My Wanton Body is a Work of Art

I have booked a photo shoot with an artist I admire. I need a professional headshot and a few photos for my business, I told Chris O’Neil.

It wasn’t exactly a lie; I was sure Chris could provide me with exemplary business photos and I could make use of those… It just wasn’t the complete truth. While the part of his website showcasing official photography looked crisp and elegant, it was a different gallery that first caught my eye and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Glistening bodies and limbs tangled in ecstasy. Hair cascading down to frame red lips open in a shout. Full breasts bouncing under the caress of light and shadow. All Polaroid shots, one of a kind freeze-frames of pleasure and desire.

This, I thought, is true art.

I wanted Chris O’Neil to make me into a work of art. But I was too scared to ask, to book such an intimate session with a man I didn’t know. That’s why I decided to use his more conventional service first. It allowed me to see his studio, get to know him and his manner of working with his models.

I found a warm and smart man behind the camera. Chris put me at ease and made me comfortable when I posed for the photos in my business suit, directing me with his voice and sometimes with his hands. It evoked a shiver down my spine.

Was it hot under the lights or was my body going into overdrive purely from my imagination and the simplest of touches?

“I think I got everything. I will send the photos to you by Monday. Unless…” he put down his high-end camera and took out an older looking one. Like the one that could make instant Polaroids. “Unless you would like something more?”

I stared, my eyes wide, my cheeks flaming red. Chris’ voice was nearly a purr when he asked the question and that, combined with the Polaroid camera, made the offer, the temptation, clear.

I was speechless, but he took it in stride. He came closer and circled around me as he spoke.

“You have such beautiful skin, like marble of the ancient statues. Like a goddess. I would love to see all of it, all of you bared for my viewfinder. And that blush… it’s such a fleeting thing, I need to capture it. Will you allow me?” he whispered in my ear, his voice a sinful call to shed my doubts.

I pushed him away.

Only to unbutton my strict, formal clothes.

Button by button I revealed the white shirt underneath, then shrugged my dress jacket off and let it fall to the floor carelessly. It was under the plain white blouse that my secret was hidden, waiting to be exposed. Chris gazed at me with hunger in his eyes as I lifted my arms and took the shirt off in one graceful motion. It pooled at my feet and I froze, holding my breath as I awaited his reaction.

“Magnificent,” Chris said hotly and lifted the camera to snap the first photo. “You are full of surprises,” he intoned with admiration as he took the Polaroid to look at the immortalized moment of my daring.

There in the photo my secret was revealed. Under the unassuming business suit I had hidden beautifully crafted lingerie worthy of a courtesan. The lace and the see-through fabric hugged my breasts, the delicate red lines sneaking around my supple flesh in an invitation to come closer and see all the details. There was no doubt it wasn’t my everyday underwear. No; this was a special set meant to arouse, to tantalize, to make men want me.

And now Chris knew I wore it to a seemingly innocent shoot on purpose.

I felt wicked but that wickedness only made heat pool between my legs when I saw the admiring stare of the man in front of me.

“Show me more, show me everything,” he demanded, urging me on like he couldn’t fathom waiting another minute to bask in my naked glory.

My skirt joined the rest of my clothes on the floor and I made quick work of my high heels and stockings, slipping them off my legs. I straightened up to take my underwear off as well but Chris held out a hand, stopping me.

“Wait for a moment. You are a vision in this lingerie. It would be a crime not to let it shine. Let me take a few photos like this first.”

“How… how should I pose?” I asked shyly.

“Hmmm, give me a spin, doll.”

I twirled slowly in place and he gave me a satisfied hum, the unique sound telling me another photo was taken.

“Just like that, now bend down. I want to remember those beautiful asscheeks and the red between them.”

I flushed but obligingly bent down, touching the floor with my fingers, putting my ass in the air. I couldn’t stop myself from throwing a glance back at the man who held my obedience in his hands so easily. He appeared entranced and I wondered if I looked so different through the perspective of a viewfinder. Did this peculiar view enchant the sight of my plain looks? I didn’t think I was particularly beautiful, certainly I wasn’t a model, but the man seemed to think I was the most beautiful creature on Earth in this moment, if his satisfied sigh as he snapped another picture told me anything.

“Straighten up, darling. I have a special request for you. You can say no, I won’t be mad, but I want you to do something for me…”

“Tell me, please,” my voice sounded like a moan as I straightened, my hair wild around my face and my eyes even wilder.

“Touch yourself for me.”

“W-what?” I squeaked.

“Touch. Yourself. For. Me. It will help the desire rise to the surface. It will make your skin a delightful shade of pink as you blush. It will make you wet and ready. I can tell you crave the touch but I need my hands for my work. I can’t touch you now. But you sweetheart… you can.”

Could I? Touch myself in front of him?

My hand trembled as it traced the path into my panties, fingers barely touching the lacy fabric. I decided to start with a safer place, one that gave me a small chance not to combust into flames after mere seconds. I cupped one of my breasts and squeezed, my thumb circling the areola of my nipple, making it stiffen in the confines of my delicate bra. The touch was electric even through the fabric. After all, never before did I had an audience. Not like this, with one person only watching and making sure those memories would be burnt not only into their retinas but onto the photo paper that took my lewd exposition and turned it into art as well.

Chris gave me encouragement, sweet words, and dirty comments that made the whole experience feel like a dream but at the same time it was so viscerally real. I was exploring my own body and my touch lost hesitancy along the way, turning instead into the burning need that made me brave enough to pinch my nipples and reach under the red of my panties to seek out the wetness between my legs.

I have to admit I forgot about Chris for a moment when I ran my fingers over the lips of my pussy for the first time. They were swollen and so sensitive I keened and spread my legs wider to give myself better access. Touching my clit resulted in a whole body shudder and when I finally sank my fingers inside of my tight, hot opening I whimpered, moans spilling easily from my lips.

Maybe I should capture the audio as well next time. I was never so loud before, so lost in the sensation.

When I opened my eyes (when did I close them?) it was a thrill to be met with a flash, a shutter of the camera, another picture coming to life. I pushed my fingers deeper into my dripping pussy and I came with a shout, my legs trembling and my hand chasing the aftershocks of my climax.

“So good. You are exquisite. But you know it’s only the beginning, right?” Chris’ deep voice reached my hazy mind. “I want to show everyone what you look like with your juices dripping down your legs. Take those ruined panties off.”

Slowly, as if in a trance, I pushed the red fabric to the floor. Just like Chris wanted, the proof of my climax was running down my legs. He shifted one of the lights closer, making the droplets glisten even more, stark in their shininess against my skin, and came closer with his camera, dropping to his knees in front of me, taking an upwards shot of my pussy.

“Spread your legs, let me in, let me see,” he got a few shots but got frustrated. “No, that won’t do! I can do better. I won’t sully your beauty with a subpar photograph. Come here, lean against the desk, just like that. Now, put your right foot on the chair. Perfect, just perfect, stay like that!”

I listened to his forceful, nearly manic orders, and I whimpered as my body froze, muscles going taut to keep the demanding position. In this pose my pussy was exposed, no pesky shadows ruining the shot for Chris. It felt like the lewdest thing I had ever done. It felt like he wasn’t staring at my pussy but at my soul, exposing the wantonness I always tried to hide. But here I could let it burst open as my body strained to keep the pose I was put in, waiting for new orders with eagerness bordering on greed.

I wanted to be a doll for him, moved by his words, his hands, his vision. I wanted him to dress me in nothing and put me in a dollhouse built from desire.

“Tilt your head back,” he said and I listened.

“Suck on your fingers,” he ordered and I was in bliss.

“Lay on the desk,” Yes, yes, YES.

“Arch your back.”

“Lick your lips.”

“Do it for me, darling.”

I let myself be arranged as he liked. For him I would do anything. Hours, or maybe minutes passed in this strange world of indecent obscenity where nothing of me was left hidden. He trained my mind and body to obey his every order.

“Come for me,” he said and I came.

***

Was it more indecent to walk into a photographer’s studio with sexy lingerie under my clothes, or to walk out of there without any underwear on?

I left my soaked panties as a gift for Chris. He could put them in his collection next to the photos of me. I hoped he would reminisce about what happened with me when he looked at my body coiled in pleasure, the sight preserved for eternity in his art.

I couldn’t help myself; I took out one of the photos he gifted to me while I waited at the bus stop. There were people around me so I tried to hide the pornographic content of the Polaroid, but at the same time I felt a thrill at the risk of exposure. This photo shoot unlocked something in me and now I knew that I wanted more. More desire, more pleasure, more bliss. I couldn’t go back to being shy and innocent anymore. I wanted.

And I am going to get it, I thought with a wicked smile as I caressed the photo of my naked form sprawled on a desk, a smile on my face that looked like pure sin.

***

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