Emma's pictures .. By Jason D L .. ((archondaniel@hotmail.com
</ym/Compose?To=archondaniel@hotmail.com&YY=72975&order=down&sort=date&pos=
0>)) Standing and arching her back, Emma walked from the light table where
her latest films were arranged, the patient she had last shot showing his
bones to her in the most intimate fashion, naked of flesh in the view of
her expensive equipment' eyes. With a sigh she stood and realized her
floor was alomst empty of sound, the day having closed round her quickly,
no appointments scheduled for her after the last and just a little bit of
paperhandling to sort out before she slipped off home to a bit of
self-indulgence with her new playthings. When she emerged from the closet
they called her office, she was startled to see a in blcak clothes,
thermal and jeans bot deep black, as his soes and even his hair was,
and if she could trust her own eyes, his eyes as well, sitting on her
table, swinging his feet. With a gasp, Emma saw that her door was wedged
shut with a chair and the lights to the anteroom outside the door were
dark, as if she had shut down for the day. On the table beside the
man--smiling at her shocked silence as if he knew her somehow--were cloth
restraints like she used on patients the local bobbies brought in who were
injured. Beside the restraints were metal rods with stirrups on one end
and clasps to attach them to the table at the other, along with a a rubber
bit with elastic straps on it. All in all a frightening mini-tableauz with
a curiously dahunting actor presented for her to diegest in the seconds it
took for him to slide off the table edge and walk towards her. Awaking
from her trancelike shock, Emma realized the was standing right beside
her, his fingers pressed over her mouth softly, his other hand on the nape
of her neck, bringing her face close to his as he spoke softly to her.
"Silence, Emma, will determine your immediate future. With the slightest
scream from your mouth you will be bundled up in all the accessories you
see over there, plus I will have to use the othr little toys I found on the
surgical ward. I think you might be just fine in a few of them, but should
I have to use them all, you won't like the way the rest of the evening
unfolds. You may just enjoy this evening otherwise." Shocked at the
implications inherent in his speech, Emma's arms and legs seem almost numb
as he leads her with the hands still at both her lips and neck to the table
where so many patients have lain in their gowns or underwear. Feeling his
hands pushing her to sit, she moves to question him, but feels him place
his hand firmly over her mouth, lifting her chin with his other hand now to
force her eyes to meet his. Softly, just above a whisper now, he informs
her ,"The only thing, Miss Emma, that I want you to say to me is this and
this alone--you will say I understand when you agree. If you are so
foolish as to deny me something I require of you, you may only tell me with
a shake of your head signifying no. Otherwise these pretty little lips
stay closed, else I will close them. Do you agree?" "I understand," sighs
from Emma's lips before even has the chance to stop them, the acceptance of
his strictures instinctive, coming from somewhere deep inside, a place that
trusts this to keep his word even as she remains terrified of his plans
for her. Hands stiff at her sides, Emma braced against the edge of the
table as he lifts her to sit on its edge. He lifts Emma for just a second
from the table's top, pulling the skirt she wore today from underneath her
hips, leaving her on the table with her pantyhose-clad bottom sitting
directly on the table. His hands on the front of her are hot, the
fingers tracing the row of butoons from Emma's navel to her neck, then
slowly unbuttoning them, his voice almost casually caressing as he works
each little piece of plastic thru the cloth, his knuckles brushing Emma's
bare skin. "It is almost sensual, the way the garment industry has
reversed the way buttons are sewn on women's and men's shirts," he begins.
"It almost feels as if you are dressing or undressing yourself--which was
the intention, making it awkward for women to dress women and to fasten
other men's clothes. A bit homophobic of them, but Oh-So-convenient for
lovers." Blushing at his commentary, Emma feels her puckering
beneath the material as her ribbed t-shirt come into view, sensing the surveying the curves of them beneath the cotton's scant covering. When he
yanks her free of her skirt's waistband, Emma shivers a little, the
cool atmosphere of the office tightening her nipples even more as the chill
rushes thru the lighter cotton. When he pulls her light tshirt free of the
waistband as well, Emma suddenly feels the reality of her situation hit
home, tensing as the and tshirt slide over her head, exposing her
breasts to his gaze, even as she tries to cross her hands reflexively over
them. Sensing her reaction, the stranger grasps her wrists and sighc,
moving Emma back onto the table, her botom still resting without any
covering save her panythose. Lying her back, The picks up the
restraints and bars he had placed on the table, moving the gag to rest
beside her head. He holds her hands loosely in his--stretching them above
her head--as he selects two of the restraints from the pile and fastens
them to the top of the table. Her body tensing and her mouth opening to
question what is happening to her now, Emma quickly falls quiet as the
stranger holds the gag up in front of her face, shaking his head at her in
a blatant sign for her to keep silent. Feeling her hands spread towards
the corners of the table and fastened in the cuffs one by one, Emma's
feelings of surrender grow, the seeming ease which this stranger has shown
in quieting her will and overcoming her understandable objections strangely
enuff reassures her. Pushing her down the table til her hips are nearly at
the table's end, The lets emma's legs hand off the end of the table as
he moves to place the bars on the table's end. When he has the stirruped
bars in place, the stranger lifts Emma's feet one by one and sets them in
the stirrups, fastening restraits on her ankles and affixing them to the
bar to hold her feet in place and legs widely spread, her shoes falling to
the floor while he first caressed her naked feet and then secured them.
Feeling very, very vulnerable now, Emma blushes as the lifts her skirt
to her waist and undoes the waistband, rolling it in to a loose band of
cloth around her wast and ripping her tight thin ribbed straight down
the front, exposing her more fully to his gaze. When she sees the scalpel,
inhis hands, Emma's panic rises for a moment, hen ebbs as he merely cuts
the thoroughly moistened cloth of her away from her crotch,
strangely relieved that he is not doing more than exposing her vulnerable
lower body to his smiling gaze. The next hours pass in a haze of pleasure
and discomfort mixed together and wrapped in a haze of bright light and
disjointed sounds. When she wakes the next morning still on the table and
alone, the room dark around her as she struggles with the knots in the
gauze he fastened around her wrists, the restraints and stirrups he placed
her in gone, as is any trace of the photgraphic equipment she vaguely
remembers, the computer he hooked up to the expensive assembly he used to
record some of his more inventive uses of her. She shudders at the memory,
her inner thighs still sore and her breats heavy at the thot, the survace
of her areolae rough and marked from his abuse of her body, a taking of her
that still leaves her shuddering. When she finally makes the last knot
fall free, she looks down at her wrinkled clothes, pulling her skirt down
and closing her crushed as she finds her shoes with her toes and goes
to the room's lights to see the place of her humiliation, only to gasp as
she sees a white envelope and rose lying on a little tray close to the
table she spent so much of last night crying out her ecstasy and agonty on.
Also, on the tray beside the rose, is an envelope of decent size, full of
what she feels thru the kraft paper to be diskettes. On leaden feet and
finding her watch lying on the floor, Emma makes her way to her office,
seeing she has but a few minutes to examine what The left for her.
Opening the white envelope, she sees a tight scripted hand, inviting her to
stay late again this Friday, to give them an entire weekend to enjoy one
another. Assurances in the note leave her breathless, telling her that the
contents of the other envelope would be delivered to her employer, her
father, her first lover, her current lover, and every single getleman on
her block of flats and also those who shared this floor with her. Also in
the note are directions on what to wear and how to groom herself, as well
as humiliating suggestions about diet and hygiene. Stunned and unable to
comprehend The Man's audactiy, Emma shakily opens the kraft envelope,
wincing as she shifts the wrong way in her desk chair, leading her to
wonder just what her dazed state is blocking out in her memory. The first
picture that falls out of the envelope with the 10 diskettes makes the
memories start to rise to the surface, threatening to make her relive the
experience all over again, but her sanity is protected by the only defense
she can muster--blocking the thot of the woman in the as herself.
This woman is a different Emma in these pictures, this woman is a wanton
Emma who can derive pleasure from a stranger's hands while he ties her to a
table and uses her, it all and blackmailing her to silence and
complicity in her further humiliation. The sstill burns in her
mind as she one of the diskettes into her laptop, clicking the files
open in a cascade of her humiliation flashing past her eyes-- that picture,
framng her head arched back and her nipples hard and distended, her eyes
squeezed closed in what she recognizes as her own orgasm, the dribbles of
semen on her lower chest and stomach all too much evidence of what had
reently or just happened to her. But now, clicking past her in slow motion
it seems is a tableaux of this other Emma in pose after pose of lust. Emma, lips ovalled around the base of a penis, her eyes soft and
pleased and satiated, the telltale dribble of The Man's orgasm dripping fom
her lips. Next pose, Emma-in apparent relish-bubbling semen from her lips
as the tip of her tongue flicks over The Man's cock, lifting the last drop
of his come from the glans.The next few, Emma writhing around as a
stranger's hand worms in between her legs and stretches her around
first te fingers, then fingers, palm, and thumb, then finally, the
obviously clenched fist first just inside the mouth of her puss, then
disappearing as The Man's wrist and farther slip in her obviously pleased
ody, her face screwed in climax. Shakily her hands reach for a second
disk, one containing only one file, a moving of her with legs pushed
father back by the stirrups as she begs The to take her harder, clearly
in her own natural voice, causing a gasp to rush from her as she wonders
how this other Emma could enjoy the brutal raping force of a stranger
working himself inside her that way. Almost afraid to try another
diskette, but morbidly curious at the source of her other pains and wanting
her memory of the night to be back, to own it, she simply the rest of
the files onto the hard drive of her computer, pulling the three other
actual pictures from inside the envelope as well, recoginzing an Emma she
can relate to, crying ash she is taken in the bottom, her least favorite
experiment from college. But recogninzing another two videos, Emma sees
the other Emma coming forth againas that Emma is again begging in an
honest, uncoerced voice, for the to take her harder, where he clearly
is buried in her bottom in both videos, one showing her taking him hard and
fast and her beigging and the next showing her shuddering in an orgasm,
this other Emma she barely believes could be her calling out for his seed
in her as the obviously, with shaking hips, buries his cock and then
seed in her shaking body, filling her body with come. The slideshow that
floows of the pictures of this other Emma shocks her. It shows her untied
and welcoming this on top of herself, opening her highs and spreading
her bottom for him as she takes him and his playthingsin her body, even
bending forward over the side of the table for him to abuse her bottom with
hand, whip, and paddle. Coming in to the office later that morning, her
coworkers comment to Emma, noting her improved demeanor and more
provocative clothes, the feeling of her thighs rubbing together and aganst
her uncovered smoothly shaven vulva sending little thrills thru her, the
pumps she is wearing for her appointment this Friday evening clicking as
she carries her garment bag with her into the office. Cancelling a
scheduled depatmental meeting she had called earlier this week, Emma closes
and locks the door to her office, turning her laptop on and kicking her
pumps off to hook her knees over the arms of her chair, lifting her bottom
to pull her skirt from beneath her bottom and placing the hand towel from
her purse beneath her bottom, sure to catch the byproducts of her morning
activities. She smiles as she clicks on her special slideshow--whistling,
looking forward to her new life supplanting the older, more conservative
Emma's tedious days of restraint. When The comes tonight, she thinks,
oh will he be pleasantly surprised, maybe even overwhelmed. Jason L
(JasonDkEldar@yahoo.com)
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