Message-ID: <17963eli$9812110448@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/17963.txt> From: Model-Bridgette@webtv.net (Bridgette) Subject: "I Was a Model Slave" (1/?) by Bridgette (m/f,f/f,sm,tor,scat,etc.) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 (WebTV) Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7Bit Content-Type: Text/Plain; Charset=US-ASCII Content-Disposition: Inline X-WebTV-Signature: 1 ETAsAhR7kbgXULnj76cipNXK4RS+mgIH8QIUM/t3M6YRQBfPd8ocvGnpxyfscLQ= Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <1632-3670DB76-154@newsd-123.bryant.webtv.net> by Model Bridgette The following story is true to life. Well, mostly true. I have felt the need to alter some names and places, but the situations I will tell you about really happened and the pain and humiliation is real. I may not be able to get all of this out at one sitting, so please bare with me. I might have to write this out in several parts. Emotionally, it is draining to relive certain experiences related to my time in Paris and Las Vegas. If I strike a nerve with you, please feel free to drop me a line. I will try to respond to your email. Thanks. Part One When I was 18 in Paris modeling, I was on top of the world. I was young, uncommonly beautiful and uncommonly wealthy for someone my age. But all that changed forever after I met Yvette. My manager had a sister and she insisted that I let her stay in my Parisian flat. I had all kinds of space and after all I thought I owed a lot of my modeling career to Juliette, my manager. So I agreed to let Yvette come and stay in one of my rooms. Yvette instantly seemed at home. She was about 4 years older than me, but just from listening to her language and her tone of voice, she sounded much older. Much more experienced, if you understand my meaning. She was about 5'7", had the toned body of a dancer, with long tanned legs and a really captivating face. Shoulder length brown hair and brown eyes. She immediately told me how beautiful I was at 5'11", blonde hair, and blue eyes...and I was immediately jealous of her larger breasts. Anyway, you get the picture; Yvette was gorgeous. I found out over the next couple of weeks that she had gotten a job at a Strip/Cabaret club, and that she would be spending most of her nights there. Fine with me. I would be getting up early in the morning to go to shoots and Yvette would be just getting in from her late-night work. As roommates, we wouldn't see or hear much of each other. Sometimes though, I did overhear things in her room. She might come home early from the club and the key in the door would wake me up. It was pretty obvious from the number of voices that she had brought along some girlfriends from work. I might drift in and out of sleep, but I thought I heard little squeals and smacks. Almost like someone was being pinched and maybe slapped. I never had the courage to get up and see what was going on though. I guess you really could say I felt kind of shy in front of Yvette, and she was very assertive with me, so I didn't want to run the risk of embarrassing her or offending her. We kept our own separate lives for the most part for several months. Then one early morning, Yvette noisily entered our flat with a male voice. They made some clinking sounds in the kitchen and then Yvette knocked on my door. I ignored her at first, but she kept on. Finally, I cracked the door---just a crack because I didn't really want this male stranger to see me in my short little teddy. Yvette was excited and she smelled of alcohol, lots of it. I was not a drinker myself and I thought maybe I would just humor her for a while. She wanted to introduce me to someone she met at the cabaret. I grabbed a silk robe and crept on out, blinking my eyes against the lights in the living room and kitchen. As my eyes opened better, I saw that Yvette was still wearing one of her tight outfits from the show, complete with platform heels that almost made her stand as tall as me. He said his name was James. I don't think he said anything about a last name. In fact, when he gave me his name and took my hand, I remember thinking that that probably wasn't even his real name. James looked to be about 30 and clearly had a muscular frame. He didn't appear ultra-rich and he didn't seem ultra-poor either; just relaxing somewhere in the middle I guess. He introduced himself as an artist who was visiting Paris and London for a few weeks. I stayed up and politely talked with them for a little while, but then I had to make my excuses to go back to bed and get my "beauty rest." I fell pretty much right to sleep after that. And now I am fairly sure that was the night that Yvette and James shared more than a couple of drinks. They shared ideas on how best to turn me into their submissive sex slave. (I'll be back with Part Two soon....) -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | <http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>