Wedding Bondage Wedding Dresses are a threat
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Wedding PhotosChapter 3 free porn video
When Chastity walked out the door of his studio, Ethan assumed he would never see her again. But, she'd apparently been serious when she said she would see him around. Over the next two weeks, she dropped by the studio three times and Ethan's apartment once. Each time, she was a little better dressed and seemed a little happier. She didn't seem to care who saw her come or go and, by the end of the first week, Ethan's picture appeared in the Enquirer under the headline, "Chastity Carter's mystery man." The Enquirer managed to get his age wrong and incorrectly identify him as Jewish. But, they also referred to him as an "up-and-coming fashion photographer," so he felt like it balanced out.
Ethan knew it was temporary. If he'd doubted it, Chastity put it in no uncertain terms, "Don't get too attached to me, Ethan. In two weeks, everything changes for me and I've got a whole new life to start." Still, it more than he'd expected. He decided to let himself enjoy it for what it was rather than what he might want it to be.
The first time she came back, they were lying in bed together in the back room of his studio, waiting for their breathing to slow. Neither had said anything in the last few minutes when Chastity started laughing.
"What's so funny?"
Chastity waved around the room, "I can't believe you had a bedroom back here all this time and wound up doing me on your desk and breaking your monitor."
Ethan pulled her closer to him, his arm around her shoulder, "The desk was closer. I was afraid if I took the time to get you in here, one of us would chicken out. Besides, this isn't really a bedroom. It's just a bed in a really big closet for when I'm working through the night and need to get some sleep."
"Mmmmm," said Chastity. "I notice that it is a double bed, though."
Ethan chuckled and turned his head away from her. He didn't remember even consciously deciding that he needed a double bed. As it was, the bed took up nearly every inch of space in the tiny room. A single bed would have been easier, but it had never even occurred to him.
Changing the subject, he said, "I was surprised you came back."
Chastity nuzzled deeper into his arms, "You shouldn't be. You're a good fuck, Ethan."
"Glad to oblige," he said.
Chastity must have heard something in Ethan's voice he hadn't meant to put there because she kissed him gently on the chest, "I'm going back to Alabama in less than two weeks. It can't be more than that."
"I understand," said Ethan, trying to keep his voice even.
"If it makes you feel better, you're not just a good fuck, Ethan. You're an amazing fuck. Nobody ever made me come before you."
"Nobody?"
"Well," Chastity corrected herself. "Nobody but me. Guys in my business all seem to have hang-ups that make you feel like a whore even when you're not doing anything wrong. That makes it really hard to get off. Compared to that, all that goddess crap probably would have gotten you into my pants even if I weren't already climbing the walls."
Ethan laughed and kissed the top of her head, "I thought you said it was corny."
"It was," said Chastity. "But, it was sweet and earnest, too. That went a long way."
The next time Chastity showed up at the studio, Ethan was in the middle of a shoot with a set of models for a swimsuit catalog. After introductions had been made, she sat on a couch in the corner of the studio and just watched. The models tried to convince her to come out dancing with them afterwards, but she declined.
Once they were gone, she asked, "Ethan, would you do my book?"
Ethan was surprised, "You want to model?"
Chastity nodded, "I've had offers since I started singing professionally, but there's a clause in my contract that Salvation can drop me if I do anything that shows too much skin to the public. Most of the offers amounted to sideshow work, but there have been a few that were really substantive."
"Sure," said Ethan. "It'll take about six hours. When can you come in?"
"Next Wednesday afternoon," said Chastity. "That's the only day I'm not booked from six am to eight pm."
"I can rearrange my schedule for that," said Ethan.
Chastity nodded, wandering seemingly aimlessly onto the set Ethan had been using to shoot the catalog, "They did absolutely nothing for me, you know."
"Excuse me?" asked Ethan.
"I just sat here for an hour and watched those girls prance around in next to nothing," said Chastity. "If I were a lesbian, you'd think they would do something for me. Wouldn't you?"
"I don't know," said Ethan. "I've never been a lesbian."
"Did they do anything for you?"
Ethan shrugged, "A little--in an abstract sort of way. It just seems like bad manners to get all worked up over a woman being mostly naked when that's part of her job."
Chastity laughed, "You must be a hell of a lot of fun in strip clubs."
Ethan had never been in a strip club, but didn't bother to say so.
The third time Chastity came by the studio, it was for her solo shoot. She stepped out of the elevator smiling broadly, wrapped her arms around Ethan's chest, hugged him and kissed him full on the mouth.
"You're in a good mood," he commented.
Chastity nodded, "I got a Fax this morning from Sweet Salvation. They're 'reviewing available actions based on the morality clause' in my contract."
"And that's good news?"
Chastity nodded, "It's the first step towards dropping me like a hot potato."
"And that's good news?" Ethan repeated.
"Sure is," said Chastity. "I'll never sing gospel professionally again."
Ethan shrugged. He wasn't going to ask the question a third time.
"I hate the gospel business," Chastity added. "I'm going to be a rock and roller."
Ethan smiled at her exuberance and led her into the studio. This time, when he suggested what they could shoot, she was eager to go much farther and be more daring. Several times, Ethan found himself talking her into taking a more conservative path.
Still, by the last shoot, she was lying naked on a light brown faux fur, heavy blue eye shadow on her lids and blue lightning bolts painted on her body and face, her hair done up in tight curls with a hint of yellow added.
When Ethan was finished shooting, Chastity came to where he was working with the camera, "I want to go out tonight, Ethan. Will you come with me?"
Ethan nodded, "Sure. Let's just get you cleaned..."
"No," said Chastity, shaking her head. She held out her arms, "I want to go out looking like this." Then, she laughed, "Well, I could put some clothes on first."
It wasn't until they got in the cab that Ethan realized he had no idea where they were going. He asked Chastity.
"Where do you normally go?" she asked.
Ethan frowned, "I don't want to go where I normally go. One place, people have been hounding me to tell them what's going on ever since I showed up in the Enquirer. The other..."
"What?" asked Chastity.
Ethan sighed, "It's not fair, but if I took you there, it might become another place to hang out and wait for celebrities to show up... And that would ruin it."
Chastity nodded, "I understand. Enjoy it while it lasts, Ethan. Once you make it big, you'll have the same problem. Why don't we try the Sacristy?"
The Sacristy, which had once been the Limelight, was in an old stone church on twentieth street. The next day, pictures of her in her "Freyja, Ice Goddess" outfit were plastered on the cover of every publication that cared about such things.
The issue of Substance with Sondra and Chastity came off the presses the next day. As much as he could, Ethan ignored the hype that surrounded the release. As days passed, that became increasingly difficult. The story had its own momentum.
Ethan didn't realize how big until his studio was broken into a few days later. The man who had broken in made a beeline for the darkroom and, finding it empty, had trashed the place in a rage. Fortunately, Ethan had already moved to a bigger, more secure space. Even before the issue had been printed, he'd moved the film safe. The paranoid habits he'd picked up as a correspondent were paying off in the fashion world already.
The last time Ethan saw her before she left town, Chastity was waiting for him when he came home from the studio. She wore blue jeans, a denim jacket, and an emerald green blouse that matched the contacts she'd put in today. Ethan saw her coming from the coffee shop across the street a long way off.
He hugged her, smiling, "Were you waiting for me?"
"Not exactly," said Chastity. "I was just enjoying New York a little before I have to fly out tomorrow. I love this city."
Ethan nodded, "Me too. I can't believe I ever left. Were you not waiting for me long?"
"I went through three cappuccinos," said Chastity. "So, that would be about an hour. It's a good spot. You come out of the subway right in front of the window."
Once they were in the elevator, Chastity gave him a warm hug, "How are you holding up?"
"Me?" asked Ethan. "I'm doing great. I've got clients stretched out around the corner. This is exactly what I wanted."
"What about the death threats?" asked Chastity.
"What death threats?" asked Ethan.
"The press is saying you've been getting death threats for shooting the pictures of me and Sondra."
Ethan shrugged, "The press is making that up."
"So, you're not getting death threats?"
Ethan hugged her a little tighter, "I didn't say that. I've been getting a few, but I never bothered to tell anybody about them. The press is just guessing. Either that, or they're making the threats and then writing about them."
"I hope you're being careful," said Chastity.
"No more than usual," said Ethan, stepping out of the elevator. "I survived six years covering wars in the Middle East. I'm not going to start jumping at shadows because some aggrieved Christians don't like what I do for a living. Besides, the ones that make death threats are never the ones that actually kill people." Even as he said it, Ethan knew he would be more careful for the foreseeable future. He really hadn't been worried about the threats, but it wasn't a good idea to tempt the gods of irony by saying such things.
That night, they came closer to making love than Ethan had expected they ever would. Afterwards, Chastity slept where she lay, curled against his side.
"This is your last chance to be a rotten bastard," said Chastity. Ethan opened one eye. She was sitting, cross-legged and naked, on the bed next to him. For the first time, she wasn't even wearing colored contacts, but looking down at him with her own eyes.
"Excuse me?" he asked sleepily.
"This is your last chance to be a bastard," Chastity said again. "You're ruining my perfect record and making it very hard to leave."
Muttering sleepily, Ethan said, "Sorry, Chaz. Nothing comes to mind."
"You could try calling me a freak," Chastity suggested.
Ethan reached up and stroked her cheek, "My sweet, beautiful freak."
Chastity scowled, "That didn't help." Rising from the bed, she picked up her panties and slid them on. She collected each piece of her outfit slowly and deliberately until she was completely dressed.
"Say goodbye to me, Ethan," she said when there was nothing else to put on. "Don't get up. Just say goodbye."
Ethan sat up straight. Chastity looked like she was ready to bolt if he made a move towards her. Then, she bolted towards him. Ethan wrapped her in his arms, holding her for as long as she consented to be held.
"I saw your girlfriend on the Grammys last night," Jordan said. He was sipping an eight-dollar beer at what Ethan refused to refer to as his favorite watering hole in spite of the fact that he was spending three or four nights a week there.
Chastity had been right. Once Ethan had gained a little bit of notoriety, packs of feral models had descended on McGinty's, his favorite hangout, ruining what made McGinty's worth going to. There were models here too, of course. But, they belonged here. With the loud music, bright lights, and host of oily predators ready to pounce on an unwary neophyte who wandered too far from the herd, this was their natural habitat.
"She's not my girlfriend," Ethan said as reasonably as he could. "She was never my girlfriend."
"That's good to hear," said Ethan. "Because she was canoodling with Sanford Smith."
"Who the fuck says 'canoodling?'"
"My grandfather used to," said Jordan.
"Was he as big of an asshole as you are?" Ethan asked.
"No," said Jordan. "He was a bricklayer. He couldn't afford to be as big of an asshole as I am. Bricklayers don't get famous."
The model on Jordan's arm laughed as if he'd said something funny. Ethan wondered if he had. A few weeks of working in the upper echelons of fashion had made him realize just how far off the sensibilities of the industry were from his own.
Renee arrived at Ethan's studio promptly at ten AM. In spite of the fact that she had only two blocks to travel to get from her office, Ethan was impressed. Among the models he worked with now, punctuality was something that happened to other people.
He was about to comment when he realized who else she had with her. Sondra smiled, then hugged him fiercely.
"Sondra," he said. "What are you doing here?"
"I told you I was going to provide you with an assistant for today," said Renee, smiling. "One whose discretion we could trust. Does she meet your approval?"
"Certainly," said Ethan. "She's probably overqualified."
Sondra laughed nervously, "You're too sweet, Ethan."
"Is the hairdresser here yet?" asked Renee.
Ethan shook his head, "Most likely, she'll be here in a half hour and be stunned to see you already here. She's used to working with models."
Renee favored him with a small smile, "You need to work with more of my models, dear. They know to be on time."
"Renee fired one for being late," said Sondra. She didn't laugh out loud, but the laughter was there in her eyes.
"I didn't want to," said Renee. She let out a sigh. "I should never have threatened to. But, once I threatened, I had no choice. It nearly cost me the agency. But, it has had its advantages."
"Oddly," said Ethan. "None of your models have returned my calls. Why is that, Renee?"
Renee turned her head enough that there was no eye contact when she spoke, "I told them not to."
"Why?" asked Ethan, more curious than angry.
"If you still want to work with my agency after the wedding, I'll make sure they all know that your shoots are to be a priority."
Ethan frowned, "I appreciate that, but it really doesn't answer my question."
"No, it doesn't," said Renee. She sounded sad and a little tired, "But, you'll understand after today, Stringer. My life is about to get... very complicated."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" asked Ethan.
Renee sat down on his couch and ran her fingers through her hair, "You really mean that. Don't you, Stringer?"
When Ethan nodded, she laughed, "God, I could have fallen in love with you once."
Ethan was so surprised by the statement that he didn't know what to say. Renee had a faraway look in her eyes, "Right after you left for Europe, Katie suggested that the two of us should run away and follow you. She thought we would be safe there."
"I was in Sarajevo," Ethan pointed out. "'Safe' is not the first word that comes to mind."
Renee chuckled, "She meant safe from Wayne."
Ethan sat down on the couch next to her. He didn't want to know, but he found himself unable to stop the question, "What did Wayne do that made him more frightening than bullets and bombs?"
"I don't think he was ever more frightening," said Renee. "But, it might have been a pleasant change. At least with bullets and bombs, you know when you're wounded and by what. Katie was always more frightened of him than I was. Fear would never have worked on me."
Ethan thought he'd put all this behind him, but found that, given the opportunity, he had to probe into the past, "Why did you stay with him then?"
Renee's laugh was like an open wound, "I was his masterpiece. He read me like a book. And, every time I figured out what he was up to, he read me again. When I was first with him, I thought I wanted to be wild. So, he showed me how to be wild. When that wore off and I felt like my life was out of control, he let me think I was in control of everything--that the other women were my bailiwick, as if they had always been my idea. For a long time, he knew how to twist every impulse I had, good or bad, until it served to bind me more tightly to him."
Ethan hadn't even realized he was reaching for her when Renee said, "Don't, Ethan. Don't touch me. If you touch me, I'm going to start crying and I want this shoot to be perfect." As she sat up straighter, Ethan saw the emotion disappear from her face and the reappearance of the mask of serenity that was so good he hadn't realized until now that it was a mask.
"Where are the dresses?" she asked, her voice calm and even.
"It's in the dressing room," said Ethan. "I'll show you..."
Renee rose, "I'll find it. I don't want you to see the dress until it's on me."
Sondra laughed, "That's not the way it usually works."
Ethan whirled. He'd forgotten she was there. By the moment of surprise on Renee's face, so had she. A brief smile flittered across her mask, "See where the hairdresser is. Won't you, please?"
After Renee disappeared around the corner, Ethan sat, watching the last place she'd been. After a few long seconds, Sondra asked, "Would you like me to call the hairdresser?"
Ethan shook his head automatically, "I'll take care of it."
Sondra pursed her lips, "Let me do it. Remember. I'm your assistant today."
"All right," said Ethan, still trying to absorb everything he'd heard.
"Should I make some coffee while I'm at it?" Sondra asked.
Ethan heard the note of amusement in her voice. He had a feeling she would get a kick out of making coffee if he said yes, but he answered truthfully, "I usually pick up coffee for myself and my assistant on my way into work."
Sondra nodded and smiled. She was already rifling through his Rolodex. When she found the hairdresser's card, she called, introduced herself as "Mr. Ford's assistant" and did at least as good a job of handling the woman as his real assistant would have.
"Very nicely done," he said when she got off the phone.
Sondra smiled at the compliment. Coming over to the couch, she sat next to Ethan. Looking him in the eyes, she said, "Chastity told me to send you her love."
Ethan raised an eyebrow, "I'm sure she didn't say that."
Sondra laughed, "I see. You spend a few hours between my best friend in the world's legs and you think you know her better than I do."
"I didn't mean it like that."
"For the record," said Sondra. "That was exactly what she said. She told me that it was safe to love you now that she'd moved on." When Ethan frowned, she put a finger on his lips, "She told me that you made her want to stay in New York and not worry about her career. She also told me you were a better man than you gave yourself credit for and that I was to give you this..."
Ethan should have realized what she was doing, but he refused to believe it until her finger moved away and was replaced by her lips, kissing him gently and firmly, one hand in his hair. As she broke the kiss, she even ran her teeth over his bottom lip like Chastity had done so many times.
"What was that for?" Ethan asked, his heart pounding.
"She told me to give you a kiss for her," said Sondra sweetly. "Plus, I wanted to thank you myself."
"For what?"
"For making Stitch happy for a while;" said Sondra. "for making her able to see herself happy in someone's bed; for helping me realize I wanted her in mine." Her eyes twinkled with mischief, "I may owe you more than a kiss for all that."
Ethan shook his head, "She and I wouldn't have even wound up together if you hadn't..." He couldn't think of a word that seemed suitably reverential to describe what had happened in his studio that day, "You don't owe me anything."
Sondra laughed and clapped her hands, "They're right about you. Renee and Stitch both say you're a good man. I don't think I completely believed them until now. Most men would have jumped at such an offer."
Ethan closed his eyes like his head hurt, "That was an offer? I wasn't paying attention. Make it again. I'll jump this time. I promise."
Sondra laughed and hugged him, "Why don't you show me the new studio set up? I'm sure I'll have a million questions."
After the hairdresser had left, Sondra went into the dressing room to help Renee get into her dress and to try on her own bridesmaid's dress.
By the time they emerged, almost an hour later, Ethan was as nervous to see them as if he were waiting at the altar. At Renee's request, he hadn't looked at the dresses once they arrived, only put them in the dressing room. But, when he'd moved them, they'd seemed heavy. Besides that, they'd clanked and groaned as if they weren't dresses at all, but some sort of armor.
It turned out that Ethan wasn't far from right. At first glance, the dress looked fairly normal. Then, Ethan noticed that the lacing up the front was a diamond of black and red that started at the base of her throat and ended just below her breasts. The center piece was made of supple, white leather stretched taut by the lacing. Beneath her breasts, the dress was a corset with stiff boning that served to make her breasts even more prominent. The skirts were made of a glossy, white leather. Even the choker was white patent leather.
Standing behind her and holding her train, Sondra was dressed in a black, velvet sheath dress, her waist corseted, her breasts lifted and separated by reddish boning that glinted in the low light. In her public image, Sondra had always had a certain innocent charm that added to her sexiness. It was gone now, but somehow left her no less sexy.
Ethan must have stood stock still for at least a minute. Neither woman moved while he stared at them. Finally, he said, "Wow."
Sondra smiled, "I think he likes it."
"I..." he said. "I..." he tried again. Finally, giving up, he said, "Words fail me."
Renee smiled, "That's the idea. Fortunately, photographs will do where words fail."
"Are you really getting married dressed like this?" Ethan asked.
"Oh, yes," said Renee.
"And that will embarrass Wayne?" asked Ethan.
Renee shook her head. Her hair, now a mass of curls on top of her head, barely moved, "No. He'll act embarrassed at first. But, it will please him very much. It will make him think I am completely his creature."
"But, you're not?"
Renee smiled coldly, "Take my picture, Ethan."
Ethan did, taking more than a hundred pictures of her in the traditional bridal poses or standing with Sondra. When they took their first break, Sondra disappeared into the dressing room.
"I still don't understand how this is helping you get revenge on Wayne," said Ethan. "I hope you know what you're doing, Renee."
"I do," said Renee. "Help me with my bodice, please."
By the time he got to her, Renee had unlaced the bottom half of the diamond so that Ethan could see bare skin underneath, "What do you want me to do?"
"Unlace the top," said Renee. "Then, help me retie the lacing."
Ethan started to work, but found it hard to get at the thin laces without resting his hands on her. After a minute, Renee said, "Don't worry about what you touch, Stringer. Remember. I asked you to do this."
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