Violet, the Pussy Wrangler, Chapter 2

S. J.

Still in bed at 9:00 AM, after a late night of work, Bellocq heard footsteps on the stairway, then a knock at the door. He had awaken when the clock struck the previous half-hour, thinking about the young model from the previous day’s shoot. She was 14, the daughter of one of the older working girls at a house outside of Storyville. Although he preferred to work within Storyville, when her mother offered, he couldn’t resist. Since he had successfully photographed the mother a few years before, he figured her daughter would be useful to him. Easily posed, for one thing. Good biology for another.

She was. When he arrived to set up his equipment, Mary Sue was ready, wearing only a white garter belt and hose. Despite expecting that she would be nude, he liked the lingerie as accent.

Standing in front of the sofa, her mother was brushing her hair. They continued the preparations as he positioned the camera. He hardly noticed the activity of daughter and mother, except as they were completely silent.

“I am ready,” he stated, then sat down on the sofa.

Mary Sue’s mother soon pronounced her daughter ready, then told Bellocq he could inspect her as he wished. She added, “She will do anything you request.” Bellocq was not surprised, since he knew of her mother’s reputation. He had heard stories of Mary Sue’s mother and some of the other girls at the house giving special shows for certain gentlemen. “Male dogs were involved,” he thought to himself, with any openness to such unconventional female sexuality that even he was a bit shocked. Of course her lesbianism was unconventional, but practically all working girls were inclined toward each other.

He assumed that Mary Sue was already working, but he couldn’t be sure. If her absence of a hymen was a part of her display during the session, he would find confirmation. It would not matter to him at all--either virgin or working girl. He was simply pleased to have the young beauty as his model.

He stood up, then looked at her mother, and asked, ”May I touch her?”

“As you desire,” was her mother’s only reply.

“Thank you.“ Instantly he was pleased with the absence of limits.

“Do you wish me to leave you alone with Mary Sue?” He knew the offer was sincere, yet he preferred that she stay. He wondered if this was a hint that she had already become a working girl--and that she was available for more than modeling.

“I wish you to remain,” stated, in a matter-of-fact fashion. Then he added, “Sit in the chair by the camera.”

He took the girl by the waist, holding on to the soft skin, positioning her facing the light. Then he took a chair, positioning it in front of her, and sat down on it.

“How old are you girl?” he asked.

“Thirteen.”

“Are you lying to me?” he questioned, as he looked to her mother. He knew about the widespread practice of claiming girls were younger than they really were.

“She is just now 14, not 13,” replied her mother.

“Don’t ever lie to me again,” he said, as he turned the girl around and slapped her butt. Only once, but firmly. He intended that the girl wonder if he was serious or not.

“Yes sir.”

He adjusted the garter belt, lowering it on her hips. Then he turned her around again, now to face him. She was petite, but well proportioned. Her pale skin highlighted the nipples on her small breasts and the sparse but long, blond hairs on her mound. Her smile was constant and captivating, although he intended to create a serious look on her face during the session.

He was ready to work. He positioned her on the sofa, in his most famous pose, with her back against one end, one leg up and against the back while the other leg extended out, with her foot on the floor. He positioned her head at an angle, with her eyes looking into the camera lens. She was spread wide open in the light, innocent and erotic. He placed her hand on her thigh, close to her pussy. Her outer labia were visible and hairless.

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“Who is it?” he yelled.

“Violet,” came the reply.

“Come on in girl.” He added, “You know the door is unlocked.” She had been to see him many tines before, brining messages from her mother.

She bounced into the bedroom as usual, then jumped on the bed next to him.

“Hi Violet.”

“Hi Bellocq,” came the girl’s reply, in a quiet, seductive voice. She crawled on top of him, straddling his body with her arms and legs.

“Do you have a message for me?” he asked, looking up at her.

She ignored his question. “Do you think I am pretty?” she asked, allowing her hair to rub on his face as they talked.

“Of course you are.” He added, “You are beautiful.”

“Then when will you take pictures of me?”

“I am concentrating on your mother for now, while she is pregnant.” He knew this wasn‘t a particularly persuasive reply, but he continued nevertheless. “What is the message?”

Without warning, she collapsed on top of him. It was something she had never done before. Instinctively, he took his arms from under the sheet, and put them around her. Although it was a protective act, he thought she might interpret it as sexual. Either way, he was happy to be holding her.

“Will you marry mama?”

“I hope I can.” Then he added a qualification, “I hope she will consent.”

“And then we can come live with you?”

“Of course Violet.” He liked the sound of her name as he spoke. He could never think of her as a daughter though. Not even a step-daughter. “I will take good care of the you and your mama and the baby.”

“Mama wants to model today.” That was the message, finally revealed. “She is in a delightful mood.”

“Wonderful,” was Bellocq’s reply.

“May I be with her, with the camera?” It was a statement that he did not understand.

“What do you mean, Violet?”

She grinned. “If you permit, we will show you our secrets.”