Chapter 3

The first photo-shoot my father made me do was of me in a bathing suit. It was a red skimpy thing with a top that barely covered my ripening breasts and a bottom that was so thin and tight around my ass that I would never dare wear such a suit in public. After that shoot, he had me do one with me wearing a nightie. The third shoot was of me in my old girl scout's uniform, which was so small on me now that the skirt, in particular, looked absolutely ridiculous. He called it sexy, though, and even fucked me afterwards while I was still wearing the stupid thing.

He didn't have me start doing nudes until after he had built up a reliable list of customers willing to pay for them. That took about two months.

In the meantime he just had me wear extremely slutty outfits while making me pose in extremely suggestive ways. These "sets", as he called them, were totally legal. Also, he promised that the sites he posted them on would not be frequented by anyone I knew in real life.

"It's the underground of the Internet," he often said. "Even if somebody on one of these sites knew you, they'd never admit it because they would have to admit that they browsed jailbait type forums. Most men are ashamed of frequenting such sites, trust me." All his reassurances did little to relieve my worries, though.

Meanwhile, he did nothing to hide what we were doing from my sister. She would walk in on us all the time when he was taking pictures of me in my bed, dressed like a slut or a poor innocent child, depending on the costume or "theme" of the latest the photo set. I would tell Molly to go away but she wouldn't listen to me and my father didn't mind her presence. It was bad enough making some of the more suggestive poses at my dad's command, bad enough knowing they'd be put online. But actually having my beloved little sister watch me behave this way? That was awful. I felt like I was doing wrong by her, that Dad was using me to delude her into thinking this was normal.

Watching me pose for our father with feigned smiles and forced expressions of desire on my face made her clap and giggle with excitement, like this was all a wonderful game and even glamorous in some way. It'd been weeks since our mom's death and she still hadn't recovered, I told myself.

She once asked our dad if I was going to be famous.

"Yes," he replied with a smile.

"Can I be famous, too?" she asked, eyes full of hope.

"When you're older, yes," he said. That response pleased her to no end, even as it horrified me. But what could I do to stop him?

I no longer shared a bedroom with Molly. There was no reason. Father liked me in his own bed where he could fondle me and fuck me and do what he liked. And I let him because I didn't see any other option. If I disobeyed him in any way he spanked me: that remained his preferred method of punishment. Sometimes, though, he liked to have me lie down on our bed, naked of course, and then beat my burgeoning body with his belt. Mostly he liked striking my tits when he did that, but he wasn't afraid of striking my cunt, too. I was constantly walking around school wearing bruises I had to pretend weren't there beneath my clothes, wondering if I was the only one or if there were other kids like me.

I decided I was the only one. I had to be. The thought made me sad but also gave me comfort: my world might be shitty, but there was another world I might somehow find, a world where there could be real happiness.

Such a world had to exist. My belief in it was the only thing that kept me going in those dark days.

Molly wasn't allowed to come to the first nude set I did. That much was a relief. Dad left her with our aunt and drove me about an hour away to an abandoned farm he knew about. Once there we went back behind the crumbling old barn: he had wanted to do the shoot inside but he couldn't afford proper lights yet. So instead, under the Spring sun, I posed naked for the first time.

He had me wear some obscenely short daisy-duke style denim shorts he had created by cutting up some old jeans of mine. He also found for me a plaid red-and-white flannel shirt that he wrapped up tightly to expose my tummy and create a lot of cleavage. Finally, some cheap and cheesy looking cowboy boots he had found at a thrift store completed the outfit. After getting dressed and examining myself in the mirror I had to admit I looked pretty sexy in a cow-girl/redneck type of way, but the boots pinched my toes and the shorts were painfully tight. I was extremely uncomfortable but knew Dad would punish me if that came across in the photos.