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Oh, Mr King! Pt. 02

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The next morning Mr King seemed more aloof than ever. He hardly spoke at all and said nothing to me, about his offer of the previous day. I assumed he had changed his mind and felt foolish that I had even considered it. However, during lunch he sat down across the table from me.

“So, Julian,” he said patting my hand repeatedly. “Have you given any thought to modelling for me? Did you practice any poses, like I suggested?

“I am still not sure Mr King. I mean er …”

“You will be great Julian,” he interrupted me. “This will give you the self-confidence you lack. My cameras will love you. Tell you what. Why don’t you come to my house after work today and allow me to take a few shots of you, just your face? I shall develop them tonight and bring them to work tomorrow. You will see, that I am right about you being photogenic and you can see for yourself, that everything I am telling you, is true.”

He was being very friendly and persuasive. What harm could there be in a few facial photos I thought to myself?

“It will give you the chance to see the quality of the work I do,” he continued. I have photographed several of the girls who work here, you know. They are all delighted with my work. You see, lots of people want glamorised photos of themselves, to give to boyfriends, husbands, family, or just to have a momento of themselves, looking their very best. Some are quite racy too. I am sure you will like what I can show you. Of course, if you don’t want to, that’s fine but, you know, you really have nothing to lose. What do you say, Julian?”

“Just my face?” I asked.

“Just your beautiful, photogenic face. If you like the results… well, who knows where we can take it? What do you say, my boy?”

“I’ll have to phone my mum. She will be expecting me,” I said.

“Is that a yes?”


“Good boy. I shall wait for you by the exit,” he said. Then he stood up and walked away.

On the way to his home, he chatted about work and the gossip about this girl or that girl and how naughty they were. He kept tut-tutting and described their rampant sexual behaviour as disgusting, cheap, trashy, vulgar or whorish. He went on a rant about one girl, called Amanda, who was sleeping with one of the owners. He said that I quite resembled her in many ways. I thought that Amanda was sexy and beautiful and would love to have gone out with her.

“Which owner?” I asked.

“Old, Mr Hardy. I even took some very naughty photographs of her, so she could give them to him. Girls like her, have no self-respect. Keep away from them, Julian. They will break your heart and take all your money.”

We arrived at Mr King’s house which was very impressive. He took me straight to his studio. There were lights and all kinds of backdrops. There were racks of clothes and outfits, both male and female and on one shelf, there were a number of wigs on top of dummy heads. Yet another was filled with all kinds of hats. He told me to remove my jacket and tie and to sit on the sofa under the lights.

“You will need just a touch of make-up,” he stated, “in order to catch you just right. Relax, all models wear a little make-up. It’s the lights you see.”

I said OK, rather reluctantly, and he applied a little foundation to my face, some rouge to my cheeks, a little hint of eye-liner and a slight hint of lipstick. I was feeling uncomfortable and tried not to look him in the eye. When I did, he appeared only to be interested in his handiwork. “That’s perfect now,” he said and proceeded to instruct me where to look and how to hold my head, for the poses he wanted. While I felt very self-conscious at first, I soon began to relax and enjoyed following Mr King’s instructions. He chatted away, telling me how good I looked and how much the camera loved me.

He had me stand, facing him, then stand with my back to him, looking over my shoulder. He wanted me to look away from the camera, then looking sideways at it. Other times, he went on his knees to shoot me from below, then, he would have me kneel and he would shoot me from on high. I was to smile, to frown, to appear angry, surprised, sad, happy, the whole gamut of emotions.

The front doorbell rang. Mr King excused himself and said he would be back soon. In his absence, I went over to the racks of clothes and outfits. There were all sorts of sexy outfits for ladies, short skirts, lingerie, bikinis, corsets, stockings, suspender belts, even vintage stuff. Behind the clothes racks were open boxes, of high heels of every colour. I found this collection fascinating and my curiosity got the better of me. While glancing nervously towards the door, I could not resist touching some of the sexy stuff, especially the panties and the baby doll style nighties. For some reason I wished I was naked and could rub them against my growing erection. Fearful that my curiosity would be found out, I ventured over to where the wigs were.

I had to caress them. My favourite was a pink coloured one. It was long and beautiful and felt so soft when I fingered it. I really wanted to try istanbul escort it on, just to see how I would look in it but, fear of being seen, prevented me. There was still no sign of Mr King returning. I walked over to one of the wall mirrors to check out how I looked with make-up on. I liked what I saw. I pulled my hair back with both hands and made pouty faces at myself, the type of pouting I had seen girls make. I pouted and smiled and blew myself little kisses.

Of course, what I did not know was, that this mirror, was a two-way mirror. On the other side of the mirror, watching my every move, stood Mr King and another man. The other man was Mr Grace, a very close friend of Mr King, who had come to collect some photographs he had commissioned. They were fondling each other’s manly cocks as they watched Julian.

“I see what you mean about your little Julian. He will be perfect. Have you bedded him yet, Dickie? I want a piece of him too. He looks so young. Can I have him after you?”

“Patience please. I shall share him, eventually,” said Mr King. “However, I am working to a plan. This one is special. I tricked him into allowing me to put make-up on his face. He didn’t object. See how his curiosity is enticing him to fondle the female attire. My goodness, look at him pouting! It won’t be long now. I shall take this boy slowly and gently. I shall make him dependent on me. I want to break him down and then rebuild him. You cannot do that overnight. I shall make him mine. Now, off you go. I must return to my protégé. Close the door as you leave.”

Before re-entering the room where I was Mr King attached a device to himself. This took a moment or two but, his agile fingers with their delicate touch, made light work of it.

Mr King returned, apologising for keeping me waiting so long. He picked up the camera saying he just needed a few more shots. Once again, I did as he instructed me, looking to the left and to the right. He told me look coy, to look coquettish, to really flirt with the camera. I just did as he asked, not really feeling I looked, “very sexy” as he kept describing me.

“That’s it for now, Julian,” he said. “Tell me, did you enjoy posing for me? I certainly enjoyed shooting you. You are a natural. I think some of these shots will turn out great.”

I told him that I was nervous at first but that he had put me at ease. He asked me what I thought of his work room. I said it was amazing with so much stuff.

“Well, you know, women love to dress up, to change how they look. They love wearing sexy outfits, you know the sort of thing I mean. Take a look at this rack here, for example.”

He placed his hand on my lower back to direct me to the lingerie rack.

“Feel how soft these panties are. Go on. They are so sexy. Don’t be afraid Julian. Touch them. So soft. I had Amanda squeeze into them and photographed her in them. I took lots of photos of her, in sexy outfits, like this see-through nightie. Feel it,” he said, handing it to me.

It felt so light and delicate. I wanted to take it home and sleep in it. Mr King took it off me and held it up against me.

“I can picture you in this, Julian, can you?” he said laughing. Check out these wigs. You would be amazed how putting on a wig can totally change a person’s appearance. All my wigs are made of natural hair, one hundred percent. Look at this pink one, here. I love models to wear this one, it is my very favourite. Our little Amanda wore it for her last shoot with Mr Hardy. Do you like it?”

He picked it up and handed it to me.

“Do you see what I mean? Isn’t it marvellous and so lifelike?” he watched me toy with the wig. I stroked it gently. “Try it on, Julian, and see how different you look. No one, not even your own mother, would recognise you in it?”

I was so tempted. I could feel my face turning red. I did not want Mr King to see how keen I was to try it on. He took the wig out of my hands and placed it on my head. He adjusted it, to get it right. I was so embarrassed. Placing his hand on the small of my back he led me over to the two-way mirror. I was absolutely amazed at my appearance. I looked totally different. I really looked like a pretty girl. I could not stop looking at my reflection.

“What did I tell you?” said Mr King, picking up his camera. “Do you recognize yourself? Of course, not? Let me take a picture of you in the wig, Julian?

I was so wrapped up in my reflection that I did not object to his request. Mr King snapped away.

“Look at me, Julian. Flirt with the camera. Be a sexy girl who knows that men want her, long for her, love her. You are a beautiful girl with power over men. Be that teasing, sexy girl for me. That’s it Julian.”

I did as Mr King asked and found myself enjoying myself. He touched up my lipstick and the effects were dramatic. I pouted and blew kisses at him as he snapped away. I laughed and felt totally relaxed.

“There is something not quite right,” said Mr King. Setting down the camera, he came over to me, pulled my shirt tail out, undid escort bayan several of the bottom buttons and tied it in a little knot, above my tummy. He allowed his fingertips to touch the soft skin of my upper tummy and ribs as he tied the knot in the shirt, which sent tingles through me. “That is so much better.” He picked up the camera again and took more snaps. When he was finished he went to a shelf and picked up a folder. He took me by the arm and led me to the sofa. He took a little brown bottle out of his pocket and set it on the table.

“Have a look at these, before and after shots, I have taken of Amanda. I think you will be amazed. Leave the wig on. It will help you understand, how a good wig makes people unrecognizable.”

He flicked through the album and it was so true. There were photos of Amanda in normal everyday clothes. She was so gorgeous, but then, when I saw her in lots of sexy poses, in very revealing and alluring outfits, wearing lots of make-up and the wig that I had on at this moment, she looked like another person, altogether. She looked like a very sexy porn star. I did not recognize her as Amanda.

As Mr King turned the pages the photographs became more and more revealing and the outfits became even more skimpy. He kept asking me if I liked the photos and I just kept on saying yes. The photographs were having an effect on me. I began to feel increasingly aroused. The last few poses were of a naked Amanda lying on a big, round bed in a room with mirrors for walls. I had a full blown, erection and wanted to feel it.

“Didn’t I tell you boy? You wouldn’t know it was the same girl,” said Mr King. “Isn’t my work so artistic? I can do this for any model I choose. Are these naughty pictures of Amanda exciting you, Julian? If they are, you will love this next section.”

I was too tongue tied to answer. I was sitting beside Mr King sporting a major boner and trying to hide it. His question made me blush again. When he turned the page, it was a picture of old, Mr Hardy and Amanda. She was only wearing red high heels, the pink wig and black thigh high stockings. Mr Hardy was naked and she held his big, hairy cock in her hand. She was looking up at him smiling. I could not believe my eyes. It was so sensual. My own cock was rampant with desire. In the next shot, Amanda was on her knees, sucking on old, Mr Hardy’s cock. He was smiling down at her.

“That’s Mr Hardy,” I gasped in shock.

“Yes, Julian, that’s old, Mr Hardy. Would you look at the size of his magnificent cock! He does have a big cock, don’t you think? He is a major cocks-man. If he wants someone, girl or boy, he uses it, his money and his position, to get them to fulfill his desires. He loves to spank his lovers as well. He provides the outfits for my models from his store. Look at this photo here. He is with a young man who used to work with me. See… he is putting his big, fat cock, up that lucky young man’s bum hole. Look at the expression on the young man’s face. He loves it, just loves it.”

I could hardly contain my excitement at this point and blurted out.

“His cock is huge!”

“Do you like big cocks, Julian? I know I do. I think all men would love to have a big cock to play with.”

“Did you take all these photos?” I asked in disbelief.

“I did. I was there the whole time. You should have seen them kissing each other, touching each other, stroking each other’s cocks, then sucking each other’s cocks and finally, Mr Hardy gave that young chap the fucking of his life. They both loved it. Then, the next day, he had me shoot him giving Amanda, a really good seeing to. That was a sight to behold. She did everything he wanted and when I say everything, I mean everything. He sodomized her, Julian. Right in front of me, he sodomized her, just like he sodomized that lucky young man and she came all over herself. She actually squirted.”

“She was wearing the wig you have on when he sodomized her. Come to think of it, Julian, when I look at you now, there is quite a resemblance between you two. A change of make-up, and a sexy outfit and who knows, you could pass as sisters. Old, Mr hardy would love that. Better not let him catch you in that wig and dressed all girly, or maybe you would like that. Would you?”

I did not answer. So many thoughts were running through my mind spawned from the photograph’s, the conversation and my own intense arousal. Mr Hardy’s cock was magnificent and I imagined myself in the photograph with him and Amanda.

Mr King’s descriptions were turning me on and he must have known. He turned the page over and there was a picture of Mr King, totally naked. A naked Amanda was tweaking his right nipple as he stared straight at the camera. His skin was pale, which was in stark contrast to the black hair on his little paunch and chest. His cock hung down about four inches. It was thick and veiny. The bulbous, circumcised head, was a wonderful mushroom shape and a beautiful shade of purple. It was not as I had imagined it to be in my fantasies of him, it was much better. His thighs Kartal escort were more plump than muscular. I could not draw my eyes away from his cock and the thicket of pubic hair above it, so dark, so alluring.

Mr King broke the silence that hung in the air. My throat was too dry for me to speak. He held the album opened at the picture of himself, naked.

“Oh sorry, “he said. “I did not realize this photograph was still in this folder. Old, Mr Hardy insisted on taking it. He likes to make other men feel small in his presence. He gets off on humiliating men and subjecting them to a spanking in front of others. He likes to pass comments like … my cock is bigger than yours and that sort of thing. Well, what do you think of me now, Julian?”

“Your cock is not small Mr King, it is big and fat and so veiny” I babbled foolishly, regretting my comment as soon as I made it.

“That’s is very kind of you Julian but, not necessary. I am glad you like my cock but, I am not into cock size comparisons. Notice,” he said nonchalantly, “that my cock is not hard. I am not aroused. Don’t you want to know why?

“Do you… you know, not get excited in the studio? I know I would.”

“My dear boy, I am a professional photographer. However, there are ways of controlling the body’s reactions to beautiful, sexy, little vixens, like dearest Amanda, the whore. I keep my desire under control, so to speak. Couples come to me with special requests. You would not believe what I have witnessed. Husbands and wives, wives and lovers, husbands and mistresses, all wanting photographed. I see you look surprised. This is the adult world, Julian. I cater to their whims and they pay me handsomely.”

“How do you control your arousal, Mr King?” I asked him.

“I used to wear a cock cage. It prevents arousal. Anyway, I hardly need to wear it now. I haven’t had an erection for a long time, several years, in fact. It is a side-effect of my medication for depression. I have almost forgotten how to laugh because I no longer have any sexual feelings. It’s called ED, erectile dysfunction. The doctor told me there was nothing he could do to help me. I made the mistake of telling Mr Hardy in confidence and this is how he humiliated me in front of Amanda.”

“That was so mean of him,” I said, “and that Amanda one knows now, too. I don’t understand grown-ups being mean like that. Is there really nothing the doctors can do for you Mr King?” I asked, unable to hide the disappointment in my voice. “That is awful. It is not as if you are really old… you know what I mean sir, sorry.”

Mr King went to a shelf and took down a cardboard box. He sat beside me again and opened the box. Inside were four cock cages of differing sizes. There was a small pink one, two longer, clear ones and a cruel looking, metallic one, each with its own lock and key. He took the metal cock cage from the box and handed it to me. It felt cold and strong. I examined it with interest, wondering why on earth anybody would willingly, wear such a contraption.

“I shoot men of all ages too,” he continued, “in various stages of undress and doing very naughty things, you know, homosexual things. It would never do to get a hard-on. Most unprofessional. Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be for me to be sexually aroused in a shoot?”

“You see Julian. When a man wears a cock cage, a chastity device, he cannot achieve arousal. The metal cage restricts engorging of the cock and makes arousal, limited, painful and frustrating. His cock cannot get hard, the way you are at the moment. I take it your cock is hard now from looking at Amanda’s album of naughtiness and Mr Hardy’s big cock. You know, Amanda calls him Mr Hard! You are a very lucky boy. I miss having erections and the joy of orgasm, you know, watching my creamy cum shoot out, dollop after dollop, until all is spent and dribbles fall to the floor as my fat cock, softens and lessens in size. I do miss that. I miss my lover sucking the remnants of my cock cream, oozing slowly out of the slit of my pee-hole and then, licking my hairy cock clean.”

He continued talking.

“I miss the embraces and the cuddling together, in the afterglow of sexual ecstasy, telling one another how wonderful our love-making has been, how in love we are. The bonds of love enhanced by our physical union. The closeness we used to feel as we squeezed one another firmly, yet tenderly, with hands occasionally caressing the other’s arm or side or bum. Oh Julian, my dearest Julian, making love to another person is the most wonderful thing in the world and I hope that soon, you too, get to share the heights of sexual pleasure with someone you can trust and feel close to. It is so much better than mere masturbation which I have always found to be so unfulfilling.”

He picked up the little brown bottle he had set on the table earlier, opened it, held it to his nose and inhaled deeply up one nostril while squeezing the other with his index finger. He replaced the lid, set the bottle back down on the table. He handed me the album that was still opened at the photograph displaying his nakedness to the world. Within seconds, his face went really red, he doubled over and burst into an outrageous and seemingly, uncontrollable bout of laughter, which lasted for over a minute. I looked on in amazement.

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