Message-ID: <7036eli$9803171944@qz.little-neck.ny.us> From: Mahgirb@webtv.net Subject: The Perfect Model (Mf,bd,tor,humil,sm,nc) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 (WebTV) Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7BIT Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; CHARSET=US-ASCII Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <6emps3$qjg$1@newsd-124.bryant.webtv.net> WARNING! This series is intended for mature audiences only. You must be of legal age to read this material in your respective community. If graphic sexual violence offends you then turn away now. For everyone else, enjoy the ride. The Perfect Model by Mahgirb Prologue: Jessie answers the ad The ad simply read, "Models needed for private art/photography studio. Previous experience not necessary. Good looks and good attitude rewarded with above average compensation plan. Call 976-____ for appointment." It was perhaps the best-looking ad that the starving waitress had seen all day. Jessie took every Sunday afternoon and read through all the Los Angeles classifieds. It was her only free time in the week, and she used it to dream of a better job, better pay, and a better life. She was constantly being harassed by the patrons at the diner. For the two years since she graduated from high school, she took down their orders and delivered their food. All for what? Dismal pay, long hours, and hands that smelled of grease at the end of the day. When she called the number, the receptionist seemed rather vague about the position, and she asked questions about Jessie's measurements. Maybe that's just what models have to go through, she thought. Finally, the receptionist gave Jessie directions on how to get to the appointment. The address alone impressed Jessie: Malibu. And when she wound her beat-up 86 Cavalier around the hills and into the beaches of Malibu, she almost couldn't believe she had the right address. Jessie had been disappointed before, so she was half-expecting the business address to be one of those nearly condemned downtown Pasadena offices. But this was palacial. The office was actually a home; moreover it was three times the size of your average house. She stopped at the gate and she was questioned by a beefy, no-nonsense guard. He looked at his chart and then let her through the iron gates. The grounds were immaculate. There were sculptures of every size and style, fountains dancing on either side of the drive, and several ornate gazebos looking out onto the Ocean. As she pulled to a stop, she adjusted her clothes a little, fearing that these clothes were just too plain-Jane for this interview. A simple Spring dress was all she had clean to wear, and these dainty leather sandals were really her best shoes. Jessie was feeling understandably insecure. She finally stopped fidgeting with her wardrobe and stepped out of the car. She heard a sizzle as she walked past the front, observing green radiator fluid dripping copiously from the engine. It reminded her that whatever she thought of herself, whatever the job was, she had nothing to lose. Jessie started the long climb up the wide stairs to the front door. Just as she raised her hand to knock, the door opened and a maid stepped halfway through. "We've been expecting you," she said. Jessie immediately took note of the maid's attire. Her wardrobe was that of a French maid, yet more extreme. More cleavage was noticeable, and the girl's waist seemed abnormally small. The black dress did not even cover the maid's behind. When the maid turned to guide Jessie, her ass was virtually uncovered by any clothing, save for the lacy pantyhose. And examining her further, Jessie was taken aback by the black shoes the maid was wearing. The heel seemed incredibly high and thin, more than six inches tall. As Jessie was led into the den to wait, she took note of all the photographs and portraits that lined the walls. Thousands of pictures, everyone of them depicting women, gorgeous women in various states of undress. The wall seemed to illustrate an evolution of art, as the pictures became more disturbing, as the images became more distracting. Nudes along the beach at sunset evolved into nudes with whip marks lying in anguish covered with murky water. Her examination ended abruptly as a man entered the den. Mr. Blaine introduced himself and then got down to business. "What I am seeking is a new live-in model. The position requires someone with your raw beauty potential to sit for me, to pose for my camera, to allow me to mold you into your ultimate form. You see, I have several models already on staff here, but each one has little spark left for me, no new excitement lights up in their eyes, as they having been posing for me for so long. "Do not misunderstand me, I love all of my pets and I would never think of abandoning them. Once you come into this house and work for me, you are always welcome in this house. That is one of the compensations that the ad speaks of. "This is a full-time position make no mistake. I don't always know when the mood strikes me, so that is why you must live, and work, here. There may be some things you are asked to do in a pose that will sound strange or different, but you will find that putting your trust in me will help you get through any of these assignments. I promise that you will be provided for while you are here. I have the contract already drawn up if you are prepared to sign." He held the long form in front of her; the print was so tiny it was indecipherable, not that Jessie made a point to read any contracts before signing. However, something in his rush to have her decide sent chills down her spine. She wanted time to think it over. "Mr. Blaine, it sounds just to good to be true. I mean, I don't even have any modeling experience and I don't think I am all that pretty and---" "Did I fail to mention that the position pays a sum of $1,000 per week, plus performance bonuses, in addition to your free room and board?" Jessie's mouth almost dropped to the floor. "And this contract includes an escape clause if you want to leave at any time. And for deciding today, there is this small token of my appreciation, an incentive cash bonus of $2,000." He waved the twenty one-hundred-dollar bills in front of her and then laid them next to the pen on the contract. Before she could blink, she picked up the pen and signed her name. She cradled the money in her trembling hand and was thinking of all the things she could buy tonight. "Welcome home, Jessie. I know that you are going to find your time here to be most rewarding." End of Prologue -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |