indulge in a little needle  torture."
"Needle torture?" My voice was a whisper. I was  terrified.
"You know. Acupuncture needles through your nipples and  labia.
Maybe through your clit or into the tender area around  your anus.  Maybe
some hot needles.  I once saw a skewer pushed through a woman's tits."
I dropped to my knees, sobbing in terror, and wrapped my  arms around her
thighs. "NO! Please don't sell me! Please! I want to stay with  you!"
She ruffled my hair and said "Don't worry. I have no  intention of giving
you up. You're mine!"
That night, after dinner, I licked her feet in submission  and accepted her
as my mistress, my owner. She began training me the following  day and by
my thirty-first birthday she'd turned me into a true slave. A  perfectly
trained slave. She taught me to associate pain with pleasure by making  sure
that each time she caused me pain she followed it with incredible sexual
pleasure. I got sex without pain for several months but when I was trained to
expect sexual pleasure after pain the free sex stopped. I quickly learned, my
body quickly learned, that there would be no sexual pleasure without  pain.
So, inevitably, I began to crave pain in order to  experience the
incredible sexual pleasure she was capable of giving me. My  `final exam' was when
she handed me two acupuncture needles and told me to pin  my nipples to a
cork tabletop. I cried as I pushed the needles though my  nipples, deep into
the cork. We were in the back room of a lesbian bar over in  Centerville. She
slipped a vibrator into my cunt, another one into my ass, and left me there
on  my knees. She came back to check me every few minutes. After an hour
she gave me  permission to remove the needles but I remained on my knees,
vibrators in place,  for another hour.
She cured me of every last trace of modesty too. It  started when she took
me shopping at some of the local shops that cater to the  bdsm/fetish crowd.
At first I found it intensely embarrassing to be made to  strip in front of
a salesclerk, male or female, some of them just teenagers. But  frequent
public spankings soon cured me. Now, I could strip on a public street  and not
feel the slightest embarrassment even with my nipples, navel, labia, and
clit piercings.
She's mentioned crucifying me next Easter. Not with  spikes, of course. But
she'd make it as authentic as possible - crown of thorns  (or barbed wire),
scourging, dragging a heavy cross up a hill. Of course I'd be  naked the
entire time. I'm scared. And excited.

The End