The Naive Model And The Creepy Photographer

She steps into the studio expecting headshots. The guy behind the lens looks off—eyes too steady, smile too thin. Before she can back out he has her clothes in a pile on the floor and her wrists lashed behind her. The first thing he forces into her ass is thick, cold, nothing like anything she's felt. Her skinny runner's legs shake, but the shock twists fast into heat. Another toy follows, wider, ribbed, twisting slow as he works it deeper. A rubber gag cuts off her questions. Every push makes her moan around the ball; every withdrawal leaves her chasing the next stretch. Her hips rock without asking. When he buries his fingers alongside the biggest plug, she comes hard, thighs slick, breath hissing through her nose. He keeps her pinned and shaking, feeding her ass one odd shape after another while she writhes and begs for more with her eyes.