Model Makeover
by Sam
I grabbed my bag from the back seat of my car and shut the door, locking it behind me. I was already late for my appointment with top photographer Steve Benson so hurried across the road. He was due to take some pictures of me for a portfolio which I was hoping would propel me into the world of glamour modelling. I rang the bell and a small, slightly balding, grey-haired man answered.
``Sam, I presume,’’ he said, holding out his hand for me to shake. ``I’m Steve Benson. I must say everything Debbie said about you is true – and then some.’’
I shook his hand and thanked him for the compliment. He eyed my body up and down and I could tell he was impressed which was a reaction I was used to from men.
``My, aren’t we the pert one,’’ he smiled looking at my D-cup breasts ``Step inside and I’ll get my assistant to see to you.’’
I walked through the hallway and up the stairs into a large studio room well lit by a ceiling to floor window wall on one side which was overlooked by flats opposite. After surveying the room my eyes caught the assistant and I was in for a shock. Steve beckoned her over but I needed no introduction.
``Sam, this is…
``
``No, it’s Margaret and you know damn well it is,’’ spat the girl, turning her back on my outstretched hand. I smiled, pleased with myself that I had already managed to annoy her by purposely getting her name wrong. Steve looked perplexed;
``Do you two know each other?’’
Know wasn’t quite the word I’d use. Despise would be more apt. Margaret and I had attended the same college and the only thing we agreed on was that we hated each other. She was always jealous of me because of my beauty, my long blonde hair, slimline figure, piercing blue eyes and, the key to my fortune, my perfect breasts. Margaret could only dream to look like me with her tight curly brown hair, thick-rimmed glasses with stupid colour frames that went out years ago if they were ever in. I suppose she had to do what she could to take the attention away from her face which was just plain, well, plain. She always wore mounds of clothing which made her look plumper than she actually was. Everybody called her fat, me especially, but I once saw her in a swimming costume and was rather surprised at her curvy figure. She had large breasts, probably similar in size to mine but with the difference being that they looked like they’d flop southwards once they were out of their shell, and a fulsome rear end. It was the only time in our entire time at college where I didn’t look at her with disdain and wondered why she didn’t make more of herself. I soon came to my senses though and called over to her not to dive in the pool off anything other than the lowest board or all the water would jump out. All my friends laughed at that one and Margaret ran off crying which was par for the course with her. It was very easy to make her cry and on the one occasion she did dare to confront me it ended predictably with her in tears before we’d even begun the fight which was a shame because I was up for it and would have enjoyed kicking her butt, shapely or otherwise.
I hadn’t seen her again in the 12 months since leaving college but now she was having to serve as my assistant, pandering to my every need while I did what I do best – make myself look beautiful for the camera – and I was going to enjoy the experience.
After getting changed into a red lace body thong and posing for my first set of photos my fun began. I made Margaret touch up my make-up then make me a cup of tea which I asked her to put one sugar in and then said I told her no sugars so she had to make me a fresh one. Steve gave her a withering look and asked him where on earth he was getting his staff from. When Margaret handed me the re-made cup I could see the hatred in her eyes and that what she really wanted was to throw the tea over me. The best bit for me came when I did some topless shots and Steve asked Margaret to come in and reposition part of my costume which was causing a shadow. The frumpy freak had to lean down so her face was no more than a couple of inches from my proud naked breasts.
``How much do you earn?’’ I asked her as I arched my back to extenuate my posture.
``Enough’’ she grunted, but I knew she couldn’t be on more than the standard rate for a photographer’s assistant.
``Do you realise I’ll be getting $800 for these photos,’’ I whispered, which was a figure I’d just plucked out the air but worked on Margaret whose eyes enlarged as she took in the amount.
The brief stand-off was broken by a mobile phone ring. Steve answered it and after a couple of heated words cut off the call.
``Look something urgent has come up,’’ he explained ``I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you Sam but I’ve got all the shots I need and I’ll be in touch with Debbie next week.’’ He walked over, kissed me on the forehead and told me I was a natural in front of the lens. He then turned round and barked instructions at Margaret;. ``Make sure you see to Sam and clear all this mess up by the time I get back.’’
``Yes Mr Benson’’ Margaret said meekly but then pulling a face at him when his back was turned, which was a typically cowardly thing for her to do.
Steve shut the door behind him and Margaret and I immediately cast a glance at each other. Suddenly I felt conscious of being semi-naked in front of her a slipped my boobs back into my body thong.
``That’s right, Barbie, put them away, there’s no men about who need wrapping round your finger,’’ hissed the ugly fat cow as she stared at me, trying her best to look threatening. She took off her glasses and then pulled off her jumper and threw it to one side. She was wearing a white T-shirt with a large blue bra underneath that was clearly visible. She cupped her breasts in her hands and jiggled them up and down.
``You’re not the only girl to have big tits you know.’’
I just looked at her and laughed. ``You’re pathetic’’ I snarled as I walked toward the door. But then she shocked me by rushing over to me and standing between me and the door. ``Where do you think your going?’’ she snapped.
``Out of my way fatso you’re blocking out all the light in here.’’ I went to push past her but Margaret blocked my and there was a little scuffle of arms and then we broke and stared at each other.
``Not until you apologise for all that you did to me at college.’’
``Kiss my ass you stupid bitch.’’
This last insult seemed to tip Margaret over the edge and she grabbed at my hair and pulled me down. ``No, you kiss my ass,’’ she shouted, her dander well and truly up. Her sudden confrontation streak had caught me a bit unawares and she had had me at a disadvantage as she yanked my blonde locks violently from side to side and up and down. She then brought her knee up into my face which would have sent me sprawling to the floor had she not had hold of my hair. Another knee this time to the stomach did do the job though and I reeled to the matted floor of the studio. Margaret wasn’t going to let me rest there for long, however, and jumped down onto my mid-rift and began slapping me about the face.
``Get off me you crazy bitch,’’ I screamed.
``Not until you say sorry.’’
``Go to hell.’’
Margaret jumped up and down on my stomach, her full weight coming down on my abdomen which had me gasping for breath. She then wiggled her way up my body and held me in a classic schoolgirl pin. I kicked my legs in the air more in frustration than anything as there was no way out from under her.
``Say you’re sorry,’’ she said with a self-satisfied smirk as she used her index fingers to poke me in the face.
``Fuck off,’’ I replied trying to push weight off my shoulders but to no avail.
``I can stay here all day if I have to.’’
Margaret then reached down behind her to unhook my left breast from my skimpy, and now totally inadequate, lingerie. She clasped my mammary in her hand and looked down on me. ``Say your sorry or I’ll make you sorry.’’
I kicked and screamed at her again but this just seemed to excite her as she knew I was trapped and she reached down to grab my other breast from its flimsy covering and twisted my nipples. I’d quickly had enough of that treatment and cried my submission.
``OK, OK, I’m sorry, that good enough for you.’’
``Louder’’ she growled, pulling on my teats as she did so.
``I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’’ I moaned.
Margaret let my nipples go but stayed hovering over me for a few moment. She pulled on my hair said something like `and don’t forget it’’ and got off me. She walked away and then I snapped ``Sorry for ever lay eyes on your ugly mug, you make me sick.’’
As I expected she spun round and came straight at me but this time I was waiting for her. Using my superior dexterity I kicked her straight in the crotch. She reeled from the blow then I grabbed her by the hair and put her into a headlock.
``Now we’ll see who’s sorry,’’ I laughed, enjoying this stage of the fight considerably more than the last bit. Pulling on her hair I flipped her over into a forward roll and then jumped down behind her and began ripping at her clothes. Margaret struggled wildly but I pulled her T-shirt over her arms so trapping them above her head and raked at her breasts behind her blue lace bra. It was no my turn get on top of her and I sat facing away from her torso and began pulling on her skirt. I managed so much but then she freed her hands from her T-shirt and grabbed hold of my underwear. Yanking it upwards she caused a sharp stabbing pain in my crotch as the material shot up between my labia. This caused me to roll off her and then Margaret rolled away and frantically tried to pull her skirt off which she did in time before I could mount an attack. We then sat kneeling on the floor, me in a dishevelled lacey body, Margaret in matching bra and panties, facing each other.
``Come on then, let’s get this over with,’’ I snarled.
We went into the clinch and then rolled around, backwards and forwards over the floor, pulling on hair and scratching and gouging at each other’s faces to try and gain the crucial advantage. We bumped into the wall with me on top and I managed to wriggle my way up her body. `Yes’ I thought to myself but my joy was shortlived as Margaret grabbed my breasts and squeezed tightly. The pain shot to the base of my spine and she flipped me off her and reversed the position. She then pulled on my costume to give me another painful wedgie and as my head shot up in pain she snapped her thighs around my head and began to apply pressure.
``Let’s see if you like my headscissors,’’ she boasted as I once again found myself in an uncompromising position. This time though I wasn’t going to come out with any false bravado.
``Oh fuck, no, you’re hurting me,’’ I whimpered but Margaret only tightened her grip. I felt myself becoming very flush in the face as I gasped for air between Margaret’s legs and my predicament was not helped by Margaret using her two free hands to work on my body, thumping my breasts and stomach and continually pulling on my lingerie so that it cut into my undercarriage.
``I can’t breath, I can’t breath,’’ I choked as I felt myself becoming drowsy.
Margaret must have realised I was telling the truth as she loosened the grip and let me slip to the floor where I lay motionless. Unfortunately, the madam hadn’t come over all magnanimous and was just changing her position. She circled herself through 180 degrees and straddled my sprawled body. I looked up and could only see two succulent cheeks of her plump arse bearing down on me.
``I’m so sorry Margaret,’’ I sobbed.
``How sorry?’’
``Very sorry’’
``Sorry enough to kiss my ass?’’
I knew my situation was hopeless so, despite the humiliation of it, I immediately lifted my head up from the floor a pecked on her ripe bottom. Margaret let out a squeal of delight and then lowered herself down, forcing her soft, smooth, white cheeks onto my face and over my mouth.
``Keep kissing, Barbie,’’ my tormentor demanded and I kissed, sucked and licked her awesome rear end as she gyrated and pounded it into my face.
``Looks like the Princess’s crown might have slipped a bit,’’ she said with a sadistic laugh as she resumed her love affair with twisting my nipples.
``No, please, Margaret, not my breasts, that’s my career,’’ I said in a rather muffled plea as I caught a mouthful of ass cheek as I opened my mouth.
But Margaret had caught enough of it and showed a lack of concern in my future earnings ``Your career from now on is going to be as my slave, you got that?’’
``Yes Margaret,’’ I answered not quite knowing what being her slave entailed but not liking the sound of it.
``Every week I want you to come visit me and kiss my bum, you seem to be getting quite a taste for it down there so you should enjoy that, and from now on I’m going to be your agent. I’ll set you up with some nice jobs but being a top agent that I am I’ll be taking 50% of your fee. Agreed?’’
As she asked the question Margaret plonked her ass down onto my head, a blow which made me dizzy. I was not in a mood to argue now though and would agree to anything as long as she left my breasts alone, which she was now digging into with her nails.
``Whatever you want Margaret, you’re the best.’’ At this Margaret removed herself from my head and left me in a crumpled heap on the floor. I noted that she was still in the room and seemed to be fiddling about with one of the camera tripods but I didn’t want to look at her. There was no way she was going to be my agent but I thought I’d leave that argument to another day when my senses had returned.
She must have read my mind, however, because she then walked back over to me, grabbed a tuft of my hair and walked me on all fours to where I could now see she had set up a camera.
``Let’s seal this deal with a kiss then shall we,’’ and with one hand pulled my head into the crevice of her backside while using her other hand to press the button on the cable leading from the camera to take pictures of my degradation. I knew she had me beat and would use these pictures to blackmail me if I should try to go back on the deal. Thoroughly demoralised, I ran my tongue all over my new agent’s derriere while tears ran down my face. She then turned and knelt down to face me but I couldn’t look her in the eye.
``I really am sorry Margaret, I was a real bitch to you at college,’’ I snivelled.
``Yes you were,’’ replied the dominatrix ``but now you’re going to make up for it, aren’t you?’’
``Yes, yes, I won’t let you down.’’
She shuffled herself closer to me and rose on her haunches so she was above me. ``Unhook my bra’’ she ordered, and after a little bit of hesitation I did as she asked. I pulled away her top and there before me were the most marvellous, firm, buxom breasts I’d ever seen, bigger and better than mine even. They may give her problems in later life but for now she was 21 and they hung there like fruit on a tree. It was like the final blow to the stomach. I didn’t even wait for her instruction but began kissing and sucking her globes while she rubbed them into my face. Finally, exhausted and my ego demolished I fell to the floor. Margaret left my lying there while she circled my body, occasionally kicking my lifeless carcass and telling me how pathetic I was. She motioned to walk out the room but then said ``No, sod it, this is too much fun’’ and came back over and smothered me again with her sensational swelling buttocks. There we stay for a good ten minutes as I covered as much of her tail in saliva as I could and she in turn clawed at my once perfect breasts, pulled my pubic hair and rubbed my crotch until it was sore. Finally she let me up for good but my humiliation has not ended. That was nearly two months ago and every week since I have been to her flat and paid homage to her derriere. Tomorrow I have my first modelling job on the back of my portfolio which has been circulated around all the top lingerie catalogues. Little does anyone know just how much I paid for it and will go on paying.