One Trick Pony

One Trick Pony

Chapter 1

It was a blustery morning. She remembered that the wind had whipped her nose and ears in the few seconds it had taken for her to transit from the limousine to the imposing skyscraper that concealed one of the better known businesses in town. Lisa had just finished the morning photo shoot at a famous men's magazine located just off Shore Drive in Chicago and had a few hours to spare while the grips set up the afternoon session. She yearned to see a little bit of the windy city during the break.

"Anything good to see around here?" she asked the Kenny, the photographer.

He jerked his head around. "You are, darling. Why do you think I took so many pictures." And he was right. The black sequined dress she had recently covered herself with did not hide the svelte figure. Standing five feet ten inches tall and weighing little more than one hundred and ten pounds, Lisa's bee stung lips and magnificent breasts only added to her allure. The blonde mane cascading past her shoulders completed the look. If he hadn't been gay Kenny would've been in love with her himself. He only shrugged his shoulders when he saw her pout in return. "Closest place I can think of is Navy Pier," he responded. He eyed her closely. "Don't wander too far. We're on a tight time-line for this shoot."

"Oh, I'll be back in plenty of time." Lisa wrapped a fur coat around the expensive sequined dress and started for the door. "Seeya in a bit."

Outside the temperature was colder than she remembered. Shivering inside the coat she picked her way through the slush and snow toward Shore Drive. Her black leather boots offered some comfort and protection from the elements, but the three inch heels made the footing treacherous. Navy Pier loomed in the distance. Undeterred she plodded on.

I hope this is worth it, she thought to herself. A few yards away, one of the doors opened that gave access to the building. Throwing caution to the wind Lisa sprinted toward the opening. "Heat!" she muttered. "Damn, it's cold!" Inside the doorway the bitter wind was just a memory, the only evidence of its effect a spattering of water crystals on her coat that had congealed from her exhalations. She stamped her feet clean of the salt and snow.

Lisa ambled her way down the corridor, examining the window store fronts and boutiques that littered the concourse. Traffic was sparse, and except for the occasional couple walking in the opposite direction, the place seemed almost deserted. Rosy cheeked and comfortable she continued her journey.

The corridor seemed to go on interminably. However, just as she was getting ready to turn back, Lisa reached the vestibule on the far side of the building. Through the frost etched glass she looked out on Lake Michigan. Gray ice extended over a thousand yards until it was lost to the churning dark waters. Somber skies clouded down over the ice field and contributed to the funeral atmosphere. Lisa shuddered visibly at the sad tapestry. She imagined herself out there, falling through the ice. "I pity the poor person who has to be out there," she whispered.

"I do, too," a voice from behind her said. Lisa whirled around at the sound.

He was dressed in a gray suit and overcoat, a wine colored scarf of expensive wool wrapped loosely around his neck and tucked inside. A hint of stubble lined his face, a face her age, or maybe a few years older. His dark hair glistened, as if freshly brushed by snow and he flicked a gloved hand toward the small cow lick in front. The toothy smile seemed impervious to any cold. His hand came away from his face and half-waved to her. "I couldn't help overhearing. I was just thinking the same thing myself," he said.

Lisa felt troubled. Like she knew him from somewhere, but where? The face, with that sardonic smile, nagged at her. "I didn't hear you come up," she said, filling time while she tried to place the face. "Don't I know you?"

He chuckled. "I don't think so, unless you come here often. When I'm in town I sometimes stop here to get away from the world and contemplate why I'm still here."

She was unconvinced. "I feel like we've met before – like I've seen you somewhere ...." A look of astonishment crossed her face. "Oh! You're ... you're ... the movie!"

He laughed while loosening his scarf. "No, I'm afraid not," he finally said. "I get that a lot. At least I used to before he thought he could act and box. Now I don't know whether to be pleased or offended. That movie is almost twenty years old and he's in his late forties." He pursed his lips. "I am not in my forties! Although I did love the scene where he was feeding her while she was blindfolded. That and the scene with the whip and the handcuffs – that was a definite turn-on."

Lisa blushed. "I didn't mean it that way. I mean ... well, you can't hold it against me for thinking ...." She reddened further.

"Thinking what?" he countered.

"I don't know," she stammered. Lisa eyed the scarf, the ends of which were cupped loosely in his hands. She remembered the blindfold scene. An electric twinge coursed through her body, hardening her nipples and moistening her labia. "You said when you were in town. I guess, you're not from here," she replied, changing the subject.

"Born and raised here. I just travel a lot. And you?"

Lisa relaxed. "I'm doing some modeling."

He nodded. "That makes sense." He extended a hand. "My name's Jason. Jason Powell."

Lisa reached forward reluctantly. His hand was warm and soft, yet firm and dry. Her heart fluttered at the touch. "Lisa – Lisa Owensby," she responded. She pulled her hand away. "I've got to go."

Jason frowned. "What's the hurry?"

She looked away. "I've got to get back to work. The crew is probably ready and I don't want to be late." She left the vestibule and started down the corridor; then stopped. She turned back to find that he had not moved. "Listen ..."

"Jason," he interrupted.

That irritated Lisa. "Listen, Mr. Powell. I don't know what you were expecting, but –"

"I wasn't expecting anything." He smiled that toothy, sardonic grin.

The smile exasperated her even more. "You were trying to pick me up!" she complained.

He laughed out loud. "On the contrary, you 'accused' me of having movie star looks. Who was coming on to who?" Slowly and deliberately he repositioned the scarf about his neck. He pursed his lips, biting the lower one as if deep in thought. "I think you're afraid," he announced.

Lisa shrugged. "Afraid? Afraid of what?"

Jason raised an eyebrow, cocking it at her. "That you might like what you've found. That you might have to meet me halfway. That I might have something to offer you – to which you could not, or would not, want to say no."

Lisa drew herself up to her full five feet, ten inches in height, her breasts thrusting forward in defiance. "I'm not afraid; there's nothing to be afraid of. But I am curious. What do you have that you think is so special?" Her nostrils flared with the question.

Jason pulled a small gold case from a breast pocket. From it he extracted a business card. He walked up to Lisa and handed it to her. "You'll have to wait and see. Call the number." A smirk paraded across his face. "If you don't, you'll never know." He snapped the gold case closed and walked away.

* * *

She fumed through the rest of the photo shoot. Whenever Kenny suggested a pose or change of background Lisa had to consciously avoid snapping his head off. Everyone on the crew noticed the change. The emotional coldness prompted an early end to the session.

Lisa almost didn't notice and certainly didn't care until Kenny called her over. "What's up?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" she replied.

Kenny blew up. "Never answer a question with a question. Especially when you're not paying the bills!" He waited expectantly.

The perky blonde was taken aback by the attack. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm having a bad day."

The photographer wasn't buying it. "You were having a great day until lunchtime. I'll ask you again – what happened?"

Lisa's chin dropped. "I ... I ... I met this guy ...."

Kenny's jaw dropped. "You met a guy – and so what? You're a professional, for chrissake! Don't bring your personal life to the job!" He glowered at her.

She was on the edge of tears. "I'm not. I mean, I didn't. Hell, I don't even know the guy!" she explained in a rush. But the memories of the verbal exchange with Jason betrayed her. Her cheeks flushed and her nipples hardened – it was an instantaneous transformation – her body was giving her away! "He came on to me over at Navy Pier," she finished lamely.

The photographer shook his head in disgust. "I don't know what he said, but it's had an obvious effect on you." He paused. "Hell, I don't know whether it's even worth it to try another session." He drew her chin level with his and made eye contact. "You need to fix whatever is broken, and right away. I can't go to the editor and tell him that a month's work has gone down the drain because you've got the hots for some guy."

Lisa was astonished. "I never said I felt anything for him – I said he came on to me. I'm not involved with him."

Kenny shook his head once more. "Your lips are moving, but you're lying. These say it all," he finished as he tweaked her still turgid nipples. "I may be gay, but I'm not stupid. Like I said, fix it." He pointed at his watch. "I'll expect a phone call no later than nine o'clock tomorrow morning. If not ...." He didn't finish, but instead stalked back toward his equipment.

Her gaze followed him across the room. Oh, shit, she thought to herself.

* * *

The door was unlocked. Lisa dismissed the cabbie with a wave of her hand. The vehicle's gleaming yellow paint disappeared in the distance. What am I getting myself into, she thought again to herself. Why did I come?

She knew the answer before she asked the question. There was something different about Jason. Something special. The something she had to know about – correction – that she was about to find out about. An uncontrollable shiver went up her back. She opened the door.

It wasn't a mansion, but it wasn't a hovel either. Occupying at least two floors, the expanse of the foyer betrayed the fact that Jason Powell was a fairly wealthy man. An ornate staircase as well as two corridors led away from the entrance. Lisa marveled that a person so young could afford such ostentatious quarters. The samarai warrior's armor tucked in an alcove near the doorway gave some notice of its owner's history. I wonder what he does for a living, she wondered.

"I'm a licensed troubleshooter." The words echoed in the room. She looked up the staircase toward the sound. Jason stood near what appeared to be a family portrait, leaning on the railing. "That's if you're wondering how I can afford this. Really, I can't – it is part of an inheritance – but that's how I can afford to maintain it." His gaze penetrated the distance between them and seemed to sear her soul.

"I'm sure," she murmured in response as he came down the stairs.

"Can I take your clothes?" he asked.

The question caught her off guard. "You mean my coat, don't you?"

"No. I meant your clothes. I have something else for you to wear." He smiled. It was a friendly smile meant to reassure. "Don't be afraid. I won't do anything to hurt you or displease you."

Lisa flashed a frown. "I told you – I'm not afraid. But I didn't come here to fall into bed. I came here to ... to ... to try and understand what is going on between us." She flushed at the thought that immediately invaded her consciousness. "I don't deny that you're attractive, but I am my own person. I don't know that I need someone else right now in my life." Her eyes fell toward the floor.

"But you came here just the same."

"Yes ... yes, I did. But for my own reasons."

Jason grinned. "And they are?"

"I just told you. I want to understand what is going on here."

Jason shrugged. "That will only happen if you follow my instructions."

"And that means disrobing?" Lisa grimaced. "I wasn't prepared for that. I'll just go." She started for the door.

"Lisa!" Her name rang throughout the house, stopping her. "I didn't ask you to go naked. I'm asking you to change."

"And if I won't?"

"Then I'll call a cab for you."

She shook her blonde tresses in an intoxicating way, hesitating in thought, conflict etched in her eyes. Lisa finally took a deep breath and turned back toward Jason. Why am I doing this? The sigh was loud enough for Jason to hear. "Where do I change?" she asked.

A leather bustier and pants lay on the upstairs bed in apparently what was a guest room. A pair of black ankle boots with four inch heels was placed conveniently nearby. Lisa grinned. I can guess what his kink is, she thought. I wonder what's next. Ready to find out, it took her only moments to don the leather, leaving her panties buried under the pile of her discarded outer garments.

"Where's the whip?" she muttered. "I'll make him pay!"

Jason stood in the doorway. "You don't get a whip with that outfit," he said quietly. As low as it was, it still carried throughout the room.

Lisa put her hands on her hips. "Why not?" she asked defiantly. "You've got me dressed up like some dominatrix!"

"Because you won't be able to lift it." He held the wool scarf in his hands. "Turn around," he commanded, advancing into the room.

"What's that for?" she asked, although she knew the answer. Her nipples hardened and she felt the first of her pussy juices begin to moisten the leather splayed between her legs. "Do we really need that?"

"Turn around." He waited.

Sighing some more, Lisa slowly turned. She waited expectantly.

Nothing happened.

She looked back over her shoulder.

Jason frowned. "You were told to turn around. You should do as you're told."

Lisa pouted. "It's not like I was cheating."

He whispered. "No, not cheating. But you want instant gratification. That only happens in a perfect world. Haven't you heard that the best things come to those who wait." His warm breath teased her ear. The moisture from his exhalations tickled and excited her. Lisa closed her eyes.

"No, open them. And look straight ahead." The words demanded instant compliance and she met the test.

After what seemed like hours, but was only minutes, the scarf drifted over her left shoulder and was brought up across her eyes. Gently, but firmly, he tied the scarf off behind her head.

"I think we're supposed to be in the kitchen," she mouthed softly. She could hear him breathing behind her, and felt the weight of his fingers on her shoulder.

"Sshhhh," he whispered. "Don't speak. Listen." He thought for a second. "Don't touch. Feel. Don't hear. Experience." He stepped away.

There was a rustling at her side. Jason slid what felt like a leather glove over her left hand and up her arm past her elbow. "Is it black?" she asked. Jason did not respond. The next glove went over her other hand and extended past the right elbow. She pinched a finger and thumb together and marveled at the texture and thinness of the leather. The smell joined that of the bustier and the pants to envelope her senses. She reveled in the sensuousness of it all.

She felt him grasp her gloved hands and swing them forward and backward. She tried to clench them, but he opened her hands each time. She tried to hold his hands and he responded by freeing himself at every attempt. "Relax," he whispered. "Relax."

Lisa relaxed, hands dangling until Jason, standing behind her, pulled them behind her back. There was a tug on her hands and she was not sure because of the gloves but she thought they were covered with some sort of material. Seconds later her palms were drawn together by some sort of restraint.

Opening her eyes behind the blindfold she could see nothing. A rustling sound betrayed the movement of more material up her arms. Finally she recognized two leather belts being thrown across her shoulders and crisscrossed in front of her. She tensed when she heard the leather slide against metal and heard the sound of a zipper closing simultaneously with pressure drawing her elbows together. "Jason, what are you doing?" she cried.

There was no response. Instead she felt the leather straps, for that was what they were – not belts, tighten and draw the single sleeve further up her arms. The feeling of helplessness, rather than inspiring fear, caused her to secrete more juice from her wet pussy. Her clit tingled as doubt turned to anticipation. What was he up to?

Other straps rustled and the single glove tightened further until the leather was taut at every point along her arms. The cocoon of leather strained her muscles provoking feeble attempts at adjusting the garment. It was relentless. It did not yield relief.

Yet her moist pussy was evidence that she exulted in the confinement. As if to acknowledge his success, Jason whispered in her ear again as he rubbed a hand against the slight leather indentation that framed her pussy lips. "I see you are wet ... very wet." He took his hand away. "Don't worry, this is just the beginning."

Lisa grunted. "Don't tease me," she complained.

"Ssshhh."

"Obviously you don't understand what I nee– Mmmmppphhhffft!" Her complaint was suddenly interrupted by the insertion of an object in her mouth. Her tongue played over its surface as it was drawn deeper into her mouth. Why was he gagging her? The tip of the object stopped its penetration at the entrance to her throat. Its bloated length was enhanced by various ridges and imperfections. Lisa did not have to imagine what it was, she knew. It was a penis gag. "Mmmmppphhhfffffttttt!" she sounded. Its size prevented any meaningful speech. "Mmmmppphhhfffppptttt." The sound died in her throat.

"Now, that's much better," Jason teased.

"Mmmmmppphhhhfffttttt!" Lisa swung the single glove about trying to release herself. "Mmmmmppphhhhffftttt!"

"I know. I know. But it's for your own good," he said. "I need to maintain focus so that you have the best experience possible." He chuckled.

"Mmmmppphhhhfffffttttt!"

"Yes, I know," he smoothed. "Work with me here."

"Mmmmppphffftttttt."

Silence. Lisa felt Jason touching her leather bustier. She swung her shoulder into him. "Mmmmpphhffftttt!" The movement knocked his hands away.

"Hmmm. I guess I'll have to teach you the value of teamwork." His footsteps faded to another part of the room.

Suddenly Lisa heard a metallic sound down by her encased hands. Something quickly pulled the bottom of the single sleeve up until she was bent over, perched precariously forward. Just as quickly her legs were yanked apart and kept that way by some other form of restraint. The sudden movement caused the leather cushioning her cunt to flex and release her juices down her right thigh. Lisa moaned; the only sound making its way from her throat the guttural rumble of sexual frustration.

"There we go." Jason stepped back to admire his captive. "Now, let's see. Where was I?" He moved around and untied the blindfold. "No need for this now. I want to see those pretty eyes."

Lisa stared at Jason. But for the rubber penis in her mouth she would have frowned and shouted. But that was not to be. Drool penetrated past the bee-stung feature and spread slowly down her chin.

"Tsk, tsk. You need to exercise better control." The smirk confirmed his amusement. "However, now I think we need to concern ourselves with some changes in your wardrobe." Jason opened a dresser drawer and pulled forth a set of medical technician shears. "Don't worry. These can cut through just about anything." Yet even as sharp as they were, it took several minutes to cut away the bustier and pants. A patina of sweat complemented Jason's efforts by the time he was finished. He stepped back to admire the view.

Lisa glared back at him. "Mmmmpphhhffftttt!" Silence. "Mmmfffppphhhttt!" No response.

Jason smiled. Lisa's titties swayed precariously in front of him. He reached forward and massaged each nipple, gratified when they hardened at his touch. Unable to move away Lisa moaned into her gag and drooled as the sexual heat of the moment stimulated every nerve in her body. She wanted fulfillment. At that moment she wanted to cum.

He stopped playing with her breasts and walked around behind her. Try as she might Lisa could not keep him in sight. His fingers fondled her bottom cheeks, followed by his hands gripping and releasing her ass. Lisa leaned backward as far as she could to encourage him, because that was all she could do.

Jason thrust two fingers into her pussy, and felt more than heard Lisa gasp. The gag stifled the mews and moans of approaching orgasm. Lisa shuddered. The fingers withdrew. "Not yet, precious, not yet," he murmured.