It was your typical London gallery opening. The din of humanity clashed and echoed against the hard white surfaces and the art jumped off the walls in a Munch silent scream. I had been in and out of London art scene not because of my great love of art but because it was the place where I could easily find new clients and promote my daughter's modeling career. After Emma's session with Annabel, things were looking better than ever. Thanks to Annabel's contacts in art world, Emma was receiving more offers than ever before and not only for sleazy child erotica web sites and private photo collections but genuine artistic work with renown British and international artists. Although the money was always better when nudity or sex was involved, I was also happy to see Emma become a muse for artists who used her body to pursue their artistic visions.

I enjoyed walking around the gallery, hand in hand with Emma, wile heads turned in our directions and people's eyes followed us in a silent awe. I presumed it was because of the way I dressed my daughter. Slutty would be an understatement. She wore shortest, tiniest skirt I could find. It offered tantalising glimpses of her little round bottom and a thong buried somewhere between her cheeks. Her legs were bare and she wore a pair of high heels that arched her feet in a permanent tiptoe position. The top she wore was a thin white shirt, transparent enough to show impressions of her two perky pink nipples. I wasn't embarrassed by openly advertising my daughter's sexiness and I don't think she was bothered by it either. In fact, I felt people watching us felt more embarrassed by their reactions to what they saw then me or Emma were.

Most guests were aghast at the sight of Emma's erotic display. Some pretended to look away while others gawked with their mouths open. Then there were those who openly smiled at her and shamelessly undressed her with their eyes. They were the ones I was mostly interested in and among them I tried to pick those who looked like they could afford hiring an exclusive little child model for a few hours of artistic indulgence. I didn't need poor art students who couldn't afford their next meal, nor bashful art merchants with their calculating middle class morals. I wanted true artists types with penchant for illicit, tendency for self destruction and money to burn.

I was scanning the large space for the fourteenth time, wine goblet tipped to my palette when I saw her over the rim of my glass. She entered the gallery with a flourish and my attention was riveted by her sudden presence and purpose. She strode confidently, cutting a swift arc through the gallery crowd and up to the owner, whom she embraced as an old friend. Annabel was right. I was drawn to her immediately.

Now London has way more than its share of talented women. They're everywhere; on every street corner and in every neighborhood. One gets inured to the preponderance of artists after awhile and begins to accept it as commonplace. After meeting Annabel, I became intrigued every time I saw a beautiful and talented woman. It's some sort of unspoken vibe or pose that sets certain women apart. Perhaps it's their confident demeanor or otherworldly allure. I've never been able to put my finger on it, really. But certain women attract me at a visceral level that transcends good looks. Granted, I was after anyone with money who could afford to hire my 10-year-old daughter as a model, but if Annabel had taught me anything, it was that women are far superior choices when it comes to hiring an erotic artist for your child's modeling work.

She was tall and her demeanor obviously lesbian. Her high heeled boots added a couple of inches to her long lithe frame. Her long wavy hair was brown and parted to the side. It came below her shoulders and bounced lusciously as she walked. Her face was strong and intense with deep set brown eyes and well defined bone structure. She was beautiful in a sort of Germanic way. Her skin was pale and glowed with a smooth luminescent quality.

Annabel said her name was Susan, a talented photographer specialising in erotic photography. Most of her work is sold to private collectors and prestigious galleries. She came recommended as someone who would be interested in hiring Emma for a little private photo session. There were chances of even more lucrative deal if it was later sold to Russian and Japanese clients.

I watched her move and stand with the grace of a dancer. She engaged Leo, the owner of the gallery, in an intense exchange, with hands on her hips and her proud butt protruding at a judicious angle. The thin silk hugged her tight little ass, then flared loosely to just above her knees. It was hard believing that someone successful and talented like her would be engaged in a shady world of child erotica.

I felt her seductive force as I orbited the room with Emma by my side. Emma knew why we were here. She enjoyed her recent experience with Annabel and if she had a choice between modeling for men or women, I'm pretty sure she would pick a woman again. I looked down at her drinking her apple juice and smiled. She looked deliciously innocent, like a perfect little porn star. As we neared closer to Susan, her eyes caught Emma in her sight and for a moment she seemed transfixed. I could only imagine what was going through her mind as she followed the half-naked child walking ever closer in her direction.

"You must be Susan Sanders," I said and offered a hand.

Susan smiled in a sultry way and shook my hand with slender but powerful grip. Her skin was warm and her hand lingered just a second too long after our handshake.

"Let me guess... Christine. And this must be little Emma. Am I right?"

"So Annabel must have already told you about us?"

"Just yesterday. We talked on the phone. She said you're trying to find some modeling work for Emma. Have you seen my photography work yet?"

"Can't say that I have, but I love photography," I said, pretending I knew nothing about her.

"Some people would say it's inappropriate for Emma's tender age. On the other hand, maybe not. I don't know where you stand on this but I don't have any problem hiring her as a model. There are always people who are willing to pay for something more... taboo." She smiled and blundered ahead. "I couldn't help but notice your entrance before. Emma is quite a little stunner, if you don't mind me being blunt. And honest," she added.

"Of course not. She receives compliments all the time. People find her quite fascinating to work with."

Standing now closer to her I had a better look at her. Sometimes the beauty of a woman from afar doesn't hold up on closer inspection. Susan was quite the opposite. Once I was within her sphere, talking to her at close range, I was drawn to her strong physical presence and intoxicating eyes. She was even more beautiful and alluring from her inner orbit.

I found out she was a former ballerina, turned model, turned artist. Once the general introductions were out of the way and we became more familiar with each other's interests, we talked about her art. She said while portrait photography is her bread and butter, and has always paid the bills, black and white art photography is still what sustains her and brings her the most pleasure and joy.

I was careful not to take up too much of her time. But as we parted company, I gave her my telephone number and told her to call me if she finds time to do a photo session with Emma. She smiled and said what a pleasure it had been meeting me and especially Emma, then turned and walked away. I watched her perfect, wiggling little butt fade into the crowd and sighed. I figured that was the end of the story: a pleasant conversation and inconclusive promise of a possible but undecided modeling offer. We left a little while later and headed back home.

So it was with surprise that I picked up the phone a few days later and Susan was on the other end.

"Hi Christine. I hope I'm not bothering you. Listen, I was thinking about your offer this afternoon and... well, I have a proposition for you."

I was pretty ecstatic but didn't want to rush her, so I waited for her to continue.

"I'm working on a project right now and I need a model about Emma's age."

"Susan, we'd be happy to help. If you need Emma for a shot, it would be my privilege." My heart was racing with the fact that this talented young woman was reaching out and asking me to bring her my daughter for a modeling session. Little did I know, at that moment, what was in store for us.

"Well, thank you. But photography is not exactly the final product this time. Let me explain. I have a client who's working on a new collection right now that centers on children's bodies. Basically she makes sculptures that are loosely based on the contours of the body, in an abstract and exaggerated scale. And what she needs is... well, this a little embarrassing, but... what she needs is detailed photographs of a child's body. Up close. Black and white, preferably." There was a pause. "Think of them as artistic or erotic nudes."

I caught my breath and hoped she hadn't heard. I did my best to maintain my composure. She continued.

"She asked me to provide her with photographs she needs to make the sculptures. Her intent is to use these photographs as bases for her sculpture project; sculptures based on child's body, but at such a scale and dimension that the true inspiration will be somewhat difficult, but not impossible, to detect. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, it does. And it's an honor to be asked. But I have to say, that's not the kind of photography Emma usually does. I mean, there are probably a lot of talented models that are more skilled and experienced with this sort of thing. Emma's done virtually no nude photography, to be quite blunt."

What the hell was I doing? Trying to talk her out of it? The idea was to play the game in order to boost the price but I think I might have taken it too far. I waited for a reply.

"Well, actually, that's why I want to photograph Emma. First, I saw how talented she is; how alluring and, forgive me for saying this... how sexy she is for her age. Secondly, I don't want someone who has preconceived ideas on erotic modeling. And, finally, I want you to be involved with your daughter in directing the shoot and figured that we'd find a nice balance in terms of finding out how to get out of the shoot what I want."

It was hard to argue with logic like that. I heaved a silent sigh of relief and acquiesced to her request.

"I know it probably doesn't matter very much, but the client is very wealthy and she is offering a substantial compensation for modelling work plus travel expenses."

"That sounds wonderful. Thank you. So do you have a studio that might work for this project?"

"I do. My studio is in Hampstead and has a large north facing bay window filled with a mattress covered window seat. And I have props, chairs, a bed, a table that can be used in creative ways. I'm sure we can figure it out."

"Do you have a macro lens?" I asked.

"I do. And a very good one at that."

I could almost hear her smile through the telephone. We talked logistics and made a date to meet the following Thursday in the early afternoon. I hung up the phone in a daze. I could not believe that Emma would be photographed by this lovely woman in her studio, nude and in close up. It was too much to process and I let the whole idea percolate over the next few days as we went about our normal business.

---

While waiting for Emma's scheduled photo session, I researched Susan's work on the Internet. She had done mostly erotic photography over the years, and while there was also some interest in nature photography, it had been a large percentage of her body of work. In her own words, she figured that her skills in working with people and their bodies would come in handy. And certainly from what I have seen of her work, her familiarity with the light in her studio would go a long way in creating a perfect atmosphere for the type of shoot she seemed to want. I went through the next week with gathering anticipation as to where this would all lead Emma and me.

Thursday afternoon arrived and in my usual way, I did my best making Emma presentable. I've became more skilled over time in dressing her to accentuate her erotic appeal. Mostly it is little details that make the difference such as trace of perfume between her legs or a touch of lip gloss. Her wardrobe also consisted mostly of imported, custom made items that would make even a porn star blush. Sometimes I felt guilty of trying to overexpose her charms to piercing eyes of complete strangers, but today I wanted Susan's first impression to be a good one. I arranged Emma's hair in two long pigtails which paired with her favorite sunglasses made her look like an archetypal Lolita. I didn't want to admit it, but I was incredibly nervous about our impending visit and unsure as to whether I had misinterpreted Susan's signals.

We arrived to Susan's studio on time and she buzzed us in. We walked in and she opened the door as we came up the last run of stairs.

"I was expecting you," she smiled broadly. "You both look wonderful."

"Thank you, Susan." I smiled under my breath when I saw her placed her hand gently on Emma's perky bottom as she led her into the inner sanctum. Once inside, she waved her hands as she presented her skylit bay and various props. I nodded my approval and looked her straight in the eye.

"This is perfect, Susan. I love your studio. It's simply beautiful."

"Would you mind if I put on some soft music?" She queried.

"That would be nice," I said over her shoulder as I looked at the paintings and photographs on her walls. I felt embarrassed and ashamed for my nervousness, but bridled with the sheer thought of what was to come. By looking at Emma, I think she felt excited too. Her cheeks were flushed and she kept biting her lower lip. I intentionally didn't reveal any details to her to make her even more excited but from past experiences she could guess what was going to happen today.

"So how would you like to start, Susan?" I enquired.

"Good question. Starting is always embarrassing, isn't it Emma?" She turned towards the little girl.

"Yeah... a little." Emma answered in a whisper.

"It would be great if you could help her disrobe, Christine." She looked at me for help. "I need her naked for most of the shoot and she might feel more comfortable if you help her out."

"Of course," I said playing along and more than happy to get involved in the action.

I took Emma over toward the skylit bay, enjoying the way the soft northern light grazed her form. Susan stood by the window seat with her back turned toward us, giving us some privacy. I reached down and undid the buttons in front of Emma's shirt, then reaching up, slipped the shirt off her shoulders. It fell onto the curve of her protruding ass for a second, then quickly fell to the floor in a silken heap, unveiling her naked torso in the soft light. I did the same with her skirt and panties, piling them neatly down in a heap on the floor, then stood looking at her like a proud mother I was; proud of my baby's naked form, her prepubescent shape and her silken skin.

Susan, I'm sure, has seen her share of children, nude and otherwise, and she's photographed children, albeit clothed, over the years. But if I was to judge by the look on her face, nothing prepared her for the awe at seeing such tender beauty exposed in such a matter-of-fact way by her own mother. She cleared her throat and tried to determine her next move. But before she could make a suggestion, I stepped in, in an attempt to help her regain her composure.

"Why don't we start here on the window seat? Start far away and work your way in," I said.

Susan was looking at the soft slope of Emma's bare chest as she turned slightly towards the window. She tried to look into her eyes as she turned, but she was having a hard time not leering at the wonderful form of the child's legs, back and ass.

Even to a seasoned photographer like Susan, Emma's absolutely exquisite little body, her pale, soft skin and her lean and shapely legs, radiated eroticism that was too alluring to concentrate properly on her work and I could feel her growing embarrassment. Her eyes tried secretly to asses the little round bottom before her and the hidden charms that hid between the little girl's thighs.

"Sounds like a plan," she quipped after an awkward pause, realising she was sounding shallow and befunked. "Emma, why don't you remain standing to start with," she suggested.

She pulled the camera viewfinder up to her eye and began to shoot. I was delighted she had no hesitation in taking as many shots as she needed. There was so much to photograph and so many fleeting opportunities at a certain angle, view, or light. And in spite of my little act on the phone, I had a hunch she immediately got the sense that Emma had posed before as she exhibited no inhibitions that children usually do and seemed totally comfortable being naked and exposed before an adult who was taking such lurid interest in her body. She circled Emma's small form and clicked madly, probably figuring she could always edit out unwanted views, but not wanting to miss the opportunities being presented to her. She gradually worked her way in closer and began to photograph Emma's face and head and then she turned to me.

"I wasn't really asked for portraits or facial shots, but I'll start here and work my way down," she said.

I assented with a subtle smile as she circled around Emma's upper torso, shooting her little face. She directed her to look this way, then that, to look up, down, to look into the camera or away. Emma followed directions easily, having had many previous experiences at the hands of leering photographers, and we slowly began to get comfortable with Susan's pace.

"Why don't you untie her pigtails and put her hair up for a minute or two, Christine? Just hold it nice and loose."

I took a clip from my pocket and wrapped Emma's hair casually so it was up but strands were hanging here and there. It exposed the delicate line of her head and shoulders and Susan seized the opportunity to photograph her from the back and side, capturing the long sweep of her neck, her delicate round chin, accented by random strands of her wavy blonde locks. She was so lovely; even her tiny ears were beguiling.

"Put your hands on your head, Emma, please," she instructed.

As Emma put her arms on top of her head, Susan zeroed in from behind, taking subtle profile shots of the gentle swell of her right breast bump. As she circled around, her nipple came into the viewfinder, standing stiff against the child's ivory skin. Her breasts were only small swellings with medium sized areola punctuated by stiff, pale pink nipples. They stood proud off the tips of her tiny mounds and I knew they'd be a focus of many a shot. Susan did her best to maintain her professional demeanor as Emma's soft and innocent beauty unveiled her sexy form to her eyes.

Susan spent ten more minutes just photographing little girl standing beside the window seat; the soft northern light playing games with her delicate form. At one point Emma looked over her shoulder at me and then bent forward, putting her hands down on the cushion of the window seat and spreading her legs slightly. Her gaze suggested that she did what she knew the photographer was ultimately after and something we have rehearsed at home many times before. Susan kneeled down without words and began to focus on the area between Emma's legs, then swung around to catch the glimpse of her proud nipples.

"Why don't you lay down now, Emma," Susan said, as Emma crouched forward, spun around and placed her bottom on the edge of the cushion.

I helped her undo her hair. She shook her head to loosen it and then raised her arms above her head which flattened her breast buds but accentuated her stiff nipples. Susan clicked like mad, circling her slight form and focusing in tightly with her telephoto. Then she grabbed the camera with the macro lens and zeroed in again on the 10-year-old's stiff nipples; the light lilting softly off her delicate curves and protruding tips. She kneeled down and shot the profile of her chest, its flat appearance broken up only by tips of two pink pebbles.

"Very nice, Emma. Very nice. You've done this before a time or two?" Susan suggested.

But neither Emma nor me responded. Emma smiled and arched her back to push her defiant nipples forward into the light. She then leaned back on her elbows, placed her little feet squarely on the floor and spread her legs slightly, arching her back subtly to bring her hairless pudenda into the picture. Susan answered by angling to get views that would profile the gentle bulge of Emma's mons. The rise of her mound sloped gently upward from her flat stomach. The crease of her vagina came into view in the gentle north light and Susan's trigger finger went into overdrive.

I watched this erotic display from the side as Susan zoomed in for close shots of my daughter's most private asset. I think Emma could see how entranced Susan was with her pose so she reached down with one hand and spread her lips with two fingers, opening up her wet slice to further inspection. Susan could not believe the scene encased in her viewfinder. Emma's lips were a milky pink, soft and full, and glistened slightly in the afternoon light. Susan zoomed in closely, admiring the child's wet slickness, already evident before her. She was so close to Emma I swore she could detect the subtle aroma of her sex and it made my head spin envisioning Susan inhaling my little girl's scent of arousal.

"Nice, Emma. You're gorgeous, sweetheart. Very sexy little girl."

Full of new confidence, Emma smiled and pushed herself up on the full cushion of the window seat. She was now supine under the skylight and lay onto her back. She then arched her back, put her hands under her bottom and pushed up, lifting her nonexistent hips up high and exposing her glorious pussy in a pose that left me speechless and proud of my little girl. She was so comfortable with her poses that Susan took advantage now and positioned herself so she had a direct, full-on view of Emma's hips and pussy.

Emboldened by Susan's obvious interest in her pose, Emma completely lifted her bottom off her hands, arching her back and pushing her hips toward the ceiling, supported only on her upper back and feet, spread to maximize the exquisite view. Susan snapped shots from above and then from the side, leaning down so her view scanned the horizon of Emma's pelvis and the soft swelling of her mound. Even from my vantage point I could tell the profile shots from the side were particularly breathtaking; Emma's mons forming a puffy bulge, bisected by the slit of her labia, hairless but slightly moist as if licked by an invisible tongue.

I watched Susan nestle in between Emma's spread legs to zero in on her wide open pussy. She reached behind and her fingers came up from below, her middle finger snuggling into the generous folds of her labia. Susan was so close now she could hear the wet, sticky sound of my daughter's excitement and smell her musky tang. Her glorious little vulva completely filled Susan's viewfinder as she snapped shot after explicit shot, taking advantage of the soft lighting and the child's uninhibited disposition.

"Okay Emma, sweetheart, I want you to put your bottom back down and lift your legs in the air. Keep them together and point your toes like ballerina."

Emma did as she was told, her legs puncturing the skylit space. Susan positioned herself underneath and focused on Emma's ass. This position exposed the bulging flesh of her labia from below, the two rounded hairless lips pressed together in long fleshy ridges defined by the taut expanse of her lean thighs. The view was magnificently erotic and Susan zoomed in to fill her viewfinder with this sexualized display of child's naked form.

Emma pulled her legs back a little further and her thin inner lips began to emerge, glistening with dew. She reached her fingers around to the round bulges of her labia. She used her fingers to lightly spread her delicate lips, exposing the pink folds and ridges of her minora. Even a couple of meters away from her I could detect the sticky sound of her lips parting, indicating a gathering wetness.

"Turn onto your side, Emma," Susan whispered into her ear.

She brought her legs down together, stayed bent at the waist and lay down on her side, facing away from her. Susan catalogued the ebb and flow of her curves, savoring the gentle roll of her tiny waist. The landscape of her prepubescent body was intoxicating; tiny swells and bumps of white pinkish skin, windswept by the northern light.

"Beautiful, Emma. Simply beautiful. Now I want you to get on your tummy, sweetheart, face down."

Emma smiled seductively, lowered her torso onto the mattress, reached her arms above her head and turned onto her tummy. She let out a soft moan as she did so. Her long blonde hair draped over her pretty face. She pulled her arms under her body and brought her shoulders up slightly. Susan surveyed her lovely backside and knew exactly what she was going to be doing for the next 15 minutes.

"Emma, that's lovely. Stay just like that," she directed.

She stood back and admired the gentle taper of Emma's back as it swept south. The little girl's waist was tiny and the small of her back a low point in her body. Her hips yet undefined compared to the pronounced round mounds of her buttocks, so clearly articulated and presented. Susan smiled with satisfaction and then began a photographic journey, starting from the soft strands of hair over Emma's shoulders and working her way south.

She photographed Emma's back and then straddled her lower legs to take close-ups of her sweet cheeks, looking so soft and squeezable. I watched her quietly as she brought her camera down to mattress level and shot various profile shots of succulent 10-year-old bottom, admiring little girl's delectable shape and form. The puckered folds of Emma's labia peeked seductively from their hiding place between her smooth thighs.

"So lovely. So hot. I could do this all night. Emma, get on your knees and put your head down."

As Susan spoke her command, Emma stole a glance in my direction and after seeing approval in my eyes, moved with unquestioning subservience and twisted her small body to a kneeling position. She moved with the grace uncommon for a child her age. She pushed forward, laying her head on the cushion as her exquisite ass jutted up and out in a femininely display of charms usually associated with women and not little girls.

Susan made no bones about her intentions anymore. She brought her cameras to the rear and focused in on my daughter's ass, spread-eagled and open, displaying the spread form of her juicy labia and her tightly puckered anus. I watched her with satisfaction as she licked her lips while searching with the viewfinder Emma's most intimate places. Her shutter finger raced madly to capture the moment.

"Oh, Emma. That is so nice. So nice, girl. Push your hips up, baby. Show yourself to me. God, you're beautiful little girl."

Encouraged, Emma spread herself wider and suddenly reached her hand from below to touch and spread her lips. Susan zeroed in closely; filling her viewfinder with divine preteen labia; looking for shots that would be almost abstract in their form and nature. Emma's pink lips protruded in a full wet display only seen in child porn magazines and her fingers added another dimension to the shots; a digital display of self-love.

That was the moment when Susan turned to me, her face slightly flashed and breathless.

"Christine, I will need your help from here if that's alright with you. I need you to help Emma spread herself open so I can take macro shots of her special places. I know you're her mother but it would look much better if you give her a hand. Do you think you can do this?"

"I suppose I could, but Susan, this wasn't part of the arrangement. The modeling charge doesn't include my involvement. I'm afraid if you want me on the set, I'll have to increase the hourly rate by 10%."

Susan mulled this for a second and then gave in. She didn't know however, that I was dying to join the action and was in fact prepared to help her for free. But this is how I made money off my daughter and it was only part of the job. But then to my surprise, she raised the stakes even higher.

"I'll offer you 15% if I can put handcuffs on her while you keep her open for me. Do we have a deal?"

Now it was my turn to ponder things over. I had no qualms about having Emma handcuffed. After all, Annabel had her tied to the cross for hours so she's familiar with restraints and bondage. What I really wanted to know was if Susan's offer of 15% was her final. I thought I should at least try for a better deal. I had nothing to lose and in the end, I was in this business for money.

"20% and you get handcuffs plus see me finger her both holes."

"Jesus Christ, Christine!" Susan panted, visibly hyperventilating from my offer of sexually molesting my own 10-year-old daughter.

"It's really not that much compared to what I charge others." I played my usual pitch. "I had clients who payed double your rates for a simple nude sessions. No touching, no spreading."

"Alright, fine. 20%! And I want to see you spank her little ass. Hard."

"Is that so?" I raised my eyebrows in mock surprise, a smile playing in corner of my lips. "Okay then. Let's call it a deal."

"Thank you Christine. Why don't you step closer to her and... perhaps you could touch her to begin with. Use your fingers to open her up. Play with her while I take close-up shots."

This was the moment I was waiting for. Watching the session from the sidelines made me wet, yet unable to bring myself off. I began to insert my middle finger into Emma's pussy and my new proximity to the action allowed me to hear the subtle sticky sounds of her cunt, lubricating itself and wetting my finger as I inserted one, then another, firmly into her depths. For the second time today I heard her moan slightly and I knew that Susan was now just as much turned on by this display of my baby's sexual treasures as I was.

Amid constant clicking of the camera, I reached my other hand behind Emma and began to finger her ass. The view was amazing: two of my fingers were nestled into the fleshy folds of her pussy, the other finger slid knuckle deep into her light brown puckered hole. The close-up shots muddied the difference between digits and genitalia. It was a fascinating linkage and the macro lens brought the juxtaposition of my fingers and flesh to life.

"That's great Christine, you can take a short break now while I put handcuffs on her." Susan said, laying her camera aside and taking a pair of handcuffs from a pile of props at her side. "Don't be afraid Emma, this is only for playing games. No one will hurt you, sweetheart. Put your hands in front of you and imagine they are bracelets," she said, clicking the handcuffs firmly into place on Emma's slim little wrists. "Emma, darling, why don't you get on your back again. Spread your legs for me. Show me yourself. And Christine, you could open her holes again. Show me how she looks on the inside," Susan directed with confidence.

Emma turned again, placed her beautiful rear onto the window seat and eagerly spread her legs wide. She looked at Susan directly while opening herself to my finger as I spread her lips and presented her holes to Susan's viewfinder. Susan wasted no time in zooming in, angling from different vantage points and clicking madly at this incredible sexual exhibition.

"Finger her little pussy, Christine. Get her wet for me."

I saw Emma close her eyes as my fingers took over, working from experience and somehow knowing what the camera would appreciate. The angles and zoom shots were unbelievable from my vantage point. I knew that viewing these shots later would be a testament to the success of the moment. I had to give my best. Emma's scent was now unmistakable and the sounds of her well lubricated pussy were being accentuated by the movement of my fingers working on her. I could see small drips of juice running down out of her open gash and trailing south down my fingers and into her tightly puckered ass. I don't remember ever seeing a more overt display of sexual arousal in a child of her age. And Susan's camera was only inches away, zooming in with her macro lens and clicking madly to record this lewd display for posterity.

"Mommy, why am I so wet down there?" Emma whispered; her first words in awhile.

"It's alright, darling. That means you're enjoying yourself. Mommy is wet too, believe me."

"It's amazing, Christine." Susan spoke behind her camera. "Don't stop now."

"You like what you see, Susan?" I asked.

"Yes... You two are so fucking hot. And I am so lucky to be photographing your little girl right now," she exclaimed in a deep guttural voice. "Thank you for letting me do this, Christine. I'm going to need to come before the afternoon is over," she crooned.

"I'm sure we'll figure out a way to take care of that." I exclaimed in my most professional manner.

Susan continued to instruct Emma to angle her body this way and that but it was becoming difficult to catch shots as Emma moved with a directed purpose under my probing fingers. I could hear her gasp and moan slightly as I continued to play with her. Susan did her best to maintain the reason for the shoot: close-up shots of Emma's outrageously anatomical display with an eye toward abstracting the subject and views. While some shots would leave no doubt that they were close-up views of a beautiful and very wet 10-year-old pussy; other shots, I knew, would work well for their ultimate purpose: Susan's art.

"Go ahead and spank her now, Christine. I want to see you smack her perky little ass. And keep that finger inside her anus."

Perhaps Susan thought I had become too possessed with Emma's pussy and needed to take advantage of her anus instead, but I guess it made sense to finger her bottom while I was spanking it. With her hands still handcuffed, I positioned her on her knees, her ass up in the air, her face down on a pillow. My finger slowly but steadily found its way again inside her rectum. Her beautiful round bottom was so silky, smooth and seductive. So perfect for smacking, I thought as the first slap landed on it with an audible resonance.

"Ouch!" Emma cried out but unable to protect herself with her handcuffed hands.

"Harder, Christine! I know you can hit her harder." Susan clicked repeatedly, zooming in with her camera from different angles.

My hand landed again on Emma's little unprotected bubble butt, little harder this time.

"Awww... it hurts, mommy!" she cried out in protest but I was feeling too horny to feel any sympathy for her right then. My hand swatted her few more times while the other hand fingered her anus with increasing ferocity as if competing with Susan's finger on the camera's trigger.

After a few minutes of exploring the painful side of pleasure, Susan began to focus again on other areas of Emma's little body. She zeroed in on her face, her jaw, the taut lines of her neck, the soft curves of her shoulder blades, the lean curvature of her back, the tight, but subtle curves of her calves. Watching my daughter model her nude body, I came to realise there wasn't a square inch of her lovely form that wasn't photogenic. She was a photographer's dream child. She was a tiny goddess in the flesh, a magnet for every artist's camera and every pervert's hungry eye.

Susan had become lost in her viewfinder and I realized the entire time she had been photographing Emma, she kept moving one hand to her crotch, rubbing herself furiously with her delicate, long fingers at every opportunity she could find. On occasions I saw her look at my crotch as I continued playing with Emma's soapy labia, pulling and pinching her tender lips and enjoying the wet sound it made on contact with my fingers. It was unmistakable we were becoming seriously oversexed and needed a pause to take care of few things.

"Perhaps we should take a little break and maybe see what kind of shots we've got here," Susan suggested.

I looked at her with lowered lids, gave Emma's pussy a little squeeze and nodded with a slight smile.

"Pardon my excitement, Christine."

"Not a problem, Susan. I'm sura Emma takes it as a compliment," I smiled and gathered Emma, who was visibly becoming tired by her long and overstimulating modeling session, into my hands.

"I guess I'm just not used to sessions like this. Your daughter is absolutely stunning. Such a sexy little girl. It's been a thrill. I think I've got some great shots, too. Let's take a look."

She pulled the memory card out of the camera, inserted it into the large monitor and moved a padded wooden bench in front of the screen for us to sit on. She donned her silk robe again, tying it loosely in an odd gesture of modesty. She sat down on the bench as I sat beside her, holding tired, naked and wet Emma in my arms.

"Let me get the photographs up on the monitor, then you can navigate and look at them as you wish," she suggested.

Susan pulled up the photos, there had to be over 500 shots, and showed me how to view the slide show. The shots were all displayed in black and white on the screen. She sat beside me and Emma, her hand next to mine as she used the mouse scroll through the shots.

It was apparent from the beginning that the shoot was a success as we bantered back and forth about the merits of each succeeding photo.

"Oh, Susan. These are wonderful," I exclaimed, still surprised at how explicit everything looked in macro style.

"Christine, it's easy to take nice photos when you have good light, a good camera and a model comfortable with her body. And you, young lady," she turned to Emma, "are a stunning little beauty. Look how feminine yet childlike her body looks. And, if you don't mind my being blunt Christine, she literally oozes sexuality to the camera. I think, I hope, I succeeded to some degree in capturing that Lolita-like quality in her," she stated.

"I believe you did, Susan. Thank you so much. God, these are great," I exclaimed slightly embarrassed as the photos came up on the monitor; sharply focused; one after another.

The evolution of Susan's shoot soon became apparent. The early photos were more general photographs of Emma's face and body. The slide show gradually morphed into more detailed shots of her little body, some shots so close that you could see the goosebumps and cilia on her skin and traces of her gradual and growing excitement. The early shots were quite erotic and gradually becoming more sexually explicit and downright pornographic as the session progressed. All three of us were quiet for awhile as we watched shot after shot, occasionally commenting to one another about the better ones.

Susan was inches from Emma's neck and little girl's subtle aroma drew her in even closer. She was getting bolder and bolder in her descriptions of what we were seeing on the screen. Then I saw her place her hand on Emma's shoulder, massaging her gently as we continued to watch the screen.

"So beautiful, Emma. You are so beautiful," she whispered.

I could sense her breathing getting slightly heavier and thought I felt a rhythmic vibration emanating from her body. It was then that I noticed that while her right hand was working the mouse, her left hand was tucked down tightly in between her thighs. She was playing with herself as we watched explicit images of Emma's little girl body flash across the screen.

Susan's shameless action gave me an idea. I grazed Emma's arm and my left hand followed down past her elbow and slid along her forearm until I reached her wrist and placed her hand between her own legs.

"Go ahead, Emma. Touch yourself, baby. Touch yourself while you look at your sexy pictures."

Emboldened by my approval and not sensing any resistance, Emma's little hand began exploring her pussy.

"Looking at these photos makes me want you, Emma," Susan said, her masturbation becoming more obvious and fervent.

I reached my own hands between her sides and her arms and cupped her lovely breasts; so full and round. My palms lifted her breasts slightly as my thumb and forefinger gently pinched her long stiff nipples through the thin silk of her robe. Susan took a deep breath and moaned deeply. I could feel her left hand still working her pussy and now a wet slurpy sound began to emanate from between her legs.

"Yes, Susan. Get yourself nice and wet for me."

Abruptly, she put her hands on my thighs, and turned around and straddled the bench, facing me straight on.

"I have an idea, Christine. Place Emma between us and straddle the bench," she instructed.

I did as she asked and now all three of us were sitting on the bench with our legs on either side of it and Emma sandwiched between our open thighs, facing Susan. She seductively untied the loose knot of her robe, and as she gazed deeply into my Emma's eyes, she slowly opened her robe, exposing her naked body to the little girl. She let the robe drop, caught it with her hands behind her back and threw it to the side.

"I'm going to repay you for all your good modeling work, Emma,' she said with a lascivious smile and reached out with her hands for me, pulling me closer to her and essential squeezing Emma between our naked bodies.

We pressed ourselves against the little girl and moved her rhythmically between our legs, rubbing ourselves against the naked child like two possessed women, using the small girl like some obscene masturbation aid for our lust-filled bodies. We clasped her tightly in our arms, spread our legs wide open on either side of her and wrapped our arms firmly around her. She became a little prisoner, captured between her mother and her photographer who took advantage of an innocent child for their own perverted satisfaction.

In the next few moments I saw Susan arch her back and push her pussy hard against my little baby-girl as violent orgasm shook her in series of screaming convulsions. Not long after her, I came equally hard, bathing Emma's body in warm juices flowing from my gashing cunt.

As our breathing calmed down, I found strength to look again into Susan's eyes. She was kissing Emma and thanking her for giving her so much pleasure in one day.

"My God, Christine," she turned to me. "I didn't know what I was missing until I found you."

I smiled and hugged the tired, messy and exhausted Emma into my arms. "It's never too late to book another session, Susan."