Sales Assistant Cecile

by Arthur Saxon
meganeura@hotmail.com

“Ugh,” said Rita Marston, frowning as she regarded a middle-aged man lurking near the lingerie section. “The creep’s back.”

“Oh, he’s not doing any harm,” said her boss, Jerry Haines. “Let him look at the sexy undies if he wants.”

“He does more than that, though,” Rita grumbled. “Yesterday he asked me to model a dress for him. Said I’m the same size as his girlfriend. Yeah, right! If he has a girlfriend, then I have a yacht.”

“If he misbehaves,” said Jerry, “let me know and I’ll kick him out. But right now he’s not doing anything objectionable.”

“Except for existing,” Rita muttered. Then, looking through the front windows, she noticed an expensive-looking car pulling up. “Ooh, a customer with money?”

Jerry glanced outside. “Ah, unfortunately not,” he said. “That’ll be the new girl, Cecile.”

“She drives a Bentley?” Rita inquired.

“That’s her dad’s car,” Jerry explained. “He dropped her off yesterday, too, for her interview. He’s French – CEO of some pharmaceutical company or something. I guess she’s French too, though she doesn’t have much of an accent. She does have a bit of a lisp, though.”

“And she’s called Cecile?” asked Rita, grinning. “That’s … unfortunate. What were her parents thinking?”

“I’m guessing they named her before her lisp became apparent,” said Jerry. “But you be nice! I don’t want to hear you making fun of her.”

“Oh relax, I won’t do that,” said Rita. “But why does she want to work here? If her dad’s so rich and all?”

“Apparently she wants to spend some time in the ‘real world’,” said Jerry. “That’s what she told me yesterday. She’s just left some exclusive boarding school or other on the continent, and wants some work experience over the summer before she starts university. And she likes clothes, and saw our ad in the paper, and persuaded her dad to bring her here for an interview.” He shrugged. “She might be useless – I don’t know – but she’s nice, and seems very keen. I thought I’d give her a shot. And maybe she’ll bring some of her rich friends here.”

“Ah,” said Rita, nodding. “So that’s why you hired her.”

Jerry chuckled. “Not just for that reason,” he said. “She’s … likeable. She’ll make a good impression on customers.”

“Unlike me, you mean?” said Rita, folding her arms and frowning.

“No, I didn’t mean that,” said Jerry hastily. “You’re very good at your job. But … well … you have to admit, you can sometimes be a little … terse.”

She glared at him. “Well let’s see how effective a saleswoman she is,” she said.

“Now don’t you be mean to her,” said Jerry sternly. “I’m counting on you to show her the ropes.”

Rita sighed. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll take Little Miss Sunshine under my wing. But if she turns out to be useless, for the sake of my sanity, please for heaven’s sake don’t keep her around any longer than you have to.”

“Fair enough,” Jerry agreed.

Outside, in the Bentley, Claude Larousse kissed his daughter goodbye. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” he asked her. “Je suis inquiet.”

“I’ll be fine!” she assured him. “If I can survive five years at St Camille’s, this will be a piece of cake!”

“I ‘ope so,” he said. “Bonne chance, ma petite.”

“Merci, Papa,” she replied. Then she got out of the car, and walked inside. Feeling suddenly shy as she saw Jerry and Rita behind the counter, she approached them with her hands clasped in front of her. “Hi,” she said.

“Good morning!” said Jerry warmly. “Welcome to your first day on the job.”

Rita looked the teenager up and down with disapproval. Cecile was blonde and pretty, which was annoying, large-chested, which was even more annoying, and narrow-waisted, which was simply unfair. Her only physical flaw seemed to be her diminutive stature – she was barely five feet tall. This, at least, allowed Rita to look down on the girl. “Hello,” she said curtly. “I’m Rita.”

“I’m so pleased to meet you, Rita!” said Cecile, extending a delicate-looking hand. “I’m Cecile.”

Rita shook it, smirking slightly. The girl did not quite pronounce her own name ‘Thetheel’, but it was close. “Okay, well I suppose I’d better show you around,” she said. “Give me your handbag; I’ll put it on the shelf down here.” She gestured beneath the counter.

“Thank you,” said Cecile, handing Rita her bag.

Having stowed it away, Rita came out from behind the counter, and led Cecile over to the dresses section. “This is our summer dress collection,” she said. “The latest fashions. I’m afraid we don’t stock … whatever it is you’re wearing.”

“Oh,” said Cecile, looking down in embarrassment at her ankle-length white dress with its blue ribbons and puffy sleeves. “Was this a bad choice?”

“Well you do look kind of old-fashioned,” Rita remarked. “I’m slightly concerned about customers getting the wrong impression about our stock, when they see what you’re wearing.”

“Oh dear!” said Cecile anxiously. “Well … could I buy something more appropriate? I’ve got my credit card with me, in my bag.”

Rita chuckled. “Sure,” she said. “Why not? We can use all the sales we can get.” She looked back towards the counter. “Jerry, can I kit her out in a more appropriate outfit? Something a little less nineteenth century? She’s offered to pay for it herself.”

“Sure!” said Jerry. “Good idea. But, um, look, I need to leave for a while.”

“What?” said Rita, dismayed. “I’m supposed to manage the shop and train Cecile at the same time?”

“Yes!” said Jerry. “It’s called job-shadowing. Just do your thing, and Cecile can watch and learn. But I have to go – my dishwasher repair chap just turned up at the house. I wasn’t expecting him until this afternoon!”

“Fine, whatever,” sighed Rita.

“Thanks,” said Jerry. Picking up his phone, he marched to the front door, and left the shop.

Rita flipped through a rack of dresses, looking for something more suitable for Cecile to wear. Then she happened to glance up, and noticed the middle-aged creep lurking not far away. He was staring at Cecile with a hungry, almost predatory gleam in his eye.

Rita suppressed a grin. Picking out a very short sky-blue and lemon-yellow sundress, she showed it to Cecile. “How about this?” she suggested. “What size waist are you?”

“Twenty-two inches,” Cecile replied.

Rita rolled her eyes. “Of course you are,” she said. “Well look – there’s plenty of extra room in the chest with this dress – you’ll just need to loosen these strings a bit.” She deftly untied them.

“It’s awfully short,” said Cecile uncertainly. “I’ve never worn a dress this short before.”

“Well lots of women wear dresses like this,” said Rita without sympathy. “Time to step out of your bubble. You’re in the real world now.”

“I suppose I am!” said Cecile, with a nervous giggle. “Okay … where do I change?”

Rita was about to gesture towards the changing room, but then she glanced over at the creep, and smirked. “Right here!” she said. “Is that a problem?”

Cecile gulped. “Um … I … isn’t there a changing room?”

“Of course there is,” said Rita. “But it’s for the customers. Cecile, if you work in a place like this, you’ll have to get used to whipping clothes on and off throughout the day. As a sales assistant, you may have to model various different outfits, and there’s no point in being shy about it.”

Cecile bit her lip, and nodded. “Wow,” she said, “it seems like I’m going to have to get used to some new things!” She hesitated, took a deep breath, then began unbuttoning the front of her dress.

‘Good grief, she’s actually doing it!’ thought Rita, as her eyes widened. She had expected more pushback … and would have given in if Cecile had started to get upset.

The teenager shrugged out of her dress, then pulled it down, exposing a large and very full pale lacy pink bra, and then a pair of satin panties that matched the bra in colour, if not in style. She stepped out of the dress, took the sundress from a bemused Rita’s hands, and pulled it on over her head, while the middle-aged creep stared at her panty-clad bottom with a delighted smile on his face.

“Okay!” said Rita, chuckling. “Well it seems to fit you. This is much better.”

“I feel very exposed,” said Cecile nervously, tying the strings together uncomfortably tightly in order to cover up as much of her cleavage as possible.

“Leave it alone, you look absolutely fine,” Rita assured her. “Better than fine, if I’m honest. God – what I wouldn’t give for your figure…”

Cecile giggled. “Oh, you’re so nice!” she said. “Thank you. But I can’t take any credit; it’s all genetics. I look exactly like my mum.”

“Then I’m doubly envious,” said Rita. “Do you know how hard I work just to stay this thin? And no amount of exercise would get me a chest like yours.”

“Well I think you look very nice,” said Cecile.

Talk about damning with faint praise. “Thank you,” said Rita stiffly.

She continued to show Cecile around the shop, while teaching her the basics of salesmanship. “While you’re with a customer,” she said, “don’t let yourself get distracted by anything else. The customer you are dealing with is your only focus, until you make the sale. Answer their questions, help them find what they’re looking for, give your honest opinion – but only if it’s positive. If they are torn between multiple options, let them know which option suits them best … but never tell them an outfit doesn’t look good on them. They may really like it, and it’s not your job to police their fashion sense.”

Cecile nodded. “Okay,” she said. “But what if none of the options looks good? Should I … lie?”

Rita chuckled. “If necessary,” she said. “Just white lies, to make them feel good. There’s no harm in that, is there?”

Cecile smiled sheepishly. “I’m not a very good liar,” she confessed. “But I’ll do my best.”

“You just need practice,” said Rita. “Pretend I’m a customer. Think of some white lie you could tell me, about my outfit or appearance.”

Cecile looked her up and down, biting her lip thoughtfully. Then she brightened, and smiled. “I really like your hair,” she said. “It’s so pretty – that’s such an attractive style.”

Rita stared stonily at the young woman. “What’s wrong with my hair?” she demanded. She had been bracing for some polite remark about her figure, which she had to admit suffered in comparison with Cecile’s … but she was really quite happy with her hair, and now felt extremely insulted.

Cecile’s cheeks reddened. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “It’s just … I’m sure … you know, it’s lovely hair, I just think if you styled it differently it’d look a little less…” She trailed off, not wanting to incriminate herself further.

Rita glared at her. “Never mind,” she said. “Perhaps it was a bad idea. Best if you tell white lies only to people who don’t know you’re lying, I suppose.” Her eyes lit upon the creep, and she smirked. “Look, there’s a potential customer. Why don’t you go and see what he wants? Help him out, be nice to him, see if you can get him to buy something.”

“Okay!” said Cecile, anxious for a chance to redeem herself. She hurried over to the middle-aged man, and smiled politely, clasping her hands behind her back. “Good morning, sir!”

Sigmund was fifty years old, but looked older. What remained of his grey hair was plastered to his scalp with some kind of gel, which gleamed under the shop’s fluorescent lights. He was five foot four, but walked with a stoop, so that his eye level was not significantly higher than Cecile’s. Not that he was looking at her eyes.

“Hello, young lady,” said Sigmund eagerly, staring at Cecile’s breasts, which looked almost ready to pop out of her dress.

“I’m Cecile,” said Cecile. “Can I help you find something?”

“Yes please!” said Sigmund. “Wow, what a pretty girl you are. My name is Sigmund.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you,” said Cecile. “So, what are you looking for?”

He eyed her hungrily. “Um … a blouse,” he said. “Yes, a blouse. For my … girlfriend. Her birthday is coming up, and she does love clothes. But I’m afraid I’m not much good at clothes shopping!”

“Well I’m sure I can help you with that,” said Cecile with a happy smile. “What size is your girlfriend?”

“She’s … uh … about your size,” said Sigmund. “Not as young and not as pretty as you, of course, but yeah, about the same size.”

“I see,” said Cecile. “Okay, let’s take a look at what we have, shall we?” She led him over to a rack of blouses. “Did you have a colour in mind?”

“Uhhh … how about pink?” Sigmund suggested.

Cecile pulled out a pretty pink blouse with a white collar. “What about this?”

“I think I like it,” said Sigmund. “Is that the right size?”

“It’s my own size,” said Cecile. “If your girlfriend has a … a smaller chest … we might want to go down a size.”

“Can I see it on you?” Sigmund asked. “Then I’ll have a better idea of how it’ll look on her.”

“Oh … um,” said Cecile uncertainly. Then she recalled Rita saying she ought to be prepared to model some of these clothes. “Of course! I’ll be happy to do that.”

“Ohh, thank you,” said Sigmund, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

Cecile unbuttoned the blouse and removed it from its hanger. Pulling it open, she was about to put her left arm in, when Sigmund stopped her with his hand on her wrist.

“Not over the dress,” he said. “It won’t look right. My girlfriend won’t be wearing it over a dress.”

Cecile blushed. “But if I take my dress off,” she said, “you’ll see my … underwear.”

“I already have,” he said, grinning. “When you changed your dress.”

“Oh!” said Cecile, blushing harder.

“So don’t worry,” Sigmund continued. “Besides, you look beautiful in your underwear.”

Cecile smiled uncomfortably. “Thank you,” she said. “Okay, um…”

“I’ll hold the blouse for you,” Sigmund offered, taking it from her. Then he watched intently as Cecile, in great embarrassment, pulled on the strings at her chest, undoing them and causing her bra-clad breasts to spill out into the open. Sigmund’s eyes widened, and he licked his lips. Then Cecile tugged the dress up and over her head, revealing her panties as well.

Sigmund handed her the blouse, taking her dress in exchange. “My,” he murmured, impressed, “that’s quite the lovely chest you have.”

“Thank you,” said Cecile in a small voice, putting her arms in the blouse and then fastening its buttons as quickly as she could. It was a little tight across the chest, but she managed to get it closed. Unfortunately it was not long enough to cover her panties, which she was rather mortified about.

“Looks pretty good,” said Sigmund, nodding. “Can you walk up and down a bit, so I can see how it looks when you move around?”

Cecile obliged, feeling very self-conscious. When she returned to where Sigmund was standing, he said, “Hmm. Can you show me the next size down? My girlfriend is a little smaller in the chest than you are.”

Cecile bit her lip. “Okay, but um, I’m not sure I’ll be able to close it properly…”

“That’s fine,” said Sigmund dismissively, “I just want to see how the lengths compare.”

“Okay,” said Cecile. ‘Come on, you can do this – be brave!’ she told herself. Taking off the blouse, she fetched the smaller size and put it on, doing up as many buttons as she could.

Sigmund grinned at her in delight. This blouse was shorter, exposing even more of her panties … and her breasts were being squeezed from both sides, the twin mounds bulging into the garment’s gaping neckline. “Lovely!” the creepy little man cackled. He rummaged in his pocket, and pulled out his phone. “Give us a smile; I need to take a photo.”

“Uh,” said Cecile anxiously, “I’m not sure if that’s allowed…”

“I need a record of how it looks,” he explained, “so I can go back later, after you’ve tried on a few more outfits, and compare the photos before making a decision.”

“Oh,” said Cecile, dismayed at the lengths to which she apparently would need to go in order to secure this sale. “Well I suppose that makes sense…” She gave him a half-hearted smile.

“That’s it!” he said excitedly, taking a photo. “Good. Now take that off, and let’s try another.”

As Cecile removed the smaller blouse, Rita came over, her mouth pursed as she tried not to laugh. “How’s it going over here?” she asked.

“Very well!” said Sigmund. He held out Cecile’s new sundress. “Can you look after that for me please? She won’t need it for a while.”

“Sure,” said Rita, smirking. “I’ll put it behind the counter with her other dress.”

Cecile watched Rita take away her dress with a mounting sense of anxiety, and she clasped her hands in front of her exposed panties. “What else would you like me to try on?” she asked, in as polite and friendly a manner as she could muster.

“Hmm,” said Sigmund, looking around. “How about this one?” He lifted a hanger off the rack.

“Well it’s not really a blouse,” said Cecile doubtfully, “but I suppose I can try it on…”

“Thank you,” said Sigmund.

The garment he had picked out was a crop top, and not only did it utterly fail to cover Cecile’s panties, it came perilously close to exposing part of her bra as well.

“Oh yes, I like that,” said Sigmund, pleased. “Let’s have another photo. Hands by your sides, please.”

Cecile awkwardly unclasped her hands, fully exposing her panties to Sigmund’s lustful gaze and phone camera.

“Perfect!” said Sigmund. “Now, what next? Ah yes – I was thinking of getting my girlfriend some sexy nightwear – you know, like a negligée or something. Would you happen to have anything like that…?”

Cecile’s heart sank as she took off the crop top and hung it back up on the rack. This was getting worse and worse! But she put on a brave smile. “I believe we do – in the lingerie section. Let’s take a look.”

Wearing just her underwear and shoes, she led him to where she remembered having seen some nighties. “Ah yes – here we are,” she said.

“Ooh, very nice,” said Sigmund, looking through them. “I particularly like this one – can I see it on you please?”

Suppressing a sigh of resignation, Cecile tried it on. It was actually quite a lovely garment – both flimsy and elegant, dark blue in colour, but quite sheer, with intricate lace patterning in the chest area. It was split in the front, and almost long enough to cover her panties, which were nonetheless fairly visible through the semi-transparent fabric.

“What do you think?” she asked him, turning back and forth so that the material undulated sexily about her hips.

“I love it!” said Sigmund. “But, um, it’s obviously not supposed to be worn with a bra. Could you take yours off, please? I’d like to see how it looks with no bra beneath.”

Cecile gulped. “But … it’s rather see-through!”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” said Sigmund in a reassuring tone. “All that lacy stuff will hide your nipples pretty effectively, I’m sure.”

Cecile looked down at her chest. “I … I suppose it will,” she acknowledged reluctantly. “All right then.” Reaching behind her back, she undid the clasp of her bra, then she tugged the straps down her arms until she could pull her hands through them. Finally she slipped the cups out from in front of her breasts, and carefully pulled her entire bra out of the negligée. She hung it over the end of the rack, then posed, a little self-consciously, as Sigmund raised his phone.

“Beautiful!” he said. “You’ll be glad to know I can barely see your nipples at all. Um … the shoes sort of ruin the look though. Can you take them off please?”

“Uh, yes, of course,” said Cecile, lifting and shaking her feet so that they slipped out of her shoes. She stooped, picked them up, and set them to one side. She was mortified that Sigmund had just admitted to being able to see her nipples, albeit ‘barely’, but she had already taken off her bra now; there was no going back.

She posed, and smiled, and hoped that this would be the last item that Sigmund would ask her to try on. But after taking two more photos, the man went back to the rack of nighties and continued his search. Then, to Cecile’s consternation, Rita stopped by to collect her bra and shoes.

“I’ll pop these behind the counter with your other things,” she said with an amused smile, “just to keep them safe.”

“Um, I’d like to keep my bra handy, at least!” said Cecile anxiously.

“It looks like the gentleman has more negligées for you to try on,” Rita remarked. “I don’t think you’ll be needing your bra for a while.”

Cecile groaned internally, but she turned as genuine a smile as she could manage toward Sigmund. “What’s next?” she asked lightly.

“This one,” said the creepy man, handing her an even skimpier-looking nightie. He grinned, and his left hand briefly clutched his crotch in anticipation.

Cecile took the garment off its hanger, a nervous sweat appearing on her brow. This one was clearly designed to reveal rather than conceal; its gauzy pale pink fabric was unadorned by any lacy patterns, and so transparent that her nipples would stand no chance of remaining hidden. She swallowed. “I really think, um, I should wear my bra with this one…”

“Nonsense!” said Sigmund firmly. “It’s very obviously designed to be worn without one. Don’t be shy, now – let’s see it on you.”

Cecile almost panicked. But this was her first day, indeed her first hour on the job, and she was determined not to make a mess of it. “Certainly sir,” she said in a rather strained voice. “I … I’ll just turn around, if you don’t mind…” She turned her back on him, draped the pink negligée over the top of a nearby rack, and took off the blue one, feeling horribly exposed and embarrassed in nothing but her panties. Fortunately Sigmund was behind her, and Rita was out of sight on the other side of the shop, so nobody could see her breasts. But as she put on the pink negligée, and tied its ribbons behind her, she quailed internally at how very visible her breasts were through this flimsy material. Every detail of her nipples could clearly be seen.

“Come on then, turn around,” said Sigmund. “I haven’t got all day.”

Blushing in embarrassment, Cecile slowly turned to face him, covering her breasts with her hands. But he impatiently gestured for her to put her hands down. “I need to see the full effect,” he said, raising his phone for yet another photo.

Cecile stared off at a poster of a catwalk model in lingerie as she let her hands fall to her sides. The model seemed confident, relaxed, even as if she was enjoying herself – despite being dressed only in underwear in front of lots of people! She shuddered; she could never do something like that. Being in her underwear in front of Sigmund was bad enough. Knowing he could see her nipples at this moment was excruciating.

“Wow,” said Sigmund. “You’re a vision of loveliness, Cecile. That negligée really suits you! I can only hope my girlfriend looks half as good in it.”

Cecile blushed. “Thank you,” she said, turning to look at him at last. “Does that mean you’ve made a choice…?”

“Not yet,” he said. “Can you try this one on next?”

She took the frilly white garment he was holding out, and bit her lip. Then she plucked up her courage, smiled, and said, “Yes, of course.”

Changing this time felt a little easier, since she had already done this once. She turned around, slipped one negligée off, and put the other one on. This one was a little less see-through than the previous one, but it was a lot skimpier, coming down barely to the base of her ribcage. It gaped very wide at the front, so that its neckline came very close to exposing her nipples, and a wardrobe malfunction was inevitable if she had to bend over or move her arms significantly. She turned around, putting her smile back on. “What do you think?” she asked.

“Gorgeous!” he said. “Can I see it with the matching panties though?” He handed her another, even tinier garment.

Cecile took it with a shocked expression. “You … want me to change into these panties in front of you?”

“But of course!” he said with eager eyes and a salivating grin. “How else will I be able to judge the outfit properly?”

Cecile’s stomach cramped. She felt a little light-headed. “Um … could you perhaps … turn around?”

Sigmund chuckled. “All right,” he said good-naturedly, and he turned around.

Facing him, to make sure he did not peek, Cecile hurriedly pulled her panties down and stepped out of them. Then she put on the frilly white panties that matched the top. They were quite skimpy, and partly sheer, but she was very relieved that the frills and lace at the front effectively concealed her shaved pussy.

It had been three weeks now since she started shaving it, and she was still not used to it. She felt as if it made her look like a little girl, and the thought of someone seeing it like this made her break out in a cold sweat. But her boyfriend, Isaac, had begged her so sweetly to shave it for him … and she would do anything to make him happy. Next week they were going to meet up again, and she was both eagerly awaiting the reunion and anxious about what he would say when he saw her naked for the first time.

“Okay, you can look,” she said.

Sigmund turned around. And for the first time, he did not look thrilled with what he saw. “Hmm!” he said. “Well, it’s all right, I suppose. I’m not sure it’s really you, though.” He raised his phone, and took a photo once she had hurriedly posed and smiled.

“Well,” said Cecile, trying to play her part as the saleswoman, “maybe it’s not me, but might it look good on your girlfriend?”

“Maybe,” Sigmund conceded. “I’m not sure. Pity the light’s so bad in here; I’d really like to judge it outside in the sunlight.”

Cecile’s pulse quickened. “Outside?” she repeated nervously. “But … it’s more of a bedroom outfit, really…”

Sigmund laughed. “For most people, yes. But my girl’s a bit of an exhibitionist. Likes to go out in inappropriately skimpy clothing – you know, for the thrill of it. And what I’m thinking is, maybe this particular outfit might look better outdoors.”

Cecile’s cheeks turned crimson. “Um … I really don’t think I should leave the shop like this.”

“Oh,” said Sigmund, looking disappointed. “I suppose it’s against the rules, is it?”

Cecile was not sure about this; she only knew that she did not want to be this exposed outside. “I would think so,” she said carefully.

“I’ll just ask Rita,” said Sigmund, and he sauntered off towards the checkout desk.

Cecile’s stomach churned while she waited for him to come back. What would Rita tell him? Surely she would not permit clothing to be removed from the shop before they had been bought?

But Sigmund was smiling as he returned. “She says it’s okay,” he reported. “She says your clothes and handbag are still back there behind the counter, so she’s not worried about you doing a runner.”

Cecile gulped. “But … people will see me!” she said anxiously.

“So?” Sigmund said. “You’d be wearing less than that if you went to the beach, where you’d also be seen by lots of people.”

“That’s different!” said Cecile wretchedly. “At the beach, I wouldn’t be the only one dressed like that!”

“Look,” said Sigmund patiently. “We’ll go to the park down the road. It’s quiet; not many people will be around. You’ll hardly be seen by anyone. And it’ll be a beautiful place to take photos.”

“I don’t know,” Cecile fretted. “I’ll be so embarrassed to go outside like this!”

“I can understand that,” Sigmund acknowledged. “You’re obviously young, and inexperienced at this type of work. Perhaps I’ll go to another shop and see if there’s someone…”

“No,” said Cecile quickly. She had undergone too much already to lose the sale now. “I’ll … I’ll do it.”

“Splendid!” said Sigmund. “In that case, let’s go.”

Stepping out into the bright morning sunshine in nothing but a skimpy negligée and panties was a terrifying experience for a young woman who had hitherto been accustomed to wearing calf-length or ankle-length hemlines, and long sleeves. But Cecile summoned up a reserve of bravery that she did not know she had, and deliberately took step after step down the pavement and away from the relative safety of the shop, while passers-by gawked at her, and Sigmund, walking next to her, chuckled gleefully.

The entrance to the park was not far away, but it seemed like an eternity before they reached it and passed through its low metal gate. Just inside, Sigmund paused next to a wooden bench. “Oh, this is a good place to pose,” he said.

“It’s very exposed here!” Cecile timidly protested. “Can’t we go over there, under the trees? It looks very nice there.”

“It’s too shady there,” said Sigmund. “For the best photos I need you in the full sunlight. Here is perfect. Now pose.”

Cecile sat on the bench, and leaned back, crossing her legs and forcing a smile. Sigmund nodded, and took a photo. “Good!” he said. “It does indeed look better in the sunlight. I’m still not totally sure about the style, but I like the fact that the top matches the panties. I think I’ll go back and get another matching set.”

Cecile sighed. “Okay,” she said. Fortunately there were not too many people in the park, and none of them had so far come very close.

“Great,” said Sigmund. “Now give me that set, and I’ll take it back with me.”

“What?” said Cecile with a gasp.

“I can’t go back empty-handed,” he explained. “Rita won’t let me take another outfit while this one’s still outside the shop.”

“But what am I supposed to do?” asked Cecile frantically. “I’ll be … naked! Can I come back to the shop with you?”

“No, too risky,” he said. “The more trips along the street you take, the higher the likelihood of encountering someone with bad intentions. Or an overzealous police officer with a public decency complex. No, it’s best you stay here. But don’t panic; I’m not expecting you to just stay here on the bench in full view of everyone.”

“Oh!” said Cecile, relieved. “Where, then…?”

He pointed to a row of rhododendrons. “You can hide in there,” he said. “Perfect cover. Nobody will see you, and I’ll be back in less than five minutes.”

Cecile gulped. “Okay,” she said, “but do you think maybe you’ll have looked at enough outfits to make a decision soon? I’m … I’m feeling quite stressed about being so exposed in a public place.”

“You’ll get used to it,” said Sigmund cheerfully. “But yes, I think I’ll be done soon.”

“Thank you,” said Cecile gratefully. She headed over to the rhododendrons, while Sigmund followed. But as she was about to step into a gap in the foliage, he stopped her.

“You can’t go in there with the clothes on,” he said. “They’ll snag on a twig and get damaged. Undress out here and then go in. Don’t worry; I’ll turn around.” He turned his back on her.

Cecile whimpered. Looking around, she saw nobody in the immediate vicinity, so she steeled herself, then quickly took off her top, followed by her panties, while facing away from Sigmund. Then, putting her left hand over her pussy and her right arm over her breasts, while clutching the lingerie in her right hand, she turned back to face him. “Here,” she said, feeling slightly faint.

“Good girl,” he said, his eyes glinting as he took the clothes. “I’ll be right back.”

As he walked back to the gate, Cecile stepped carefully into the rhododendrons and then crouched down behind a particularly dense cluster of leaves. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” she muttered to herself. “I’m naked in a bush! How did this day turn so bad?? My first customer! Will it be like this every day??” She hugged her knees for comfort.

Then her hair stood on end as she heard a male voice: “Excuse me … Miss?”

She turned and looked up to see a young man peering in at her. “Oh no!” she gasped.

“Are you all right?” asked the man, in a voice full of concern. “Has someone … hurt you?”

“No!” she replied, feeling utterly mortified. The young man looked quite handsome, and seemed very nice … this was not at all the first impression she would want to make on such a person. “I’m fine – please go away.”

“Are you sure?” he asked her. “I could call the police … or at least get you some clothing…”

“No police!” she squealed, panicking at the thought. “I’m waiting for … a friend … who’s getting me something to wear.”

“Well, all right,” he responded doubtfully. “Would you like me to at least stand guard until your friend gets back? In case someone unpleasant comes along?”

He seemed so nice! “No – thank you,” she said desperately. “Please just go. Forget you saw me.”

“Well … if you’re sure,” said the man. “But I think I’ll keep watch from a distance, in any case, until your friend arrives. Just in case.”

“I’d really rather you didn’t!” said Cecile, imagining him watching her emerge, nude and ashamed, from her hiding place. “Please just go away and don’t look back.”

The man sighed. “If that’s what you want, then okay,” he said. “Please stay safe.”

“I will!” she said, more snappily than she intended. She felt very rattled. “Thank you.”

To her relief, he walked away without looking back. Then, a couple of minutes later, to her even greater relief, she saw Sigmund approaching. “Come on out!” he said. “I have your next outfit here.”

Looking around, Cecile cautiously emerged, taking care not to snag her pretty blonde curls on the way. Approaching Sigmund with her left hand over her pussy and her right arm across her breasts, she awkwardly took the pale blue garments with her right hand while keeping her wrist firmly pressed to her chest. “Okay, turn around please,” she said.

“Not much point this time!” he said cheerfully. “The lower part of this one is a thong, so I’ll be seeing your bottom anyway. You might as well get over your shyness!” He chuckled.

Cecile shivered. A thong! She had never worn one before. She had always thought it weird that anyone would want to have a string between their buttocks. Wouldn’t it feel uncomfortable? Wouldn’t it be … distracting?

Now, it seemed, she was about to find out. Biting her lip, she turned around and uncovered her breasts and pussy. Opening out the thong, she stepped into it and then pulled it up. The string part slipped between her buttocks and came to rest against her anus. It did, indeed, feel rather strange. But of greater concern was the front panel, which was unadorned with any lace designs or frills, and very sheer. Her shaved pussy was terribly, embarrassingly visible through the barely-there fabric.

But she could not afford to dwell on this; she was still topless! Quickly she pulled on the upper part of the outfit, only to have another nasty shock: this was no negligée. It was a bra – and no ordinary bra, at that. Its cups were shaped like half-moons, and were far too small to fully accommodate her breasts. Indeed, they would barely cover the nipples of even a smallish chest. When she had pulled up the cups and fastened the clasp at the back, her breasts were spilling out absurdly, her nipples on full display. “Sigmund!” she said, aghast. “This doesn’t cover my … my breasts properly. It doesn’t even cover my nipples!”

“It’s not really supposed to,” Sigmund explained. “It’s a shelf bra – it’s really designed to present the breasts for optimal display, rather than cover them. Turn around and let me see how it looks. Lovely arse, by the way.”

“Oh gosh, do I have to?” Cecile whimpered. “I’m so exposed!”

“That’s the whole point,” said Sigmund. “I like my girlfriend to look sexy. And this is a sexy outfit.”

Covering her breasts with her hands, Cecile slowly and reluctantly turned around. Sigmund’s eyes were immediately drawn to her pussy, highly visible through the sheer material and neatly framed by its edges. “Huh!” he said. “You shave! Very pretty, I must say.”

Cecile could have died on the spot. “Oh no!” she squealed, plunging her right hand downward to cover her pussy and inadvertently exposing her right breast in the process.

Sigmund laughed. “First of all, Cecile,” he said, “you have nothing to be embarrassed about. Your body is a thing of beauty. The fact that you shave your pussy is … wonderful! It’s a very attractive look, and there’s no shame in it at all. Second … your breasts are amazing, but perhaps a little large for that particular bra. I dare say it might be the right size for my girlfriend, but it’s not really for you, is it?”

“No!” said Cecile wretchedly, having hastily moved her hand across so that she could cover both breasts with one arm. “I should say not.”

“Still, I can at least get an idea of what it would look like on my girlfriend,” said Sigmund, raising his phone once more. “Put your arms down please, there’s a good girl.”

Cecile did not move. She could hear her heartbeat, and the sound of her blood rushing in her ears. She felt dizzy, and swayed slightly on the spot. But then, prompted by some inner sense of duty or obligation (resulting from years of authoritarian education, perhaps), she lowered her arms to her sides.

“Excellent,” purred Sigmund, taking several photos in quick succession. “You look great, Cecile! So what if the bra is a bit small for you? Your quality shines through.”

“Thank you,” she replied faintly.

“It has to be said, though,” Sigmund continued, “that that bra isn’t doing you any favours. It’s distorting the lovely shape of your breasts, so that they don’t look as good as they should in the photos.” He pocketed his phone, and approached her. “May I?”

Her eyes widened. “May you … what?” she asked nervously.

“Make a little adjustment,” he explained, raising his hands and then pausing, inches from her breasts.

“W…what do you mean?” she asked, turning pale.

“I’m going to adjust the bra so that it looks a little less awkward on you,” he elaborated patiently. “If that’s okay?”

“Um … I … I suppose so?” said Cecile uncertainly.

“Okay then,” said Sigmund, taking hold of the right cup of her bra with his left hand and then, bold as brass, grasping her breast with his right. Ignoring her squeal of protest, he pulled the bra cup outward, shoved her breast downward behind it, and then released both. “Okay, now the other side,” he said.

Cecile, feeling utterly mortified as his hand groped and squeezed her left breast, took a small measure of comfort from the fact that his manhandling of her right breast had at least been fairly brief. So she waited with pursed lips while he worked her left breast into position. Finally he let go of her, and took a couple of steps backward.

“Oh dear,” he remarked with a sigh. “That’s even worse. Now your boobs are bulging out both above and below the bra. Nope! It’s no good – this would make an awful photo. At least the thong looks good. Take the bra off, and I’ll take a nice pic of you in just the thong.”

“What … topless?” gasped Cecile.

“Well yes, that was sort of implied,” said Sigmund. “Don’t be shy; I’ve already taken photos of your nipples. I’m sure you’d rather I photograph you with your boobs naked but looking gorgeous, than partly covered but looking all lumpy and misshapen.”

“I … I suppose I would,” Cecile conceded reluctantly.

“Great!” said Sigmund, as Cecile slowly and with very red cheeks took off the ridiculously small bra. She handed it to him, and he grinned at her breasts. “The light here isn’t very good, though,” he remarked. “Let’s get back to the bench.”

“Sigmund, no!” Cecile gasped. “I can’t! I’m nearly naked!”

“And you look beautiful,” he told her firmly. “Trust me, you won’t get into trouble. You’re my model; I’m responsible for you, and I’ll take any heat that might result. But really, we’ll both be fine. Nobody will make a fuss about a beautiful young woman being topless in the park. For one thing, it’s not illegal. If you exposed your privates with the deliberate intention of upsetting someone, then yes, that’s an offence. But you won’t be doing that. You’ll be posing, beautifully, for a cameraman’s lens … and there’s nothing offensive about that. Trust me, I’m very familiar with the laws on this subject.”

“It’s not so much the legality of it,” said Cecile fretfully. “It’s the whole idea of people seeing me like this, and staring at me. I’ll be so embarrassed!”

“You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about,” Sigmund assured her. “Now, if I myself got naked here, I’d be terribly embarrassed, because my body is awful and embarrassing. People would laugh at me, and ridicule me … and frankly, I wouldn’t blame them. But you … you’re flawless! Nobody’s going to be mean to you, I guarantee it.”

Flawless! Hardly true, Cecile thought to herself, but she could not help feeling rather flattered. If Sigmund thought she was flawless, then perhaps others would too. “All right,” she said nervously. “I’ll pose on the bench.”

“Good!” said Sigmund. “Well done.”

Cecile covered her breasts and the front of her thong as she tiptoed back to the bench. Then she sat down, looked around to make sure nobody was near, and allowed her breasts to become exposed as she leaned back and adopted a hopefully model-worthy pose.

“Lovely!” said Sigmund with a grin, taking a couple of photos. “Now spread your legs a bit – let’s get a good look at that pretty thong.”

“Um,” said Cecile anxiously. “But … it’s so see-through…”

“Never mind about that,” said Sigmund. “You have a delightfully pretty pussy.”

Cecile almost wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. But she had come this far, and to balk now and potentially lose the sale would render all of her embarrassment up until now completely pointless. With a gulp, she spread her knees apart, smiling uncomfortably and with very red cheeks.

“Beautiful!” said Sigmund, taking more photos. “Put your feet up on the bench now, either side of your bottom, and spread those knees nice and wide. I want to get a really good view of that thong.”

“This seems rather … extreme,” protested Cecile unhappily, as Sigmund came in closer and took some very intimate photos of her vulva through the sheer fabric. “I feel like this pose would be more suited to a … a dirty magazine.”

“I just want to see how my girlfriend would look with this thong on,” Sigmund explained. “As her boyfriend, obviously I’m going to get some pretty intimate views of it when we’re getting frisky.”

“Wow!” said an elderly man, bringing his old-fashioned-looking bicycle to a halt just next to Sigmund. He was staring joyfully at Cecile’s pussy, the contours of which he could see very clearly through her thong.

“Oh gosh!” gasped Cecile, placing her hand over her pussy.

“Don’t do that!” said Sigmund impatiently. “Never mind this fellow. I’m sure he’s not offended by the view.”

“Indeed not!” said the old man, his gaze flitting from Cecile’s breasts to her pussy, and back again. “It’s a lovely view! What a beauty you are, young lady! And you, sir, are a lucky man!”

Sigmund chuckled. “Oh, she’s not mine, alas,” he said. “She’s just modelling clothes for me. Never done it before, but she’s a natural, as I think you’ll agree.” He extended a hand. “Name’s Sigmund. This is Cecile.”

The old man shook his hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “I’m Nigel.”

Cecile reluctantly removed her hand from her pussy so she could shake Nigel’s hand. “Nice to meet you,” she said, quickly closing her thighs.

“Oh no you don’t!” said Sigmund. “Knees apart again please.”

“Didn’t you get enough photos already?” Cecile asked in a pleading tone.

“Hmm,” said Sigmund. “You know what – perhaps I did. All right then, take it off and I’ll go and get the next outfit.”

Cecile got up from the bench and began to head for the rhododendrons, but Sigmund stopped her. “You might as well take it off here,” he said. “There’s nobody about but Nigel here, and he’s already seen your pussy. You can go and hide afterwards – but come back here as soon as you see me return.”

Cecile started to hyperventilate. “Sigmund, I’ll be naked!” she whimpered.

“So?” he replied with a shrug. “You’re pretty much naked now. Taking your thong off is going to make no practical difference. I don’t want to have to go all the way over there to fetch it from you. Come on – just take it off. I’m sure Nigel here will be willing to look after you while I’m gone.”

“I certainly will!” said Nigel, beaming. “Don’t worry, Cecile, I’ll protect you.”

This was, in fact, a little reassuring; Nigel was hardly capable of fighting off a determined molester, but his presence alone would probably make a bad man think twice about attacking her, and if necessary he could call the police. And he himself did not look much of a threat to her. “Okay,” she said in a small voice. Quickly pulling her thong down and stepping out of it, she handed it to Sigmund with her left hand while covering her pussy with her right.

“Thanks,” said Sigmund. “I’ll be back shortly!”

Cecile turned and began trotting towards the rhododendrons, but Nigel called her back. “Wait! Cecile!” he said.

Cecile paused, then turned back, looking anxious. “Yes?” she asked.

“I’m on a bike,” said Nigel, “and I’d rather not have to bring it all the way over there. Can you just stay here on the bench, please?”

“But I’m naked!” said Cecile miserably.

“I can’t help that,” said Nigel. “And you’ll be just as naked in the bushes. But here at least you’ll be able to stick by me for protection. We can have a nice little chat, and I can tell anyone who comes by to run along.”

Cecile whimpered again as she trotted back to the bench and sat down, hugging her chest and bending over so that her folded arms rested on her thighs.

“Oh, you shouldn’t do that,” said Nigel, shaking his head. “Are you trying to look like a victim? You’ll attract every pervert for miles around. Sit up straight! Relax your body. Don’t cover yourself up as if you feel vulnerable. If you act afraid, you’ll only fuel your own fear and attract predatory men. Act confident, and you’ll find your confidence growing as a result.”

“Okay…” said Cecile dubiously, sitting up straight and letting her arms fall to her sides.

“Better,” said Nigel approvingly. “Now lean back, and stretch out your arms; rest your elbows on the back of the bench. Look like you own it.”

Cecile did so, while keeping her thighs tightly pressed together.

“Good!” said Nigel, staring at her breasts excitedly. “But your lower half still looks very shy and nervous. Move your knees apart; adopt a more casual pose.”

“But then my … my…” Cecile began unhappily.

“Your pussy will be more exposed, yes,” Nigel agreed. “But that’s a small price to pay for building up your confidence. Come on, it’s only me here, and I’ve seen it already. Let’s face it, your thong didn’t really hide anything.”

“I know,” Cecile agreed ruefully. Hesitantly, she parted her knees a few inches.

Nigel smirked. “Okay, that’s a start, but it still doesn’t exactly ooze confidence. Let’s see a nice wide spread of those thighs. Look as if you don’t care who sees your pussy.”

“But I do care!” said Cecile plaintively.

“I know, but you need to act like you don’t,” said Nigel. “Go on – try it.”

Cecile slowly moved her knees further and further apart, while Nigel’s widening eyes were riveted to her pussy. When her thighs formed an angle of about ninety degrees, she stopped. “Surely this is enough?” she asked desperately.

“Oh!” said Nigel. “Oh yes – good – I should think so. Yes, that’s perfect.” He fumbled in his pocket. “You know,” he went on, “it’s been so very long since I was last in the company of a naked woman. My wife … she died twenty years ago, you see.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” said Cecile, beginning to close her thighs.

“Thank you,” said Nigel, “but please don’t close your legs on my account. There – that’s better. Anyway, like I said, it’s been twenty years, and this is the most exciting thing to happen to me in all that time. So I was wondering … if you wouldn’t mind … could I please take a photo of you? Something to help me remember this day. My short-term memory is awful, you see, and getting worse. In a week’s time I’ll remember that I met a beautiful naked woman in the park, but I won’t remember what you looked like. So please … may I?”

It seemed like rather a forward request, and ordinarily Cecile would not have even contemplated such a thing. But she found herself feeling sorry for this nice elderly gentleman, and after all, she had already posed for a lot of photos in varying degrees of nudity for Sigmund. Since she was already in this position, and Nigel had already seen her nakedness, her innate sense of kindness and generosity overrode her sense of caution and decorum. “Well,” she said shyly, “I suppose, since Sigmund’s been photographing me pretty much like this anyway…”

“Thank you!” said Nigel, eagerly pulling his phone out of his pocket with a trembling hand. “Just give me a nice smile – no, please don’t close your legs…”

Cecile felt dreadfully self-conscious as she forced a smile while holding her knees wide apart. The thought that an image of her naked pussy would be residing on this old man’s phone for the foreseeable future was rather panic-inducing. But she had told him he could take a photo, and she was a woman of her word.

In fact, he took several. And then, licking his lips, he said, “Um, could you perhaps do another pose…?”

What was one more pose? “I suppose so,” said Cecile resignedly. “Did you have something specific in mind?”

“Yes,” said Nigel. “That last pose you did for Sigmund. I’d love to photograph you in that pose.”

Cecile shuddered. “Nigel, that was a really, um, embarrassing pose.”

“But you looked so good!” said the old man earnestly. “You looked beautiful! And oh so sexy! Please – it’ll be the last thing I ask of you.”

She bit her lip. “All right,” she said reluctantly. Lifting her feet up on to the bench either side of her, she moved her knees wide apart, fully exposing her naked labia, clitoris, and vaginal opening to Nigel’s hungry gaze.

“Oh yes!” he breathed, a rapturous expression on his face. With shaking hands he raised his phone, and took several more photos. Fortunately in the bright sunlight his shutter speed was fast enough to give him nice crisp photos, despite his inability to hold the phone still.

“Holy shit!” exclaimed one of two young men who were approaching along the path. “Look at this!”

Cecile squealed in alarm, put her legs down, and bent over, hugging her knees.

“Oh!” said Nigel, disappointed. “Good job, lads; you just scared the poor girl.”

“I didn’t mean to!” said the first young man apologetically. He was in his late twenties, had short blond hair, and wore a football shirt and long black shorts. “Sorry Miss – but you can’t blame me for being surprised. It’s not every day you see a gorgeous young woman naked in the park!”

“That’s true,” agreed Nigel. “Now move along please, lads.”

“What, I can’t stop and say hello?” said the blond man. “Miss, I really am sorry I scared you. My name’s Andy, and this is Theo.”

“Hi,” said Theo, a lanky ginger-haired young man wearing a Call of Duty t-shirt and jeans. “Can I ask why you’re naked out here? Is this old man bothering you?”

“Me? No!” Nigel objected. “Cecile and I were getting along just fine until you showed up.”

“Cecile?” said Andy. “What a pretty name!”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” said Theo. “But seriously, why are you naked? And don’t speak for her, old man – I want to hear from the lady herself.”

“I’m modelling clothes,” said Cecile mournfully. “Only it seems like every outfit is smaller than the last.”

“Oh my god, she has the most adorable lisp!” Theo whispered to Andy.

“Well that does make sense,” said Nigel. “Since you’re new to modelling, Sigmund probably didn’t want to scare you off by giving you the skimpiest outfits first. He eased you into the process gently. It was really quite considerate of him, actually, if you think about it.”

“I hadn’t thought about it like that,” admitted Cecile. “Even so, it’s very embarrassing to be left here naked while he goes to fetch another outfit!”

“I’m back!” said Sigmund, coming down the path. “Uh-oh – what’s this? More admirers?”

“You must be Sigmund,” said Andy. “I’m Andy, and this is Theo. And yes – we are definitely admirers! Cecile’s a lovely girl – when she’s not hiding her face … and the rest of her body.”

“Nice to meet you!” said Sigmund. “You see, Cecile, everyone thinks you’re gorgeous! You’re not offended, chaps, are you, by Cecile’s nudity?”

“Not at all!” said Andy, and Theo added, “Of course not!”

“Well you seem like nice young men,” said Sigmund. “Cecile, why don’t you sit up and stop hiding yourself? I haven’t heard a mean word from anyone who’s seen you. I told you people would be nice.”

Cecile, her cheeks burning, slowly sat up straight, with one hand tucked between her legs and her other arm across her breasts. “I … I’m sorry for hiding,” she faltered. “I’m just so embarrassed!”

“That’s understandable,” said Andy. “But a gorgeous girl like you shouldn’t be embarrassed about your body. It’s amazing! My girlfriend would kill to have your boobs and narrow waist! And hair – you have the most beautiful hair. And look at that pretty face!”

Cecile blushed even harder, but managed a small smile. “Th-thank you,” she mumbled.

“Here’s your latest outfit,” said Sigmund, handing her a tiny scrap of fabric that seemed to be all strings. “It’s another thong I’m afraid … but heck, you do look good in them!”

Cecile had to uncover her pussy in order to take the thong, and she leaned forward in order to minimise her exposure. “I … I’ll just go and change,” she said awkwardly.

“You can change right here,” said Sigmund breezily. “No point in getting shy now. You know we’re all fans of your naked body.”

Cecile had already figured out that getting up to go to the rhododendrons would not expose her any less than changing right here and now. “Okay,” she muttered, and she bent over, slipped her feet into the thong, and pulled it rapidly up her legs. But as she did so, the skimpiness of the garment hit home, and she gasped in shock. “There’s no front to it!” she exclaimed, pausing with the thong just past her knees.

“Sure there is,” said Sigmund. “It’s just very very small. It’s designed to cover your clitoris and nothing more. Below that it’ll just fit snugly between your pussy lips.”

“Between my … oh gosh!” Cecile wailed. This was going to be the worst piece of underwear yet!

“Go on, pull it up,” Sigmund encouraged her with a grin. Nigel, Andy and Theo watched intently, hardly daring to breathe.

Cecile gulped, then she bent low over her knees, lifted her bottom off the bench, and hastily pulled up the thong. As she tugged it into place around her hips, she shuddered at the feeling of the narrow strip of material – not even a centimetre wide – slipping between her labia. The tiny triangle of material that Sigmund had said was supposed to cover her clitoris was, however, too high to do so, and she had to adjust it downward while pulling the back upward, in order to get it positioned correctly.

“Splendid!” said Sigmund. “Now let’s see it. Give me a nice pose.”

Cecile slowly sat up straight, looking around anxiously at the four men. “In front of … everyone?” she asked in a timid voice.

“Sure!” said Sigmund. “I know it’s a larger audience than you’d prefer, but it’s a friendly and appreciative one! And, though I don’t want to alarm you, I should point out that the longer you hesitate, the longer this will take, and the larger your audience is likely to get.”

“Oh dear!” said Cecile, alarmed indeed at this thought. “All right then…” Taking a deep breath, she leaned back, uncovered her breasts, and hesitantly parted her knees by a couple of inches.

“Wow!” said Andy. “Those boobs!”

“That thong!” Theo added. “Holy shit.”

“You look absolutely gorgeous, Cecile,” said Nigel encouragingly.

“Agreed!” said Sigmund. “A real knockout.” He took a couple of photos as Cecile managed a faint smile. “Less shy with the knees though, please – you know what to do.”

Cecile grimaced unhappily, then spread her knees wider apart. The way all four men were staring eagerly at her breasts and pussy was somewhat flattering, but also rather dehumanising. She longed to close her legs and fold her arms over her breasts.

“Smile, Cecile,” said Sigmund, a little impatiently. “You look like a puppy that just got spanked by its master for the first time.”

“Sorry,” said Cecile humbly. She bravely put on a smile, and was rewarded by murmurs of approval from the men ogling her. This helped, and she smiled a little more naturally.

“Wonderful,” said Sigmund. “Feet up, now, just like last time.”

She swallowed. Last time she had not been wearing a ridiculous little string that bisected her pussy. Of course, her previous thong had been see-through, and she had adopted a similar pose while literally naked for Nigel…

She raised her feet on to the bench, and spread her knees wide apart.

“Ohhh!” gasped Andy, crouching down and practically drooling as he stared in awe at her naked labia and her vaginal opening, which was visible either side of the string. Then he held up a phone, and took a photo.

“Hey!” said Cecile indignantly.

“What?” he inquired. “The others are taking photos.”

Cecile looked at Nigel, who had his phone out again and was obviously either photographing or filming her. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Couldn’t resist. And I assumed you wouldn’t mind, since I already got more explicit photos of you.”

“I suppose it doesn’t make much difference,” she conceded dolefully. Now Theo was taking photos too. There seemed little point in complaining.

Sigmund had also been taking photos, but something was clearly bothering him. “Hmm,” he said. “This isn’t a negative, but I’m just not getting what I need from this thong. I think the issue is that your pussy is just shaped a little differently from my girlfriend’s. Not better or worse, just … different. Her pussy lips are, I don’t know, puffier?”

“I think that might be a difference in attitude, mate,” said Andy. “Your girlfriend is probably highly aroused when you get to the point of looking at her naked pussy. I know that my girl, Lisa, gets very flushed and hot when she’s super horny. And her pussy, well, it does puff up a bit. Poor Cecile here is doing this as a job, and I’m guessing she’s not terribly excited about it. So her juices aren’t flowing, her heart rate isn’t elevated, her blood isn’t pumping into her pussy.”

“That’s very astute!” said Sigmund. “I bet that’s what it is. All right then, Cecile, we’re almost done, but for the final photos I need you to be, um, aroused.”

“Oh goodness!” said Cecile wretchedly. “Can’t you … use your imagination? I’m not sure I can get aroused when I’m feeling so … ogled. I … I don’t mean any offence – you’ve all been very nice – but this is a little bit … humiliating for me.”

“What’s going on here? Why’s that girl naked?” demanded a female voice.

Cecile quickly brought her knees together and hugged her legs as a couple in their forties emerged from behind Andy and Theo, having come up the path without her noticing. “Oh gosh!” she groaned.

“We’re just having a little photo shoot,” said Sigmund. “My name’s Sigmund, and this is Cecile; my model. She’s been trying on clothes for me, and I’ve been taking photos, so that I can make an informed choice about what will suit my girlfriend.”

“You have a girlfriend?” asked the male newcomer sceptically.

“Yes!” said Sigmund, looking a little annoyed. “She’s very nice. Not, you know, a complete beauty like Cecile here. But she looks good in skimpy underwear.”

“I’m Nigel,” said Nigel, introducing himself to the couple. I just happened upon the photo shoot, and Cecile was kind enough to let me take some photos to remember her by.”

“And I’m Andy, and this is Theo,” said Andy. “We we’re just passing by, and stopped to watch the photo shoot.”

“Nice to meet you all,” said the female newcomer. “I’m Harriet, and this is my husband Adrian.”

“Hello,” said Adrian. “You okay there, Cecile? These chaps aren’t … mistreating you, are they?”

“No, they’ve been very nice,” said Cecile, rather peevishly. “I’m just so embarrassed! I didn’t think this photo shoot would be in such a public place, or that I would have to get so naked, or that I’d have such a big audience!”

“I’m sorry if we caused you any further anguish,” said Adrian. “We’ll leave you to it.”

“Oh, but I wanted to stay and watch!” his wife protested.

“Well as nice as that sounds, I don’t want to make the poor girl any more embarrassed than she already is,” said Adrian.

“You’re welcome to stay,” said Sigmund. “Cecile’s embarrassment will wear off. She’ll get used to your presence, just like she’s got used to Nigel being here, and Andy and Theo.”

“I don’t know,” said Adrian doubtfully.

“Come on,” Harriet cajoled him. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t like to stay and watch. Look how gorgeous she is!”

“She is gorgeous,” Adrian admitted. “But I think we should let Cecile decide.”

“What do you think, Cecile?” asked Sigmund. “Can they stay? They seem like very nice people.”

“Yes, they do,” Cecile admitted. And having done so, she did not feel as if she could reasonably tell them to leave, while allowing Nigel and Andy and Theo to stay. Not that she really wanted them to stay, either … but she was not being offered a choice about them. “I suppose they can stay…”

“Excellent!” said Sigmund, pleased. “Now where were we? Oh yes! We were discussing how to arouse you, so that your pussy will puff up a little.”

“Kissing works,” Theo suggested hopefully.

“It would,” agreed Sigmund. “But only if, I suspect, she’s kissing someone she wants to kiss.”

“How about it, Cecile?” asked Andy, grinning. “I’m a good kisser.”

“You have a girlfriend!” Theo retorted, slapping his friend’s arm.

“And I have a boyfriend!” Cecile interjected.

“I don’t think kissing is the answer,” said Sigmund, much to Cecile’s relief. But then he continued, “I think the obvious solution is direct clitoral stimulation.”

“What?” Cecile gasped.

“Don’t panic!” said Sigmund. “Nobody’s going to jump on you and start rubbing your clit without your consent. I think we can use the thong itself; it’s probably giving you a bit of a rub already, is it not?”

“A bit,” Cecile admitted shamefully.

“No need to be embarrassed about that,” he said. “It’s inevitable. Now, why don’t you turn, and lie down on your back?”

Everyone was staring at her, tense with anticipation, eager for her compliance. Meekly, she pivoted ninety degrees, then lay back until her shoulders came to rest on the bench. She put her hands on her breasts; her knees were up and together, her thighs and shins forming a tall isosceles triangle with the bench.

Sigmund sat down next to her feet, and pulled her knees wide apart, eliciting a little nervous whimper. Then he reached out and took hold of the little triangular front of her thong, from its upper edge, gripping it between his finger and thumb. Pulling it gently upward, he revealed her clitoral hood as it slipped to one side of the string. There was a little gasp from a couple of the onlookers.

Sigmund grinned, and pulled the string and triangle even further to the side. “Doesn’t she have the loveliest pussy?” he asked.

Cecile’s stomach knotted in mortification, but the immediate and enthusiastic agreement from everyone staring at her pussy helped a little. She tentatively tried to bring her knees together, but Sigmund briskly pushed them apart again. Then he tugged the string of her thong between her labia again, and began rubbing it back and forth over her clitoris. This sent tingles shooting through her body, but she was far too embarrassed to get properly aroused.

After a minute, Harriet tutted in disapproval. “You’re not going to get her horny like that, man,” she said. “Honestly, anyone would think you’d never touched a pussy before. Let me have a go.”

Adrian gasped. “Harriet??”

“Oh chill,” she said. “You know you’ll enjoy watching.”

Sigmund frowned. “I don’t want everyone joining in here,” he said. “That’s not fair to Cecile. Now if you want to give me some pointers…”

“Oh let her have a go,” said Andy. “Maybe we’ll all learn something.”

“Yes, I think it’s a good idea,” Nigel agreed.

Sigmund sighed. “All right, fine,” he said, a little grumpily, and he got up from the bench.

Harriet sat down in the same spot, and the first thing she did was take hold of the front of Cecile’s thong, and pull it to one side. “Now watch, and learn,” she said. Then she bent down, teased back the little hood of flesh with her thumb, and – to the astonishment of all – began licking the little fleshy nub beneath.

“Oh … ohh!” Cecile gasped. “Oh please – you shouldn’t be doing that! I have a boyfriend!”

“And I have a husband,” said Harriet, lifting her head briefly. “Don’t sweat it, babe – this is just one woman helping out another.” Then she went back to enclose her lips around Cecile’s clit, sucking gently upon it for a few seconds, before resuming her licking.

“Ahhhh … ohhh!” gasped Cecile.

“Does that feel nice, Cecile?” Andy teased her.

“Uhhh … ahhh … yes…” Cecile admitted, though her mortification level was through the roof at this point.

“All right, that’s enough, let me try,” said Sigmund, looking a little put out. “I’m sure I can do that just as well as you, but I assured Cecile that nobody would touch her without her consent. So you cheated a bit, sort of.”

Harriet sat up, and shrugged unapologetically. “I just saw an opportunity and took it. You wanted her horny; that’s a good way to achieve it.”

Sigmund bent down and began sucking on Cecile’s clitoris, making her gasp again. The middle-aged creep was not as proficient as Harriet, however, and his moustache felt oddly scratchy on her labia. Her arousal waned, and her feelings of embarrassment and discomfort came back to the fore. “You know,” she said plaintively, while Sigmund noisily suckled on her clit, “I really think you have enough photos now to make a decision on what clothes you’d like to buy for your girlfriend…”

“Almost,” Sigmund conceded, raising his head. “But not quite. I still need one photo of this thong looking like it would on my girlfriend.”

“I think what she’s saying,” said Adrian in amusement, “is that you don’t have Harriet’s magic touch.”

Theo and Andy snickered, and Sigmund turned red. “All right, I have … limited experience at this,” he admitted. “I’m sorry, Cecile.”

“It’s okay,” she mumbled, her instinct being to respect an apology when offered, and downplay the offence. “You were pretty good.”

Sigmund licked his finger. “I’m probably better at this,” he said, sliding it into her vagina.

Cecile squealed in alarm. “Sigmund!”

“Relax,” he said, slowly thrusting it in and out. “This is a guaranteed way to get you aroused. The sooner you get aroused, the sooner I can take my final photo, and the sooner we can get you back to the shop and dressed again.”

Dressed! Oh how Cecile longed to be fully-clothed again. Was getting aroused really the only possible path to that happy event? Surely not … surely … but it was getting a little hard to think. “Ahhh!” she gasped, as Sigmund’s finger stroked her g-spot.

“Does that feel good?” he asked her, grinning.

“It’s … okay…” she conceded, her loins tingling.

Andy and Theo were crowding in, phones in hand, taking photos of Sigmund’s finger thrusting in and out of her vagina. “A cock would feel better,” Andy remarked with a chuckle.

“Too right it would,” agreed Harriet. “And no, Adrian, you can’t volunteer.”

“You can’t put one of those in me!” gasped Cecile, her vagina clenching anxiously on to Sigmund’s finger. “I’m a … a … I’ve never…”

“You’re a virgin?” Andy inquired. “Wow. How have you managed to fend the boys off all this time?”

“I’m Catholic!” said Cecile. “And so’s Isaac – my boyfriend. We believe in no sex before marriage.”

“Poor chap must be dying for it,” muttered Adrian.

“What if you just rubbed it on her pussy, Sigmund?” Harriet suggested. “It’s a poor substitute for actual fucking, but a nice thick hard warm cock rubbing against your clit can be pretty intense.”

“That sounds like a good compromise,” said Nigel. “Cecile’s a virgin, so something like that will feel pretty magical for her I would think. And she’ll get to keep her virginity.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Sigmund agreed. “What do you think, Cecile? Shall I stop finger-fucking you, and try just rubbing you on the outside with my cock?”

Neither choice sounded particularly good to Cecile, although a very small part of her was feeling curious about what it would feel like to have a man’s cock rubbing her … there. And she felt very uncomfortable about Sigmund’s finger thrusting inside her. It actually felt quite good, and she was feeling guilty about that. “I … don’t know,” she mumbled.

“Well, let’s try Harriet’s suggestion,” said Sigmund, withdrawing his finger from her vagina. He unzipped and unbuttoned his trousers, then pulled them down as he stood up. A modest-sized erection sprang up, and Cecile stared at it with a mixture of disgust and fascination. She had only seen Isaac’s before now, and although the size of both cocks had been comparable, Isaac’s had not been all stiff like this.

Sigmund knelt down on the bench, pulled her knees wider apart, and then lowered himself down on to her. Cecile gasped as she felt the shaft of his cock pressing between her labia. Then he began thrusting it back and forth along the groove in between, and Cecile clutched at his shoulders as she felt her clitoris getting a warm, firm rubbing. “Ohhh!” she breathed.

“I think she likes that,” said Andy, smirking.

“Wrap your legs around his back, Cecile,” said Harriet. “It’ll feel even better – trust me.”

Blood roared In Cecile’s ears as she gripped Sigmund’s shoulders. She did not respond to Harriet’s suggestion, but when someone – she thought it was maybe Andy – lifted her left foot off the bench and over the top of Sigmund, she instinctively lifted her right foot too, and crossed her ankles behind his back.

Sigmund’s cock was now sliding over her vaginal opening as well as her clitoris, and it was beginning to get slick with the juices seeping from her increasingly moist orifice. As it became more slippery, the sensations it generated in Cecile’s clitoris became even more intense. “Ohhh! Gosh!” she gasped.

“Sounds like you’re getting pretty aroused!” Sigmund remarked. “Let’s take a look, shall we?” He pushed himself up to a kneeling position, and looked down at Cecile’s pussy. “That’s it!” he said triumphantly. He grasped her legs and pulled them upward, and as her bottom left the bench he tucked his knees beneath it, so that his cock was positioned just in front of her pussy.
“Look, everyone! Isn’t it gorgeous!”

Indeed, the teenager’s pussy had changed in appearance as a result of her increased arousal. Her labia looked pinker and more swollen, her clitoris was more enlarged and prominent, and there was a glistening sheen of smeared vaginal juice over her entire vulva. “Beautiful!” said Nigel, taking a close-up photo.

“Very nice!” agreed Andy and Theo, taking photos of their own.

“I think it could get even better,” said Sigmund, pressing the end of his cock between her labia, and using his hand to steer it up and down her moist valley, from her clit to her vaginal opening, and down even further, to her puckered anus.

“Unnnhhh…” Cecile moaned. “I … think I’m aroused enough…” But she kept her thighs wide apart as Sigmund continued sliding the head of his cock back and forth.

The others watched in fascination, hardly breathing.

“Oops!” Sigmund chuckled, as his engorged glans lodged itself in the entrance of Cecile’s vagina. “Mustn’t go in there – oh dear!” His eyes glinting, he gently pressed his erection forward.

“No!” Cecile squealed. “Don’t, Sigmund – please!”

“Only joking,” he laughed, sliding it back up towards her clitoris.

“Whew!” she gasped, then she moaned as he rapidly rubbed his cock against her clit. “Ohhh…”

Then he slid back down to her vagina, and gently pushed again. “Uh-oh!” he said.

“No! Sigmund!” Cecile begged him.

The others were all staring with wide eyes. Andy was taking photo after photo, from several different angles. Nigel was also taking photos, though at a more leisurely pace. Theo was now recording the action on video. Even Adrian had got his phone out and, with no objection from Harriet, was taking photos of his own, looking down over the back of the bench.

“Go on … go on…” Andy whispered.

Sigmund pushed a little more, and Cecile’s vaginal opening dilated to accommodate his girth. “Don’t!” she pleaded. “Please!”

“Oh, I’m just teasing,” he said with a laugh, sliding down to her anus and then back up to her clit. “Exciting, though, isn’t it?”

“It’s scary,” she pouted, but her whole naked body was flushed and her pussy was even more swollen than before.

Harriet had tucked her hand into the front of her jeans, and was rubbing herself vigorously. “You’re a bad man, Sigmund,” she remarked in amusement.

The head of Sigmund’s cock was getting more and more slippery, as with each pass it picked up more lubricating juice from Cecile’s vagina. As it came to rest at her opening once again, he barely had to exert any pressure to make it begin to sink inside her again.

“No!” gasped Cecile. “Don’t be mean, Sigmund.”

“Oh no, it’s going in!” he teased her, pushing harder. Her vagina expanded to his full girth of the bulbous head of his cock, which slowly sank inside her.

“Ow!” Cecile squealed. “No! No, Sigmund! It’s going in!”

“Haha!” he cried. “Oh dear, so it is!” He stopped pushing inward as the head of his cock was beginning to disappear, and slowly pulled out of her. “Don’t worry, that wasn’t deep enough to count. Only the tip went inside.”

“Oh … okay,” said Cecile anxiously. “Are you sure that doesn’t count?”

“Very sure,” said Sigmund. “Now, let’s take some photos. Can you stand up please?”

“I thought you just needed one more,” said Cecile, pouting a little as she sat up and swung her legs off the front of the bench. She was feeling as if the rules of this photo shoot kept changing, minute by minute.

“Well, I had this cool idea,” Sigmund explained. “I thought that we could make use of our audience. “Andy, Adrian – you both look pretty strong – do you think you could carry Cecile between you?”

“Of course,” said Andy, and “Sure,” said Adrian, after glancing at Harriet and seeing no objection in her eyes.

“Great!” said Sigmund. “Just stand between them, Cecile, facing me – good, that’s it. Now chaps, just crouch down a bit so Cecile can put her arms around your shoulders … good. Now you chaps can put your arms around Cecile’s back, and reach down with your free hands and pick her up beneath her knees – you’ve got it – great! Yup, and keep her legs spread nice and wide apart…” He raised his phone.

“But I’m not even wearing the thong!” Cecile objected unhappily.

“That’s okay,” Sigmund assured her. “I just want some photos of your fully naked body, so I can compare it with my girlfriend’s body. That will help inform my clothing choices. Now don’t pout; these chaps have been taking photos of your naked pussy for the past ten minutes, so it’s a little late to make a fuss now. Give me a nice smile…”

Cecile, feeling rather taken advantage of but also quite horny and unsatisfied, managed a fairly authentic if slightly desperate-looking smile. Sigmund took a few photos, as did Nigel and Theo.

Then Sigmund approached, his erect cock pointing directly at Cecile’s pussy … although it was a little too low. “Can you lower her a bit please, lads?” he asked.

“What are you going to do?” asked Cecile nervously, as Andy and Adrian lowered her a few inches.

“I’m going to rub my cock on your pussy again,” said Sigmund, and he began to do so.

“As long as that’s all you do,” said Cecile, looking down warily at Sigmund’s cock.

“Mmmm,” said the creepy little man, pressing the tip of his rigid five-inch penis against Cecile’s clitoris once more. He rubbed it back and forth, causing the young woman to utter a little moan.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asked her softly, then he took hold of his cock and guided its head down to her vaginal opening. “Go on, admit it – you want it in there.”

“No!” Cecile whimpered, her vagina lubricating like crazy. “I really don’t, Sigmund! That’s just for Isaac.”

“But it feels so good…” Sigmund crooned, gently pushing inward. The engorged head of his cock gradually sank into her moist, soft vagina. “So good … it feels so amazing inside you…”

“Sigmund, please stop teasing!” Cecile wailed. “Oh my gosh – I think it’s in even deeper than last time! Please stop!”

But the two men carrying her, after exchanging a grin and a wink, gently pushed Cecile towards Sigmund, who unexpectedly found his cock disappearing inside her. “Heck!” he exclaimed, stepping back in surprise.

“Oh no!” Cecile shrieked, feeling the cock inside her go deep, before being abruptly withdrawn. “Did it go all the way in? It felt like it. Did I just lose my virginity?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” said Sigmund. “That was a rotten thing to do, lads.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” said Andy defensively. “My arm was getting a cramp, and I just had to flex it a bit.”

“And I felt Cecile move, and adjusted my position to compensate,” Adrian added.

“Ah, so it’s nobody’s fault,” said Sigmund. “Just an unfortunate accident.”

“But I’m not a virgin anymore!” Cecile wailed.

Sigmund sighed. “No, you’re not,” he said. “Which means, it really makes no difference if I go back in.” And he thrust his erection back inside her, burying it deep.”

“Ugh! No!” protested Cecile. “Once was enough, Sigmund – can you gentlemen please put me down?”

But they did not, and Sigmund began to thrust gently inside her. “Cecile,” he said, “it would be wrong of me to take your virginity and then leave you hanging, unsatisfied. You deserve to experience your first proper fuck.”

Cecile gulped. “Oh gosh!” she whispered. “No – I’d rather not, Sigmund.” But as he thrust harder and harder inside her, her head tipped back and she began moaning. “Uhhh … uhhh … ohhh … gosh…”

“Feels good, doesn’t it babe?” said Harriet, reaching out and patting Cecile’s shoulder.

“Yeh…yes,” panted Cecile, her eyes unfocusing as her head lolled backward. “But … uhhh … ohhh … please don’t, you know … finish inside me…”

“You’re not on the pill?” Harriet inquired.

“Of course not, she’s Catholic,” said Adrian.

“Well shit,” said Harriet. “When was your last period?”

“Uhh,” gasped Cecile, panting in time with Sigmund’s thrusts. “About … a week ago … finished … a week ago … I think…”

“Oh wow,” said Harriet. “Babe, if he cums in you, you’re getting preggers for sure.”

“Oh no!” Cecile groaned. “Make sure you pull out in time, Sigmund! Please!”

“Hmm,” said Sigmund. “I don’t know. I feel like your first time should be the proper full experience. You deserve to feel that rush of semen inside you, filling your fertile womb.”

“No!” gasped Cecile.

“Sigmund, we’ve all seen your cock,” Andy remarked wryly. “It ain’t reaching her womb, mate.”

Theo snorted with laughter.

But Sigmund was unfazed. “That’s what you think,” he replied with a grin. “But I’m bottoming out in here.”

“Seriously?” said Andy in surprise.

“Well she is just a little thing,” Harriet pointed out. “And that angle … yeah, it’s quite possible.”

Sigmund’s thrusting intensified. “Oh yeah…” he gasped. “Ohhh … ohhhh…”

“Ahhh!” Cecile moaned, writhing in Andy’s and Adrian’s grasp. “Ohhhh!!! Don’t … please … don’t finish … in me…” But her voice was barely above a whisper.

“AHHHH!!!” Sigmund pressed his loins against her pelvis as hard as he possibly could, his cock filling her vagina, its end jammed up against her cervix. As his semen poured out of his urethra, with nowhere else to go, it squirted directly into her womb. He then thrust again, and again, injecting two more powerful blasts of cum through her tiny cervical opening. Of the next four spurts, however, he mistimed three, and these ended up forming a lake in her vagina as his cock slowly wilted and he finally pulled out of her.

Harriet stepped up and began rapidly stroking Cecile’s clitoris. “Don’t leave her hanging, man!” she chided Sigmund.

“Ohhh … ohhhh … ahhhh … AHHHHH!!!” squealed Cecile, her body shuddering uncontrollably as it was wracked by the most powerful orgasm she had ever experienced.

As she came down from that high, she began to weep. “Thank you,” she said miserably. “That was very nice … but now I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m sure I’ll get pregnant from this. Why didn’t you pull out before you climaxed, Sigmund?”

“Oh, I am sorry,” he said sympathetically, as he zipped up his trousers. “I just didn’t want to.”

“Can’t you take a morning after pill?” Harriet inquired.

Cecile shook her head sadly. “Catholic,” she said.

“Well Sigmund,” said Harriet, “enjoy the child support payments.”

“Ha!” said Sigmund. “Well I don’t make much money, but my offspring is absolutely welcome to some of it.”

“What do you do?” Andy inquired.

“I clean toilets,” said Sigmund cheerfully. “In public buildings.”

“Lovely,” said Harriet, shuddering. “Well I assume this little party is over, so…”

“Wait,” said Andy. “How about a group photo, before we all go our separate ways?”

“Sure!” said Sigmund.

“I can take it,” Theo offered. “Then if you all give me your email addresses or phone numbers, I can send it to you.”

“Sounds good!” said Adrian. “Gather round, then, everyone.”

“Can you maybe put me down?” asked Cecile hopefully.

“Not just yet!” said Andy. “Don’t get shy now, Cecile.”

Nigel dismounted from his bicycle, and rested it against the bench. Then, seeing that Sigmund had positioned himself next to Andy, and Harriet was standing beside Adrian, he walked around the back of the group and stood behind Cecile.

“Okay,” said Theo. “Smile, everyone!”

In the photo that he then took, Harriet was wearing a little smirk as she looked at Theo’s phone. Nigel was grinning down at Cecile’s voluptuous breasts. Sigmund was looking very pleased with himself as he did a goofy thumbs-up for the camera. Adrian, smiling rather conventionally, seemed to be looking slightly above the camera, since he had chosen to fix his gaze on Theo’s face rather than the phone. Andy appeared to be looking at Cecile’s pussy, with a hungry expression on his face.

And Cecile, still being held up off the ground by Andy and Adrian, her legs spread wide apart and her still-swollen pussy right in the centre of the photo, was doing her best to smile despite feeling rather miserable. Sigmund’s semen had been oozing out of her vagina for the past minute, and it was very obvious in the photo as a white-ish streak running down from the dark slit of her moist vaginal opening to her anus.

“All right,” said Theo, pulling up his Notes app. “Adrian, do you want this photo by text or email…?”

“Text please,” said Adrian. “My number is…”

Contact information was exchanged, and Cecile was finally put down. Rather forlornly she stood naked, not even bothering to cover her breasts or pussy. She wanted to, but by now she was feeling as if maybe she was somehow to blame for what had happened; that perhaps she was now a slut, and sluts did not deserve to preserve their modesty.

“Goodbye Cecile,” said Harriet. “Poor thing – you’re learning the hard way what men can be like. Enjoy motherhood! I hope you have an understanding boyfriend.” She chuckled.

“It’s more my dad I’m worried about,” Cecile muttered. “But thank you, Harriet. It was nice meeting you.”

“Bye Cecile,” said Andy. “Can I get a hug?”

“Um, sure,” said Cecile, and she spread her arms as Andy put his around her. He held her close, and she gasped as he reached down and gave her buttocks a squeeze.

“It’s been awesome meeting you,” he said. “Goodbye!” He let her go.

“Goodbye,” she said, a little flustered.

Theo also hugged her, but he did not grab her bottom. Then Nigel hugged her too … and he gave her left buttock a gentle pat before disengaging. “Take care of yourself, Cecile,” he said.

“Thank you,” she replied. “You too.”

Soon she was left with just Sigmund. “Can we go back to the shop now?” she asked him in a subdued voice.

Sigmund smiled. “We could,” he said. “Or you could come back to my place for a shower first. Wouldn’t you like to have a shower?”

“Yes,” she admitted, “but Sigmund, more than that I’d really like to get my clothes back, so I can get dressed.”

“I’m sure you would,” he said, nodding. “But I’m not ready for you to get dressed yet.”

Cecile looked at him with a dismayed expression. “What do you mean? Haven’t you taken all the photos you wanted?”

“Yes,” he acknowledged, “but the way I see it, you’re now in a bit of a predicament. In nine months’ time, when you give birth to my baby, you will have to decide whether or not you want to raise it yourself, or put it up for adoption. Raising it on your own will be tough, and unless your boyfriend is incredibly understanding, I doubt he’ll want to raise another man’s baby – particularly one conceived under these circumstances. The odds are in favour of you being a single mum, and that … well it won’t be easy. I’m guessing that your parents will prefer the adoption option as well.”

“Oh gosh!” Cecile groaned. “This is so much to think about!”

“I know, I know,” said Sigmund kindly. “But I’m going to try and make it easier for you. My proposal is to take you back to my place and introduce you to my girlfriend. And then … I’m hoping I’ll be able to persuade her to raise your baby with me.”

Cecile’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” said Sigmund. “I’ve always wanted to be a dad. The question is … how much do you want to be a mum?”

“I’d love to be a mother,” said Cecile, clasping her hands in front of her pussy and looking down at the ground. “I just … I don’t feel I’m ready yet…”

“I suspected as much,” said Sigmund, nodding. “So come along – let’s go to my place, and we’ll try to figure out a solution to your problem before you have to break the news to your parents.”

“Thank you,” said Cecile gratefully. “But … can’t I please get dressed first?”

Sigmund shook his head. “No, you need to stay naked at least until you’ve met my girlfriend.”

“But why?” asked Cecile desperately. “Oh please, Sigmund – let me get dressed!”

“Cecile,” said Sigmund, taking her hands in his. “Put yourself in her position. Her boyfriend has just got you pregnant. How do you think she’s going to react to that news? How do you think she’ll feel about you?”

Cecile shuddered. “She’ll probably hate me,” she surmised, and she bit her lip anxiously.

“It’s a danger,” Sigmund acknowledged. “Upon learning of her partner’s infidelity, a woman’s natural reaction is to see the other woman as a home-wrecker, a predatory succubus that has sunk its claws into her man. She might freak out, lash out … who knows, maybe even grab a kitchen knife if she’s enraged enough. But there is another possibility.”

“What?” asked Cecile, aghast at the thought of a knife-wielding jealous girlfriend.

“There’s the possibility,” Sigmund explained, “that she’ll see you as the victim instead. That she’ll blame me instead of you, and feel sorry for you, and want to help you. That would be the ideal scenario. And the odds of that occurring will be greatly improved if I bring you in looking all naked and helpless.”

Tears came to Cecile’s eyes. “I do feel pretty helpless,” she said. “But Sigmund … maybe we could pick up my clothes on the way, and I could get dressed, and…”

“Bad idea,” said Sigmund. “Rita’s already annoyed at you for being out of the shop so long, and if you go back in, she might insist you stay put for the rest of the day.”

“Oh no!” Cecile gasped. “Well then I should really go back…”

“And lose this opportunity to sort out the outcome of your pregnancy?” Sigmund inquired. “What’s more important? This temporary job of yours, or your entire future?”

“My … my future,” said Cecile wretchedly. It was an easy question, but she felt as if her answer had doomed her to a very naked day.

“Exactly,” said Sigmund, grinning with satisfaction. “Now come along.” He turned and began walking to the park entrance.

“Can I … put the thong on, at least?” asked Cecile anxiously.

“Nope,” said Sigmund firmly. “This has to go back to the shop. Wouldn’t want to be accused of shoplifting now would we?”

“No,” Cecile mumbled miserably. Sigmund seemed to have an answer for everything. Perhaps it would be easiest to stop trying to argue with him and just follow his instructions.

But panic threatened to overwhelm her as she stepped out on to the street, naked and almost dying of shame. She was pressing her right hand between her legs, covering her pussy, and holding her left arm across her breasts, but there was no getting around the fact that she was naked, and it seemed like everyone in the world was staring at her. Car horns blared at her, wolf whistles and cheers and shouts assaulted her from every direction; she saw male faces everywhere, laughing and jeering and leering and licking their lips and saying dirty things to her. She felt faint, and swayed as she walked.

“Okay, wait here,” said Sigmund, “while I take the thong back in.” He darted into the shop, leaving Cecile alone and naked on the pavement. She shrank back against the wall, hoping at least to hide her bare bottom.

“Nice outfit!” laughed a couple of teenage boys, stopping to admire her. “Are you a prostitute?”

“No!” she squealed in shock. “Of course not!”

“Then why are you naked?” asked one of them. “Is it your birthday? Did you misunderstand the phrase ‘birthday suit’?” Both boys laughed again.

“Please go away!” she begged them.

“Jeez, she looks terrified,” said one of them, sobering up a bit. “Doesn’t look like you want to be naked, sweetheart. Why don’t you go in that shop behind you? They sell clothes. Heck, maybe I can buy you something if it’s not too expensive.”

“Seriously Pat?” said the other. “A naked girl is right in front of you and you want to put clothes on her?”

“Well, yeah,” said Pat, “if she’s scared half to death. It’s the right thing to do, you know?”

“Please…” began Cecile, but at that moment Sigmund reappeared, carrying her handbag.

“Come on!” he said to her. “And clear off, you two! Let’s get you out of here, Cecile.” He resumed his unhurried walk down the pavement, and Cecile, still desperately covering as much of herself as she could, walked awkwardly by his side. Her embarrassment escalated in intensity with every second, as laughter and whoops and filthy remarks poured into her ears. Soon it became too overwhelming, and she stumbled, on the point of fainting.

“Oh!” said Sigmund. “What luck! There’s our bus. Quickly – we don’t want to miss it!”

“Bus??” Jolted back to her senses, Cecile now had a new reason to panic. “You don’t have a car?”

“Nope!” said Sigmund. “I always use public transport. It’s greener. Quick! We have to catch this one. You wouldn’t want to have to wait at the bus stop for ten minutes without any clothes on would you?”

“No!” Cecile gasped, and as Sigmund broke into a run, she took off after him, frantically trying to keep her large breasts covered with one arm as they bounced around uncontrollably. It was not easy.

They reached the bus just before its door closed. As they boarded, however, the bus driver stared at her in astonishment. “Hey!” he said. “You can’t ride the bus like that!”

“I’ll pay double her fare,” said Sigmund. “Please – she’s had a rough day.”

Seeing Cecile’s obvious distress, the driver nodded. “All right, but behave yourselves. If I get any complaints, you’ll both have to get off.”

Sigmund paid the driver, and he and Cecile made their way toward the back of the bus. It was crowded, and all the seats were taken. A shocked-looking woman covered her children’s eyes as Cecile passed, but fortunately she stayed in her seat and did not seem inclined to complain to the driver. The other passengers stared at the naked young woman, mostly with expressions of surprise, wonder, amusement, or lust; only a couple looked disapproving or annoyed, and nobody voiced a complaint.

“All right, darling?” said a tall man in his forties, smiling down at Cecile as she came to stand next to him. He was on his feet and at least a foot taller than she. Cecile blushed and said nothing.

The bus drove a short distance, and approached the next stop. A man sitting in a nearby aisle seat got up to leave, and Sigmund quickly sat down in his place. Then he turned to face Cecile, who was standing right beside him. Grinning, he reached out and began running his hand up and down her thigh.

Thinking he was doing this to comfort her, Cecile appreciated the gesture, though it did not make her feel any better. But as he worked his way up her thighs, and then pushed her hand aside so that he could stroke her pussy, she bent her head down towards him. “Sigmund!” she whispered. “Please don’t. Haven’t you done enough to me today?”

“You look very stressed and tense,” he replied, gently rubbing her clitoris through its hood. “Let me make you feel good; it’ll temporarily make all your worries disappear.”

“That might work,” she admitted, “but I can do that myself if I want to. And this isn’t the place to do it anyway!”

“I get it,” said Sigmund, continuing to stroke her. “You feel it’s important to stay on high alert because we’re in public, you’re surrounded by people, and you feel very exposed and in danger.”

“Well yes!” she replied. “That’s it exactly. A gentleman would have let me take that seat when it came free. Then at least I’d be more protected.”

“True,” said Sigmund. “I know you’re a woman and I’m a man, and traditionally I should give up my seat for you. But that’s a bit old-fashioned, isn’t it? And I’m old, and have a bad back. I can’t stay standing for very long.”

“Well … that’s fair enough, I suppose,” conceded Cecile reluctantly.

“And as for needing to stay on high alert … you really don’t. I’m here, and I’ll look after you. I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you. You should do your best to relax, otherwise this stress will give you an ulcer. Let me help you relax. I know I’m taking a liberty, but heck – I already fucked you in public. This, by comparison, is pretty harmless. And it’ll do you good.”

His fingers on her clitoris were beginning to have an effect on her. “I suppose,” she said hesitantly, “that’s probably … all true…”

“Just let the tension flow out of you,” he advised her. “Stand up straight, close your eyes, and relax. Give up on trying to control this situation, and let me control it for you. Let me look after you. Let me give you the pleasure and the release that you obviously need right now.”

Maybe Sigmund was doing this for selfless reasons, and maybe he was not … but it seemed to Cecile that there was a lot of wisdom in his words. She was feeling stressed and exhausted from being in a state of near-panic for so long, and he was no doubt correct that this was not good for her. Perhaps if she closed her eyes and tuned out the comments and laughter she could hear around her, she could try to lose herself in her own little world and enjoy the pleasant sensations coming from her loins… And they were, indeed, pleasant…

With her eyes closed and her back slightly arched, she began to breathe more heavily. The hand with which she had been covering her pussy drifting to her side, and then, as the bus lurched a little, groped for and found the vertical metal pole running from the back of the seat in front of Sigmund up to the ceiling. The sense of stability this afforded her helped her to relax even more.

Then she heard a whisper in her ear: “You really are very lovely, aren’t you? What a blessing it is that you are riding this bus, in all your naked beauty…” It was the tall man, standing behind her. She felt his hands caressing her shoulders. His touch was gentle, sensitive … and she absorbed it into the quiet little sensory world into which she had retreated.

“Uhhh … uhhh…” she gasped softly, as Sigmund slipped a finger up inside her while continuing to rub her clit with his thumb. Her arousal was building steadily.

She felt soft lips kissing her neck, and the hands on her shoulders begin to make their way down her chest, fingertips grazing her collarbones, making slow circles, teasing her…

Her cheeks became flushed, her breathing more intense. Sigmund was inserting a second finger alongside the first, and he was quickening the pace of his clitoral rubbing. The hands on her chest had reached her breasts, and they were grasping her soft flesh, squeezing, kneading … fingers rubbing and then gently pinching her nipples. “Oh gosh!” she gasped. “Ohhhh…”

A grinning Sigmund reached around her with his free left hand and grasped her right buttock. He was now finger-fucking her rapidly, his thumb twiddling against her clitoris.

Cecile deliberately immersed herself in the pleasure these sensations brought her. Sigmund was right; it felt good to let go of the stress, to feel it draining out of her body like dirty bathwater spiralling down the plughole. She felt her head being gently turned and tilted back, and then lips pressing against hers…

She snapped back to reality, opening her eyes and recoiling from the tall man’s kiss. “No, no!” she wailed. “Please stop – I have a boyfriend!”

“Okay, okay!” he said, backing off and holding up his hands. “Apparently I misread the situation. I apologise.”

Sigmund withdrew his fingers from Cecile’s vagina, and licked them clean. “We’re getting near our stop,” he said. “Come on.” He got to his feet.

Cecile was fully back in stress mode as she followed him to the front of the bus, covering her breasts and pussy again. The bus slowed, and stopped, and they disembarked.

On the pavement, as the bus started to drive off, Sigmund turned to face Cecile. “And you’re all tense again,” he said, sighing. “Look at you all hunched, tense, clutching at yourself.”

“I’m covering myself because I’m naked!” she said defensively.

Sigmund nodded. “Have you considered trying … not covering yourself?”

She stared at him. “But then people will see my bits!” she said, distressed.

Sigmund shrugged. “So?” he said. “Cecile, you’re so fixated on preventing people from seeing your boobs and your pussy that you’re getting stuck in this mental rut of embarrassment and fear. It’s not good for you. My suggestion to you is this. It’s not far from here to my flat; why not try walking there with your hands by your sides? Let go of your fear; just embrace your nudity, and own it. You have a body to be proud of … so be proud of it! Don’t be afraid to show it off.”

“Easier said than done!” said Cecile anxiously. “I’m just not comfortable showing off like that.”

“Try it!” said Sigmund. “Please. For your own mental health. All you need is practice. So give it a go.”

Cecile hesitated, then she slowly lowered her left arm from her breasts, and took her right hand away from her pussy. She shivered, her arms by her sides, looking around nervously. Seeing a middle-aged woman glaring at her from across the street, she hurriedly covered up again.

“Ignore her!” said Sigmund. “She doesn’t get to dictate what you should or shouldn’t be wearing. The world is full of people of all different stripes, and some of them will applaud you for being naked, and others will be mean about it. You can’t do anything about how other people respond to you, Cecile, but you can absolutely control how you respond to other people.”

“I’m not sure I can,” said Cecile awkwardly. “I just really hate being embarrassed; it’s my natural instinct to cover up.”

“But do you see the benefit of not covering up?” Sigmund inquired, as a couple of men wolf-whistled from the window of a nearby building. “Of standing straight and proud, owning your presence, and not letting other people determine how you feel about yourself?”

“Yes…” Cecile conceded. Tyres screeched a few yards away as the driver of a white van, gawking at her, almost collided with the sports car in front of him.

“Then intellectually you know you shouldn’t cover yourself,” said Sigmund. “It’s just your instincts we need to override. And I have an idea how we can do that.”

“Oh?” said Cecile nervously. “Look, Sigmund, I appreciate you trying to help me like this, but we’re in the middle of the street and I’m worried I’m going to cause an accident.”

“You see, that’s the wrong way to think about it,” said Sigmund. “You’re not responsible for how well people drive when they see you naked. A driver might be distracted by any fully-clothed pretty girl and have an accident, but is that the girl’s fault? Heck no. Drivers are perfectly capable of choosing not to be distracted, so don’t take that on.”

“All right,” said Cecile, hoping this little life lesson would end quickly so that she could get indoors and out of public view. “What’s your idea?”

“We tie your hands behind your back,” said Sigmund. “That way, you won’t be able to cover your boobs or your pussy, and it’ll naturally pull your shoulders back, which will put you in a better posture and help to reinforce your self-confidence.”

“Tie my hands?” exclaimed Cecile, aghast.

“Yes!” said Sigmund, smiling. “If your instincts are making you cover up when you shouldn’t, then we need to make sure you can’t follow through on them.” He unbuckled his belt, and pulled it through all of the belt loops on his trousers. “This should do the job.”

“But … but…” protested Cecile, beginning to hyperventilate.

“Relax!” Sigmund instructed her. He walked around behind her back. “Hands behind your back please.”

“But Sigmund!” Cecile gasped. “This’ll be even more humiliating than being just naked!”

“Only if you let it!” said Sigmund. “If you make the choice to walk tall and proud and stick your chest out and own your space, no taunts or mockery or laughter or judgment from small-minded passers-by will bother you. This will help you to achieve that.”

“How can I walk tall?” asked Cecile tearfully. “I’m only five foot one!”

Sigmund laughed as he gently took her left wrist and pulled it behind her, making her squeal. “It’s not about physical height,” he said, holding her arm in place while reaching for her right wrist. “It’s about how tall you feel.” He wrapped his belt around both wrists a few times until, when he pulled it tight, he was able to fasten the buckle.

“Sigmund!” Cecile gasped, trying to bend over and squat down at the same time. “I’m so exposed!”

Sigmund pulled her upright. “That’s rather the point,” he said. “Now, how does that feel? I want the belt to be tight enough to prevent you from getting your hands free, but not so tight that it hurts.”

“I … I think that’s about right,” said Cecile unhappily.

“Now be honest, Cecile,” said Sigmund. “Is it really tight enough? Could you get out of it?”

Cecile wiggled her hands experimentally. “I … I think maybe I could, with a bit of work.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” said Sigmund. He unfastened the belt, pulled it tighter until the prong could reach the next hole, and refastened it. “How about now?”

Cecile wiggled again. “No – I can’t get out of that,” she reported. “But Sigmund, I’m panicking here – how far is it to your home?”

“Not too far!” said Sigmund cheerfully. “Come on.” Taking her elbow, he began walking with her down the pavement, while Cecile tried desperately to walk tall and proudly, and ignore the car horns and shouts and laughter and jeers that poured into her ears from all sides. It did not work; she felt horribly ashamed and humiliated as her big breasts bounced freely with every step, and her shaved pussy drew lecherous looks and crude comments from most of the men they passed.

The walk seemed to last an eternity. Then they passed a bus stop bearing the number 515, which she was positive was the number of the bus they had been riding on. “Sigmund!” she gasped. “Could we not have got off at this stop instead?”

“Sorry,” said Sigmund, “but I wanted to get you away from that chap who kissed you, so we got off a couple of stops early.”

“A couple??” Cecile gasped. “Oh Sigmund – that man backed off as soon as I asked him to. I think we’d have been fine staying on the bus until your stop. It would have been better than this, anyway!”

“Don’t let the comments get to you,” Sigmund advised her.

Cecile’s vision blurred as her eyes filled with tears. She stumbled along beside Sigmund, struggling vainly against the tight belt pinning her wrists together. They passed another bus stop displaying the number 515, and then they came to a busy crossroads with traffic lights.

“Oh gosh!” Cecile wailed, as they had to wait at one end of a pedestrian crossing for the lights to change. Increasingly surrounded by other pedestrians, staring and laughing and making rude comments about her, and at her, she tried to crouch down again … but Sigmund hauled her upright. “Face your fears!” he whispered to her. “You can do this!”

The lights changed, and Cecile tried to break into a run as she crossed the road in front of a chaotic orchestra of car horns. But Sigmund, with a firm grip on her elbow, brought her to a halt, and she had to continue at his relatively slow pace.

“I hate being naked, Sigmund!” she sobbed. “Are we nearly there yet?”

“We are,” he said, “but Cecile! Stop right there, and stop crying.” He pushed her back against the wall of the nearest building, and put his hand between her legs, cupping her pussy. “You’re stronger than you think you are. You can endure this! I believe in you.” He began rubbing her clitoris again. “I don’t want to hear any more self-pity from you, okay? Most women would kill to have a body like yours. Do you know why women mock and despise you, seeing you naked on the street?”

“Why?” asked Cecile in a small voice.

“They’re jealous!” said Sigmund. “They wish they were as slim and as buxom and as pretty as you! And do you know why men – some of them, not all – laugh at you and make nasty comments?”

“No,” said Cecile.

Sigmund grinned. “They all want you! And they know they can’t have you. And that drives them nuts, and they forget how to behave appropriately. But that’s on them, Cecile! You’ve done nothing wrong, and you are a wonderful and beautiful young woman. Now come on up to my flat, and you can have a little break from being on display.”

“Yes please!” said Cecile in relief. “Is it this building?”

“Nope,” said Sigmund, “it’s that one.” He pointed across the road, and Cecile groaned in anguish.

They had to cross at the next lights, and once again Cecile felt assaulted by all of the shouts and car horns and laughter. But then she found herself going up a short flight of steps and into the lobby of a tall building. At last! She was finally off the street.

“Can you free my hands now please?” she asked Sigmund.

“Not yet,” he said. “When we get to my flat. I don’t want you covering up if we meet someone on the way.”

Cecile did not bother to object. One or two more people seeing her breasts and pussy would hardly make a difference at this point.

Indeed they did encounter several more people, including a couple of young black men who laughed hysterically as Sigmund steered Cecile past them. “Oh man, you really lucked out, mate!” one of them said.

Sigmund ignored them. At the door of flat number 56, he pulled out his keys, turned to Cecile, and smiled. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he said. Unlocking the door, he opened it, then stepped inside.

Cecile followed, grimacing at how dirty and messy the interior was. But at least she was indoors and no longer on public display. “It’s…” she began, not sure how to finish the sentence.

“It’s a dump,” said Sigmund, unfastening the belt behind her. “But it’s home. How are your wrists?”

Cecile brought her arms in front of her, and rubbed her wrists. “They’re fine,” she said. “But Sigmund … that was the worst experience of my life! It was … horrible…!” She began to sob.

“There there,” said Sigmund, patting her upper back gently. “I think you did really well. And, well, surely it wasn’t as bad as losing your virginity to an ugly old man like me?”

Cecile managed a small smile through her tears. “That was awful in a different way,” she said. “Not because you’re old or ugly – you’re not either of those things – but because I really wanted my first time to be with Isaac…” She sighed sadly.

Sigmund nodded. “First time is usually bad, though, even with someone you love,” he said. “You’ll start enjoying it more when you’ve got more experience. Sex with Isaac will be better if you’ve had sex with someone else a few times first.”

“Really?” asked Cecile uncertainly. But then she shrugged. “I probably won’t find out. He’ll probably dump me when he finds out I’m pregnant with another man’s baby.” She looked around. “Is your girlfriend not here?”

“Not right now,” said Sigmund. “We don’t live together. Yet! That may change soon – I hope so. Anyway, you’ll see her very shortly. But first … we should have sex again.”

Cecile gasped. “Sigmund!” she said. “I didn’t want to have sex with you the first time! I certainly don’t want to do it again!”

“You should, though,” said Sigmund firmly.

“Why??” Cecile asked, bewildered.

“For five very good reasons,” said Sigmund. “First, you’ve been through a very traumatic experience and have a lot of stress and negativity built up inside you. Sex will help you to relax, de-stress, calm down, recover your nerves.”

“Okay, that’s one,” said Cecile doubtfully. “What are the others?”

“Second,” Sigmund continued, “the first time, like I said, is generally the worst. Any sex therapist will tell you that if your first time having sex is bad, you should have sex again as soon as possible in order to have a better experience, so that you don’t get it fixed in your mind that you don’t like sex. Now, this would be a terrible reason to go and have sex with Isaac – you’re right that that should be a special thing – but it makes perfect sense to have sex with me again because there’s no pressure for it to be anything magical or special. It’s just sex for the sake of getting used to having sex. And I’m a perfect partner for that.”

Cecile folded her arms, looking uneasy. Then she started, as something ran over her foot. “Ugh! What’s that?”

“Oh, just a cockroach,” said Sigmund with a shrug. “This building’s full of them. Sometimes I wake up covered in the buggers.”

Cecile shuddered. “Ugh!” she said. “How horrid!”

“Not all of us can live in fancy mansions, Cecile,” said Sigmund with a chuckle.

“I don’t live in a…” she began, but then fell silent. Her house would probably seem like a mansion to Sigmund, if this was what he was used to.

“Third,” Sigmund went on, “you need to take back some control. The first time we had sex, you were being held in place and I was doing all the action. You didn’t really get a say in what happened, and you need to counter that with an experience in which you get to exercise some control over the pace, the intensity, the position, and so on. This will also help you get over the trauma of being naked in public, which was all about being under someone else’s control.”

“Okay…?” said Cecile thoughtfully.

“Fourth,” said Sigmund, scrambling for ideas, “you need another orgasm. I got you pretty close on the bus, but we were interrupted. And then, the naked walk here … that should have been arousing for you, but frankly you seemed terrified the whole time.”

“Well, I was!” Cecile protested.

“And that’s what worries me,” said Sigmund. “I don’t want that walk to scar you for life. When you look back on it, either it will give you nightmares … or you can choose to make it a highly erotic memory. If we have sex, and as you’re approaching orgasm you fantasise about being naked on the street, we can turn your trauma into a positive sexual experience. And, in time, even a happy memory.”

“I somehow doubt that,” said Cecile, “but I do like the idea of making it feel less traumatic…”

“And finally,” said Sigmund, “I want us to part on a positive note. When you go back home, I don’t want the low points of today’s experiences to become so dominant in your mind that you remember me with nothing but disgust and hatred. While I could survive that, it wouldn’t be good for you to carry all of that negativity with you. Better we part as friends – temporary lovers, even – so that you can move on with your life without that black cloud over the day you conceived your baby. Like it or not, Cecile: assuming you do become pregnant, which seems highly likely, I’m the baby’s father. Would you not want to remember the baby’s father fondly…?”

“I would,” Cecile admitted. “But … I don’t want to betray Isaac. Again…”

Sigmund smiled. “You know the old saying, ‘Better to be hung for a sheep than for a lamb’? You’re going to face the consequences of having sex with me either way, Cecile. You might as well make the best of it.”

Cecile took a deep breath, and let it out. “Well, I suppose one more time having sex with you won’t make much of a difference … and if it has all the positive benefits you expect, it will certainly be worth it. All right – let’s do it.”

“Excellent,” said Sigmund, his eyes flashing. “Come on into my bedroom, then.”

Sigmund’s bedroom was even worse than his living room. Cecile squirmed internally at the sight of cockroaches scurrying around everywhere she looked. She watched with an uncomfortable feeling as Sigmund pulled off his shoes and socks, then his trousers and stained white briefs, and lay down on his back on the bed.

“Right,” said the creepy little man. “I want you to straddle me, and lower your vagina on to my cock.”

Cecile’s stomach knotted, but after a moment’s hesitation, she wiped off the dusty soles of her feet, and climbed on to the bed. Throwing one knee across Sigmund’s legs, she shuffled up his body until she was positioned directly over his erect penis.

“Wait,” said Sigmund. “It’ll need a bit of lubricant if it’s not to hurt you going in. Your saliva will work very well. Have you ever given a blowjob before?”

Cecile’s eyes widened. “Um … no…”

“Well it’s quite simple,” said Sigmund. “Just bend down and put my cock in your mouth. Then suck it like a lollipop. Make sure you get the whole shaft nice and wet with your saliva.”

Cecile gulped. “Can’t we use … something else?” she asked tentatively.

“Like what?” Sigmund inquired. “Water’s no good. I don’t have KY jelly or Vaseline in the flat. Your saliva’s the best we’ve got, I’m afraid. When we first had sex, you were highly aroused, and your vagina was as wet as a puddle in a rainstorm. But right now, in the wake of your unhappy walk here, I’m guessing you’re not quite as horny as you were.”

Cecile hung her head. This kind of talk was making her feel dirty and ashamed … but Sigmund was not wrong. “Okay,” she said quietly. Shuffling back down the bed, she bent over, and took the head of his erection into her mouth.

“Mmmm,” said Sigmund contentedly. “Yeah, that’s good. Very nice indeed! You’re sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Never,” said Cecile, sitting up. She walked forward on her knees until her vagina was once more directly over his groin. Reaching down, she took hold of his Sigmund’s now wet and slippery erection, pointed it upward, and positioned it at the entrance to her vagina. But the thought that she was now deliberately betraying Isaac was tormenting her, and she bit her lip in distress.

“Come on, Cecile,” Sigmund crooned softly. “Sit down on it. I know you wish I was Isaac instead of myself, but think of this as much-needed therapy that will benefit both yourself AND him. If you love Isaac, you should want to be as mentally healthy as you can be – so you can be the best possible girlfriend for him. And the path to that is through having sex with me. So do it. Sit down.”

Cecile nodded sadly, and let her thigh muscles relax. Her bottom slowly sank on to Sigmund’s thighs, and his cock slid up inside her vagina.

“Ahhh,” sighed Sigmund, feeling himself buried deep within her. “Good girl. Now start raising and lowering yourself, so my cock slides in and out of you.”

Cecile obeyed, and Sigmund laughed happily as he fucked her for the second time, without any expenditure of effort on his part. Then, to prolong the experience, he began thinking about Germany’s doomed assault on the Soviet Union in World War Two. This large and heavy subject kept his mind effectively distracted, and several minutes passed without any significant increase in his arousal. Eventually, though, and inevitably, he found himself inching closer and closer to an orgasm.

“My legs are getting a little tired,” Cecile confessed.

Sigmund smiled. “Had enough of being in control?” he asked. “Shall we turn over, and I’ll do the work for a while?”

“Um, sure,” said Cecile. She let Sigmund roll her over on to her back, and then she lay still with her legs spread while he hammered his cock into her vagina over and over again.

“Kiss me,” he gasped, as he felt his orgasm approach. “I want to taste your sweet lips, Cecile.”

Cecile recoiled … or would have done if her head had not been resting on the bed, with nowhere to recoil to. She merely pressed her head back into the pillow, putting an extra inch or so of distance between her face and Sigmund’s. “Can’t I save something, at least, for Isaac?” she asked plaintively.

“Oh come on – it’s just a kiss,” said Sigmund, thrusting harder. “You’ve sucked my cock and we’re having sex … why refuse me a kiss? If you want to save something for Isaac, well, there are plenty of other things. Anal sex, for example. Hey, maybe we could do that instead…”

“No!” said Cecile quickly. “I’ll … I’ll save that for Isaac. You … you can kiss me.”

Sigmund smiled, and pressed his lips against hers. As he continued fucking her with hard but leisurely strokes, he pushed his tongue into her mouth, and began to probe it deeply. Cecile wrinkled her nose at the taste, but she tentatively responded, caressing his tongue with hers.

His climax approaching, Sigmund moaned happily. “Ohhh Cecile,” he said huskily. “I’m going to cum inside you again. I’m going to fill your womb with more of my sperm. If our first time together wasn’t enough to get you pregnant, maybe this time will.”

“Oh!” Cecile fretted. “Sigmund … no … please pull out this time! If there’s even a chance you didn’t get me pregnant before … please! I don’t want to be pregnant!”

“Hush, sweet Cecile,” said Sigmund softly, squeezing her right breast with his left hand. “I know what you’re feeling right now, and I understand. The worst part of this is not knowing whether I got you pregnant the first time, am I right? It’s the uncertainty that’s so awful. Either you’re going to get pregnant from that, or you’re not … but whichever it is, you want to know for sure.”

“Yes!” said Cecile. “But I can’t know … until I’m late for my period…”

“I can help with that,” he said gently, still thrusting. “Look … judging by the time of your last period, and the fact that I came so hard and so deep inside you … the odds of you getting pregnant are probably around 97 percent.”

“That high?” asked Cecile despairingly.

“It’s nearly certain, yes,” said Sigmund. “But not totally. Now you can either torture yourself for the next few weeks, wondering if your period is going to come on schedule, then wondering if it’s just a little later than usual, then slowly realising with a sinking feeling that it’s not going to come at all … or you can let me cum inside you again, raising the likelihood of you getting pregnant to around 99.9 percent. It’s not the outcome you want, I know, but at least you’ll be able to let go, and resign yourself to your fate, and start making plans accordingly. You’ll have the comfort of knowing, rather than the agony of fearing, what’s going to happen.”

“Oh!” said Cecile in an anguished tone. Sigmund’s words were making her feel queasy, but they did make a horrible sort of sense. Not knowing, and living in fear, might indeed be worse than knowing that pregnancy was inevitable.

“Let me take away your fear, Cecile,” Sigmund whispered in her ear. “Wouldn’t you like me to do that for you?”

Cecile could feel that, despite her sense of defeat and despair, her body was responding to Sigmund’s fucking. Her vagina was lubricating now like crazy. Her g-spot was getting rubbed, as was her clitoris as his pelvis mashed against hers. This made it hard to think. But through the haze of arousal and the sensations of the rubbing and the thrusting and the feeling of being pinned down and ravaged … one thing she was sure of was that she did not want to spend the next few weeks in an agony of fear. “Yes,” she said forlornly. “Please do that for me, Sigmund.”

“Tell me to cum inside you,” he murmured, thrusting faster and faster.

“Ohhh…” Cecile gasped. “Cum … cum inside me, Sigmund. Please.” She grabbed his shoulders and gripped them tightly.

“Ask me to make you pregnant,” he groaned, now slamming his pelvis against hers with a speed and stamina that he would not have thought himself capable of. “Tell me not to pull out.”

“Ohhh … ohhh gosh!” Cecile moaned. “Don’t pull out! Please, Sigmund – make me pregnant!”

“Now wrap your legs around me!” he urged her, “and beg me to put a baby in you!”

“Ahhh … ahhh … ahhhh!!” she squealed, wrapping her legs tightly around his back. “Fill me with your sperm, Sigmund! Fertilise my egg! Make a baby inside me!” With these words she climaxed, arching her back and shuddering with ecstasy.

Sigmund pressed his cock all the way up against her cervix once again, and squirted a fresh load of semen straight through the narrow canal and deep into her womb. With each subsequent thrust he poured more and more inside her, until her womb was completely filled and his cum began leaking back through the tight gap, into her vagina.

They panted, saying nothing, for several minutes. Then Sigmund rolled off her, and grinned. “So,” he said, “you’re going to have my baby. Definitely.”

“Yes,” she said sadly, as her post-orgasmic glow faded, and harsh reality began to creep back into her mind. “Definitely.”

“Come on,” he said. “Time for you to meet my girlfriend.”

“Oh!” said Cecile, her eyes widening. “She’s here? I didn’t hear…”

“Come on, get up,” he said.

“Can I put something on?” Cecile asked anxiously.

“Of course not!” he replied. “We talked about this.”

“Oh,” she said. “Right.” With a sigh, she got up from the bed, and followed Sigmund out of the room.

He led her into the bathroom. Standing by the sink, he took her hand and led her a couple of steps forward, as she stared at him in confusion. Then he gestured at the mirror. “There she is,” he said.

Cecile looked blankly at her own reflection for a couple of seconds before the light finally dawned. Her jaw dropped open. “Sigmund, I’m not your girlfriend!” she gasped. Gradually, she began to recall all of the times that he had mentioned his ‘girlfriend’ without ever mentioning her name, and the magnitude of his lies became clear. “You lied to me!” she wailed. “All the clothes you made me try on … the way you talked about her pussy… You tricked me!”

“Guilty as charged,” he chuckled. “It was a magnificent ruse, though, wasn’t it? And now I’ve got you pregnant.”

“You horrible man!” exclaimed Cecile, now in tears. Suddenly all of his ‘life coaching’ advice now seemed to her to have been a mere ploy to parade her naked in public – and to have sex with her a second time. How could she have been so naive? She felt sick. “I want to go home,” she said miserably.

“Of course!” he said generously. “I brought your handbag from the shop – I assume you have a phone in it? If you don’t, you can borrow mine. Feel free to call whoever you want.”

“My phone’s in my handbag,” said Cecile. She went back through to the living room and found her bag on the floor near the door. Fishing out her phone, she hesitated, then called her father. “Please pick up,” she muttered.

“Ma petite!” said Claude.

“Papa!” said Cecile in great relief. “Oh thank goodness. Papa, I’m in such trouble! Can you please come and get me?”

“Quoi? Mon Dieu! What ‘appened?”

“Just please come and get me,” said Cecile. “I’ll explain later. I’m at this man’s apartment … um … wait a moment.” She gritted her teeth, and then muted her phone. “Sigmund!” she said. “What’s your address?”

“289 Herald Street,” he replied.

Cecile unmuted her phone, then repeated the address to her father. “Flat number 56,” she added. “Please come quickly. And … could you bring me some clothes…?”

“What??” he exclaimed. “Clothes? Why? What ‘appened???”

“I’ll tell you when you get here!” said Cecile frantically. “Please Papa! Just come!”

“Okay, okay!” he said. “Just a moment… According to my phone, I’m just four minutes away from you. But if I go home and get you some clothes, I’ll be about half an hour or so…”

“Oh,” said Cecile, torn between wanting an immediate rescue, and not wanting her father to see her naked. The former prevailed. “Then forget the clothes; just come and get me.” The whole world had seen her naked by now, after all, and it would help her father understand what she had been through.

“Okay! I’m on my way!” he said.

She hung up, and glared at Sigmund, who had just emerged, fully dressed, from his bedroom. “You’re going to be in so much trouble!” she told him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Are you joking?” she demanded incredulously. “You lied to me! You tricked me into having sex with you!”

He shrugged. “Men have been doing that to women forever,” he said. “It’s not a crime. But in any case, the trickery was earlier on, and it was to get you naked, not to have sex with you. The first time we had sex, if you recall, Andy and Adrian pushed you on to my cock. And the second time, you willingly lowered yourself on to my cock.”

“After you persuaded me it would be good for me!” Cecile fired back.

“And I stand by that,” he said. “I told no lies in those five reasons I gave you. I know you’re upset with me now, but when you look back on this, I think you’ll remember that it was pretty good sex! We practically climaxed together. Be honest; did it not feel good? Not just good … did it not feel amazing?”

Cecile opened her mouth, and closed it again. The horrible man was not lying now, she had to admit. “All right,” she said grumpily. “It was good. But … oh, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I just want to wait for my dad.”

“Fair enough,” said Sigmund.

Cecile sat down on his couch, folded her arms, and stared down at her knees. But when a cockroach ran over her thigh, she jumped up again. “Ugh! This place is the worst!”

“It is,” Sigmund agreed. “Look, Cecile … we need to talk about the baby. I told you I wanted to raise it with my girlfriend, and you liked that idea…”

“Yes, but I didn’t know you meant me!” said Cecile hotly. “Oh god … now what am I going to do…?”

“I … I could raise the child myself,” Sigmund suggested.

Cecile looked around. “Here? I don’t think so!” She sighed. “I suppose I’ll just have to hope Isaac is willing to raise another man’s baby…” She sat down again, absentmindedly. Then, remembering the roaches, she got up again. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course,” said Sigmund, gesturing.

She walked into the bathroom, and shut and locked the door. Two minutes later, she emerged again, looking grossed out. “Your loo is disgusting!” she said. “I thought you said you clean toilets for a living!”

“Yeah, but I don’t work from home,” said Sigmund.

Cecile frowned. “That doesn’t make sen…” But she was cut off by the doorbell. “Papa!!” She ran over to open the door, then quickly covered her breasts and pussy as her father entered.

“Cecile! You’re naked!” he exclaimed.

“Which is why I wanted clothes!” she said. “Oh Papa, I’m so happy to see you! I’ve had such an awful morning!” She rushed into his arms.

Claude held her, and then glared at Sigmund. “Who are you?” he demanded. “What did you do to my daughter?”

“My name’s Sigmund,” said Sigmund. “I’m the father of Cecile’s baby.”

“WHAT??” Claude’s face turned red. “You bastard! You raped her!”

“No I didn’t!” Sigmund protested. “The first time was a bit of an accident, and the second time, SHE climbed on top of ME.”

Claude’s face now paled. “She what?” He looked down at Cecile. “Surely not?”

“Well … yes, I did,” she confessed. “He … he persuaded me to. He thought it would be good for me.”

“Good for you?” he echoed in disbelief.

“And I really think it was,” said Sigmund. “She had a lovely orgasm, didn’t you Cecile?”

“That’s not the point though!” said Cecile, pulling back from her father’s embrace and looking up at him earnestly. “He lied to me! He said he had a girlfriend!”

Claude’s brow furrowed. “You had sex with him because you thought he had a girlfriend?”

“Well no – not really – but it was how he got me out of my clothes!” said Cecile. “But his ‘girlfriend’ turned out to be me! I thought he was going to introduce me to her but he just showed me a mirror!”

“But why did you have sex with him?” asked Claude in exasperation. “Help me understand!”

“I was traumatised!” Cecile said desperately. “I’d just walked through half the city naked, with my hands tied behind my back, and I’d already had sex with him once…”

“Wait, what??” said Claude. “Why did you have your hands tied behind your back?”

“He tied them with his belt!” said Cecile. “He said it would be good for my self-confidence not to be able to cover my … my nudity.”

“Ah merde, this is so much to take in!” said Claude. “So why did you have sex with him the first time?”

“I was just posing for photos!” said Cecile. “Clothed at first – but the outfits got smaller and smaller … and then I was naked … and these two men were holding me up with my legs spread … and Sigmund was rubbing my … you know what … with his thingy … and it sort of slipped in, a couple of times, a bit more each time … and then the men holding me moved a bit, and it went all the way in…” Then she saw his sceptical expression, and added, “It was an accident! I didn’t want it!”

“But the second time…” said Claude.

“Yes, that was on purpose,” Cecile admitted. “He gave me five good reasons why we should have sex again, and … well … he was persuasive!”

Claude stepped back from her, and Cecile covered her breasts and pussy again. “He’s good at talking,” she added awkwardly.

“So … he seduced you,” said Claude.

“Yes!” said Cecile. “That’s it exactly.”

Claude sighed. “And he came inside you? Without a condom?”

“Yes,” said Cecile sadly. “Twice.”

“In that case, you’ve both been highly irresponsible!” said Claude sternly. “Cecile, you know how I feel about sex before marriage, and I thought you felt the same way. And you have a boyfriend! What’s he going to say about this?”

“I don’t know,” Cecile wailed. “I … I’m hoping he’ll be willing to raise another man’s baby as his own…”

Claude snorted. “I doubt it,” he said. “Why should he? After you’ve betrayed him like this? But what makes you so sure you’ll get pregnant?”

“I just know,” said Cecile wretchedly. “It’s the right time of the month for it, and he filled me up with his … stuff. Sigmund calculated the odds. It’s pretty much a hundred percent certain.”

“Well I’d be inclined to dispute that,” said Claude, “except that your mother and her sisters, and all the women on her side of the family in fact, have always been exceptionally fertile, invariably getting pregnant on the first try. That’s why I got the snip after your brother was born. So I’m sure you’re probably right. Silly girl!” He turned to Sigmund. “And you! You should be ashamed of yourself, a middle-aged man like you, preying on an innocent young girl. But you’ve made your bed and now you’ll have to lie in it. I assume you’ll do the right thing?”

“Meaning … what exactly?” Sigmund inquired.

“Meaning you’ll marry her!” Claude snapped.

“What??” Cecile shrieked.

“Yes, of course I will!” said Sigmund eagerly.

“No!” gasped Cecile. “I don’t want to marry him, Papa!”

“He’s the father of your baby!” Claude retorted. “Or will be. A child needs his or her biological parents, if at all possible. Now I don’t condone Sigmund’s methods of getting you pregnant, but the deed is done, and I’m afraid you’ll both have to live with the consequences. I absolutely refuse to let you get an abortion, and Sigmund has every right to parent his child.”

Tears streamed down Cecile’s cheeks. “But Papa … I don’t love him!”

“Perhaps you’ll learn to,” said Claude grimly. “Ugh. I’m so disappointed in you, Cecile! I thought I’d raised you better than this. Your poor mother, rest her soul, would have been disappointed too.”

Cecile threw herself at him, burying her head in his chest and clutching his arms. “Please don’t make me marry him, Papa! I’ll die!”

“I’m sorry,” he said sadly. “I have no doubt this will be rough on you. But you’ll manage. You’ll have to. You made a bad choice, and now you’re going to have to live with the consequences. And don’t expect any help from me. I’d have been a generous and supportive grandfather if you’d married Isaac. But this man…” His lip curled up in disgust. “I don’t know how you could bring yourself to have sex with him, but if you can do it once, or even twice, I dare say you can keep doing it. Just don’t expect me to approve, or to throw good money after bad! I’m cutting you off.”

“Papa!” gasped Cecile, horrified.

“The last thing I’ll do for you is make sure you get married,” Claude continued sternly. “I’ll not risk any grandchild of mine being born out of wedlock! I know the local registrar; I’ll see when he can fit the two of you in.” He pulled out his phone. “In the meantime, I suggest you call Isaac and break the news to him!”

Shell-shocked, Cecile returned to the couch, and sat down heavily. Picking up her phone, she called Isaac. He answered almost immediately.

“Hi Cecile!” he said happily.

“Hi Isaac,” said Cecile, her voice cracking as more tears welled up.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You sound … upset.”

“Something terrible has happened!” she said. “Isaac … I … I had sex with another man.”

There was a long silence. Then, “What?” said Isaac, sounding confused.

“I … I got seduced by this horrid little man, Sigmund,” said Cecile. Then she looked up quickly at Sigmund, who shrugged. “He … Isaac, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen! But he … I’m afraid he’s almost certainly got me pregnant, Isaac. I’m sorry!”

“What? But … why? How?” Isaac blustered. “Don’t you … love me?”

“I do love you, Isaac!” said Cecile tearfully. “And I want to be with you, not Sigmund! But … but Papa thinks my baby should be with his … his natural father and mother… Isaac, he wants me to marry Sigmund!”

“Well,” said Isaac, “it sounds like you should!”

Cecile could tell that he was angry. He was no doubt feeling hurt and betrayed. “You … you don’t mean that!” she said.

“Well what am I supposed to think!” said Isaac. “You call me out of the blue and tell me you’re pregnant with some other man’s baby. Cecile, you haven’t even slept with ME yet! And yet you let yourself get seduced by a stranger? And impregnated? What kind of a girlfriend does that?”

“I’m sorry!” said Cecile miserably.

“So am I,” said Isaac. “Enjoy married life then, I suppose.”

“But I want to marry you!” cried Cecile.

“I thought I wanted to marry you too, Cecile,” said Isaac. “But now … I could never trust you. I can’t marry you. And I wouldn’t want to raise another man’s baby anyway. I wouldn’t be able to look at it without thinking about how you betrayed me.”

“Uhhh!” gasped Cecile, the last shred of hope vanishing into thin air.

“Goodbye, Cecile,” said Isaac bitterly. “Have a nice life.” He hung up.

Cecile put her phone down listlessly. Her father was staring at her, and it occurred to her that she was no longer covering her breasts or her pussy. Embarrassed, she folded her arms across her chest and bent down over her knees.

“Donald, my friend at the registry office, says he can’t marry you today,” said Claude. “You’ll need to go down there and put up a notice of marriage, then wait 28 days before you can actually get married.” He sighed. “I was hoping to make this official as soon as possible.”

“Well until that time,” said Sigmund, “can’t we just act like we’re married? Cecile can move in here, and start cooking and cleaning for me, and so on?”

“Hmm,” said Claude. “I’d prefer things to be more official. I want to hear wedding vows. I want to know you’re both going to take this seriously and make a commitment to one another.”

Sigmund shrugged. “So let’s say vows,” he said. “I’m sure Cecile will consider any vows she makes in front of you to be binding, and I will promise to do the same.”

“Not a bad idea!” said Claude. “You want to write something up?”

“Sure,” said Sigmund.

Ten minutes later, he had scribbled some vows on a piece of paper, and fashioned two rings out of twist-ties. Cecile, helped to her feet by Sigmund, found herself standing in front of her father, feeling rather faint. She caught sight of some of the words on the piece of paper Claude was holding, and her expression turned to one of horror. “I don’t want to make those promises!” she exclaimed.

“Too bad!” said her father unsympathetically. “I don’t want you getting cold feet three weeks from now and refusing to make this official. You’re going to make a commitment to Sigmund, and promise to be his wife! And I will consider your promise binding. If I learn that you have broken these vows, I’ll disinherit you.”

Cecile stifled a sob.

Claude cleared his throat. “Do you, Sigmund Rufus Arsole, promise to take Cecile to be your wife…”

“What?” said Cecile. “Your surname’s Arsole?”

“Yup,” said Sigmund.

“Papa, I don’t want to be an Arsole!” said Cecile desperately. “Don’t make me be an Arsole!”

“It’s not a great name,” Claude acknowledged, “but like it or not, it’s your future husband’s, and you’ll just have to accept that it’ll be yours too. Now don’t interrupt me again! Where was I? Do you, Sigmund Rufus Arsole, promise to take Cecile to be your wife, forsaking all others, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” said Sigmund.

“And do you promise to love and keep her, for better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

“I do,” said Sigmund.

“And do you promise to reward her when she is good, and punish her when she is disobedient?”

“I do,” said Sigmund.

Claude now turned to his daughter. “And do you, Cecile Jeanette Larousse, promise to take Sigmund as your husband, forsaking all others, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” mumbled Cecile sadly.

“Louder please,” said her father.

“I do!” she snapped. “It’s not like I have a choice, is it?”

Claude stared at her. “Are you going to lose the attitude?” he asked her coolly, “or does Sigmund need to administer your first punishment before we even get through the vows?”

A shiver ran down Cecile’s spine. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

Claude continued, “And do you promise to love, honour and cherish him, for better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

“I do,” said Cecile, her shoulders slumped in resignation.

“And do you promise to obey him, even when his commands seem trivial, or unfair, or overly harsh, or detrimental to your own dignity?”

“I do,” said Cecile, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“And do you promise not to wear clothing, at any time or in any place, unless he explicitly permits it?”

Cecile gulped. “I … I do,” she whispered.

Claude raised an eyebrow at Sigmund. “That’s a little extreme,” he remarked. “Then again, it seems like it’s in keeping with your relationship so far. I’m sure you’ll exercise good judgment as to when she can and can’t wear clothes.”

“I’m not!” said Cecile with an anxious whimper.

“Well, I’m sure the two of you will just have to figure it out together,” said Claude. “By the power vested in me by the two of you, then, I now pronounce you de facto man and wife, pending the completion of the legal part of the process at the registry office. Sigmund, you may now…” He glanced again at the piece of paper. “Have your way with the bride.”

Sigmund grinned. “Well it’s not been long since my last climax,” he said, “but I think I can go again. Bend over the couch, Cecile.”

Cecile paled. “In … in front of Papa?”

Claude snorted. “No, I think I’ll take my leave of you both now, and let you consummate your marriage in peace. Let me know when you plan to go to the registry office, and I’ll meet you there. Goodbye!”

“Goodbye Papa,” said Cecile mournfully.

“Wait!” said Sigmund. “Mr Larousse, I know you’d prefer not to see me fuck your daughter, but I think it’s important that you do. When the heat of your anger and disappointment cool off, you might find yourself wondering if you did the right thing; if perhaps you might not have found another way of handling your daughter’s foolish mistake. You might find yourself tormented by a desire to rescue your daughter from this fate. Staying and watching us have sex will generate a lasting memory – an unpleasant one to be sure, but a necessary one – that will convince you that you did the right thing by making her marry me.”

“Ugh!” said Claude grumpily. “I suppose that could be true. Very well. Go on, then.”

“Cecile,” said Sigmund, gesturing to the couch.

Her stomach heaving at the thought of her own father watching this, Cecile reluctantly bent over the back of the couch, and died a little inside as she felt Sigmund spread her buttocks apart, so that her father could see her anus and the slit of her vaginal opening.

Sigmund dropped his trousers and underpants, spat into his hand, and briefly lubricated his cock. Then, as Claude watched with a mounting sense of revulsion, he gently pushed the head of his cock inside Cecile for the third time.

“Ugh!” Claude muttered, his face turning pale as he watched Sigmund’s unimpressive cock sliding in and out of his daughter’s vagina. “You’ve made your point, Sigmund; this will haunt me forever. I’m going to leave now. Goodbye.” He hurried to the front door, and left.

“You know,” said Sigmund, while thrusting at a leisurely pace inside Cecile, “you’re going to have to pay your way, living here and eating my food. You’ll need a job, and I have just the thing.”

“Oh?” asked Cecile nervously.

“I have this assistant, Denis,” Sigmund went on, “who cleans toilets with me. He’s not worth the money I pay him, though, so I think I’m going to let him go. You can take his place. Quit your job at the clothes shop, and work for me instead.”

“You want me to clean toilets?” asked Cecile, aghast.

“Yes,” replied Sigmund, grasping her hips and rhythmically slamming his cock into her vagina. “And guess what your work uniform will be.”

Cecile guessed, but did not want to assume, in case she was wrong. “I don’t know,” she said.

“Nudity,” said Sigmund with satisfaction. He began to increase the speed of his thrusting. “And from now on, you are to call me ‘Master’.”

A more independent spirit might finally, at this point, have rebelled. But Cecile’s authoritarian schooling had prepared her well for this.

“Yes Master,” she said.


THE END


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