Louise was a tall blonde girl, slightly under 5'10" in bare feet, and built to match. She was twenty two years old, and as far as her family was concerned, she was a hairdresser, and a very good one at that. What none of them realised, was that for the previous three years or so, she had been a photographic model. At first, this had been fairly discrete, but within about six months of starting, one of the photographers had managed to persuade her to go topless. She'd been reluctant to do this before, and even reluctant to do much lingerie work, however, the extra money he had paid her had soon changed her mind, and within another eight months, she would open her legs, to the camera, for anyone prepared to pay for it.
Being a very pretty girl, with a superbly fit body, she had quickly got a small but growing following of photographers, all of whom had got her to virtually fuck the camera for them. It had never aroused her particularly, though she made herself a little aroused for the cameras, and she'd never been interested, sexually or romantically, in any of the men, for all the photographers were men.
Six months previously though, a new photographer, Don, had come to see her. They'd met in a pub not far from Charing Cross station, and after he'd taken a couple of photographs just up the road, he had paid her almost five times as much money to go to a professional photographic studio with him.
There she'd found a younger girl ready to do her makeup, a slightly older boy who seemed to rush around and do a lot of prop changing, and shifting of lights. She'd been a bit daunted by this at first, but when she found that all three of them treated her completely professionally, with no gawking from the boy, who seemed to be barely seventeen, she began to relax and enjoy herself.
Normally she didn't see the photo's taken of her, though a few of her normal photographers occasionally gave her copies of some of the better ones. This time though, he had come to see her, and brought contact prints of nearly one hundred photo's, and ten by eight blow ups of about twenty. She was surprised by just how beautiful and sexy, she'd been made to look, and how erotic they were.
"I want to publish some of these," he had told her.
She'd gulped, and gone a bit faint.
"I don't know," she said. "I don't want anybody I know to find out about this."
He'd smiled slightly. "Well it depends on what sort of magazines they buy."
"If you can guarantee they won't be available in this country?" she asked after a few moments.
He'd shook his head. "I'm sorry, I can't guarantee that absolutely, but I can guarantee you won't be on the front cover."
"I still don't know."
"Do you remember that contract I got you to sign?"
"Did you read it?"
She'd shaken her head, a sinking feeling in her stomach."
"Well I did tell you to." He reached into his bag and brought out a copy. "Here, read."
She did so, and by the end knew that he could have just published without asking her permission.
"Why ask me? You don't need my permission," she'd said abruptly.
"Because I want you to come and do it full time. Be a professional model. You'll get to travel the world, a bit. It's not like the catwalk models, they get paid silly money to wear clothes, and they really do travel all over. If you decide to do this, it'll make you a comfortable living, but you wouldn't be a millionaire. Not unless you were very lucky and became the next Sam Fox or Melinda Messenger. I suppose if someone like Playboy had got to you first, you could have become a dollar millionaire with a bit of luck, but because you already have lots of photos like these knocking around, they wouldn't touch you unfortunately."
He shrugged. "Look, think about it. These are going to get published shortly anyway. The pictures editor has already seen them, and wants to publish, and I'm just going over there now to decide which ones, and an appropriate fee."
"You'll get paid for them?"
"Of course. I paid you four or five times over the odds for a simple private photo shoot, because I wanted them to be very good, but for that sort of layout, I need a return. And yes, I'll make a profit out of it."
"Do I get any of that?"
"No. You've already been paid for this set, but if you come in and do some more, we'll negotiate a suitable fee. Interested?"
She'd thought long and hard about it. Another three payments like the last one and she'd be able to move out of her parents home and into a decent flat of her own. "Okay. I agree. When?"
"Next Thursday afternoon?"
"Yes, that's do-able."
"Okay, you know where my studio is, be there about two thirty."
Over the intervening months, she'd been in to see him four more times. At the moment she was keeping up her hairdressing job, and even most of her current photographers, but the first set of photographs had just hit the streets. Within forty eight hours of the official publishing date, no less that fourteen of her regular photographers had called her, some to congratulate her, some to try and book her for another session, one even to try and sell his negatives back to her. The implication being that if she didn't buy them back, he'd sell them on.
She'd said she would think about it, and had promptly rung Don. He'd advised her to buy them at the original cost of the session, give him a formal receipt that expressly forbade him from selling any of the photographs he had left, and if he did, to hammer him for 1000% damages. He'd dictated out two contracts for her, one of which said that the photographer must not sell any photo's on, the other to say that they could sell them on, but only to reputable magazines or photo libraries, not to top shelf magazines. Obviously the latter would cost any photographer a lot more.
He'd also put her in touch with a proper agent, who would help to protect her from that sort of problem in the future, but for the time being, she hadn't bothered. Instead she decided to do some evening classes at the local college in business studies, accounting, and basic contract law.
That evening, she got in, went up to her room and stopped in fright.
Her two younger brothers, aged nineteen and sixteen were sitting on her bed, naked, masturbating over her magazine pictures. It was also quite obvious that they'd been hunting through her room, presumably to see if she had any more hidden away anywhere. She hadn't, and it was obvious that they'd got frustrated by that fact. All her underwear, particularly the more expensive stuff, was spread over the bed, and they were using it to masturbate into. She could already see three pairs screwed up on the floor, quite obviously covered in their spunk.
"Get out of here. Now. Get out, get out," she screamed at them, panicking.
"Sure," said Iain, the older, and to her mind, the nastier of her two brothers. "Once you've fucked us." He deliberately picked up another clean pair of her knickers and wiped them over the sticky head of his erection, smearing them with his spunk.
"Yeah," said Gary, the younger, and more easily led.
"What? Are you out of your tiny minds?" she screamed.
"I think it's you who must have been out of your mind. You must have known we'd find out, and how long do you think it'll take for mum or dad to find out."
"You wouldn't tell them?"
"You've only got to fuck us."
Louise wasn't a virgin, she'd lost that shortly before her seventeenth birthday, and she had sex with her regular boyfriend once or twice a week, so sex itself wasn't a problem. The thought of fucking her brothers though was extremely distasteful to her, and not because they were her brothers, but because Iain at least was so unpleasant.
"No. Get out."
"Oh well, we'll just have to tell dad."
"Yeah, and I'll tell him what you were doing in here, and what you wanted me to do."
For a moment there was an impasse. "You screw Graham up here all the time, we'll just say that it must be his."
That was another thing her parents didn't know. That she brought Graham home occasionally, when they were out.
She looked at her brothers, and said sarcastically, "and if I fucked you, you'd not say anything? Nah, you're both too much of a shit to do that. I wouldn't trust you, so I'd rather simply face dads wrath."
"Oh we wouldn't tell anybody, that'd be the whole point. It'd be no fun if other people knew," said Iain.
Louise just smiled slightly. "I don't think so. Surely the whole point of fucking your sister is so that you can brag about it."
"Yeah, but who'd believe us?"
"You'd only have to show them one of those photos, and they probably would."
"In that case who's to stop us from telling anyway," piped up Gary. "If they'd believe us just 'cos we show them a photo, you might as well."
"Yeah, if you don't, we'll tell people you have, and you've just told us that people will believe us."
Louise took a deep breath. Her heart rate was slowing down again now from its initial panicky state of two minutes earlier. She was also beginning to think that the only way out of this was to do as they wanted, distasteful as that might be.
"And what's to stop you telling even if I did?"
"We promise. We'll even sign a piece of paper to say that we wouldn't."
"That would be meaningless. Even if you did sign such a piece of paper, it couldn't be produced without getting us both into very serious trouble, far more trouble than even your malicious tales would cause. No, I still think I'm better off with dad."
The two boys looked at each other, and in that moment, Louise knew that she'd beaten them after all.
.... There is more of this story ...