Photo Shoot Gone Badly Wrong Pt. 03

The absolute shock of my predicament startled me into action.

Panic-stricken, and despite teetering on the edge of what surely would have been a massive orgasm, I turned the ignition back on and gunned my Honda. I wasn't really thinking clearly, I just knew I had to get away from those young men and their phones.

As my car lurched down the road, I unsteadily stuffed my oversized boobs back into my bra. I wasn't really able to button my shirt back up while driving, but at least I wasn't hanging out all over the place now.

I found my way onto a main road, and slowly started to calm down from my startled adrenaline rush, which allowed for a far greater clarity of thought. OK, that was not good.

I started to think through the potential consequences of what had happened. I wasn't sure exactly how long those boys (they couldn't have been much more than 20 years old) had been filming me, and what they'd been able to capture through my raised car window on their phones, but I knew I had been making a bit of noise and they would have had a good sight of my tits, nipples and one hand diving up under my skirt. I hated to admit it but the thought of it was quite arousing, and I wasn't coming down from the edge of my orgasm quite as quickly as I'd hoped. What if I'd let them enter my car and satisfy me with those big cocks I'd seen bulging in their shorts? Mmm...

No. Get a grip on yourself Suzanne, for fuck's sake. That's what I tried to tell myself, anyway.

As I drove along, trying to push those insidiously creeping sexual thoughts from my mind and let rationality come back to hold sway, I mentally tried to map out the next steps of what I needed to do.

Firstly, I needed to watch this DVD. I still hadn't seen it and to be honest was dreading watching myself work through acts of sexual depravity on screen. However I needed to know what I was dealing with so I could confront Paul, and hopefully work out a way to prevent him from whatever he was planning. I had no idea what that was, but I was fairly certain it would either involve distribution or blackmail - the thought of either filled me with dread.

Secondly, my next confrontation with Paul needed to be face to face. This would obviously be tricky, but it was clear that in a verbal discussion he held too much power over me. If I could look him in the eye and let him know I was serious to stop this, that would have to be my best chance of extricating myself from whatever mess he intended for me.

Thirdly, what to do about these young men and their phones, filming me through the window of my car? The further I drove, the less it worried me, and I actually started to feel a lot better, if no less horny. They didn't know me - I supposed they would circulate whatever footage they had captured amongst their buddies. Very entertaining, amateur MILF with big tits masturbates in her car! But it would die a natural death. There was enough porn out there on the net already and therefore it certainly wasn't unique or special enough to go viral, and it would hardly be high quality. And with no way to trace it back to me, I was pretty confident I'd be safe on that score.

I decided to cancel my next meeting and instead head home to gather my thoughts. My husband was out at work and my teenage daughters were both at school so I'd have the place to myself for a couple of hours.

It would also give me a chance to watch that dreaded DVD.

Before long I arrived home, to our very nice suburban home. It was a lot like many of the places I sold for a living, nicely manicured front yard, garage spots for two cars, four bedrooms, two living areas, a nice suburban home that told volumes about the comfortable upper middle-class life my family led.

Today however, I was wasting no time admiring my home on the way in. As I approached the front door, my mind started to race again in anticipation of seeing the DVD. I could feel my heart start to hammer away hard and fast as I let myself inside, practically sprinting up the stairs (as much as my heels and suit would allow) to my bedroom. Perched at the end of the bed on a tallboy was a large 40 inch TV, with its own DVD player. With trembling hands, I placed the disc into the player, and settled myself on the bed to watch, still fully clothed including my pumps.

And I watched my abject humiliation at the hands of a man I barely knew unfold before my eyes, in full colour and high definition sound.

I watched as a vain suburban housewife turned none too slowly into a foul-mouthed cock-gobbling slut, who begged to be used like a piece of meat.

I watched as the woman on the film drooled, slobbered, moaned and whimpered as she fucked herself with a dildo, desperate to bring herself to orgasm, which she'd been denied by the man off camera.

And that woman was me.

And the worst bit? I was almost as turned on watching it back as I'd been at the time the whole sorry episode unfolded. My shame and humiliation at seeing myself so degraded in this fashion was only matched by my incredibly intense state of arousal. Soon I realised that the moans I could hear weren't coming from the screen, but my own, as I brought myself to a loud and earth-shattering climax while fully clothed on the bed. Four fingers had disappeared up my soaking pussy, and I fucked myself into oblivion with my own hand.

As the contractions slowly subsided, I lay on my own bed, fully clothed, hand still engaged with my sex beneath my skirt, wondering what I'd become.

***

It's funny how a good night's sleep and the morning sunlight can bring a fresh perspective to one's mindset.

That was how I felt, anyway, when I awoke the next day with new resolve. I felt confident that I could still put an end to this. OK, yes the DVD was pretty bad, but as the subject of same I figured I still had some negotiating power, if I could just confront Paul.

After our morning meeting in the office, I had a couple of appointments for property inspections, but then a free afternoon. My plan was to turn up unannounced at "Hot Modelz" and try and catch Paul on the back foot with little time to prepare. From there I would give him some ultimatums around how he could and couldn't use the little show of me he'd filmed, or I would legally withdraw my consent. I figured I'd give a little to gain a lot. It actually felt nice to be back in control of my own destiny for a little while.

However before that I had some work to contend with. The first inspection was for a regular client who had been looking around for a while at suburban homes similar to mine. I dealt with that meeting in a routine fashion. I had already shown him a few properties and he was looking to add to his investment portfolio. The meeting went well and I had the feeling that soon he'd be making a decision, which would mean a nice commission for me. This day was going well indeed!

My next inspection was something more of a mystery. It had only been booked yesterday afternoon, and was for a gentleman named Brad. I knew little else except that he wanted me to show him a more high-end property we had recently listed. This place was very special indeed, and could be considered almost a mansion, with a sprawling yard, large pool, multiple bedrooms and massive living areas. A very special home to be sure, and I was looking forward to the meeting. It was priced to sell at close to $2mil, which would mean a significant payday for the lucky agent - me, if I could get it sold!

As I turned up to the property, which was currently vacant, I saw the car of what I presumed was my prospective buyer Brad. Hard not to notice it, it was an Audi R8 - bright red and making the sort of statement that cars like this are supposed to. It had heavily tinted windows but I could see that my buyer was inside, and looked like he may have had a friend with him. I was a little early, so I parked my own Honda, and walked up to the house to open the front door and let some air in. No doubt Brad would follow me in soon.

I entered, and started to busy myself opening blinds to allow the natural light show off the best features of the house, paying particular attention to the large, well-appointed kitchen - a well-known selling point of any house these days. It had a massive island bench and was adorned with all the latest German appliances. I was lost admiring it myself for a moment when I heard a soft knock at the front door.

I hastened to the front, quickly checking my appearance - there was no mirror, but a quick rub down of my pin-striped business suit to make sure it sat straight and was lint free was a habit I'd gotten into before meeting clients. I was also dressed in a rather tight blouse with a few buttons undone to give a good hint of cleavage - another habit I'd gotten into, particularly since my "boob job" and when dealing with male clients. This, combined with my above the knee tight skirt and perhaps slightly higher-than-strictly-decent heels gave me a look that I hoped men found sexually attractive without putting it "out there" too much. Hey, sex sells, right?

I opened the door, and it swang back to reveal the two young gentlemen from the park the day before. Oh my fucking God!

No basketball gear this time, instead they were both well-dressed in casual polo shirts and jeans. But I recognised those smug, leering faces from the day before instantly .

I actually heard myself gasp as I stared at them both in sheer, unadulterated shock and horror. I must have been quite a sight, all tarted up in my "sexy businesswoman" gear, staring at them slack-jawed and speechless, as one of them started to chuckle, "Ok...so...you gonna let us in or do we have to go through you to buy this joint?"

I can't honestly tell you what ridiculous answer I stammered at them, but I said something inane, and unsteadily backpedaled a couple of steps to let them in.

As the boys stepped in, I took a second to properly register their looks. The one who had spoken and I assumed to be Brad, was about 6'2", dark brown hair and eyes. His friend was slightly shorter, maybe 6' even, sandier coloured hair. Both of the young men clearly spent a fair amount of time on that basketball court or in the gym, as they moved with a certain athletic grace, and filled their tight-fitting polo shirts very nicely indeed. As I had thought before, they both appeared to be about 20 years old or thereabouts. And why was I noticing all this? Oh my god, who knew? What I did know was that I needed to pull myself together very quickly. Starting with how these guys found me.

"S-so Brad..."

"Yes?" Aha, he was the taller one.

"Ummm...how did you guys..ummm you know..."

"Find you?" he interrupted with a clearly amused look on his face. "What, a guy can't buy a house these days? Thought it was a free country!" More smirking. Brad's buddy stifling a laugh. Very funny, boys.

I managed to regain a modicum of composure and stop acting like a blushing school girl for a change. "Yeah I'm sure this is just one big coincidence that you happened to make an appointment with me, of all people. Spill it boys, (emphasis on the 'boys', trying to assert my authority) what, did you stalk me home or something?"

Brad laughed out loud. It wasn't a kind laugh either. The type of laugh that makes you realise that you've been played. "Don't flatter yourself," he snorted.

"Well how then?" Oh dear, that sounded altogether far too girlish and plaintive.

"Are you seriously that dumb?" This was Brad's as-yet unnamed buddy.

Clearly my blank look said I was, as Brad continued on without waiting for my response, "What's on the side of your car, you balloon-titted bimbo?"

Oh fuck. Of course. When I'm at work, I place a large advertising magnet on my front doors, and the name of the Real Estate firm is there for all to see. Well, I guess that cleared up the great mystery of how they found me. I heard myself let out a pathetic little whimper, as the realisation of my own stupidity hit me. My mind was spinning out of control, and my body was acting against my will. To my own humiliation, I could actually feel the first signs of arousal hit me as the words "balloon-titted bimbo" registered. What sort of a person was I that I was turned on by this sort of demeaning and vulgar language?

"Aha, looks like she gets it now, Danny."

"She's gonna get it, alright."

That ominous phrase from my sandy-haired antagonist briefly woke me from my self-pity. "Now just hang on a sec..." I began, attempting to be somewhat forceful.

"No, YOU hang on, Suzanne." Brad took control of the conversation again. "There's a couple of things you need to be aware of. One, Danny and I are here as customers, and want to be shown this house, which we CAN afford. We may be young but our parents are loaded. You wouldn't want a call to your boss about any poor customer service, now would you? Two. You seem to have forgotten about a little video we both have of you. I have lots of friends. How many of them see it is up to you. You can start by being a lot nicer to us."

And with that, Danny started playing his version of my "video". He held his phone up so I could see, and sure enough, there I was, clearly visible through the closed window of my car. You couldn't hear what I was saying overly well, it just sounded like general abuse and grunts and groans, but you could certainly see my boobs, which I'd pulled out of my bra, and there was no mistake what my hand was doing under my skirt. Not good.

I looked at Brad, then at Danny, then back at Brad, crestfallen. "I-I'm sorry. If you really want to buy the house, I can show you it. I th-think we got off on the wrong foot, boys". I could hear how pathetic and scared my voice sounded, all my power stripped away, again.

Brad looked at Danny and smirked. "Now that's more like it, Suzanne!"

"Y-you can call me S-Suzie." Just like when I was with Paul, it just sort of came out, and for the life of me I didn't (and still don't) know why.

Brad laughed that cruel laugh again. "OK, Suzie it is! Although you know what? I think I prefer 'Balloon Tits'. Can I call you 'Balloon Tits', Balloon Tits?"

The boys thought that was hilarious. Loud laughter ensued, as I blushed bright red with shame, somehow unable to respond verbally. My body was certainly responding, and not in a way I hoped was noticeable. I could feel my nipples hardening under my blouse and bra, and that familiar warm tingling of arousal was starting to take hold in my sex. That my body would betray me like this only added to my deep personal humiliation.

I tried to get things going again no my own terms. Without a proper sense of how to respond to the "Balloon Tits" comment, I walked towards the kitchen. "OK, s-so if you want to inspect the house, let's start downstairs here in the kitchen. I could hear the young men following me, and I continued with my patter, starting to get into something like my normal routine.

"As you can see this is a fabulously large space, and you'll note it's been well appointed with the latest German cook top, oven and dishwasher. There's ample room for a large double fridge if you like, and there's this magnificent large island bench in the middle."

Brad and Danny were close behind me, and as I turned I was slightly startled at how far into my personal space they'd gotten.

Brad looked over at the island bench. "Hmmm. Nice, Suzie. Let's give this bench a closer look."

We all walked over a couple of paces to the bench. "Now Suzie," said Brad, "what would you say this bench top is made of?"

"N-no expense spared here, B-brad. It's granite." I was now blushing really hard, could feel my breath deepening, as these boys were standing REALLY close to me.

"Mmmm. Granite you say. OK, would you mind just turning around and giving the granite a feel with your hands? Just to make sure it is up to the required quality and there's no scratches or dents in the surface." Smirking again...and Danny was nearly choking in his attempts to suppress his laughter.

"Well Brad I'm sure you could do it?" I ventured.

"Oh no, not at all. I'd really like you to do it. You're the expert after all."

"O-OK."

So I turned around and felt the bench top with my hands. Cool, smooth, top quality stone. As I felt the bench top, one or both of the young men took the opportunity to feel the fabric of my skirt. The part covering my ass.

"OH!" I started bolt upright with a little yelp and turned around to face two leering faces. "P-please boys, don't..."

"Now, now," soothed Brad, "remember, we're the customer and you wouldn't want us complaining would you? Then there's that nasty little video you made. This is nothing compared to that, I wonder what your boss would think of that film of you behaving so badly in the work car?"

Well it wasn't a work car, it was my car, but point taken. I guessed a little ass rub through my skirt material wouldn't kill me. It certainly wasn't killing them.

"Now be a good girl Suzie and turn around and rub that bench for me again. Really bend over and make sure you get as much of it as you can. We want to be sure there's nothing at all wrong with it."

I heard myself utter a pathetic little sound somewhere deep in my throat, as I turned around and did exactly as I was told. Of course this made my ass stick out even more prominently, and the boys made sure they felt every contour of it.

Then I felt the zipper on my skirt being slowly lowered. Now I should have turned around and said something, but for some reason, all I did was utter a deep groan, as I felt another flood of wetness hit me down below. Then I felt hands expertly easing my skirt slowly down over my thighs, until it was below my knees. I knew now that my assailants would be staring directly at my well-toned ass cheeks, separated only by the tiniest black thong.

Then I heard Brad speak again. "Oh fuck yes! Fuck yes! Hey Suzie, turn around!"

I did, somewhat unsteadily due to my skirt being around my ankles.

"You have a fantastic ass. Now it's time to get those balloon tits out again for us. Jacket off. Now."

I didn't react at first. Just sort of stared. I was becoming completely overwhelmed by the situation and also the extreme level of my arousal. My heart felt like it was going to pound through my rib cage, my whole body was feeling a prickly heat, and I was definitely soaking wet downstairs.

"NOW!" Danny this time. That shocked me into action, and I removed my jacket in a fumbling manner, without even a hint of a protest.

"Look at how she wears her shirt, Brad. She wants it so bad, she's practically showing her tits already."

"You're right Danny. Showing much cleavage there, Suzie?" he chortled. "You may as well finish what you appear to have started. You can unbutton your shirt, don't take it off though, it's kind of hot, all tight like that."

I fumbled with my buttons, and soon I was standing there, giving the men a good look at my black DD-cup bra. It was a half-cup style so you could see plenty of my cleavage, with my areolae and nipples just hidden. I watched Brad and Danny's eyes widen as they got their first close up look at my breasts.

"Well don't just stand there, fucking get them out." Danny again.

Nervously, I fumbled around in my bra, and did exactly as I was told. I eased my surgically-enhanced boobs out over the top of my bra, which was now hanging uselessly just under them. My nipples were almost painfully erect, a fact not lost on Brad and Danny.

"Fuck me would you get a look at that," said Danny, almost in awe.

"Mmmm. Yep. Looks like you're enjoying this a little more than you might be letting on, Suzie," smirked Brad.

I really couldn't say much, as it was pretty hard to argue with the visible facts. I just stared at Brad plaintively as I felt my exposed chest heaving up and down with my ever deepening and quickening breath.