It was a friend of mine called Perdita who first introduced me to Chris. Apparently they'd been involved in some kind of a betting thing at their office and Perdita had won a lot of money. But in return she'd rashly agreed to do whatever Chris wanted her to do. She told me how he'd taken her to a photographer friend of his and done the whole porn thing with Perdita in front of a camera. She seemed to have enjoyed the experience a hell of a lot and dated Chris a few times afterwards, but they soon went their own ways. Which left Chris and I as mutual acquaintances, if not friends. He also lost no time in making it plain that he was eager to get me in the same place as he'd taken Perdita, and for the same reason. Which kind of left me stuck between two bases.

I've always been a boringly well behaved Catholic girl. Oh, I've had boyfriends and done the usual things with them, but always very discreetly. Call me a career girl who puts work before fun, dresses very quietly and leaves early from any party which looks as if it might be getting out of hand. Which is the way I am -- most of the time. But I was starting to get a feeling that maybe I was missing out on a really deep and exciting part of life. The sort of excitement which sometimes made me tremble when I imagined being with Chris and being forced to make love with another man watching us do it.

Well, when somebody starts getting as curious as that about how they'd react to something, they eventually find themselves being drawn towards it. Like a fish to a lure -- and Chris was just the sort of guy to keep dangling the hook in the water as long as he thought he had a chance. He knew where I had my lunch break and hung around a lot talking to me. I guess he was looking for my weak spot, and he found it.

As soon as I told him I was a one eyed Essendon supporter he began to follow up on it, offering bets on football matches and always in the same way. He wanted to bet on Essendon's opponents and for me to back the Bombers. No money changed hands, we just let it ride until nearly the end of the season. Which wasn't a good one for Essendon. Much as I and all the other fans barracked for them, they seemed to lose a lot of games. Maybe by only a behind or two, but enough to set the other mob singing their victory song in the showers. And as the Bombers kept bombing out the money I owed to Chris began to get serious. Which was when he offered me a forfeit or nothing deal.

"What kind of a forfeit?" I asked him and he smiled.

"You've talked to Perdita about me a few times. I guess you know what happened to her. So it's the same deal for you. If the Bombers beat the Dockers, you don't owe me a cent. If the Dockers do the Bombers you front up for a little photo session. Nothing too way out but enough to make your next visit to a the confession box more interesting than it usually is. How about it?"

What the hell, I didn't want to pay him what I owed -- it would have taken some of the jam off my budget for a while. And the Fremantle Dockers were the worse team in the AFL. There was no way they'd ever run out victors over the Bombers, not even an off form Bombers side. Not unless God himself wanted Chris to have me.

I couldn't believe that game, not even though I was there watching it happen. Essendon played as though they'd spent all night travelling on a Greyhound bus and the Dockers ... the Dockers came out of the tunnel like it was lions versus christians day at the Coliseum and they were the ones with the claws. It wasn't even a game, more like a gangland execution. At first turn the Bombers were already fifteen points down and about as committed as Warren Beatty at a gay pride convention. At half time the Bombers coach went out with his team thirty eight points down and gave the players some emotionally charged advice. He was juggling a ball in his hands all the time he was shouting, so maybe he was making sure they realized it wasn't round and they weren't playing soccer. Or maybe he just wanted to show that at least one member of the squad was trying.

Me, I was wondering if Chris had somehow fixed the whole match or was just very lucky. Anyway, whatever had happened, there was no way the Dockers wouldn't lapse back into the usual Freo Shockers after half time: they'd go into their usual slow motion mode and the Bombers big men would fly ...

Ha! The Essendon attackers went after their marks like wet hens trying to fly in a thunderstorm and the Dockers came off the turf as though they'd been taking Magic Johnson pills. Three quarter time, Freo ahead by fifty four, the Bombers fans groaning in despair, and the only happy faces in the terrace were the dozen Docker barrackers who'd flown across the continent to watch this match and were beginning to think it was one of the best investments in their lives. But as happy as they were, I knew that in front of a TV screen not too far away was an even happier face -- and I knew who it belonged to. And at the final siren, the Dockers winners by twelve goals and four behinds, there was no need to ask for whom the bell tolled. It tolled for me, on my mobile, with Chris's smug tones asking when might be a convenient time for me to cover my gambling debts. Or, in this case, to get covered for them.

Which is why I was lying on a bed in a strange apartment with a strange man taking photos of me in unreal lingerie, and waiting for Chris to enter from stage right as the leading man in this little drama. I had no idea what he was going to be wearing, or not wearing, but I was slightly nervous about the whole thing. If slightly nervous is the correct way to describe a situation where I kept expecting for divine intervention to stop me committing the same sins that Adam and Eve got thrown out of paradise for. There's no doubt about it, a Catholic education lays down strict rules on sex as fun -- nun yesterday, nun today, and nun tomorrow.

"Everything cool, Tami?" Phil asked me.

He was a small, middle aged guy with oversized spectacles and a silly ponytail of gray hair hanging from underneath a balding head. But at least he seemed very professional and cool, which was a big help. He also had the sort of good taste in interior decorating which I'd never acquire in a million years.

"Yes, I think so."

I just wished my voice sounded more confident than it did, or that I hadn't just noticed the book I was pretending to read was upside down. It would also have helped not to hear Chris suppressing a spurt of laughter from the doorway on the other side of the room. But at least I managed to control myself enough not to look up as I felt him moving closer.

"Well, hello, Tina, fancy meeting you. Are you going to come here often?" Chris gurgled with laughter at his own wit. "You can put the book down now, I'll keep you entertained for a while."

He knelt down on the side of the bed and rubbed one of his palms gently against my shoulder. I felt awkward, more or less sitting on my hands and feeling about the same way as I had when I was ten and waiting to be called up on stage to get an award for regular Sunday School attendance. A sort of frozen smile of terminal shyness. And I wished I knew how I was supposed to react to the silly mask he was wearing. He might at least have warned me he was going to play dress-up as well.

"I don't know why you've got that silly thing on for. The only people around here who need to hide their faces are stupid Essendon supporters like me."

Chris laughed: "Don't be impatient, you'll soon meet the fate your bad judgement deserves. Let me show you something I put under the pillow as a suitable treatment for losing fans."

He took out two rings covered in blue fur and I stared at them, wondering what they were. Until I saw the glint of the steel inside them and the chain between both of the rings and I realized they were handcuffs. Then I really began trembling.

"I don't suppose I have to ask what you're going to do with them?"

"No, Tami, there's no point at all. Because I'm going to give you a little touch of a bondage experience while you're being stripped off for the camera. Because that's the sort of thing that happens to losers like you."

"I didn't lose, that useless bloody footie team did," I snapped back. "They're the ones who should be getting locked up."

"Morally, you may be right, Tami. But you're much more fun to chain to a bed, so I don't want any more arguments. Just put your arms up beside your head and get comfortable because you're going to be in the same position for a while."

I still couldn't take it on board that it was really happening, not even when the steel rings underneath the fur were snapped shut around my wrists. Only when I tried to move my arms again and found them trapped behind the bed head did it finally sink in that this was it. Bondage, restraint -- call it what you liked, it meant that I was helpless to stop Chris doing whatever he wanted with me.

Phil moved closer to the bed with his camera up to his face. "Can we open things up a wee bit here?"

I didn't know what he meant but Chris nodded. "Sure. Right, slut, open your legs and show yourself off. We want to see how fuckable you can look when you try."

His voice suddenly sounded sharp and angry and I felt I had to obey, shyly moving my legs apart as Phil aimed his camera at the trashy tart's knickers I'd had to put on with the lingerie.

"There's a good little girl," Chris said, his voice less emotional. "You just keep on doing exactly as you're told and we'll have a good time."

Then he began undoing the ribbons on my top. "Time to show off your tits, Tami. Time to show them off and have them felt, and that's what I'm going to do. I can do whatever I like with you now. All you get to do is to say 'yes, sir' and 'no, sir'. And that's what you've been waiting for, isn't it?"

"That's not true."

Chris shook his head as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing: "Whatever you say, bimbo. It doesn't make any difference now, anyway. So let's see what we've got here."

His fingers touched my bare midriff and I trembled as they slid around me and pulled at the thin nylon. It hadn't been more than a token covering anyway but even that was gone as Chris pulled the scanty material up over my breasts and left the folds around my mouth.

"Now that's the kind of sight that would make a nice bonus for any hard working burglar," Chris gloated. "The lady of the house on her back on the family bed, all nicely handcuffed and tits on offer for some good hard handling."

I trembled again as his hand gently stroked the side of my body, just below my right boob.

"What's the matter, Tami, getting a little nervous are you? Not to worry, the next step along is easy."

The bed creaked as he changed position and lowered his head over me. The ceiling somehow suddenly seemed a lot higher and the light brighter. It was a feeling like being in a dentist's chair, more than a little frightened of what was going to happen and with all my attention focused on my own body and the person touching it. Whatever Phil was seeing or doing was beyond my caring about right then.

Yet Chris was right: when he put his tongue against one either of my aureoles and drew it over and around the hardening point I was feeling no pain at all. In fact I could feel myself starting to get damp straight away. Chris must have heard the deep breaths I was starting to take and took both of my nipples inside his mouth very quickly at the same time as he tweaked the top of my panties.

"These'll soon be coming off, Tami. By and by it'll be just your stockings left on. First things first though."

He opened a drawer by the bed, took out a key and unlocked one of the handcuff rings long enough to slip my arm out of the clinging nylon. I didn't struggle or try to escape, I let myself be positioned like a shop window dummy as Chris secured me again, and then loosened my other wrist to finish the job. Very soon I was chained at both wrists again and with nothing on except the whore's drawers and the pair of stockings I'd been made to wear.

Both men were staring at my exposed tits now, Phil through the viewfinder of his camera as he moved closer and Chris with his fingers held open above them. But that wasn't for long at all, just a moment of anticipation before he took me in both hands and began kneading the soft flesh.

"That's what I call a nice pair, he gloated. "What do you reckon, Phil, are we getting some good shots here?"

"Now that you mention it, no. She's still too tensed up. You need to get her laughing."

"What do you want me to do -- pull a funny face?"

"You've already got one. No, just tickle the bottom of he feet -- that always works."

"No, don't!" I squealed. I hate having that done to me. But it seemed like a useless protest. Chris got off the bed and lifted up one of my legs.

"What's the matter, Tami, don't you like being tickled?"

"No, it drives me mad!"

He ran his fingertips along the sole of my raised foot. "OK, Cinderella, let's see a smile from you then, if you don't want one forced out of you."

So I smiled, and then I asked: "Why don't you take my panties off instead?"

"Well, as opposed to trying to fuck you while you're still wearing them, that seems like a good idea."

He reached down to touch me between the legs and I gave a little gasp of pleasure.

"Quite sure you don't want these on anymore?"

"No ... I don't want them," I told him.

"Just the sort of girl I like to meet -- one that's not underwear retentive."

He caught hold of the panties' waistband, then pulled them down from where they had been to around my thighs. It wasn't the first time a man had done that for me, but it was sure the first time it had happened while I was locked to the bed, and by God, it was exciting.

"Do you do this to all your girl friends?" I asked Chris. "Chain them up before you make love to them?"

"I don't make love to friends of any kind. I don't have friends. What I do is to fuck girls. Find them, feel them, fuck them and forget them -- that's my motto. Especially the ones who are so dumb they don't even know when they're supporting a bunch of losers."

"No wonder you like wearing a mask, you bandit."

"Well, it's more than you'll soon be wearing, cunt. Open wide again and show off your pussy."

I didn't know how I felt. Partly excited at the thought of being photographed in the raw for anybody who saw the pixs to ogle, partly ashamed at having Chris's hand stroking my tits and snatch like I was some kind of a slave girl. But at least that wasn't something I needed to worry about because there was nothing at all I could do about it. And when a set of fingertips ran up and down my clit as though it was a piano key I had no doubt at all about how much I enjoyed it.

"Looks like there's a need here for some good vibrations," Chris commented. "How about it, Phil?"

"Help yourself from the drawer," Phil answered. "I think you'll need the large economy size."

My lover/rapist laughed and opened the drawer, then took out a vibrator which he fooled around with, holding it up and looking along it as if he was checking out a billiard cue.

"Yep, seems straight. Nothing worse than a bent shafter, it makes the ladies all twisted and bitter. Mind you, this one must be about due for its hundred cunt service. That right, Phil?"

"It's certainly been in plenty of tight corners, that's for sure."

Both of them grinned at each other, and then Chris bent over me. But I was surprised to find him undoing the cuffs instead of using the vibrator.

"You're letting me go?" I asked.

"You're going nowhere. I just want everybody who sees these shots to know that you wanted this thing used on you."

Then he did pick up the device and begin to explore between my opened thighs with it. He was right, I didn't want him to stop, but it was still humiliating to see Phil coming closer and closer with the camera.

"Smile, please, Tami."

I covered my face with my hand in embarrassment and squealed. Maybe the squeal was outrage in being photographed with a love machine being pushed up my snatch, or perhaps it was because of how far Chris had pushed it.

"No point in being shy now," Phil said. "Chris, put her down on the other end of the bed where the light is better."

Chris made me get up and move around as Phil wanted. My legs were trembling but not because I really wanted to walk away from this scene on them.

"That's better," Phil commented as Chris began stroking me with the vibrator again. "She's starting to look as if she's enjoying it."

"She's thinking about the fucking I'm going to give her, hey, Tami?"

Yes, I was, but not as much as I was thinking of what a good job he was doing in sliding that tingling tip around my eager cunt.

"Come on, Tami, let's see a smile", Phil urged me again. "Think about the first really good sex you ever had."

"Yeah, and then tell us about it," Chris said.

I couldn't help grinning like a fool at the memory. "I was at high school and my boyfriend was desperate for me to bring my field hockey uniform on a date and change into it. He said that every time he'd seen me play in the school team it turned him on. There was nobody at his house that day so we went there and I got changed into the uniform like he wanted me to."

Chris nodded and pressed the vibrator gently up against my swollen clit: "And was he turned on?"

"Oh, yes, he was nearly beside himself. I think it was all to do with the short skirt and the long socks."

"You didn't take your hockey stick with you to beat him off?"

"No, I didn't", I admitted wryly. "To tell the truth, I told him I hadn't put my panties back on after I'd changed. That was when he started to get really interested."

"You could probably remember some more details with the right encouragement," Phil suggested. "Tami, maybe you could kneel down at the end of the bed and let Chris get into position."

I wasn't quite sure what he meant but I soon caught on when Chris lay down in front of me and put his head between my stocking tops.

"Move on up and do some lip dancing with me, sweetie. And while I'm wagging my tongue you can wag yours about what you did with your sports fan."

I moved forward on my knees, my hands resting on his chest, and giggling like a schoolgirl at the back of a unruly class: "Me? I didn't do anything with him. He did it all, chasing me around the house trying to get his hand up my skirt."

Chris's hands were creeping up inside my legs, and then I wriggled as his thumbs pulled my cunt lips wide apart.

"What happened then?" Phil asked.

"I was ahead for the first lap but he won by a short head on the second time around."

Chris chortled and touched me with his tongue. Phil moved out of my sight as he took a position behind me to photograph what Chris was doing. Which seemed to be nothing, until Phil dropped a hint.

"Don't leave us in suspense, Tami. Where did he catch up with you."

"At the kitchen table -- on top of the kitchen table. It was all very unhygienic, I suppose."

"Did he eat you on your kitchen table?" Phil wanted to know.

"Yes -- and he sprinkled some chicken salt on my cunt first because he said it would make it taste better."

Phil erupted with a sharp burst of laughter and Chris heaved underneath me, sputtering like a surfacing whale.

"You can suck my cock with salt on it if you like, but no vinegar. How about it?"

"I'll take a taste and make up my mind," I said to him.

Phil came back towards me, quickly, almost tripping over a electric cable in his haste to get his camera in my face. My shyness seemed to be disappearing under the effects of Chris's lapping tongue like melting ice cream because I waited until Phil was ready before I put Chris's prick into my mouth.

"Nice one, Tami, nice one. Now how about the two of you really getting to know each other better? Let's have some good one on one sex here, folks."

Phil turned up the lighting a notch, I sucked on Chris's cock and now at I didn't have to imagine what Perdita had done with him because I was doing exactly the same sort of things.

What was odd was how smoothly I'd gone through the scruples barrier: respectable business girl to harlot in about fifteen minutes from a lying start. Of course I owed it all to Chris being a totally unscrupulous bastard but I'd known that much about him all along.

"Not bad, not bad," I heard Phil say. "Now let's try something else, hey?"

"Got any ideas?" Chris asked. At least I think that was what he said, it was hard to tell, his voice was pretty muffled.

Anyway, Phil did have an idea, the idea of me sucking Chris off strongly with him holding onto my hair to make sure I made a good job of the blow job.

"Well, Tami, what a lovely little sucker you've turned out to be," Chris chortled. "My favorite kind of girl -- dumb as shit but with a big mouth."

I did consider giving him at least a gentle bite but I knew I'd get hurt right back if I tried anything like that so instead I concentrated on getting his hot cock as far down my throat as I could. And Phil took plenty of pictures of everything that was going down -- way down.

"I wonder if she's still got that field hockey uniform?"

"Don't worry, she'll find one if it means doing this again. She's getting as horny as hell thinking of what these pictures of her are going to look like. And now I'm going to get her ready for them."

Chris made me kneel down on the bed facing the camera with him behind me. And then his fingers began caressing my wet cunt lips.

"OK, Tami, are you ready to be fucked now?"

"Oh God, yes!"

His other hand slid around underneath me and tugged on a swollen nipple.

"How about if I take you the way you are? You want to be ridden from behind with a nice big cock ramming into you?"

"Come on, Chris, you know what I want, please ... you can feel me dripping ... "

"Let's have a nice big smile for the camera then. And hot little fillies who want mounting need a bridle."

I didn't understand what he meant, not even when he was rolling the stockings down to my knees and off my legs. It wasn't until one of the stockings was pulled tight into my mouth that I realized what Chris meant about a bridle.

The son of a bitch kept my head pulled back as he slapped me hard on each cheek before putting his shaft where I needed it, and even then he kept teasing me centimeter by centimeter. I guess he enjoyed showing that not only was I under his control but he also had more self control than I possessed.

"Right, you bitch, you've been wanting this ever since you heard how I fucked your friend in front of a camera. Nod your head and it's all yours!"

I jerked my head as much as I could against the restraining stocking and Chris slid himself all the way into me. If I hadn't been gagged so effectively I would have screamed with joy.

And there I was, exactly as Chris had said I would be, letting him fuck me with plenty of photos still to be taken to prove that I could be as low down a slut as any other girl when I wanted to be. And I was loving every second of it, even more so when Phil took the stocking out of my mouth. Then I was able to gasp for breath and call out Chris's name in encouragement.

I seemed to be motivating Phil as well. He was busy with the camera, as usual, but away on one side and I couldn't understand exactly what he was doing, not having any attention to spare as Chris and I rutted away like wild animals. Only later on did I find out that he'd been taking some shots of us in a mirror.

"I thought perhaps you'd like something with a nice romantic touch, seeing that the pair of you were getting along so well," he explained. "Just in case you wanted something nice to send home to your mother."

"I don't think my mother would be interested in this sort of scene," I told the guys. "She doesn't follow football at all."