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Message-ID: <62498asstr$1359162602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Ed Rider <edrider73@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Glamor Model
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Date: Fri, 25 Jan 2013 20:10:02 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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<1st attachment, "Glamor Model.txt" begin>

Glamor Model



   By Ed Rider



   Glamor Models Wanted

   No Nudity

   Natural bodies only.



   Tiffany had seen the online ad before, but this was the first time she
read beyond the headline.  It was one of those ads that popped up on the
right side of the screen every once in a while when she was doing a search
or looking at her email, one of those ads that she automatically ignored.
For some reason, she looked at it today and read the whole thing.

   Below the three lines was an email address.  Tiffany looked at the ad
and wondered what "natural bodies only" meant.  She figured they didn't
want any breast or face enhancements and that pleased her.  She never
talked about it, but she was secretly vain about her looks.  She knew that
she had a face that was cute, and her body was curvy and well proportioned,
except for her breasts, which were a bit large for the rest of her.

   She didn't mind that at all, and she dressed in a way that emphasized
her assets.  It wasn't slutty, but neither was it modest.  Mildly
provocative was the way she thought of it.  She got a lot of satisfaction
from the way men's eyes moved toward her breasts and the way their heads
jerked as she passed them so they could follow the motion of her firm round
rear.  She also noticed that if she was with a man, he seemed to enjoy the
silent attention she got from other men, especially since she wasn't a
flirt and pretended to be oblivious to all the staring.

   She looked at the words again.  Natural bodies only.  Why did they care
if there was no nudity?  She clicked on something else on the page and the
ad disappeared.

   A few days later, there it was again, and this time she again wondered
what it meant.  She sent an email to the ad's address from one of the
anonymous addresses she used for privacy, asking for an explanation.  The
reply was so fast that it must have been automatic.  It said to please call
and gave a local number.  She didn't call and forgot about it until the ad
came up again a few days later.

   This time she went back to her anonymous address inbox, found the number
and called.  A pleasant woman's voice answered and said, "Hello.  How may I
help you?"

   "I was reading your ad and wondered what you meant by natural bodies
only?"

   "Are you interested in modeling?"

   "I was just curious."

   "Well, it means that you have never had any plastic surgery or other
body enhancing surgery.  It also means that you have no tattoos or
piercings, and it means that you have never shaved any of your body hair.
Do you qualify?"

   "Oh, now I understand.  I don't qualify, because I shave my legs and
under my arms."

   "That doesn't count," said the woman.  "What we mean is have you ever
had a bikini wax or shaved between your legs?"

   "Oh," said Tiffany.  "Why would that matter if there's no nudity?"

   "I can't tell you," said the woman.  "All I can do on the phone is make
an appointment if you want to ask questions in person.  But we're very
strict on that part, and it would be a waste of your time to set up an
appointment if you didn't qualify.  Do you qualify?"

   "What if I did?" said Tiffany.

   "If you qualify and are decent looking, we pay $1,000 for a two-hour
session," said the woman.  "I've got another call coming in.  So if you
qualify and are interested, please call me back.  Nice talking to you." She
hung up.

   Tiffany's mind was whirling.  The $1,000 got her attention, because that
amount would almost clean up her credit card debt.  She was not a big
spender, but over the last few years, the amount she carried had gone up
bit by bit, and now each bill made her angry because she was barely paying
the minimum and couldn't seem to reduce the amount owed.

   She thought about what she would have to do for the $1,000.  Glamor
modeling but no nudity.  She'd probably have to wear some sexy outfits, but
they wouldn't be too skimpy, because otherwise her thick bush would show.
She knew she qualified, because she had never shaved there.  She worked
out, but wasn't into sunbathing or swimming, so she didn't have to worry
about bikinis.

   She wasn't promiscuous, but some of her boyfriends were surprised the
first time they were intimate.  Except for one or two, they either didn't
care or else they really got into her look, and it became a turn-on for
them.  She was even a little proud of how she could excite some of them not
only with her oversize breasts but just by spreading her legs apart
slightly when she had no clothes on.

   She called back and the same lady answered.  "Hi," Tiffany said, "it's
me again.  I do qualify.  So what happens at the appointment?"

   "You'll be meeting with a man and me, and he'll explain exactly what we
want you to do.  Then if we like what we see and hear, we'll set up the
modeling session.  I can tell you that there won't be any pressure and that
you will be able to leave whenever you want.  You can also bring a
girlfriend along to the interview.  We don't want any boyfriends, because
we've had problems with them in the past."

   "And there's no nudity?" Tiffany asked.

   "We're talking about a session for Wholesome Beauties Dot Com, which has
no nudity," said the woman.  "You can check it out online.  It's a member's
site, but you can see what it's all about without having the passcode.  If
you are really concerned, I can give you a temporary passcode that will
last a few hours so you can go onto the whole site.  Do you want to look at
the site first, or should I go ahead and book the appointment?"

   "Oh, let's make the appointment," said Tiffany.  "I can always cancel if
I don't like what I see on the site."

   "Absolutely," said the lady.



   Tiffany took the elevator up to the 12th floor of the downtown high-rise
and walked down the hallway until she found the office.  There was a small
waiting room and a receptionist who greeted her.  A few minutes later, the
receptionist said, "Mr.  Smith will see you now," and ushered her into a
medium-sized office with not much furniture.  There was a desk and a few
stuffed leather chairs facing it.  Tiffany looked back and saw that the
receptionist seemed to be locking the door to the hall before following her
into the office and sitting down in one of the chairs.

   A man was standing at his desk and reaching his arm forward.  "Hi
Tiffany, I'm Edgar Smith," he said.  "This is Jane Smidge, my associate."

   As Tiffany put out her hand, he gave it a friendly shake and then sat
down.  She sat down facing him, with Jane to the side of her.

   "Have you looked at the website?" was the first thing Smith said.

   "Yes," said Tiffany.  "Is that the kind of modeling you want me to do?"

   "Right," he said.  "The Wholesome Beauties members are looking for the
girl next door who has a twinkle in her eye.  She's a little flirty and
shows a little leg in her miniskirt and a little cleavage in her scoop-neck
top, but she's more sweet than slutty.  The members are mostly men, but
also some women, and they like a lot of variety.  I don't think their
thoughts are as pure and innocent as the models are supposed to be.  Does
that bother you?"

   "Oh no," said Tiffany.  "But I noticed that the models don't undress. 
So why is it so important that they are natural?"

   "Jane and I do contracting for several websites," said Smith.  "We
decided when we started this business that we would interview our models
only once in order to save time and money.  It's part of our business plan,
and it's worked well for us.  You either qualify for all the sites we do
business with, or we don't hire you.  So even though we're talking about
Wholesome Beauties Dot Com, before we set up your modeling appointment, you
will have to go into the dressing room through the door on your right. 
Jane will go with you.

   "You will need to disrobe, and Jane will inspect you thoroughly.  She
will ask you to position yourself in some awkward ways and even have you
use your hands to pull certain things apart so she can make sure that you
have never done anything to your body.  I'm sorry, but that's a
requirement." He looked deeply into her eyes.

   "Wow!" said Tiffany.  "I don't know.  I've heard of people setting up
secret cameras and things like that."

   "I understand your hesitation," said Smith.  "We do everything upfront,
and there is never any pressure.  You are welcome to thoroughly inspect the
dressing room first.  On purpose, there is nothing in it except for a rod
with a hangar to hang your clothes on, a light and a chair, all in the
middle of the room, so it's easy for you to check out the walls, the
ceiling and the floors.  We don't trick our models." He looked closely at
her as he said this, and Tiffany also noticed Smidge was totally focused on
her.

   She thought for a while, and the room was silent.  This is going to be
weird, she thought to herself, but for some reason, she wanted to prove to
Smith and Smidge that she was natural and had a good body.  "OK," she
finally said and got up to go to the dressing room.

   "Wait a minute," said Smith.  "Please sit down."

   "What?" said Tiffany.

   "We don't have to check you," said Smith.  "We know you qualify."

   "How do you know that?" said Tiffany.

   Smidge spoke up for the first time.  "Mr.  Smith and I both have
backgrounds in corporate psychology," she said.  "We can tell a lot about
people by the way they talk, their expressions and their body language. 
That's why we were looking at you so closely.  I know it made you nervous,
but that was the idea.  We needed to know if you really qualified, and all
your signals showed that you were telling the truth, so it's not necessary
for you to prove it."

   "Wow!" said Tiffany again.

   "Here," said Smith.  "These are the contract and release forms for you
to sign.  Please take as long as you want to read them over.  They are
standard model contracts.  If you want, you can take them with you and read
them at home and then bring them back."

   Smith and Smidge were no longer staring at her.  Their friendly smiles
were reassuring.  Tiffany glanced at the form, saw $1,000 on one line and
two hours on another line.  She signed.

   "Thank you," said Smith, taking the forms back.  "If it works for you,
your appointment is next Tuesday at 7 p.m.  Here is the address." He handed
her a card.

   "Even though you signed the contract, you may change your mind between
now and then, and that's perfectly fine.  Just call the number at the
bottom of the card and cancel the appointment.  All we ask is that you call
by Sunday, so we can schedule someone else for the appointment.  The most
important thing is that you are there next Tuesday ready and willing to
work with no second thoughts or hesitations."

   Though Smith attempted to make it sound natural, Tiffany could tell that
his speech was memorized and rehearsed.  How many other "wholesome
beauties" had heard the same speech while sitting in the same chair?

   She stood up.  "Thank you," she said.  "Don't worry.  I'll be there
Tuesday night."

   Smith and Smidge stood up and almost in unison said, "Thank you,
Tiffany."



   The studio was nowhere near the downtown office, but in an industrial
park on the edge of town.  Even though the complex was well lit, Tiffany
was a little nervous as she drove through it, because it seemed to be
completely deserted.  When she arrived at the address, she saw four cars
parked outside the door.  She was 20 minutes early but decided to go in
anyway.

   As she entered, a woman sitting behind a long table in the small room
looked up and seemed startled.  "I'm Tiffany," said Tiffany.

   "Oh," the woman said.  "You're the 7 p.m.  I wasn't expecting you yet.
Come this way."

   She got up and took Tiffany's arm and led her through a door on her
left. Tiffany thought she was moving awfully fast, even pulling a little.

   They walked quickly through some narrow corridors.  Tiffany looked up
and saw a high bare ceiling.  This studio was obviously a warehouse, and
the walls were inexpensive thin separators linked together.  The woman must
have led Tiffany all the way to the other end of the warehouse before she
opened a door into a small dressing room, with a big mirror, lots of lights
and makeup materials.

   "I'm Agnes," the woman said as she started closing the door.  "Please
sit down here so I can do your--"

   Her words broke off as they heard the sound of a door opening nearby,
followed by loud sobbing that got closer.  Tiffany went to the door in time
to see a young woman walking by her.  Her shoulders were shaking as she
alternated between gasping and crying, and she was walking in a strange
way, tiptoeing as if she was trying not to put her feet down all the way to
the floor.  Within seconds, she passed the room, and Tiffany heard the sobs
slowly fading as the woman walked toward the front door down the halls that
Tiffany had come through.

   "What was that?" Tiffany asked.  For the first time, she was scared.

   "That was Jada, one of our models," said Agnes.  "It looks like she's
not having a good night."

   "That's for sure," said Tiffany nervously.  "I wonder what happened to
her."

   "You can be sure of one thing," Agnes said.  "Nothing happened except
what was supposed to happen.  We pride ourselves on never forcing our
models to do anything.  They know in advance what's expected, how long
they'll work and how much they'll make.  And they can leave whenever they
want.

   "It's natural that you're nervous.  That's because this is your first
session.  Once it's over, you'll be much more relaxed, because you'll
understand that no one here will ever ask you to do anything you're not
willing to do."

   "Oh, I'm not nervous," said Tiffany, although she was.  One thing the
woman said stuck in her mind -- "this is your first session." She had never
thought of this in any way other than as a one-time adventure.  Nobody had
mentioned that she might be offered additional work.

   Agnes sat her down, covered her with a smock and went to work with the
tweezers, brushes and blushes.  Then Tiffany changed into her first outfit
for the night, a brightly colored jumper with a short skirt.



   Two weeks later the check for $1,000 came in the mail.  Tiffany
deposited it and wrote a check to the credit card company for the full
amount.  But then she went shopping and charged about $200 worth of
clothes.

   The session had been a breeze.  Agnes was there the entire time, moving
lights.  She changed costumes three times, and while the outfits were a
little more risque than her usual clothes, nothing was really cheap
looking. The photographer was friendly but very professional.  When he
touched her to move an arm a certain way or turn her in a slightly
different direction, it was never in an inappropriate way.  She felt good
about everything and with the password Agnes gave her, she looked at the
website each day to see how the photos came out.

   The night the check came, the photos finally appeared, and they were a
bit disconcerting.  It wasn't the outfits or the small amount of skin she
showed.  It was her expression.

   The photographer had said she was a natural model, that the camera loved
her and that she should just act as if she were teasing her boyfriend.  But
in the photos, her expression was downright seductive, as if she was ready
to make love to whoever was looking at her.

   And it was not just her impression.  There were already lots of comments
from both men and women about her photo spread, both about her body and
about her lascivious facial expressions.  None of them were wholesome. 
They were about what they'd like to do to Tiffany and what they'd like
Tiffany to do for and to them.  Some of them were just raunchy, but many
were really disgusting.  Tiffany shuddered and quickly clicked to leave the
site.



   It was about a month after the shoot for the wholesome beauties website.


   She had looked at the site one more time after her photos were posted
and found hundreds of comments, most of them lewd and many of them really
sick.  It was a big turn-off for her, and she had decided to put the whole
episode behind her and not think of it again.

   But that morning, her car didn't start.  She had it towed to the dealer,
where she found out that she could either fix it for a few thousand dollars
or trade it in and get a new car.  She chose the second option, but her car
had been paid off, and now she had new, larger monthly payments.  They
weren't huge, but her credit card debt had slowly increased in the meantime
to where it was over $1,000 again.  It made her irritable and short
tempered, and she thought of the photo session again.  It was disgusting
what people wrote about her, but the session had been all right and the
photos weren't anything to be ashamed of.

   She remembered what Agnes had said about it being her first session, and
she wondered if Smith and Smidge were satisfied with her work, because they
had her phone number, but after she received the check, she never heard
from them again.

   For some reason, she had saved their phone number, and she called it. 
She recognized the voice on the other end as Smidge's.

   "Hi Jane," she said, "I'm Tiffany, remember me?"

   "How could I forget you," said Jane enthusiastically.  "You are our most
popular girl on the site.  Thank you so much for the great shoot."

   "I was wondering," said Tiffany.  "Agnes said something that made me
think there might be more work.  I'd be willing to do another one if you
like."

   "Oh thank you," said Smidge, "but the Wholesome Beauties members like a
lot of variety, so we never use the same girl twice."

   "I wonder what Agnes was talking about," said Tiffany.

   "Well, she may have been referring to one of the other websites we work
for."

   "Are they similar?"

   "No, each one is different.  For instance there's one called Upfront at
Attention," said Smidge.  "It features young women who have prominent but
not saggy breasts going topless."

   "Oh," said Tiffany.  "And what do they do."

   "Not much," said Smidge.  "It's very similar to what you did before,
except you would be topless.  You might be positioned to highlight your
breasts in different ways, and you'd do strange things like jumping on a
trampoline because they like photos of flying breasts.  I'm sure you've
seen things like that in the movies."

   "Would there be a man involved?" asked Tiffany, and as soon as she said
it, she said to herself, why did I ask her that?

   "Oh no," said Smidge, "and before you ask, also no women and no touching
except when the photographer wants a breast in a certain position.  Mostly
that's not necessary, unless you don't understand how he wants you
positioned.  It's the same photographer as you had before."

   By now, Tiffany was short of breath.  Smidge was talking as if the
session were already set up.  Not so fast.

   "Thanks so much for the information, Jane," she said.  "I'll think about
it."

   "Glad to be of help," said Smidge.  "You sound nervous about this, so
please put it out of your mind.  We never pressure our models to do
anything they're not ready to do.  It was nice talking to you, and thank
you again for your great session.  Bye."

   She hung up.

   I wonder why she didn't attempt to calm me down and persuade me, Tiffany
thought.

   A couple of days later, Tiffany called back, and when Smidge answered,
she blurted out, "I'm ready to do it, that Upfront thing."

   "Whoa," said Smidge.  "You're all out of breath.  I don't think you're
really ready for Upfront at Attention.  Did you look at the website?"

   "No," said Tiffany, "and I don't want to.  But I'm willing to do what it
takes.  I know I'm a little nervous, because I've never done anything like
this before.  But I've thought about it.  Is the modeling fee the same as
before?"

   "We don't discuss fees for that site over the phone," said Smidge.  "Can
you come to the office tomorrow morning at 9?"

   "I'll be there," said Tiffany.



   Smith was looking at Tiffany intently while Smidge looked at her the
same way from the side.

   "Now, you understand that the contract says you are willing to do
anything involving your breasts," said Smith.  "What if the photographer
said to take each nipple between your thumb and fingers, pull your breasts
away from your chest and let them go flopping back?"

   The question startled Tiffany, but she replied quickly, because she had
already decided she was going to do this.  "No problem," she said, trying
to sound calm, but not succeeding.

   "What if he asked you to stroke the nipples with your fingers until they
became hard and then stick out your chest?" he asked.

   "Fine."

   "What if he made you get on your hands and knees and sway from side to
side so that he could get a shot of your breasts swinging in the air."

   "Well, my breasts don't droop much," said Tiffany, "but I'd do it."
Again, she wondered, why didn't she just say OK instead of bragging about
her breasts.

   Her last reply seemed to satisfy both Smith and Smidge, and they stopped
watching her closely.

   "OK," said Smith.  "I think you may be ready for this.  I have some good
news for you.  Sessions for Upfront at Attention pay $2,000 for two hours.
Is tomorrow night at 8 good?"



   The session included all the things Smith had brought up and a lot more.
Strangely, her costumes below the waist weren't costumes at all, but
various kinds of pants and skirts, none of them revealing.  But from the
waist up, she was bare.

   She never would have imagined that her two large round glands could be
pulled, pushed, turned or bounced in so many ways.  Once again, she was
asked to smile invitingly.  She hesitated at first, remembering the
comments, but then she attempted to do a cute slightly naughty expression.

   The photographer was even nicer than before.  He flattered her and
coaxed her.  Occasionally, he moved her body and even her breasts into
positions he wanted, but his hands never lingered on her flesh.  Still,
when the two hours were up, she breathed a sigh of relief.

   She never went to the website to look at the photos, because she didn't
want to see any comments, and when the check arrived in two weeks, she
deposited it and put everything out of her mind.



   Tiffany got a little extravagant a few months after her second modeling
session, and when the credit card bill came, she thought about the modeling
assignments again.  She hesitated to call because she already knew what
Smidge would say, but then she called anyway.

   "Hi, Jane, this is Tiffany.  I guess you don't use models more than once
for Upfront at Attention."

   "That's right, Tiffany.  Same thing.  Variety.  By the way, you are a
smash on that site.  All the members are talking about both your body and
your special look.  Each one seems to think you are looking right at him or
her, and they are really responding."

   "Thanks, Jane," said Tiffany.  She couldn't help shuddering as she
imagined what some of the comments were.  "You told me you have other
websites that you do sessions for."

   "Yes, we do," said Smidge, "but they are not for you."

   "What do you mean?" asked Tiffany.

   "Well, for example, the tamest of the rest is called High Priced Spread,
and the girls do a striptease until they are totally naked.  Then they pose
in various positions but mostly with their legs wide apart, so the members
can see right through their body hair.  It's very demeaning and a lot less
innocuous than Upfront at Attention.  Very few girls want to pose that
way."

   "I see," said Tiffany.  "Are there other people involved, men or women?"
She surprised herself at how matter of factly she asked the question.

   "No, not at all," said Smidge.  "It's just like the other sessions in
that way.  The photographer may touch you just a little to get you in the
right position, but not your genitals.  Although, honestly, you will
probably find most of the positions distasteful."

   "Do I have to put anything inside of myself?" Tiffany asked, again in a
calm way.

   "Absolutely not," said Smidge.

   "When can I come in and sign the papers?"



   Neither Smidge nor Smith was looking hard at her this time.  Maybe
Smidge had told Smith how calm she had been on the phone.  But Smith still
brought up some distasteful questions.

   "What if the photographer asks you to rub your clitoris until your lips
swell up and open so he can shoot the pink and red colors inside you?"

   "Fine," she said.

   "What if you are asked to get on your hands and knees, rest your head on
a pillow and reach behind you to pull your cheeks as wide as you can so the
photographer can do a close-up that shows every hair around your anus?"

   "OK, I guess.  Sure"

   "What if you are asked to lock your legs behind your head and pull your
lips wide apart so your vagina looks huge?"

   "Yes." Why did he have to go on and on with this unappetizing stuff?

   He seemed to read her mind.  "I'm sorry, Tiffany.  I can see you're
impatient with my questions," said Smith.  "But this is a big jump for you,
and I want you to get the feel of what the session will be like.  I'll tell
you right now that we both feel you can do it, but we are certain you're
going to regret it afterwards.  I want you to think of the most
embarrassing or disgusting thing ever happened to you in your life right
now and look Jane in the eye."

   "OK," said Tiffany and turned to look at her.  "I'm thinking of it." She
felt her cheeks get flush.

   "What you are going to do in this session will be a lot worse," Smidge
said.  "Are you sure you want to go ahead?

   "Yes," said Tiffany, her voice quavering.

   "Well, at least you are going into this with your eyes open," said
Smith, "so I hope you won't regret it for long."

   "I know what I'm doing, and I won't regret it," Tiffany said, convincing
no one in the room.

   "OK," said Smith.  "Here are the papers to sign.  For this session, it's
$4,000.  It's tomorrow night at 6 p.m.  Jane and I will be in the office
until 6, so if you change your mind, just call us, and there are no hard
feelings.

   "One more thing you should know.  Because of past experiences, there's a
clause in the contract that says you can stop at any time after 10 minutes.
If you do, we will keep the photos that have already been shot and mail you
a check for $1,000.  So keep that in mind: 10 minutes.  If you stop before
then, we keep the photos and you get nothing."

   "What if I want to stop at 20 minutes?" Tiffany asked.

   "Exactly the same," said Smith.  "We keep all the photos and you get
only $1,000.  Please think about this and call us if you change your mind."




   When Tiffany got home from the session, she went right for the shower
and let the hot water beat down on her for 15 minutes while she stared
straight ahead without moving.  Even after she washed with soap, her skin
crawled as if she had been rolling in dirt and had ants all over her body.
She didn't look at herself in the mirror.

   The next morning, the first time she saw her face, she began crying.  At
the office, she didn't speak much the whole day.

   After that, it got better.  Within a week, she was almost back to
normal. She had a brief relapse when the check for $4,000 arrived, but that
only lasted a few hours.  She revved up her activities and social life, got
rid of her boyfriend, who was starting to take her for granted, and started
dating around.  She found someone who liked and appreciated her and never
looked at High Priced Spread until a year later.



   Tiffany was at home feeling sorry for herself.  She had just been dumped
by a boyfriend she really liked.  His old sweetheart from home had begun
calling him and enticed him away.

   She was home alone and feeling sorry for herself, and for some reason,
she went to the High Priced Spread website.  She didn't have a password,
but she scrolled down through girl after girl until she found one large
photo of herself and two smaller ones, along with a fake name and some
writing that had nothing to do with her.  But the photos were the grossest
things she had ever seen.  She couldn't believe that it was her in those
repulsive photos.  She didn't remember getting into those positions, but
then she didn't remember anything of those two hours.  She had blocked them
the minute she left the studio.

   Maybe it was the shock of seeing herself or maybe the boyfriend trouble,
or both, but for the next few weeks she comforted herself.  When Tiffany
comforted herself, she didn't do it with food, she did it at the stores. 
Then came the day when the bills arrived and she almost screamed.  What was
she doing?  She put the bills aside and didn't look at them until a week
later, when she became frantic.  It was too much for her to even pay the
minimum.  She would have to do something drastic, like declare bankruptcy.
Then she'd have to sell everything, move into a tiny apartment in a bad
neighborhood and start all over by eating frozen dinners every night and
paying cash for everything.  She felt nauseous, like everything was closing
in around her and choking her to death.  What could she do?

   The modeling session that she had suppressed in her mind came back to
her.  She couldn't remember everything, but she recalled a few scenes and
began shaking in fear, as if she were watching a horror movie.  No, she
couldn't call Smith and Smidge again.  Besides she needed a lot more money
than they could pay her, even if she went to the next level of whatever
they had.

   She ran through other wild schemes in her mind.  She would take to the
streets and sell herself, but only to men who were clean and kind.  But
those men weren't buying.  The ones who would pay were dirty and cruel and
would make her do things worse than she had already done -- and for only a
few hundred dollars each time.  Her mind was going in crazy directions. 
She was exhausted, but when she went to bed, she couldn't fall asleep. 
Finally, she felt so numb that she drifted off.

   The next morning, she awoke and sat straight up in bed.  Before she had
time to think, she went to the phone and dialed the number.  Even though it
was only 8:30, Smidge was already there.

   She tried to control herself, but broke down on the phone.  "Jane, I'm
so sorry," she said through her sobs.  "I've done some horrible things, and
it's nobody's fault but my own.  I don't know what to do now.  I'm
desperate."

   Smidge sounded shocked.  "Tiffany, Tiffany," she said soothingly. 
"Please try to pull yourself together.  What have you done?  Are the police
after you?  Tell me everything."

   Tiffany poured her heart out and told her every detail, and Smidge
sighed.

   "Tiffany, I know it seems like the end of the world, but this problem is
nothing.  It will be hard, but you can handle it.  You already told me what
you need to do."

   "You don't understand, Jane.  I can't live like that.  If I don't get
$20,000 by the end of the month, I'll kill myself first."

   "Shut up, Tiffany.  Don't you ever say anything like that again, you
hear?  I want you to call in sick at work and wait there until I talk to
Edgar.  He'll be here in about a half-hour."

   When Smidge called back, all she said was, "Be in our office at 10
a.m.," and then hung up.

   When Tiffany arrived, Smidge didn't say a word but got up and opened the
door to Smith's office and followed her in.  Once again, she was looking at
her intently, as if she was monitoring every word she said and every move
she made.  Smith didn't waste time with pleasantries.

   "Jane told me everything," he said sternly, "and first of all, if I hear
anything about you doing something crazy, I'm going to call social services
to send someone over to evaluate you and see if you should be committed. 
Jane has locked the front door, so you can't leave.  Understand?"

   Tiffany nodded.

   "Now, we are a business, not a charitable agency.  So let me tell you a
few things.  Most of the girls who answer our ads are receptive to our
business.  Usually, they progress from one site to another within a few
weeks.  They decide when they've gone far enough, and then we never see
them again.  Just a few go on to careers in porn.  Some of them make it
big, and some don't, but they all either enjoy what they do or decide that
doing it is worth the money for as long as they're in demand.

   "Jane and I used our knowledge of psychology to figure out a system that
lets them enjoy going wild while keeping safety controls in place so they
don't hurt themselves.  That's why we never push them and always bring them
along in small steps, so each new site is just a little more hardcore than
the last one.

   "Your demeanor in the first two sessions made us think that you were the
type of girl who enjoyed acting the slut in front of the camera.  Then your
session for High Priced Spread was among the hottest we've ever done.  You
went way beyond what most girls would do.  The photographs show a sexually
ravenous exhibitionist, and they are the envy of our competitors.  It
wasn't until the session was over that we realized something was wrong.

   "Agnes told us how you were acting when you left, and that's when we
realized why you were so slow in calling us back.  You are a sexual
schizophrenic.  It's a rare condition, but not unknown.  It's a bipolar
mental illness that can turn you from a normal woman with normal sexual
drives and inhibitions into someone who revels in exhibiting her body and
making love like a bitch in heat.  That's the version of you that showed up
in front of the camera.

   "But then your other self makes you feel guilty, and as soon as you're
vulnerable, it punishes you by making you do things like get further in
debt so you are forced to degrade yourself again.  The only thing that will
stop this is treatment.  You need to see a psychiatrist so that you can be
given the proper medicine to keep your impulses in balance and control
them. If you agree to see someone, Jane and I will pay for your therapy
until you can afford it."

   "But that won't solve my money problem or keep me from bankruptcy," said
Tiffany with a hysterical laugh.  "What good is a psychiatrist going to be
if I lose my car, my apartment, my clothes, my friends..." Her voice
trailed off.

   "Once again, we are not a charity.  We are a business.  We are trying to
help you, but we can't do everything."

   "I can't help it," said Tiffany.  "I'm more afraid of losing everything
than degrading myself.  But now I realize that I just need to find the
right people who will pay me $20,000 to do whatever they want.  If you
won't help me, I'll look online." She gave a shrieking laugh and said, "I'm
sure somebody will pay to see this body destroyed."

   Smith looked over at Smidge, and when he did, so did Tiffany.  Smidge's
face was dark and disturbed.  He turned back to Tiffany and spoke curtly,
"Tiffany, go into the outer office and close the door.  Jane and I have to
talk.  Remember, the door to the hall is locked so you can't leave.  We'll
be done in a few minutes."

   It was more like 10 minutes before the door was opened and Tiffany was
ushered back to her chair.  Smith began speaking.  Most of his words seemed
spontaneous, but Tiffany could tell that much of his speech was rehearsed
and had been spoken to other girls sitting where she was sitting.

   "OK, Tiffany," he said.  "Here is the deal.  Normally, at this point,
you would be offered a session for our Lovin' Ladies site, which involves
another woman.  You would agree to pose in many positions with another of
our beautiful natural women, who would also be doing this for the first
time.  This time there would also be a videographer, and in addition to
posing, you would have lesbian sex in different positions, using fingers
and tongues, but no toys or anything unnatural.  There would be many
closeups and you would be encouraged to improvise and go further than you
can imagine, orally, vaginally and anally.

   "Once you've done that site, you would be ready for Fresh Flesh, which
would be your first intercourse with a man.  It would include mainstream
vaginal -- no anal -- and would start out slowly and tenderly, but progress
to wild, uninhibited sex in several positions, with you getting thoroughly
pounded.  By the end of the session, you will be enduring more than
participating -- especially since the man will not be an amateur, but a
professional with professional equipment.  Our Fresh Flesh fans enjoy
seeing a first-timer stretched and punished.  But the punishment will be
only sexual.  We don't allow any slapping, spanking, spitting or mauling.

   "That's where most of our natural girls have had enough, and we say
goodbye to them.  But a few come back and agree to perform for the Backdoor
Beginners site.  They work with another professional male and do everything
the Fresh Flesh girls do, except in the anus.  Even the oral is anal oral.
Once again things start slowly but progress pretty far.  The girls who do
it sometimes say they feel like their entire insides have been ripped from
their bodies.  The male is allowed to do anything sexual, but again, there
is no slapping, twisting, spitting or any other abuse.  Remember, Jada, the
hysterical girl who could barely walk when you came to our studio the first
time.  She had just finished her session for Backdoor Beginners.

   "That's as far as we go.  I know there are other sites that get into
much more perverse sexuality, but Jane and I don't want to make money that
way.  And we only work with girls who understand exactly what they are in
for, are ready to do it and get paid more than the standard in our
business. So Backdoor Beginners is the most extreme site we work for.

   "The problem is that neither Lovin' Ladies, Fresh Flesh or Backdoor
Beginners pays $20,000.  If you did all three, it would total $21,000, but
we never do them closer than two weeks apart, because the girls need time
to recover and decide if they want to go to the next step.  Then it takes
two weeks for the payment to go through accounting each time.  So there's
no way you would have the money by the end of the month.

   "But Jane and I put our heads together and came up with something for
you, if you agree.  We would do all three sites in the same session.  Since
you are such a natural, we know it won't take three two-hour sessions to
get what we want.  So the first session, with the woman, would be an hour,
followed by a half-hour break, then an hour and 15 minutes for Fresh Flesh,
another half-hour break and a final hour and a half for Backdoor Beginners.
Instead of six hours, it would be four hours and 45 minutes, including the
breaks.  We'd start at 6 p.m.  and be done at 10:45.  And you would get
$21,000.

   "But there's more, and this may be why you turn down our deal.  You
wouldn't actually receive the $21,000.  You and Jane would sit down and go
through all your finances, and she would pay all your debts.  Only if
there's anything left over would you receive any money.  She would also cut
up all your credit cards.

   "Furthermore, you would agree to work for one year as our employee. 
Every weekday, after your regular job, you would come here and be our
receptionist, so that you would meet the women who respond to our ads and
watch them going through each step.  Meanwhile, we would keep an eye on
you. We would pay you only $15 an hour, but again, you won't get any of it.
It would all be set aside in a bank account, and you'd receive the lump sum
only at the end of the year.  To make sure you show up for work, you would
sign your car's pink slip over to us and we would hold it until the end of
the year.

   "Also, you would see that psychiatrist, starting the day after your big
session.  Your real self will be completely repulsed by what you will do at
these sessions, and it will try to punish you even more harshly than
before. The psychiatrist will examine you to figure out what it will take
to keep you from ever doing another modeling session.  You will take that
medication every day in front of Jane, so by the end of the year, it will
be a habit that's so ingrained that you hopefully will never stop the
treatment."

   Smith stopped and took a breath.  "That's the best we could come up
with, Tiffany," he said.  "Take it or leave it." Then he hurriedly added,
"But of course, you don't have to decide right now.  You are free to leave
and think it over.  Jane and I really hope you face up to what you must do
without taking our deal and that we never see you again."

   The room was silent as Tiffany seemed to be absorbing the torrent of
words.  But the more she thought, the more she felt that she had no choice.
She was too weak to handle her problems by herself, and she felt Smith's
proposal was her best chance.

   "OK," she said quietly.  "I agree."

   "We need a few days to get all the personnel together for you," said
Smith.  "I'll call you when we have the date."



   The longest night of Tiffany's life began with a girl who seemed a lot
like her.  But as the videographer and photographer began shooting them,
she found out there were differences.  The girl, a blonde with a large
black bush, was not only uninhibited, but eager to follow the instructions
that came from behind the camera and take them even further.  She quickly
became the aggressor and leader of the two, and Tiffany spent the entire
hour submitting to her.

   When they were in the 69 position, the girl, who had taken the top
position, responded to Tiffany's tongue by pushing back and grinding into
Tiffany's face, forcing Tiffany's nose deep into the girl's cheeks and
until it was pushed into her anus.  Tiffany tried to pull back, but the
girl kept grinding away and releasing juices into Tiffany's mouth until she
jerked violently, gave a long moan and then collapsed on her.

   Meanwhile, she was lapping away at Tiffany's opening and pushing two
fingers in and out at the same time.  Then suddenly, the fingers were
withdrawn, but not the mouth, and one of the fingers went into Tiffany's
rear.  Tiffany squirmed and tried to dislodge the finger, but it went even
deeper while the girl's tongue went faster, and the photographer and
videographer cheered them on.  Then it was Tiffany's turn to lose control
as a wave of pleasure made her jerk violently and then collapse.

   Tiffany was shocked when she was positioned on all fours and the girl
came behind her, pulled apart her cheeks and began pushing her tongue in
and out of her anus while a finger played with her clitoris, flipping it
back and forth faster and faster until Tiffany had a second release, this
time accompanied by a small shriek.

   And then the girl sat on Tiffany's face, looking down at her and moving
her body to position her anus right on Tiffany's mouth.  Tiffany kept her
mouth tightly shut as the girl pushed her muscles so that the anus at her
mouth opened and closed against her lips.  Then the girl reached down with
her right thumb and forefinger and pinched Tiffany's nose shut.

   Tiffany couldn't breathe and in a few seconds she opened her mouth wide,
gasping for air.  That's when the girl rocked against her mouth with her
anus, back and forth, opening and closing it.

   "Stick your tongue in," said the girl.  Tiffany ignored the instruction,
but it was becoming harder and harder to breath as the anus covered her
mouth longer, causing her to gasp for air when it rocked back.  Finally,
she stuck her tongue out and it entered the hole.  Immediately, the fingers
released her nose, so she could breathe as the rocking grew more intense
and the girl's anus seemed to suck the tongue out of her mouth, clamping
down on it as the girl once more was overcome with orgasms.

   The rest of it, the stroking and the kissing, was not too bad, and when
it was over, the girl gave her a long, passionate kiss and said, "Thank you
for making this great." Tiffany said nothing.  She was thinking about what
was still ahead.



   There was no warmup with the man.  He was average height and fit,
although not especially muscular.  But one of his muscles was enormous,
both in length and width.  Tiffany stared at it in horror as it was
swinging like a pendulum between his thighs.

   The man was smooth and efficient and went through his movements like a
dancer familiar with the choreography, step by step without one word of
prompting from the photographer and videographer.  She was moved and pulled
and pushed, always gently, even when she held back and was reluctant to go
to the next step.  There was a smile on the man's face that seemed to be
painted on.  It never changed no matter what he was doing.  Only when he
was pumping in and out of her at a fast rate did she hear some heavy
breathing.  That was the closest thing to emotion that he showed. 
Otherwise, it seemed almost like she was being manipulated and penetrated
by a mechanical clown.

   He started by laying her down and lifting her legs over his shoulders as
he put his face between her thighs.  He licked briefly, but stopped as soon
as he saw she was still wet from her previous session with the girl.  He
pulled back and up, and her legs went higher as his shoulders lifted them.
Then he took his tool in one hand and began rubbing it on her vulva.  His
tool was soft and flabby when he started, but quickly began expanding in
every direction.

   He slowly pushed it into her and began a rhythm back and forth.  Her
upper body was on the bed, and her legs were straight in the air as he
pushed all the way in and pulled all the way out.  His tool was pulling and
pushing her body as if she were a child on a playground swing.  As she
moved back and forth, her large breasts began flopping faster and faster.
She felt as if she were no longer in control of her body and she was just
an extension of his machine.

   She felt a fullness and when she looked down, she saw his machine was
now massively thick and long, and it was going deeper and faster at the
same time.  Now her breasts could not match his rhythm back and forth and
they jerked wildly in all directions as he picked up speed.

   He leaned forward against her, pushing her legs back toward her head. 
It lifted her rear from the bed and caused her crazy breasts to begin
pounding her face as he went into a frenzy of movement.  He was no longer
just pushing into her, but pushing through her, and his thighs were
pounding her cheeks each time he entered her, causing her whole body to
bounce off of him, hit the bed and bounce back.

   He drove into her faster and faster, and even though she was wet, the
thick member was rubbing her too hard and her rear began getting red from
the pounding by his thighs.  Now she was bouncing like a basketball being
dribbled.  She felt as though she were being tortured inside and out and
couldn't control the moans that were coming from her lips.

   Finally, he stopped and withdrew, then lowered her legs onto the couch
and lay down behind her.  In a second, his huge member was back into her
and he was moving in and out from the spoon position.  Once again, the
speed increased and her insides were being abused while his thighs were
pounding her cheeks, but it wasn't as bad as the previous position.

   He shifted to several other positions in the next minutes, starting
slowly in each and progressing to the frenzied rhythm that brought forth
her moans.  At the very end, he put her in the missionary position, and as
he raised himself on his arms, he spoke for the first time.  "Wrap your
legs around me and pull me," he said.  She felt like a wet dishrag, but
followed his instructions and as he pounded into her pelvis, she pulled her
legs each time to make his body collision with her even more painful.

   Just as she was beginning to think this was crazy, and why was she
making it worse for herself, she noticed for the first time that his
breathing wasn't rhythmic now.  He was beginning to gasp intermittently and
his face was no longer a mask but twitching.  She began pulling him in even
harder with her legs.  In a minute it was over.  He collapsed onto her,
crushing her with his entire weight.

   But he quickly got off of her and walked away.  His member was still
hard but drooping a little and shining from the slime all over it.  She
looked up at the clock and saw it was barely an hour.  She still owed 15
more minutes to Fresh Flesh.  Agnes walked up to her and said, "Your
half-hour break starts now, but for the last 10 minutes, I'll be giving you
two high enemas to clean you out thoroughly for Backdoor Beginners."



   Her final session began with Agnes pushing some kind of frozen dildo
into her anus.  It was freezing cold and long -- Tiffany figured 15 inches
-- but not too wide and as Agnes pushed gently, it glided in quickly all
the way, and her hole closed around it.  Inside her, it felt strange. 
Agnes explained that it was some kind of frozen lubricant that was melting
within her and coating her insides.

   A minute later, a man walked in who looked similar to the previous man.
He was slightly smaller and more muscular, with longer arms and a small
forehead that was sort of apelike.  His face was different, but his
expression was just as matter of fact, and it didn't change as he went
about his business.  His member looked just as long and thick as the
previous man's, and though Tiffany was trying to act as unaffected as he
was, she couldn't stop herself from shaking for a few seconds as she
thought of what was coming.

   The man lifted her legs and placed his member inside her the normal way.
Lubricated by the mingled liquids from previous session, it slid in easily,
and as the other man had, he pushed back and lifted her rear off the bed
and was soon bouncing her like a basketball again.  As she did, she felt
some of the lubricant leaking from her anus.  It must have melted.

   In a few minutes, he pulled out and then, using his hand, he placed his
fully hardened member at her rear entrance.  Now he leaned forward again,
lifting her rear in the air once more, and began pressing his body against
hers.  He didn't push hard, and at first his large knob was stopped by her
small hole.  But the light pressure didn't let up and soon the tip of his
member slipped inside.

   Tiffany felt equally disgusted and uncomfortable as the long member
continued on its journey.  It was slow but relentless, and she could feel
every slight movement as it disturbed her insides.  Her mind was racing
again.  How had it come to this?  What if a friend saw her on Backdoor
Beginners?  Was she the most disgusting person in the world?  She couldn't
stop the torrent of horrible thoughts.

   It wasn't really a relief when she was distracted from these thoughts by
the man.  He was now in all the way and his stomach was pushed tightly
against her thighs.  He lifted up a little and an inch of him pulled out.
It felt even worse than when he was going in.  Slowly he pushed back in and
then slowly pulled out a couple of inches.  Again he pushed all the way in.
He kept doing this, going a little further out each time.  As he did so, he
increased his pace slightly and breathed in and out in time to his
movements as if his breathing were a rhythmic drum beat.

   His mouth was so close to Tiffany's that she heard each breath loudly,
and from below, she heard disgusting squishy sounds as the lubricant was
pushed around inside her and some came out.  Then she heard another noise.
It sounded something like "Ugh, ugh, ugh" and it was in the same rhythm as
his breathing and the squishes.  Where was it coming from?  She suddenly
realized it was her making the grunting sounds.  She tried to clench her
teeth and stop the sounds, but it was no use.  Her mouth got tired from the
effort, and soon the horrible grunts began again, getting higher pitched
and faster as he sped up.

   Suddenly, there was a loud pop.  He had pulled all the way out and the
sudden opening of her hole had made the sound.  But in less than a second
his member was back inside her and going all the way in, then pulling out
with another pop.  He continued making this new sound until it blended with
the squishing, his breathing and her grunting in a horrible harmony.  After
a while, he started a variation.

   When he quickly pulled out, he didn't go right back.  Instead, he
lingered outside for a few seconds before plunging in.  When he did this,
he held his breath, and it was silent except for Tiffany.  She was so out
of breath, she was panting like a dog.  Every time he pulled out, he
increased the interval.  There was a grunt from Tiffany as he violently
wrenched his member from her hole, then silence except for her rapid
panting, then a groan from her as he plunged in again.

   As the intervals with him outside grew longer, Tiffany felt her anus as
she had never felt it before.  Every fiber of her nerves around the opening
and inside her colon seemed to be engaged.  Before, she only felt that it
was being stretched into a huge open pit, but now it seemed to be reacting
as the member stayed outside, and it was even starting to contract.  Then
his tool slammed into it again while it was half open, and it was as if her
hole was surprised and couldn't open fast enough.  It got worse.

   Instead of a pattern of longer and longer intervals, he started doing a
shuffle.  An interval of 10 seconds would be followed by intervals of 3
seconds, 8 seconds, 15 seconds and two seconds.  Her anus and her entire
body were on edge, wondering when the horrible snake would assault them
again.  Her grunts and moans as the tool plunged in were getting higher. 
She couldn't take much more of this.

   Just as she felt she must scream, he stopped the torture and began a
steady rhythm again.  Now he was pulling all the way out and pushing all
the way in faster and faster and also slamming into her cheeks with his
thighs so the bouncing ball was once more set into motion, but this time
with him in her rear hole.  It became so fast that sometimes she felt
herself slamming against him twice on each of his instrokes and outstrokes.
Finally, his frenzy of pounding ended.  Tiffany was panting loudly, almost
gasping, and feeling like her insides were mush.

   He gently rolled her limp body over on the bed and then lifted it up
with one hand while pushing her knees and hands under her until she was on
all fours.  Then he got behind her and pushed into her rear again.  He did
it quickly this time and had no difficulty.  Again he started a rhythm and
again the rhythm increased until he was pounding into her rear with fury.
She felt her breasts beneath moving wildly each time he slammed into her.
She was now narrowing her brows and pursing her mouth as she grunted in
time with his breathing.

   He stopped and got up off his knees behind her until he was standing on
the bed in a squat, with his member still completely inside her.  She
looked behind her, and it seemed like he was towering over her body.  He
began moving his member in and out by doing squats.  Because of his
position, it was now more of an up and down motion.  As the tempo
increased, once again his thighs began slamming into her buttocks.

   This time, though, the bouncing ball became her entire body.  As he
slammed down into her, the force went to her hands and knees and pushed
them into the mattress springs, which pushed back and lifted her completely
up in the air, where she was slammed back down by him again.  Like she was
bouncing out of control on a trampoline, her body was tossed up and down,
and her breasts spun as his tool assaulted her.  This time she couldn't
stop herself from screaming, but the sound just added to his breathing, the
squishing and the sounds of the mattress springs.

   At last, he slowed down and stopped, putting his weight on her.  Now he
put his arm around her waist and hugged her tightly.  At the same time, he
fell back on the bed, pulling her on top of him.  She was now sitting on
his lap facing away from him with his thick tool deep inside her.  He
pulled her back until he was propped up against the headboard.  He brought
his legs to a sitting position and then took her feet and placed them on
his thighs.

   What now?  she thought as he lifted her thighs with his hands and
started moving his pelvis.  Her body was in the air and he was thrusting
into her from below.  His pelvis was moving like the piston of a steam
engine, and once again her rear was being pounded and her breasts were
twirling crazily, as she grunted and he breathed and her hole squished.  It
hurt worse than anything he had done before, but it was about to get worse.


   He pulled back and up on her thighs quickly and snapped his thick hose
completely out of her.  There was intense pain followed by a few seconds of
relief until he rolled her back onto his pole again and buried it inside. A
new rhythm began, as she was swinging back and forth onto his member and
off of it, with her hole stretched wide.  She was now hoarse from screaming
and had begun sobbing.

   She stopped and gasped for air when he finally slowed down and halted,
and for a moment her mind was capable of thought again.  He can't do
anything more disgusting than this, she thought, as he lifted her body off
of him and placed it next to him on the bed.  Then he got up and left her.

   In a few minutes, he was back with several oversized pillows that he
piled up in a stack on the rug next to the bed.  Then he lifted her gently
from the bed and sat her on the rug, actually on the pillows piled on the
rug.  She was facing the bed, with her legs on either side of the pillows.
He got behind her and pushed his chest against her back.  Then he reached
over her shoulders with his long arms and as he reached further and
further, he was pushing her breasts down against her thighs.

   He finally reached far enough to grab her around the ankles and slowly
pulled her legs into the air.  The pillows beneath her shifted slightly,
and her head dropped back onto the second pillow while the rest of her
still rested on the top pillow.  She was now looking up into his crotch and
the huge slimy appendage sticking straight out from it.

   He moved his body forward and pulled her this way and that on the
pillows until her view changed.  Now she was looking directly at his
cheeks. Oh no, she thought, as he began squatting down and his cheeks
parted, showing a sweaty brown opening with lots of damp hair surrounding
it.  The hole widened as he squatted lower and lower, and then it was on
top of her mouth.

   She knew what to do from her session with the woman and began licking up
and down his crack and then over the hole.  She felt it push out and stuck
her tongue in, trying to keep from gagging.  Now he began lifting up and
down, pushing himself on and off of her tongue.  It was deathly silent,
except for his panting, which increased the longer he continued.  For a
moment, he lost control and sat all the way down on her face, smothering
her, but he quickly jumped up and got off of her.

   Now he was maneuvering her body again, pulling her up by the feet and
positioning her with his hands moving from her ankles to her waist and her
thighs and back again.  Finally, he was satisfied.

   She looked around.  Her body was almost vertical, with her back pushed
up against the bed.  Her shoulders were on the top pillow and her head was
just a bit lower, supported by the second pillow.  Her legs were pulled up
and back away from the bed and dangled above her head.  They were trying to
fall down behind her, but they couldn't stretch that far and were loose and
wobbly.  With her legs so far back, her body was forming an arc from her
head to her toes.

   Looking up now, she saw her own anus above her, only a foot or so from
her face.  It was slightly spread, enough to see the sweat and lubricant
embedded into the hair inside her crack.  It looked disgusting.  She saw
the man move up to her and insert his thick tool inside.

   She tried to move her eyes away, but her head was pushed into the
pillows and unless she shifted her eyes all the way in one direction or
another, which she couldn't do for long, the view stayed the same.  She
tried to close her eyes, but that focused her more on the pain of his
member pushing in and out of her faster and faster.  Finally, she just gave
up and watched in horror as he went in and out of her anus right in front
of her face.

   Once again, there were the squishes, his rhythmic breathing and her
grunts.  This time there was no bouncing, just full penetration followed by
full withdrawal.  Now the lubricant that squirted out of her fell directly
on her face.  She tried to avoid it, but couldn't, and gradually her entire
face was shiny from the oily stuff.  He continued pushing in and pulling
out as Agnes came over with a damp washcloth and gently cleaned her face.
Now there was less coming down.  He must have pushed all of it out of me,
she thought.

   Then she heard the change in his breathing, and her heart leaped.  It
was finally coming to an end, all the pain, all the filth, all the
degradation.  She tried to figure out a way to make him finish faster, but
in her position, she couldn't move, so she just waited.

   His breathing became more and more irregular and finally it stopped for
a moment completely as he buried himself in her and stayed there.  Then
Tiffany felt something strange and uncomfortable inside her, but she had no
idea what it was.  A second later, thick white, horrible smelling fluid
began spurting out of her anus around his member and falling onto her face.
She closed her mouth but not before she had tasted and smelled his
discharge.  It kept on coming out for about 15 seconds, until it was all
over her face.  Gradually it slowed to a trickle.

   That's when she realized that the man must have had a huge volume stored
up that came out when he climaxed and overflowed her insides.  She realized
what the strange feeling was.  It was as if she were getting a sperm enema.


   But now it was finished, she thought, as she looked up and saw the man
withdraw his flaccid member.  As he pulled it out, a large amount of the
smelly slime poured out of her anus and fell on her face.  Agnes was back
beside her, leaning down and speaking softly into her ear.  "Just another
few minutes," she said.  "We need to get everything out."

   Then Agnes stood up.  Tiffany saw she had a small rubber ball.  But the
ball had a long tapered nozzle on one end.  Agnes pushed the nozzle all the
way into Tiffany's greasy hole that had now shrunk almost back to normal
and squeezed the ball hard.  Tiffany felt something pushing into her anus.

   "What are you?" began Tiffany, then stopped.  As she opened her mouth to
protest, a large amount of the vile cream covering her face dropped into
it, and she began retching.  She finally got control of herself, and Agnes
leaned down again and whispered, "Don't worry.  It's just a bulb syringe
full of air.  I only have to do this two more times."

   After she had squeezed two more balls full of air into Tiffany, the room
was quiet.  Tiffany had recovered herself and was starting to think some of
her terrible thoughts again when she first felt it, deep inside.  "Oh no!"
she shouted as she understood.  "No, no, no, mmph." Another gob of the
cream covering her face had fallen into her open mouth."

   As she felt it coming, she tried to squeeze her buttocks together and
control the muscles inside to hold the air in.  She began panting with the
effort, but finally she could hold back no longer.

   With a sound like a thunderclap, the air exploded from her anus, into
her face, carrying with it a large wad of smelly white semen.  It was
followed by an even larger eruption and then a series of smaller ones.  The
hot white lava was spurting out of her.  She had no control as it poured
down on her face.  She tried to keep from opening her mouth, but then she
breathed the stuff up into her nose, where it burned her and sickened her
with the smell and cut off her air.

   So she finally opened her mouth, but that didn't help either.  The sperm
filled her mouth and then went back up her nose from the inside.  Her eyes
were covered with it and she felt like they were burning.  She began
gulping as it poured into her mouth to keep from choking.  And it kept on
coming.  It seemed as though the man had filled her body with gallons of
his mess, and now it was all being dumped on her face.

   At last it stopped, and her choking and gulping sounds slowed, replaced
by soft sobbing.  It was over.  After the cameramen shot her face for
another minute, they moved away, and Agnes gently cleaned the last of the
white stuff off her face, but she still tasted it in her nostrils and her
mouth.  She got off the bed and put her clothes on as Agnes silently handed
them to her.  When she began walking down the hall, the pain inside her
rear was so strong she stopped and tried to figure out how to move forward
without any part of her body touching any other part.  She tried a lurching
walk on her tiptoes with her legs spread wide, but it didn't help much, and
she began sobbing as she made her painful way out of the studio and got
into her car.  She had to sit there for a few minutes to get enough control
of herself to drive home.



   Tiffany abided by her agreement and began working her second job the
next night while still in pain.  She defiantly didn't take any painkiller
for it, because she wanted to feel the pain she had earned.  Earlier that
day, she had her first appointment with the psychiatrist.  Within a few
weeks, he felt he had diagnosed her and started her on a medication.  The
results were miraculous.  She became a happy person, and behind her
mischievous smile, there was now a positive, genuine, caring personality.

   She soon felt she didn't need the medication anymore, but each night she
went to work at the office and met new girls responding to the ads.  She
watched them and knew she couldn't take a chance, so she religiously took
her medicine for the rest of her life.

   Working two jobs, she barely had time to spend money, and with Midge's
direction, she was soon able to pay her bills every month and even set
aside savings.  At the end of the year, she got her pink slip back from
Smith and Smidge, along with a nice check for the entire year's wages, plus
a bonus.  They smiled at her happiness and then got serious.  "Tiffany,
this is the last time we're ever going to see you," Smith said.  "You are
now the real Tiffany, with a new life.  Try to forget everything about
this." They shook her hand, and she left.

   She did see them again, once on the street and once in a nice restaurant
where she was having dinner with her husband.  She pretended not to notice
them, and they did the same.  And she couldn't prevent the glamor models ad
from popping up every once in a while and startling her.  It seemed their
business was still going strong.

   Because of her personality change, her circle of friends grew, and by
the time she met someone special, she was known for the way she lived each
day as if it might be her last.  Other people talked about it, but all her
friends remarked that Tiffany was the only one they ever knew who really
did it.

   She worked hard at enjoying each moment and making sure everything she
did was something that mattered to her.  When bad things happened to her,
she never complained.  When good things happened, she was full of
gratitude. When Don asked her to marry him, she didn't hesitate.  When she
had two children with him, he and her friends felt she was happier than
ever.  Occasionally, when they asked her about her happiness, she told them
that it might sound morbid to them, but what worked for her was living each
day fully, knowing that any day might be the last for her.

   The last day came after they had been married seven years.  "Please come
in here for a second, Tiffany," Don said from his office next to the
kitchen.  She heard the strange tone in his voice and knew immediately that
this was the end.  She said a silent prayer of thanks for the wonderful
years she had enjoyed with him and the children.

   "What is it?" she asked pleasantly as she came in to find him in front
of his computer.

   "Bill at the office told me that I had to go to this website," he said.
"I told him I wasn't interested in that kind of stuff, but he kept pushing
me, and today, he told me that if I didn't at least look there, I might
make a mistake that would affect me for the rest of my life.  That was the
strangest thing he ever said to me, so I decided to look at the site, and
this is what I found."

   "Yes," said Tiffany without looking at the screen.

   For a moment, each waited for the other to speak.  Don broke the
silence.

   "Do you have an explanation for this?" he said.

   "Yes," she said.  "Do you want to hear it?"

   More silence.  Then Don said, "Do you love me?"

   "Yes."

   "Do you love the children?"

   "Yes."

   "How long ago was this?"

   "Ten years ago."

   "Do you want to forget it?"

   "Yes."

   "Do you have any questions for me?"

   "Yes, do you still love me?"

   "Yes."

   "Can you forgive me?"

   "No, because you did this years before we met, so there's nothing to
forgive.  I don't know who you were then, and I never want to know.  Does
that work for you?"

   "Yes."

   He turned off the computer, stood up and took her in his arms.  She fell
against him and began sobbing.  He tried to comfort her, but she didn't
stop for more than 10 minutes.  Then he took a box of tissues and spent a
minute drying her face as she choked back her tears.  Then he kissed her. 

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