Katie Finds her Way

After we'd had a little hug, I said, 'I can see you're going to show me up - you look a million dollars!'

'Darling Katie,' she said, 'You look ravishing. I think the people at Lavissieux will wonder which of us is the model.'

'Now you're being silly.'

'Only because they already know me, but don't be surprised if you get an offer.'

Before I could say anything more, the train drew in, and we took our seats in first class. We changed to the Eurostar in London, and by eleven, we were speeding under the channel, holding hands and chatting cosily. We ate lightly on the train, then we were coasting in through the outskirts of Paris, glimpses of the Tour Eiffel in the distance - my first time.

A taxi took us through some crazy traffic to an impressive building on the Boulevard Hausmann, and I found myself in a huge atrium, feeling like some sort of scruffy novice beside the lovely Ingrid. An obviously gay guy in his forties, wearing a patterned silk shirt and too-tight trousers minced up to us, and spoke, thankfully, in English.

'Why, hello, Ingrid, my dear, and who, pray, is this lovely creature you have with you?'

'This is Katie.'

'Oh, my word, do you model, Katie? You really have the most divine skin, and that hair, oh heavens, do let me shoot you!'

'You may have gathered, Katie,' said Ingrid, 'That Jean-Paul here is a photographer.'

'Oh darlings,' he broke in, 'not just A photographer - the finest fashion photographer in this seedy city.' And so the repartee went on for a while, then we were ushered out and into a big Mercedes, which drove us, together with Jean-Paul, again at breakneck speed, to somewhere that looked like an industrial complex. There we were shown into a big building that looked like a warehouse from the outside. But when I got inside, I could see that it was a massive photographic studio, with a professionally-lit stage, and props of all kinds, including backgrounds that looked like realistic beach scenes, jungles, deserts and so on. To one side a door led to changing rooms, where I saw enormous racks of clothes. Two or three young girls were scurrying about with dresses on hangers, and one was busy ironing. 'As you see,' said Ingrid, a lot of clothes are shown here, mainly for their catalogues, but I'm here for lingerie and beach-wear.'

Jean-Paul hadn't left us, but now guided us to one of the changing rooms, where a young girl with slightly Asian features took over. I sat and watched while Ingrid quickly stripped and was helped into the tiniest, striped, string bikini. She kicked off her flats, and was given a pair of stiletto-heeled sandals to wear, then she sat at a dressing table while the girl tidied up her already beautiful hair and touched up her make-up. I followed her out and watched as she was photographed from several angles and in a variety of poses, with a 'tropical beach' behind her. Then she told me to sit still as she scampered back and shortly reappeared in another bikini, this time a blue one. Another one followed, now a shocking pink, then a barely decent one wihich comprised a minute thong and bra-cups that only just hid her nipples. Inevitably a topless one followed, Ingrid coyly covering her lovely breasts with a semi-transparent bolero jacket.

Jean-Paul took the stage, and said, 'Time for a break, before we do the one-piece jobs, but while Ingrid gets ready, why don't I take a few shots of this lovely creature?' So saying, he swept down off the low stage, and took me by the hand. I had a mind to protest, but just decided to 'go with the flow.' He sat me on a chair in front of the camera, and turned me sideways-on, then gently slid my dress and bra-strap off the shoulder nearest the camera. 'Now look at me over that shoulder,' he said, 'And lower your eyelids...Yes, just like that!' Click, click, click. 'Now, hold your hair up, like that...yes, oh, darling! You're a natural, the camera loves you!' And so on. And, although I didn't want to admit it, I was enjoying it!

A long - and, at least for Ingrid, tiring - session of shooting her in one-piece swim-suits, filmy beach-robes, and suchlike took us to dinnertime, when the Mercedes returned to whisk us off to our nice hotel. 'God, I could do with a nice dinner, I'm starving,' said Ingrid, and I wan't arguing. It had been a long day already.

We went straight in to dinner, which was very nice, typically French, but it was a relief to get to our room at last.

'I thought I'd never have you to myself,' I said, as we dived onto the huge queen-size bed together. Tiredness was suddenly forgotten as I flipped the bow at the neck of her halter-style dress. Her lovely firm tits were cupped in my hands, and I bent to take a nipple in my mouth, making it instantly rock-hard. I bit it gently, tweaking the other one between my finger and thumb. Ingrid squirmed and moaned loudly, then pushed my head down, easing off her dress and raising her hips so that I could pull off her silk panties. I traced her naked, shaven mound with my tongue, then gently eased her clit from beneath its hood with my fingers, and massaged it, bringing more moans from my lover's mouth. I couldn't wait to taste her pussy, but she pulled me up by my hair. 'I'm all sweaty - it's been a long day,' she said.

'Like I care about that!' I said, forcing my way back in between her legs, and thrusting my tongue deep into her gorgeous, sopping wet cunt, which tasted like nectar to me. She came in seconds, writhing and thrashing as an almighty orgasm engulfed her.

'Just let me get my breath back, darling,' she said, 'Take your clothes off, and I'll be ready.'

I'd no sooner stripped naked, than she had sprung out of bed and was rummaging in her grip for something. She came back to bed with whatever it was behind her back, and a cheesy grin on her lovely face. 'You're going to love this,' she said, pushing me down on the bed, then grabbing a pillow and shoving it under my buttocks. 'Open wide,' she said, like a dentist, but it was my legs she meant, and as soon as I obliged her head was between them, her hungry mouth working at my equally hungry pussy, which by now was soaking wet with my juices. I stroked her silken hair as she licked and tongued my longing cunt, tickling my clit with knowing fingers as she did so. As I felt an orgasm building deep within me, she suddenly withdrew, and Ifelt totally bereft, until she produced the article she had brought from her bag. It was a double-ended flexible dildo.

'I don't think we'll need lube, darling, do you?' she asked. I shook my head no.

Lithely flipping around so that she had her right thigh over my left, sh slowly worked one end of the dildo deep into her vagina, showed me the other end, and offered it up to the portals of my own cunt. I wanted it inside me and took it , all of it, as deep as it would go, until our pussies were grinding against each other. I looked into her lovely eyes. 'Fuck me, Ingrid, yes, yes!' I implored her, and we found a rhythm that I would never have thought possible until we both came with shattering force.

We had just about enough strength left to make it to the bathroom and take a long hot shower together, then bed and a long, happy sleep rounded off quite a day.

5

At breakfast next morning, Ingrid told me it was lingerie day at the studio. The Mercedes was there to collect us at ten, and off we went to the studio. There waiting for us with Jean-Paul was a tall, very handsome guy in a good suit who surprised me by wanting to talk to me. Like Jean-Paul, he spoke perfect English.

'I have been looking at your photos,' he said.

'You mean Ingrid's - she is the model, I'm just her friend.'

'No, Ingrid I know very well, she is one of our top models. I mean the shots Jean-Paul took of you. You are very beautiful, Katie. Some of our lingerie will look better on your olive skin, and with your black hair. Would you model a few items for me?'

'But I've never done anything like that in my life,' I protested.

'Jean-Paul will show you,' he said, and I found myself agreeing.

I was amazed by how well the day went. It simply flew by - Ingrid was modelling some amazing slinky black negligees and baby-dolls, which left nothing to the imagination, and as I watched, I wanted her more than ever, if that were possible, but after perhaps an hour, I was summoned and handed a virginal white nightie to put on. It was, however, almost completely transparent, as was the negligee to go over it. But it was irresistible, and Ingrid clinched it whe she said, 'Put that on, and I might have to have you right here, and right now!' I put it on, and it felt like nothing I had ever worn. I was utterly hooked, and wore a tiny baby-doll with bow-tied panties, two more nighties, one rouched and very frilly another pure silk and quite amazing against my skin - and all white.

We paused for lunch, which was brought in to us, then it was the turn of corsets and other items. Again I got to wear the white ones, and was laced so tightly into a whaleboned corset by the little Asian girl that I could hardly breathe, then had white lace-top stockings cinched to the garter straps, and perched on high white stilettos. I felt like a slave-girl, and said so to Ingrid, who had just worn similar items in black. 'Maybe something we could explore, eh?' she said. As the afternoon passed, I got more and more aroused, and when we were, eventually, taken to dinner, I only picked at the delicious food, eager as I was to get at Ingrid's body.

Back in our room, we couldn't get our clothes off fast enough, and I lay back on the bed to let Ingrid sit on my face. My breathing seemed to be a secondary consideration as she wriggled around, her own breath coming in staccato rhythm as my tongue worked itself around her luscious, dripping cunt. Her moans gathered pace as her first orgasm burst upon her, and I was fingering my own pussy as I attended hers, so that we came almost simultaneously. Then Ingrid climbeed off me, and went once again to her mysterious bag. This time she came back with a long white dildo, which looked too slender to be of use, until I guessed where it was to go. 'You want me to use that on you, do you?' I asked

'No, darling, I'm going to use it on you - your arsehole needs to be introduced to the pain and pleasure. So far, you've only felt my finger there. This will be different.'

I must have looked a bit worried, because she said, 'Don't worry, darling, I shall lube it up for you, and be gentle. Now put this pillow under your bum for me.'

She coated the long slim dildo with lube, meantime, stroking my pussy every now and then with her long-nailed, elegant fingers, and teasing the very portals of my anus with each stroke. 'Ready?' she asked, but without waiting for an answer, pushed the narrow tip of the dildo into the puckered hole. I gave a little gasp, which grew to a moan as the invading implement was pushed in a couple of inches, and I felt a pain I had never known before. As she shoved - brutally I thought - in past my sphincter, I screamed, with the awful pain, then the dildo was buried deep in my anus, and ever deeper as my lover impaled me, withdrew a little, and then forced it in again. 'Oh, oh, Christ!' I moaned, and suddenly reaalised that the pain was bringing with it a pleasure so intense that it was as unbearable as the pain. I came, shudderingly, shatteringly, with a force that I had never before known. My eyes were closed as she withdrew the dildo, and I felt a sense of loss. 'I love you, Ingrid,' was all I could say.

We made love again, in a variety of ways, before we slept in each other's arms, totally exhausted.

Next morning we were free to see the sights of Paris, then we were due to have lunch with Monsieur Dubois, the head of the fashion house of Lavissieu, before leaving for home. He amazed me by offering me a contract, which I said I'd have to think about, but knew I would accept, as, apart fro paying ver well, it would mean I should be able to spend much more time with Ingrid. On the Eurostar, heading back towards England, I asked her, 'You mentioned exploring the "slave-girl thing" - what did you have in mind?'

'Ah, so you've been thinking dirty thoughts, have you? It just so happens I know of a club that specialises in that sort of thing - we might just give it a try, eh?'

But that would merit another story.