Through the Dom's Lens(2)

By: Doris O Connor



"Of course you do. You look just like Maddy would if she ate like a horse."

Sally hadn't known whether to laugh or be offended at that statement, so she'd simply kept her mouth shut and had endured being a human dress up doll. The end result, however, had given her the courage to go through with this insane plan. Her long auburn, and usually so unruly tresses had been tamed into an elegant up-do, and with the much heavier, smoky eye make-up and glossy lips, she did look more like Maddy than she ever had done.

The door at the top of the stairs was left open, and Sally followed the arrow to reception. The narrow corridor opened into a plush looking waiting room, in which several stick thin models waited. Sally suppressed a sigh, and waved good bye to her newfound confidence. As per usual she was the fatty in the room, and the way several of the models looked her over and immediately dismissed her rankled.

"Please read and sign this release form, Ms. Wood."

Sally forced a smile on her face and approached the tiny oriental girl who sat behind the wide desk. At least she read nothing but genuine friendliness in her expression, even if the thick leather collar she wore around her neck gave Sally shivers of anticipation. It proclaimed ownership, and she couldn't help but wonder whether she was Master J's slave. The thought made her a little sad, and Sally mentally shook herself.

No doubt she wouldn't even get to see the elusive Master J. So much for him looking for a curvy model for this photo shoot.

"My name is Aikiri, and if you need anything, all you have to do is ask." Aikiri smiled at her, and Sally couldn't help but smile back. "Likewise any questions, I'll only to be happy to answer them."

"Thank you," Sally said. She took the offered pen and clipboard and slid onto the first available seat.

"Master J is running behind this afternoon, but he will see you soon."

Again that open smile that made Sally feel as though everything was going to be all right after all. She ignored the murmurs of dissent from the assembled crowd of stick insects and concentrated on the release form instead. As well as the standard permission to use her image, it held a long list of personal questions that made Sally's head swim.

The medical questionnaire was easy but how exactly was she to answer hard and soft limits, or her particular fetish? Surely this wasn't normal for a simple photo shoot? But then what did Sally know, really? She had been too chicken to check out the local munches or to speak to anyone in the lifestyle in person, and there was only so much you could learn on-line.

She was so engrossed in answering the questions that she hadn't noticed the room clearing out until she heard raised voices—well, one screeching female voice.

"You can't get away with this. Wait until my agent hears about this."

There was the low rumble of a deeply masculine voice that raised the fine hair on her body with the steely command she sensed, even muffled as it was, the slam of the door, and then the click-clack of stilettos behind her.

Sally jumped at the screech into her ears, before this particular stick insect traipsed down the steep stairs.

"I knew this was a waste of time." The man's voice dripped over her senses like molten chocolate, and Sally lost her grip on the clip board. It fell to the floor with a clang, and she winced at the unnaturally loud sound it made in the quiet room. Before she could pick it up, Aikiri was there and did it for her.

"Perhaps not, Master J." She smiled at Sally, and she could see Aikiri in her peripheral vision as she handed the clipboard to the tall man leaning against the wall. Sally got a glimpse of faded denim jeans, topped with a silk shirt, and a firm jaw, before she hastily looked forward and interlinked her fingers to hide their shaking.

This was it. Game over. He would take one look at her chart, and then her, and laugh her out of here, Sally was sure.

There was the rustle of paper as Master J studied them, and a murmured conversation in what she assumed was Japanese, and then silence.

Heavy footsteps approached, and then Sally was staring at muscular thighs. They strained the denim of his jeans, and her mouth went dry at the bulge in his trousers.

She didn't dare look up, all too aware of his silent scrutiny that heated her skin. Her breath hitched, and her nipples firmed against the silk of her dress, and if she grew any wetter than she would leave a wet stain to complete her humiliation.

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