Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 76329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
The nightgown was even more revealing than the lingerie set—sheer white fabric that did nothing to hide my body beneath, with delicate lace trim that scratched against my sensitive nipples. It barely reached mid-thigh, leaving my legs completely exposed. To my dismay, I suddenly wished for the covering the nylons had provided.
“This look is perfect for the innocent-but-available image we want to project,” Mona explained, adjusting the straps on my shoulders so the neckline dipped lower, revealing more of my cleavage. “It suggests you’re ready for bed—but not necessarily for sleep.”
I swallowed hard, trying not to think about what she was implying. The fabric was so sheer I could see my own nipples through it, pink and hard against the white material. The thong I wore beneath did little to preserve my modesty, especially when Theodore had me sit on the edge of the bed, legs slightly parted.
“Look at the camera like you’re looking at your sponsor,” he instructed. “A little shy, but eager to please.”
I had no idea how to create such an expression, but I tried my best, lowering my eyes slightly before gazing up through my lashes at the lens. The camera clicked rapidly.
“Better,” Theodore murmured. “Now lie back on the bed. One knee bent, the other leg straight.”
I followed his instructions, sinking back against the white pillows. The position made the short nightgown ride up, exposing the edge of my thong. I resisted the urge to tug it down.
“Hand on your stomach,” Theodore directed. “Fingers just under the hem of the nightgown, like you’re thinking about touching yourself, but aren’t quite brave enough.”
My face flamed hot at his words, but I placed my hand as instructed, my fingers resting just below my navel, at the very edge of the flimsy garment. The camera clicked steadily.
“Good,” Theodore said. “Now I want you to pull the nightgown up slightly. Just enough to show a hint of your panties.”
I hesitated, then slowly drew the fabric upward, revealing more of my thong. The camera continued to capture every moment of my discomfort.
“More,” Theodore insisted. “Show us the panties completely.”
With trembling fingers, I pulled the nightgown up to my waist, fully exposing the tiny white thong. I lay there, the sheer babydoll bunched around my midriff, my nearly naked body on display for the camera.
“Perfect,” Theodore murmured. “Now slide your fingers into the waistband of your panties. Just slightly.”
“I thought these were supposed to be tasteful photos,” I protested weakly, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Oh, these will definitely be to the taste of your potential sponsors,” Mona replied with a wicked smile that brought a fresh surge of blood to my face.
I stared at the impossibly fashionable, fully dressed woman, helpless against the heat of humiliation that flooded through me. Her words seemed to echo in the studio, mingling with the steady hum of the air conditioning and the soft click of Theodore’s camera.
“I can’t,” I whispered, my fingers frozen at the waistband of the thong.
Theodore lowered his camera slightly, his expression hardening. “Ms. Campbell, we’ve already established the consequences of disobedience. Would you prefer another spanking?”
The memory of being bent over his knee, my bare bottom exposed and burning under his firm hand, made me shiver. Worse, the memory brought with it that same unwanted surge of arousal between my legs. I could feel myself growing wetter beneath the tiny scrap of lace barely covering me.
“No,” I said quickly, my voice small. “I’ll do it.”
“Good girl,” he murmured, raising the camera again. “Slide your fingers just inside the waistband. Imagine your sponsor has commanded you to touch yourself for him.”
My face burning, I slipped trembling fingers beneath the lace edge of the thong. The camera clicked rapidly, capturing my mortification for posterity.
“Now pull them down,” Theodore instructed. “Just to the top of your thighs.”
I swallowed hard, then hooked my thumbs into the sides of the thong and slowly drew it downward, exposing the bare, smooth skin of my freshly waxed mound. The cool air against my most intimate parts made me shiver, goosebumps rising across my exposed skin.
“Stop there,” Theodore said, the camera continuing its relentless documentation. “Now spread your legs a bit wider.”
I parted my thighs slightly, acutely aware of how exposed I was, how vulnerable. The thin strip of fabric still caught between my thighs seemed almost obscene now, emphasizing rather than hiding my nakedness.
“Perfect,” Theodore murmured. “Now touch yourself.”
I froze, certain I’d misheard him. “What?”
“Touch your pussy,” he repeated. “Just lightly. Run your fingers over yourself.”
“I can’t,” I whispered, horrified. “That’s… that’s too much.”
“Your sponsors will expect much more than this,” Mona interjected, moving closer to the bed. “They’ll want to see how thirsty you are, how obedient. This is nothing compared to what will be required of you once you’re claimed.”
Claimed. The word sent a shiver through me—fear mingled with that persistent, shameful arousal.