That Whole WAM Thing Ch. 03

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A petite photographer becomes her own subject…

I drove as quick as I could to Lucy’s place, not that I was worried about Ursula warning her, but because I was eager to move on to my next victim.

Lucy answered the door in a white t-shirt and pale blue sweatpants. “Oh,” she said, startled; I had never spontaneously called round to her house before. “Hello.” She brushed a strand of black, ringleted hair from her face. Lucy had a slightly careful manner of speech, because she was half-French and English wasn’t her first language.

“Hi,” I said. “I was just passing, I thought I’d drop in. If you’re busy, I can go…”

“No no,” she said, stepping back into the hallway. “Come in. I was just doing a bit of work.” I entered the hallway and she closed the door. A moment later I was in the sitting room and Lucy was handing me a glass of wine. Her computer was whirring quietly at the other end of the room, in an alcove lined with cork­boards, on which were stuck dozens of photographs. “Sorry if I’m interrupting your work,” I said. Lucy shook her head and smiled.

“Not really, no,” she said. “I was just sorting out some images for the website.”

“Ah yes,” I said, and smiled wryly. “The website.”

She grinned, and then burst out laughing. “Oh, Matthew, I’m really sorry. I just couldn’t resist it. They were too good to keep to myself. Oh, and you know what is so mad! I have had so many emails from gay men wanting to know if they can have a session with you.” She winked at me and sipped her wine. “I hope you said No,” I said. She nodded. “Yeah, I did. I had to take the page down, actually, I was getting too much feedback.” “Well, I’m sorry for your trouble,” I snorted. “It wasn’t you that was up there.”

“No…” said Lucy, her voice trailing off. She stared past me for a moment. Then she became animated again. “But, um, I have been spending a lot of time on the web looking at images like these. There are so many! God. I had no idea. I thought it was just you who liked this.”

“No,” I admitted. “It’s a whole industry. It’s kind of a shame, two or three years ago it was quite a small thing and it was mostly just people making sites for fun and putting up free pictures of themselves. Now more and more of them are pay sites. A lot of the sense of community has gone.” I was trying to be cunning; I wanted to put Lucy in a frame of mind where she might try it for herself. But she didn’t go for it.

“Oh, that is so corny,” she chided. “People have to make a living. If there is a demand for it, they will stop giving it away and start selling it.”

“I suppose so. Did you find any sites you liked?” Lucy wrinkled her brow cutely as she thought.

“Yeah, I love this…Messygirl? She is cool. I like a woman running the business. And I like the Japanese sites because the women are so tiny. They remind me of me.” She blushed slightly.

“Maybe you should start your own site,” I suggested. “Women are way more popular than men. I think you could do pretty well at it.” Lucy was silent for a moment, then she shrugged.

“I thought about it, you know? I do not have a problem with nudity or whatever, when I was in college I worked as a model and I have done stuff about my own body and I am cool with taking my clothes off, but it would be fucking impossible to use the camera when you are covered in that shit,” she laughed. “But it would be good money and it might be kind of fun as a side thing. But I need someone to help. Maybe I ask Erin or Linda or someone.”

It was all going much better than I’d planned. I decided to risk it. I was just about to volunteer when Lucy suddenly looked very amused and said “Actually, you know what? You should help me. I feel bad about that night, we messed you up and there is no, um, payback. You should be my assistant. That would be really mad.” She grinned.

I was speechless. She had actually beaten me to it. My mouth wagged for a moment, then I heard myself saying “Lucy, to be honest with you, that’s actually why I came here. I was, uh…I was going to try and persuade you to let me, you know…mess you up. I’m kind of getting revenge on the four of you – well, I’ve done Linda and Ursula and I’m going to do Erin tomorrow. Look.” And I handed her my pictures of Linda, sitting abjectly in the shower, and Ursula, crouched naked on the kitchen table.

Lucy took them and scrutinised them, smiling. She held up the one of Linda and said, “The composition is not so good. You have too much of the wall. The one of Ursula is better.” Then she handed them back, and once again she burst out laughing.

“That is fucking mad!” she exclaimed. “You are taking revenge? For how long?”

“I’m doing it all in one night,” I explained. “I came here from Ursula’s. It’s kind of aimed at Erin, she’s the one who told you about it so she gets the big finale tomorrow morning. But the difference with me is that I’m not gonna tell anyone else about this, it stays private. Well, with, uh, one exception…” And I smiled at her.

“Who?” asked Lucy, bursa escort puzzled. “Erin? No, she wouldn’t like that…who would…oh.” She nodded and looked at me, going slightly pink. “Yeah. Me. Cause I published the pictures.”

“Everyone gets repaid in their own way,” I said. “And you just said yourself that you were thinking of doing it yourself and having me as your assistant, so…” I spread my hands. Lucy twirled her finger around a strand of hair and looked embarrassed.

“Yeah,” she said, “I did say that, didn’t I. Oh shit.” She laughed. “And you want to do it now? 1 don’t have anything we can use, I don’t think…”

“I have stuff in the car,” I told her. Lucy raised her eyebrows.

“Oh, of course you do,” she said. She did nothing for a moment, then smiled ruefully, shrugged and hopped down from her chair.

“Fuck it. Okay. You go and get it,” she said decisively, “and I change into something more, um, suitable.” She darted a small nervous smile at me and left the room.

I went out to the car and brought in my supplies. It took four trips to get it all from the trunk into Lucy’s hallway. On my last trip, I met her coming down the stairs, wearing a faded red bikini. Lucy was in her late twenties, a little under five feet tall and very slim. Her skin was a pale olive colour, and her breasts were small but filled the cups of the bikini top to perfection.

“This is an old thing,” she said, indicating the bikini. “I don’t care if it gets wrecked. We set up in the studio, okay?” She helped me carry the many plastic bags into her studio, and switched on the lamps. I took a paddling pool out of its box and inflated it, while Lucy took the cartons and bottles and cake boxes and plastic buckets out of the bags, sighing and tut-tutting at the extent of all the foodstuffs that would shortly be coming her way. She was so fresh and pretty in the bikini, I found myself wishing for a moment that I wasn’t with Erin.

Then she set up two cameras on tripods, quickly and expertly, and got me to kneel where she was going to be so that she could focus them. I was wary in case she tried to turn the tables, but she didn’t; she was absorbed in her work. When she was done, I placed the paddling pool on the central spot and spread some newspapers, to stop the studio furnishings getting messy. Lucy instructed me in how to load film, and fitted shutter release cables so that my messy hands wouldn’t have to touch the camera. Then she set up her digicam, to make a continuous record of the whole thing. She was standing and surveying the studio when I thought of something, and turned to her.

“Listen,” I said, “how will we do this? I mean I was going to take charge, obviously, but now you’re doing it professionally, I think maybe you should call the shots. You just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. The only condition is, well, we do have to use up all this stuff.” I waved a hand at the boxes and bottles on the floor.

Lucy considered and nodded. Then she flushed, put a hand to her mouth and giggled. “Oh noo,” she moaned, “that makes it worse. If you are in charge I am the victim and I have no guilt, but if I am in charge then it is like, masochism…I am a total pervert…” She gently bumped a fist against her forehead. “We should never done it in the first place, me and the others. I knew we would not get away with it.”

She pulled another rueful smile, and then braced herself and walked forward into the light. She stepped into the paddling pool, turned to face me and squinted as her eyes got used to the glare.

“We do some clean ones first, okay?” she said. “So when we’re done, everybody can see me and point me out in the street and say, hey, there goes the dirty girl.” She laughed.

“You’re the boss,” I said, and I peered through the viewfinder. Lucy controlled herself and stood full-face, unsmiling, as I took photos. Then she allowed herself a smile, and when I cracked a joke, and she laughed, I got a good one of her looking more relaxed.

“Okay,” she said, “time to get moving. How about you throw one?”

“I’m not much of a shot,” I said. “What if I come up behind you and do you?”

“Okay,” she said. “Turn on the digicam.” I pressed REC on the side of the digicam. Then I took a large, fluffy banana cream pie from its box on the floor, and walked around Lucy, who stood in her bikini watching me out of the corner of her eye. Then she looked into the lens of the digicam and said “Hello, I am doing this because me and some friends played a trick on this guy we know and it was really bad and I think I am about to get paid back for it. So I think he is going to do all kinds of weird shit to me, and if you are under eighteen you should stop watching, cause I have decided I don’t like this bikini any more and it is probably going to go at some point -“

I cut her off by walking up quickly behind her and pushing the pie into her small round face, rubbing it in and smearing it over the top of her head. Lucy malatya escort made a muffled squeak and flinched, pressing her elbows to her sides. I stepped away from her and she went “Ooooh!” as the pie broke up on her head, most of it bouncing off one shoulder and splattering onto the floor.

I went to the still camera and took a photo. Lucy wiped her eyes and focused on the digicam.

“Thank you sir,” she said, “can I have some more?” I grinned, picked up two more pies, came up behind her and slapped them on either side of her face, sandwiching her head between them. She went “Uhh!” and hugged herself. I darted over, got another two pies, and waited for the two I had just applied to fall off. They did, slithering messily over Lucy’s neat, rounded breasts, and before she could clear her eyes I pushed another into her face and added the last one on top of her head. There was a “MMBL!” from inside the goo that was now coating Lucy’s head, and this time it took some time for the brown crust to break up and slide down off Lucy’s face, falling in gobs onto her chest and splattering onto her bare feet.

She opened her mouth cautiously – it was the only part of her face that could be seen ­– and said “So this is me getting punished. I think I must be very bad for something like this to happen to me. If my mom and dad are watching, this is not their fault, it is me, I am just a bad person. But the guy who is doing this to me is also a very bad person or he would have taken pity on me and forgiven me by now –”

From where I stood behind the camera, I threw a pie at Lucy, and it disintegrated across her chest. She squealed and wiped some pie goo off her face, blinking her dark eyes at me.

“He is such a liar!” she said to the camera. “He said he was a bad shot but he just hit me with – nooOOO!” She raised her hands but I had already thrown another pie, which splattered into her face dead-centre. Cream flew everywhere. Lucy shook her head, freeing some of it, and wiped it out of her eyes, just in time to see the next one coming towards her. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth, but it splashed messily into her face and she had to spit out a mouthful of coffee custard.

Before Lucy had had time to wipe her face, I skirted around the set, came up behind her, grabbed her wrists and cuffed her hands behind her back. “Oh noo,” she whimpered. “I think I am in trouble now.”

I got back behind the digicam and started hurling pie after pie at her. They nearly all hit her, mostly in the face or on the neck but sometimes splattering over her breasts, once or twice landing soggily on her crotch. She gasped and made a few incoherent whimpers, but mostly she just stood obediently and took it, her bikinied form gradually disappearing under a thick, craggy coating of cream, custard, variously coloured fillings and pie crust.

Thirty pies later, Lucy in her pretty red bikini had gone, and in her place was a human­-sized figure thickly plastered with cream, custard and pastry. A small hole opened, roughly at the level of her mouth, and she took a long breath before saying “Please, I don’t think I am being punished enough. I think you need to do more.”

I came up to her, uncuffed her hands and handed her a damp cloth, and she wiped most of the goo off her face and head, before smearing the rest off her body with her hands. Her thick, curly black hair was now slicked back on her head. She was still filthy and streaked with residues of cream and chocolate, but it was possible to see her skin once again.

“Okay,” she said, and reached behind her back. She untied her bikini top and threw it aside. “These are my breasts.” She shook her chest, causing her little breasts to sway from side to side, and grinned at the camera. I threw a pie at her chest, splattering over her clean nipples, and she stared in mock outrage for a second, before a second pie obliterated her face. She nodded philosophically as the piecrust slid over her nose and chin.

“Okay,” she said, after spitting out crumbs and gobs of custard, “so what happens if I show you my ass?” She turned her back and pulled the seat of her bikini bottoms down over her hips, flashing her tight, rounded ass at the camera. I walked up to her and pushed a pie into Lucy’s ass, rubbing it in well – but not too hard. I wasn’t here to touch Lucy, just to mess her up.

She yelped from the cold, and as I stepped back, she turned around and wiped her face.

“Well, if you are going to be like that I may as well not wear anything,” she said, wriggled off her bikini bottoms and stepped out of them. She folded her hands demurely over her clean, shaved pussy. Lucy was now naked, and I was at liberty to do what I liked with her. I went up to her, took her wrists and cuffed them in front of her. She gazed levelly into the lens of the digicam.

As I wondered what to do next, Lucy said to the camera conversationally “You see, I can take pies, however many he throws, I can take them because çanakkale escort they are only pies. But what I cannot take is sludgy stuff. That stuff, I am scared of.”

I knew when I was being prompted. I put up a stepladder behind Lucy, and she craned her neck around and asked what I was doing. When I walked towards the ladder carrying a heavy bucket, her eyes widened and she said “Oh noo! Noooo! You are not going to empty that on me, please say you are not going to cover me with that stuff, I cannot, I am not able to, please, nooo…” I climbed the ladder, Lucy imploring me not to do it and staring at me, her cute round face upturned – and I tipped the bucket over, sending a cascade of yellow cake batter over her face, pouring it all over her naked body. “MMMMMMMMMM!!!” she moaned, her lips tight shut as she disappeared underneath the avalanche of sticky yellow sludge. It poured over her face and chest, ran in thick rivulets down into her crotch and over her tight, rounded little naked buttocks, and I had to bite my tongue and remind myself that I couldn’t touch Lucy, I had to save all that for Erin, and anyway I was a one-woman man, and Lucy almost certainly didn’t even fancy me anyway, it was just that she happened to be weird enough to voluntarily strip naked in the presence of her friend’s boyfriend and allow him to pour buckets of cake batter over her.

Lucy seemed to be genuinely aroused by the cake batter. She took a deep breath and moaned as it ran all over her body, and she squirmed a little, rubbing her thighs against each other as it trickled between them. I got off the ladder, fetched another bucket and climbed up again, and I waited for her next move.

“Ohh…” she gasped, “oohh…no…I cannot take it, this is too much, I – please, I cannot do any more…” After some vigorous blinking, she managed to open her eyes, and they stared out of the mask of yellow slime that covered her face as she looked around and up at me, then she cried out “NOO!” again as I upturned the second bucket, and this time, it was a deluge of pink batter that descended over her face and head and ran over her body. “MMMNNHH!” she went through tightly-closed lips as it covered her. It was flowing thickly down her arms, shoulders and legs, dripping off her breasts where her nipples had become erect. She was whimpering and rubbing it in between her thighs with her cuffed hands.

“Oh my God…” she sighed. “This is too much, I cannot take any more, please, no more of this, I cannot bear it…” I got down from the ladder, discarded the empty bucket and picked up another full one, this time of pale blue batter. I hauled it up to the top of the stepladder, all the while watching Lucy touching herself and moaning as the batter slid slowly over her naked body, and I raised it over her head. She lifted her blinded face and I took my cue, slowly emptying the blue batter over her. It oozed over her face, adding a third layer and a new colour to the sludge that was now covering her, and she made a blissful “MmmmMMM!” sound. She was standing with her chest stuck out, her ass thrust behind her and knees bent; both of her hands were thrust between the tops of her thighs, and she was stroking herself slowly and deeply.

She did that for a while, then she raised her shackled wrists and wiped her face, focusing at me.

“Please,” she whimpered. “Do not do this to me. Look what you are making me do. It is so humiliating…I have a college degree…” I had to stifle a laugh. Lucy was a natural. I picked up the last plastic bucket and climbed the ladder, and she watched me all the way, begging me not to do it, not to humiliate her any more, please not to mess her up further. I tilted the bucket, and a drop of thick chocolate sauce slopped out and landed on her left breast. She stared at it in horror, raised her hands and cried “Nooo, please…!” but I tilted the bucket further, and a thin stream of chocolate sauce poured out, hitting her between the eyes, then grew thicker as Lucy closed her eyes and whimpered, until it was a thick flow that I directed all over her face. She opened her mouth to breathe, and exclaimed “Noo! Oh my God…please, no, no more…” but I kept going until the chocolate sauce had completely coated her head, shoulders and breasts, and was running in dark streams down her belly and back, trickling between her pink buttocks and dripping into the pool of muck that had formed in the paddling pool. Lucy put her hands in her crotch again and made small, high, sighing noises as she stroked herself.

I got down from the ladder and went over to the digicam. I tilted it downwards a fraction, then went over to Lucy and forced her down until she was sitting in the pool of muck, her eyes closed under the glossy coating of chocolate sauce, masturbating herself and panting. I was pretty sure that she wanted me to take over. I took a pie in each hand and watched her as she masturbated, and when she finally opened her eyes and blinked at the camera I stepped forward and engulfed her head in another couple of pies. She gasped and rocked backwards and forwards, bringing herself closer to orgasm, occasionally picking up a double handful of muck and heaping it over her face, and I continued to plaster her head on the front, sides and back with pies, burying her once again in the thickest, messiest coating yet of crust and cream and custard.

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