Amateur Model

He tied more rope around her body in strange patterns.

'What's the point?' wondered Tara.'I'm already not going anywhere.' She understood soon enough though, as he lowered a hoisting arrangement from the ceiling and tied her ropes to it. The extra rope was there to make sure her weight was carried by both her arms and her legs when he raised her, and to keep her body upright, and to keep her legs spread.

Still breathing heavily, Tara looked straight at Mr. Jeffries as her body left the floor. A slight smile played around his lips as he studied her.

"Looks like you'll get your money's worth this time," she said.

"Looks like it," replied Mr. Jeffries, and slowly rolled his wheelchair to her, and under her.

'The man-whore only raised me to wheelchair height,' realised Tara. Her most private parts were at Mr. Jeffries's mouth level.

The old man stopped before his mouth collided with her privates though, half an arm's length before. Still panting, Tara stared down at his face, and he smiled up at her with those unnaturally perfect teeth.

"Thank you, Bob," he said, not taking his eyes of Tara's. "I won't need you further tonight."

Bob nodded and left, he hadn't spoken in front of Tara at all.

Mr. Jeffries raised a hand and ran it along one of Tara's inner thighs. His skin was wrinkled, dry, and softened by age. The sensation made Tara gasp - from surprise, she guessed. He tickled her gently and intimately like that, running his hand back and forth over each her inner thighs in turn.

Instinctively she tried to close her legs, but the ropes wouldn't budge.'He is an old, crippled man in a wheelchair, and I can't stop him.' Tara's breathing became heavier instead of lighter, she would have thought she would have regained her breath by now.'A wrinkled, old, weak man in a wheelchair, but I am the helpless one.'

His hand was trailing one of her inner thighs again. He smiled while watching her face as her eyes trailed the hand. Ever so slowly it moved closer and closer to her body. This time it didn't stop at the last moment, it kept going straight to an even more sensitive place. Her whole body jerked against the ropes when without hesitation one of his fingers sought out her hooded clit. Her swollen hooded clit.

With a maddening softness he caressed it with a circling movement.

Tara's breath became heavier yet, this time on purpose, to keep her from moaning.'Keep your mind on the money.' Tara raised her eyes to the door, which she had no chance of reaching while hovering in her bondage.

"It hasn't even been half an hour yet," said Mr. Jeffries. "But, I can cut an hour off your time if you answer two questions truthfully."

"Please," said Tara. "Yes, please."

Mr. Jeffries kept caressing her clit, softly and so slowly, so irresistibly slowly, as if he planned to keep going forever, as if he knew how close she already was.

"The first question is very simple." He went quiet for a moment, but kept moving his finger in that insane circle. "Are you horny?"

"Yes." There was no point in denying it, she couldn't hide the juices.

"The second question might be more difficult."

"What is it?" asked Tara, needing a distraction from the sensations his finger kept waking with that slow, soft, gentle, circling torture.

"Do you want me to make you come?"

"No. No, I don't." She really didn't, not that perverted old man in the wheelchair. She really didn't want to writher helplessly on his hand. Didn't want to moan out her ecstasy for him. Not him.

Mr. Jeffries's smile widened.

"It really is a shame that the only way to stop me is to chicken out and say good-bye to your money then, isn't it?"

"I won't chicken out." Tara gasped, and tried to move away from his finger, she couldn't, the bondage was too tight. Gravity demanded she hang where she hung. "I... I need the money."

He moved his finger from her clit, and Tara drew a deep breath with relief. Then exhaled as his finger entered her. It moved slowly, searching along the top of her tunnel. As easily as he had found her clitoris before, he found that sensitive spot within her that only one of her lovers had ever found.

Tara made a low whining sound when he started stroking that spot with an unbelievable soft motion. Within seconds she started making pelvic motions against the ropes, she couldn't control it.

"Please stop."

He stopped.

"Are you chickening out on me?"

"No. I need the money. I'm not chickening out."

"Look at me."

She did.

"If you tell me to stop again, I will have you untied and send you away without the money. Is that understood." His voice was stern.

Tara nodded, and closed her mouth.

He started again. Insane softness, a maddening caress on that secret spot.

Tara closed her eyes, and leaned her head back, but that only made it worse.

That relentless stimulation. She couldn't get enough air through her nose, and opened her mouth to gasp for breath.

'Old man, very old man, how many women has he done this to?' Tara shook her head.'I don't want to come on his hand.'

Her pelvis rotated against the ropes. The ropes controlled it now, she couldn't.

"Please," she said. She wanted to say: please stop. But forced herself not to.'I have to take it. I have to.'

"Please!" Tension was building within her, slowly, as slowly as that unstoppable movement within her. That tender movement against that spot other men had so much trouble finding.

"Please, please, please." She shook her head to stop talking before she lost control of which words came out. She couldn't afford to say 'stop'. And then it was too late to say stop, she moaned unable to form any words and her whole body fought against the ropes, or with them, as the wave came and blasted every thought away.

Tara screamed for Mr. Jeffries, in ecstasy, as she had only ever screamed for one other man, again and again, while it swept through her.

Afterwards she flopped like a fish in a net, gasping for air, while her pussy clamped on Mr. Jeffries's finger, milking it. He held it still and gave her time to calm. When her breathing was normal, and her pussy no longer clamped down on his finger. Tara opened her eyes and looked down at Mr. Jeffries.

He smiled up at her face. "Would you say I have figured out what type you are?"

Tara closed her eyes and turned her face to the side.'I screamed for him.' It was embarrassing, the old pervert had made her scream. She might have cried if she hadn't been so exhausted.

Mr. Jeffries started moving his finger again, against that very same spot.

'Oh no,' thought Tara.'Not again.' The build had already begun.'Not again. Not again!'

"Do you know how many times I can make you come by doing this?" he asked.

Tara shook her head. She didn't know. The only guy who had ever made her come that way had never even attempted to do it twice in a row.

"Many times, Tara," he said.

She moved her eyes down to him, it was the first time he had called her by her first name.

"Please don..." Tara stopped herself. "I need the money, please don't force me to tell you to... that word."

The soft maddening movements continued.

"Is it hard to handle because it is too intense?" he asked. "Or is it hard to handle because it is me?"

Tara craned her neck back and moaned toward the ceiling. Being pushed towards a second through her hidden spot felt completely different than when someone tried to give her a second clitoral orgasm. If an attractive young man was doing this to her, she would be in heaven. Orgasm heaven, and would never want to come down.

'It's because it's him.' And it wasn't just because he was old and crippled. It played a part, it made it worse, but what made it bad, really bad, was all those humiliating poses he had made her do in the studio. The condomed banana. The butt wriggling. He wasn't merely an old man, he was an old pig.

Yet he had complete control over her body. The tension built higher.

'I won't scream for him this time, I won't. I won't.' Through clenched teeth she groaned, trying to stop the wave before it came. Staring towards the ceiling she tried to fight it.'I can stop it, I won't let it come.'

Mr. Jeffries put his other hand to use. While a finger on his first hand kept rubbing that secret spot, his other hand sought out her clit.

Tara's eyes widened. She now felt two different orgasms building at once and realised she had no control of either of them.

She didn't scream for him this time round, she had no air for screams as both orgasms hit her at once, but her body rewarded him with shakes, and clamping, and juices, as it yet again demonstrated that he was in control.

He withdrew his hands and gave her time to come to her senses.

Tara let her head hang down, even after she had regained her breath.'How much time is left?'

"Would you say I have figured out what type you are?"

Tara didn't raise her head, but didn't reply.

"What do you fantasise about when you play with yourself?" he asked.

She didn't reply.

"If you don't feel like talking, I can entertain myself by making you come again," said Mr. Jeffries.

Tara bit her lower lip, but didn't talk.'How much longer?'

His hand returned, his finger entered her again.

"Tall, strong men. I think about tall strong men," admitted Tara.

He pulled his finger out of her, kept it at her entrance instead, stroking her there like a constant reminder.

"And what do they do, these tall strong men?"

"They hold me down, or tie me up, and take me by force."

"Do they touch you and make you come against your will?"

"Yes," admitted Tara.

"I thought so," said Mr. Jeffries.

He let her go after that, with the money, even though there had still been more than fifteen minutes left of the first hour.

*

When it comes to erotica, I have found I cannot create a good quality story on demand. These fantasies come and go as they please. Hence, I cannot promise a sequel, cannot promise to tell how Miss Tara Smith earned the rest of the money she needed. I must admit, however, that encouraging feedback has an effect on which fantasies end up in words and which don't.

P.S. Constructive criticism, ranging from comments on story flow, to flawed sentences, to excessive word usage, to matters as simple as punctuation and typos, is also welcome. (Regarding typos, please notice I aim to write in UK English.)