When Viola became a model, she’d promised herself she’d stay classy. No underwear shoots, she’d said – until a high-profile brand wanted her to model its sexy sleepwear. She’d been happy to pout and pose in the lacy lingerie for the money and the career exposure.
Okay, but no topless shoots, she’d said – until a men’s fitness site had wanted her for a bikini photoshoot. When she turned up at the isolated beach to do the shoot, the photographer had started putting pressure on her to go further.
First he had her tugging suggestively at the top of her bikini brief. Then he got her to untie the string at the back of her bikini top. Then the top was off completely and she was covering her exposed tits with her hands and trying not to blush. And finally he had her remove her hands and bare her boobs for the camera completely.
Viola didn’t know how to say no. She felt exposed and vulnerable. No one on the photoshoot was on her side – not the photographer, not the makeup or lighting aides. And besides, she liked it when men approved of her, and felt insecure when they didn’t. So she did what she was told – and when the site led with the photo of her topless on its front page, and the image of her boobs began to circulate on the internet to tens of thousands of people, she just blushed and tried to pretend it was what she had wanted.
In any case, the shoot was such a success that offers of work began pouring in. Everyone wanted to photograph her tits. “Okay,” she said, “but topless only. Nothing below the waist.”
That lasted for about a month, until she went to the changeroom on a shoot, stripped out of her clothes, and then found that there was nothing to change into. Worse, the make-up girl had taken her street clothes away, leaving her nude. She called for help for some time, but no one answered, and eventually she had to emerge completely naked, and then there was nothing for it but to let them photograph her cunt until they were satisfied and gave her back her clothes.
She wanted to die, sitting there with her legs spread, the lens focused on her pussy. They made her spread her pussy lips so they could photograph her clit, and then they wanted to see her wet, so they made her masturbate in front of them, and when that wasn’t enough they passed her a dildo and made her fuck herself with it. She orgasmed, but she was crying, so they kept her until she calmed down and made her do it again while smiling.
At home she said to herself, okay, that happened. But I’m not a porn actress. I won’t do sex scenes.
But that didn’t even last a week. When she turned up to her next photoshoot, there was another naked beautiful girl there, and the shoot started with Viola kissing the other girl and pawing at her large tits, and ended with Viola passionately licking the girl’s cunt to orgasm while the crew filmed excitedly. Viola felt degraded and humiliated by the experience. She wasn’t a lesbian, and she wasn’t a whore, and she didn’t know why she hadn’t said no and stormed off the set.
Likewise, she didn’t know why she didn’t say no when the girl asked her to drinks after the shoot, or why she didn’t say no when the girl invited her home to repeat their lewd encounter again and again for the rest of the night.
Again and again the cycle repeated itself.
Okay, but I won’t do a scene with a man – until she did, sucking a stranger’s cock until he ejaculated all over her face and tits.
Okay, but no penetration – until she found herself on all fours with her pussy being raped by the cock of a man she’d never met before that day.
Okay, but no fetish stuff – but nevertheless she let them hook her tits up to a milking machine; let them bind her tits with rope; let them flog her pussy with a leather belt.
Broken, degraded, debased, she finally found herself at home, looking at herself naked in the mirror, as she idly masturbated – because the endorphins from arousal made it easier to cope with what she had become – and thought to herself what boundaries there still were left to cross.
Her agent had said he knew someone who was looking for something *really* dirty, if she was game for it. She had said she wasn’t. She had even believed it, briefly.
“Okay,” she said to herself, staring at her slutty, whorish face in the mirror. “Okay. But…. I wouldn’t fuck someone in my *family*….”
And she remembered all the interested questions she had gotten at the last family dinner about her new porn career, and remembered the erections she had seen in the pants of her father and brother when they looked at her, and how worthless and slutty it had made her feel.
And she got out her phone, and she texted the phone numbers of her father and her brother to her agent. And then she orgasmed.
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