The Photoshoot
By Littlesilverstar, silverstar222b@yahoo.com
A model dominates a pervert


Dedicated to my real-life Annabelle, who is every bit as strong, bitchy, and
hot as the girl in the story.

* * *

Annabelle smiled as the lights focused on her. The sexy model went into her
well-practiced series of poses as the photoshoot began. Her outfit of low-cut,
tight white pants, a brown leather belt, black leather boots, and a white
sports bra showed off the darkness of her beautiful brown skin. At 5'8" and
128 pounds, she was tall for a Filipina girl, with a slender but muscular
body. Her hard six-pack abs were visible in the gap between pants and sports
bra, and her deeply tanned, muscular arms were accented by the spiked leather
bracelets she wore on each of her strong wrists. Her breasts were small, firm,
round 34B's.

She turned her head, flipping her long black hair, and struck another pose.
"Perfect, Annabelle," said the photographer. "You really know how to work it."
The hot model gave a smile that was the perfect balance between confidence and
gratitude.

"We're going for the athletic look here, so I'd like to finish with a couple
of action shots," said the photographer. "Can you do a cartwheel?"

Annabelle winked. "I can do better than that." With that, she suddenly
executed a perfect cheerleader-style standing back handspring. The entire film
crew stared, then applauded.

"Whoa," said the photographer. "When I'm ready." Annabelle gave a charming
laugh.

When he gave the signal, she went into action again, this time doing three
standing back handsprings in a row, then performing a front handspring
followed by a roundoff back handspring. The crew applauded again.

"Well, I guess that's a wrap," said the photographer. "I look forward to
working with you again, Miss Annabelle."

As the crewmen began packing up their equipment, Annabelle chatted with them,
striking the perfect balance between dignity and flirtatiousness. Suddenly,
she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Peeking out from behind a
barrier was a homely male face, staring directly at her with a look of sexual
interest. It reminded her of that episode of Survivor 23 where Brandon was
peeping on Mikayla from the bushes. When the peeper realized she was looking
back at him, his face quickly retreated behind the wall. Angered by his creepy
behavior, she decided to teach him a lesson.

She said her goodbyes to the men, then picked up her things and started
towards the exit. As soon as she was out of everyone's sight, she doubled
back, heading directly for the spot the pervert had been occupying. Hearing
footsteps retreating in the distance, she followed them.

Rounding a corner, she saw him just entering the men's bathroom. Anger rose
inside her. The little shit was probably going to jerk off to her. She hurried
down the hall and silently entered the restroom.

Once inside, Annabelle quickly checked all the stalls to make sure no one else
was there. There was only a single pair of feet in the far stall. She grinned
wickedly. Perfect. She hung a conveniently located CLOSED - OUT OF ORDER sign
on the bathroom door, then locked it from the inside.

She began advancing towards the far stall. At that point, a low moaning
started up. "Oh, Annabelle, baby," said the male voice. "Oh, Annabelle."

She let out a low growl, then kicked down the stall door with her big black
boot. "Did you want me, honey?" she sneered at the man inside.

The pervert was seated on the toilet, his pants and underwear down around his
ankles and his rock-hard cock in his hand. Caught with his pants down,
literally, he stared in shock as the object of his degenerate lust appeared
right before his eyes.

"Miss Annabelle! What...How..."

She smirked. "I saw you peeping on me from behind that wall. So I decided to
follow you. When I saw you go in here I figured you were going to wank off
your nasty little pecker. Looks like I was right." She crossed her brown arms,
which were surprisingly big for a slim woman, in front of her. The leather
bracelets covering the thinnest parts of her wrists and forearms had the
effect of making her arms look even bigger. He trembled in fear and
humiliation.

"Well, go on and finish," she challenged him.

"What?! But I..."

"What's the matter? Not man enough? Maybe you want some help." With that,
Annabelle grabbed his boner with her right hand and began giving him a rough
hand job, squeezing hard.

"Aaaaaahhhhhh," he moaned, first in pleasure, then in pain, as she increased
the strength of her grip. "You're so strong... hurting me..."

She laughed. "I'm a girl, and I'm stronger than you. I thought you were
supposed to be a man." She held out her free arm and compared it to his.
Annabelle's muscular, veiny, dark brown forearm was clearly thicker than his
pale, thin, weak one. "Your arms are too weak and girly to ever squeeze your
cock the way I'm doing." She backhanded him across the face several times with
her left hand. Despite the blows, or perhaps because of them, he suddenly came
violently, shooting a massive load of white semen right onto her deeply tanned
forearm.

She looked down at the mess in disgust. "You little fucker. You're one of
those loser schmoe males who's turned on by stronger women, aren't you. Well,
do something useful for once and lick it off."

He stared at her. "What?"

"Lick your faggoty cum off my forearm, before I beat you into doing it."

"Fuck that shit, bitch," he growled, suddenly turning angry and aggressive. "I
ain't no fag, and I ain't doing that shit."

Annabelle suddenly smashed her left fist into his nose, breaking it. She
smiled coldly as he cried out in pain and the blood began bubbling. "Like hell
you aren't." She rolled her dark brown eyes. "You're probably so far in the
closet, you're in fucking Narnia."

The pervert spat in fury. Standing up, he swung his fist at her elegant,
high-cheekboned face, but she dodged it easily. He then tried a lower punch
aimed at her stomach. Seeing it coming, she tensed her abs. He let out a howl
as the completely ineffective attack bounced off her steel-hard dark brown
wall of abdominal muscle. She laughed in his face. "Here's how to do an ab
attack." As she spoke, her knee shot up, ramming hard into his gut. He doubled
over in agony, clutching his stomach as he tried to breathe.

"Are you ready to clean up the mess you made, cocksucker?" she demanded. He
glared up at her, then began looking from side to side wildly.

Annabelle scowled. "If you try to escape or scream for help, I'll kick you in
the nuts with my steel-toed boots. Then I'll keep kicking your crotch until
your testicles are completely destroyed and turned into paste. You do not want
to fuck with a mean bitch like me. Ever." She punched him in the eye, turning
it black.

"Although I don't know why you'd want to scream for help," she continued as
her helpless victim staggered back from her latest assault. "What would you
say? That you were jerking off to a girl, who then beat you up?" In a display
of cruel feminine dominance, she kicked him in the jaw with her big black
boot, breaking it and knocking loose two of his teeth. She followed that up by
smashing her knee into his groin.

"Okay, Mistress Annabelle!" he cried when he finally recovered from her
devastating strikes. "I'll lick my cum off your arm!"

She held out her thick, dark brown forearm. "Then get to licking, bitch. And
make sure to swallow it all. I'm sure you're used to swallowing, just like I
bet you're used to being the catcher."

Sobbing in shame and total humiliation, the wanker began licking up his own
cum, tears flowing down his ugly face as he choked it down. Annabelle laughed
mockingly throughout the whole process, enjoying the total dominance she had
over him, as well as a feeling of revenge on all the men who had treated her
as a sex object.

When he was finished, she ordered, "Take off your clothes." When he hesitated,
she made a fist. That was all the motivation he needed and he quickly stripped
naked. She gathered up his clothes and tossed them behind her.

"Sit back down on the toilet." He obeyed immediately.

Annabelle crossed her muscular arms in front of her. "I'm taking your clothes
and leaving you here nude as punishment for you thinking I was just a piece of
meat without feelings for you to lust over. I never want to see you again. On
the remote chance you aren't fired for being naked at work, you'd better quit
as soon as you get out of here, because if you're still here when I come back
for my next photoshoot, I will use you to redefine the words pain and
humiliation. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mistress Annabelle." He hung his head submissively, a broken shell of a
man.

"And one more thing. Will you admit you're a closeted fag?"

He hesitated only a second before replying, "Yes, Mistress Annabelle, I'm a
closeted fag." Her full, pouty lips curled upward in triumph. She really
didn't care if he was one or not, she just wanted the satisfaction of knowing
she could make him say it.

"Good. And also, good night." With that, she suddenly kneed him in the face
with all her strength, knocking him out.

She wiped the blood off of the top of her knee-high black leather boot, then
took one last look at the scene of destruction she had created. She nodded in
satisfaction, picked up the pervert's clothes, removed the sign from the
bathroom door, and stole away quietly, making sure no one saw her.

Out in the parking lot, Annabelle climbed behind the wheel of her black BMW.
She fixed her hair in the rearview mirror and put on her sunglasses before
driving off. A few more years of modeling and she would have enough money to
live comfortably for the rest of her life. She thought of the poor suckers
slaving away week in and week out at their nine-to-five jobs and smirked. She
would be able to retire before she turned thirty. The only bad part about
modeling was putting up with the perverts who ogled and harassed her. But even
that shouldn't be a problem, she thought. She had beaten and destroyed one
perv. She could do the same to others.

She smiled.

THE END

Comments, compliments, and constructive criticism encouraged.

silverstar222b@yahoo.com