I had moved to New York when I was seventeen. I was barely done school, with dreams of being a dancer and model. I took a cheap hotel room, my parents had thrown me out, when I decided not to go to college. I had been dancing since I was three. I had given up most of my life for it. I had developed late, my feet were always bleeding from toe shoes, and I never got sweets. I was in the face what a man would call a girl next door, with soft blue eyes and blonde hair. But I had the long legs of a ballerina, and the tiny waist. I had developed late, but had perky little breasts, even without a bra on, they stood at attention. Unable to find dancing work, I tried to get modeling work, but no agency would let me in. I had no portfolio, and no experience, and they weren’t interested.
I was near the end of my money, I had a few days paid off left at the hotel, before I’d be out. I was in a coffee shop when I found an ad, a photographer looking for a model. He needed a new muse, and was willing to do a portfolio for free, and pay 50 bucks for it. It said no experience needed, and thought the 50 could be a start, and perhaps I’d get more work. I scratched down the address, and took the subway, finding the place. It was a rundown building in Brooklyn, and it took me a few minutes, before I rung the bell. No one answered, I was just buzzed in, and I took the stairs slowly as possible, up to the second floor. I couldn’t bring myself to knock on the door, and was about to leave, when it swung open.
I was expecting some young amateur, but found a man who had to be well into his fifties, balding and with the start of a beer gut. He led me into his flat, which had big airy windows. He looked me up and down. “Nice, you will do. Name?” I blushed a bit. “Stacey.” He nodded and motioned to the sofa over by the window. “Go Lay down and we will start.” I turned towards it. “Okay.” He stopped me. “Off with the clothes first.” I stopped and looked at him. “I am not taking my clothes off.” He pulled out his wallet and put a 100 down on the counter. “There is more if you do well.” I looked at the money, and knew it was another two weeks at the hotel. “Okay.”
I was embarrassed, and red in the face, as I stripped down. I got to my thong and bra, but he motioned me to continue. Closing my eyes, I removed the last remnants of my clothes. He had me lay down, and started directing me. He had me cupping my breasts, playing with myself, splaying my legs open the whole time. My eyes were closed the entire time. I didn’t want to see him as I did this. I heard him put down the camera on the table,, and hoped I was done.
I didn’t open my eyes until I felt something against my cheek. I opened and saw his cock head next to my mouth. I was a virgin, I had spent too many hours dancing, I had never had time to date. I shook my head. “No.” He tweaked my nipple. “150 if you suck me.” I looked at the cock and trembled a bit. “Fine.” He started feeding his cock into my mouth, going deeper, causing me to choke and try to spit him out. He plugged my nose, and kept feeding his cock down my throat, until I was deep throating. “Suck you slut.” Desperate to get him out, I sucked as best as I could, praying it would end soon, sucking over and over. Finally he began jerking and my mouth filled with salty cum, and I was forced to swallow, as his cock was still deep in my throat, and I’d have drowned.
When done he pulled me up and handed me the money. “Come back tomorrow and you can have your photos.” I shook my head. “I don’t need this kind of portfolio. He pulled me in to his arms. “You come back for the photos, or it is within my right to sell them.” I pulled away from him. “Fine.” I scampered into my clothes and ran from the flat.
I didn’t sleep all night. I didn’t want to go back, but he seemed a sleaze, and I knew he would keep his word. I walked past his building six or seven times, before I finally rung, and again he let me straight in without an answer.
I looked at him in his flat. “My photos.” He took me over to a computer. “I have a video for you to watch first.” I shook my head. “I have no time.” He made me watch, a video of the photo shoot, and of the oral sex. I felt him behind me, his cock against my back, as I watched. I was worried he would fuck me, but he forced me to my knees and pinched my nose until I opened my mouth. As he fucked my throat he pointed out the video camera I hadn’t noticed the night before. When done, and I had swallowed, he ordered me to clean him off.
He pulled me up and he saw my fear as he moved me towards the couch. “Oh no, I won’t fuck you. Your cherry has fetched a nice price.” I pulled away from him. “I am not a hooker.” He laughed and whispered. “If you don’t want that tape going to the police and the news, you will.” I shook my head. “You will be arrested as a John.” He shook his head. “John school, maybe a fine, you will arrested for the whore you are.” I shook my head, tears running down my cheeks. “I won’t be a hooker for you, there has to be something else.”
He took me up the stairs in the building to the top floor, where a door with a number pealing stood. “This is your new home. No more cheap hotel. Its all yours, though you will be paying me 60% of your income, in return.” I looked at the old bachelor suite, with a small day bed, a pealing kitchen and a tiny bathroom. “No.” He pushed me in. “One year, when you’re done, you’re free. You will service any client I ask, and you will enjoy it. Or you can go to prison, I am sure they will pay you in smokes for it.”
He showed me the closet, and ordered me to dress in stockings and garters, a corset, a thong, and a coat. He kissed me. “Your first client is waiting. Here is his address. I will expect you back when done, or the cops will come looking.” I took the paper from him. “Fine.”