Shutter of Dread [Non-Con]

Emma skipped a little, the sun shining brightly down on her head, the day so clear and crisp you could almost smell her exhilaration through its still cool morning air.

She couldn’t wait to be in front of a lens, on a real modeling set. She’d been always posing in front of a mirror, dreaming of going down the catwalk as a supermodel for as long as she could remember. Granted, she was shooting gratis, but all she could think about was the kind of jobs she would land after being able to put something professional in her portfolio – she couldn’t wait for the world to see her potential.

The entire morning had been spent thoroughly cleaning every part of her body, putting on her makeup, picking out her clothes, doing her hair, and trying to get it all perfect. She’d already picked out her outfit a week in advance: a simple pair of denim booty shorts to go with a pink, loose-fitting cropped hoodie with a cute pop art print on it, along with some converse hi-tops, black with bright white laces. Her makeup was kept simple: just a touch of blush, double-flicked eyeliner, some pale pink lipstick, and a little pink eyeshadow. The only thing she didn’t do herself was her hair, which was let loose to show off it’s natural waviness and mousy color.

It wasn’t exactly high fashion, but she knew what she was doing. A little retro, a little grunge, a little sexy, and a lot of cute. The idea was to give off girl-next-door vibes while still showing off her assets as a model: a midriff toned to perfection, smooth legs that never ended, a firm, shapely butt, and a sizeable bust that she’d managed to squeeze into a hot pink push-up sports bra that peeked out from under her hoodie every now and then.

Taking the last turn, Emma practically bounced with excitement, making her way to the address she was given online. The location was strange, but she didn’t really think too much about it as she approached what seemed to be an office complex. The brickwork was old and worn, moldy A/C units were strewn about the sidewalk, and the windows were tinted up to the point where they looked like toys: all but functional.

It was a little odd for a modeling shoot, but to her, it was a nice-enough looking building. It just looked slightly abandoned. It just meant she’d be able to stand out a bit more against the drab surroundings.

She made her way to the entrance, putting on a big smile that matched her outfit as she walked through the open doors.

The building was even more unremarkable on the inside. There was a small reception area, but it seemed that the desks had all been stripped away. The lights were off, and the natural lighting lit up the dust in the air more than anything else.

She turned around to find a tall, well-built man with curly dark hair smiling back at her. He was suited up in a dark blue sports jacket, loose-fitting black pants, and a light blue shirt with the first two buttons undone.

“You must be Emma!” the man exclaimed, giving her a wide, friendly grin as he approached. “I’m James, your photographer. I must say, I’m happy to see that my expectations were met.”

She shook his hand, feeling a slight blush come across her cheeks. She wasn’t used to such direct compliments, but she did her best not to show her uneasiness. She guessed it was just how things were in the industry.

“Thank you! It’s nice to finally meet you, James,” she replied, giving him her best smile. “I love the place by the way. We could get some pretty rustic shots here, don’t you think?”

James laughed. “I guess you could say that,” he replied. “I’m still setting up my studio here, so it doesn’t look too glamorous right now.”

Emma paused for a second, unsure of what to say yet still enthusiastic. “It looks better than anything I’ve ever been to!” she added to lighten the mood. “I’ve finally managed to get the day off from the restaurant, so I’m not particularly picky about the conditions.”

James nodded, looking pleased. “That’s good to hear,” he said. “Did you have to ask for time off?”

“Luckily, I didn’t have to talk to my manager,” she replied, giggling a little. “The restaurant is actually undergoing some renovations, and all of the staff were given a couple days off until things are done.”

“So you’re a model and a waitress? That’s impressive,” he commended.

“I really hope so,” Emma responded with a smile, “but I plan to keep that to myself until I get a steady modeling career going. My parents aren’t exactly understanding about the process of becoming a model.”

“Don’t worry about it,” James reassured her. “Nobody’s going to find out what we’re going to do here.”

She giggled again, the nerves still lingering for some reason, but she still felt giddy with excitement.

“Come, let’s head over to the studio. I’ll show you the space, and we can talk about the concept a little before we get started,” he explained, motioning towards a hallway to their right.

Emma nodded, her smile widening even more. James guided her down the hall, and she took her time taking everything in. The walls were old and cracked, but the building still felt stable and strong, its concrete walls established.

They made their way up a flight of stairs, and the hallway was not unlike the one downstairs.

“I’m sorry the building is a little bit run-down,” he explained. “It’s just easier here, without the distracting city sounds. It’s something I’ve recently discovered as a photographer, makes the job a lot easier.”

“No, it’s totally fine,” she assured him. “I can definitely see the benefits. The quiet is refreshing, and the building looks great. I’m sure you’ll make the most out of this place!“

He led her down the hall, past a number of doors and stairwells, before ultimately stopping in front of a large metal door. He opened it with a flourish and motioned her inside.

“This is the studio,” he explained as she walked in. “Make yourself at home, I’m going to get the equipment ready.”

Emma took a moment to look around the studio. There were no windows, and the walls were covered in weird triangulated foam panels. She didn’t really know what they were, so she just assumed it was something to do with the lighting in the set. There were no more than three studio lights and diffuser umbrellas, all of them focused on the center of the room, where a dingy looking mattress was placed. It didn’t look particularly comfortable, but she guessed it was only a temporary fixture until the place was renovated.

She looked back at James, who was still facing the door with his head pointed for some reason. “Are you ready, sir?” she asked, her voice perky as always.

“Absolutely, just making sure the door is locked,” he replied, turning back towards her.

“That’s good, right? Means we won’t get disturbed,” she pointed out.

“Precisely,” he confirmed. “It would ruin the aesthetic, you see.”

She smiled in response.

“Anyway,” he continued, reaching into his jacket, “The concept is going to be very raw and minimalistic. The only props we’re really going to use are this gun, a camera, and you.”

He pulled out a revolver, pointing it towards her with certainty. “Strip.”

The sudden shift in his voice was enough to make Emma’s spine freeze. She couldn’t even comprehend anything he’d just said. “W-what?”

James’ eye twitched slightly, his lips twisting into a scowl. “Take your clothes off, you dumb slut. Unless you want me to blow your fucking brains out.”

She stared blankly, trying to process his words, before breaking out into nervous sobbing, tears coming out of her eyes. “I’m sorry, sir, I’m sorry,” she stumbled, her hands starting to shake uncontrollably. “I… I’m just not sure if I’m comfortable with this…” She’d never been threatened in her life before, or even had anyone call her names. She was terrified, and couldn’t seem to stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks.

He began slowly walking towards her, the gun still aimed at her forehead. She couldn’t move.

“P-Please sir, don’t hurt me… Please… Can we just take some pictures… Please…” she stuttered, the terror taking control of her.

He was inches away from her now, the barrel of the gun pushing against her temple.

“I. Said. Strip.” He repeated, his voice low and clear.

Her sobs only intensified. “Please sir–“

James smacked her across the face with his free hand. Hard. Her head snapped instantly to the side, tears flying off her face as she cried out in pain.

She fell to the ground, whimpering. Her vision was blurry, but she could make out the shape of his gun, still pointed at her.

“Get up, you whore. Take your fucking clothes off,” he demanded, his voice harsh and unyielding.

She struggled to her feet shakily, her sobs only growing louder. “P-p-please sir,” she pleaded, her voice wavering as she stood up.

“I won’t ask again.”

She stood there for a moment, staring blankly. She tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. Her throat felt like it was closing up, her mind racing with fear.

Doing the only thing her frightened mind could think of, she let her shaking hands move down to the hem of her hoodie, crossing them to get a better grip. She pulled it off, revealing her sports bra. Once again, she froze, hoodie in hand.

“The rest, slut. Show me what you’ve got.”

She reluctantly dropped her hoodie, moving her hands to her shorts. She was hesitant, but her shaking fingers finally found the button, and she started to pull down the zipper.

She paused again, her heart racing, before slowly pulling them down her legs, revealing matching hot pink panties. Her shorts caught on her shoes, but she managed to step out of them. Her breathing was labored, and she couldn’t stop herself from crying.

She got back up, tossing her shorts on top of her hoodie. She looked back at James, her body trembling.

“Did I tell you to stop?” he snarled, “Get the rest of your fucking clothes off, slut. Now!“

She sobbed harder, her body shaking violently. “C-c-can you please… Stop calling m-me that, sir?” she stammered, her voice cracking with fear.

She flinched as his free hand moved back on to her face, gripping her chin and tilting it upwards.

“You dressing like a fucking slut gives me the right to call you what you are,” he retorted. His voice was cool, but she could still feel the acid in it. She’d only known this man for less than ten minutes, yet his words were already cutting into her deeper than any knife ever could. In one move, he let go of her chin, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her down to her knees before slapping her back to the floor. “You are nothing more than a dirty slut, and you will be treated as such. Now do as you’re fucking told and strip.”

She laid there, gasping for breath as her tears fell, her arms sprawled out on the concrete floor. Her legs were spread, exposing the wet spot on her underwear, which clung tightly to her genitals.

The pain and fear was overwhelming. She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. She was completely helpless. She got up once again, the entire side of her face which had been slapped almost numb. Her ear was ringing, and she thought she could feel something oozing out of it. That only made her sob louder.

She didn’t need to be told this time. With shaky hands, she reached back, grabbing the bra’s underband and slowly pulled it up, sliding her arms through. The bra dropped to the floor, revealing her round, pert breasts, topped with hard, light brown nipples. They were sore from being squeezed up for so long, especially since she’d just started ovulating.

Taking another look at the revolver, her body trembled uncontrollably as her fingers moved towards her panties, sliding them down her long, toned legs. She stepped her shoes out of them, and tossed them with the rest of her clothes. She had never felt more naked before, even though she still had her shoes on.

James wasted no time. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, holding her in place. She could feel the cold steel of the side of the gun’s barrel press against her head. His free hand wound itself down to her cunt, his fingers brushing her swollen, wet clitoris.

He slid a finger into her, and she let out a sharp, involuntary cry.

“Such a nice, tight little pussy for a slut,” he murmured. Pushing in a little further, his index finger began probing her vagina as she gasped for air, the sensation new and strange to her. She had never had anything inside her before. She felt her entire body tense up, and she bit down on her tongue.

James grinned as he discovered what her body was trying to hide. Almost immediately, her muscles tightened around his finger as she let out a high-pitched whine.

“Oh, look at this,” he scoffed. “Someone’s a virgin. What a slutty thing to keep from me.”

He ripped his finger out of her, and the suddenness of it caused her to cry out, a loud squeak.

His hand moved up her body, tracing along her curves before settling on her chest. She could feel the sweat starting to build up on her body as his hands cupped her right breast, massaging it slowly yet violently. She couldn’t help but wince at the pain, letting out another long-winded, high pitched squeal.

James smiled in response. This was going to be fun.

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