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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