The Booth
Copyright© 2025 by Awkward Pen
Showtime
BDSM Sex Story: Showtime - A woman sends an idea for a new bondage booth to a famous erotica producer, unaware he wants her starring in it for his next movie. (Bondage, domination/submission, nudity but no intercourse)
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Reluctant Heterosexual Fiction BDSM MaleDom Humiliation Light Bond Exhibitionism
Except for the sound dampening panels on the wall, the movie studio reminded Gina of the worst kinky pornos Christopher Muse was famous for despising. But built into the center of the room, past a forest of cables and a ring of cameras, stood a ring of walls as tall as Gina’s apartment back home.
Although Gina was certain he couldn’t have built the whole thing himself, there was no work crew present. Christopher Muse checked connections and positioned each camera himself. He glanced up when Gina, Sebastian, and Genevra approached and frowned.
Gina looked better than she had in her life. Her new jeans lifted and rounded what should be round, her white corset top flattened what should be flat, and presented her breasts like a succulent Thanksgiving turkey. As for her white heels...
Genevra had advised that heels like Gina was wearing only gave you three choices: wobble, mincing little steps, or strut. Combined with the rest of her outfit, Gina found the latter surprisingly easy.
Mr. Muse’s eyes returned to his cameras. “Lose the foundation and mascara — her natural lashes are beautiful — and put her in a wrap dress with a hem at the knee. No undergarments.”
Sebastian scoffed. “She has freckles-”
“I know.” Mr. Muse straightened from his work, but fixed Gina with his gaze instead of Sebastian. “I’m going to see you naked. Not just your body, but your naked frightened soul. And I’m going to capture that, on camera, in a booth of your own design.”
Gina shook so badly a trickle of pee darkened her new jeans. Humiliated, she refused to sob but couldn’t stop the tears. Christopher Muse had to be the most terrible man she had ever met.
Mr. Muse returned his attention to his cameras. “Lose the mascara and find her some eye drops for that puffiness.”
When Gina returned some time later, the lights in the warehouse had been turned down until it was nearly impossible to see, if not for the glowing circle of panels in the center of the room. Genevra waited just beyond the cameras and placed tiny hearing aids in Gina’s ears.
“Mr. Muse wants to get your honest reactions, so he is inside with the cameras are already running. Do everything he says, but also be honest, and you’ll be fine.”
Stepping past the edge of a panel Gina saw they overlapped in such a way that the gaps weren’t visible from certain angles. Most of the panels were white but huge mirrors broke any feeling of monotony. In two steps she was in a white ballroom with a sterile science fiction vibe. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Mr. Muse dressed in a black turtleneck and black slacks, with a large case open to his side. But center stage, raised on a dais a few inches high, stood her booth.
At its core, the booth was little more than two sheets of clear vertical plastic, each an inch thick and covered in holes, inserted between two platforms. Gina expected the edges of the holes to be white from cutting, but they were clear and nearly invisible.
Christopher Muse flipped a switch and both platforms, above and below, glowed with a soft fluorescent light. Another switch and the panels around the room turned dark, hiding him completely from sight.
“Step between the sheets,” Muse said in a deep confident voice that sent a thrill down Gina’s spine. With the devices in her ears, it sounded like he was only inches away. “Naked except for the heels.”
Gina trembled so bad that it took two tries for her to grasp the simple knot holding her dress closed. Mr. Muse had been right to choose a wrap dress, it accentuated her curves, but when the dress came off, nothing hid her flaws.
Eyes downcast and her hands in trembling fists, she stepped up on the dias where she found two depressions perfectly shaped for her shoes. Only after she was in place did Mr Muse appear from the darkness with a pair of inch and a half thick rods in his hands.
He slid one rod behind her ankle and one just above and in front of her knee. She didn’t see the stack of additional clear rods just outside the walls until he picked one up and placed it in front of her hips.
“Move your legs while still touching the rod against your hips,” he said. She could not.
Gina looked around, smiled, hooked a few fingers into holes high on the booth walls and pulled herself straight up until she was rising out of the shoes holding her feet apart.