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Carlton\'s Studio

Part 2

Carlton's Studio

by Smackmagnet


We was in after the bird as soon as he'd dug out his cameras. I can just about work my way around a video camera and this one he's got has got all sorts of autofocus and image stabilisers and whatnot, cause half his togs are amateurs in the extreme, so once he'd clicked the odd switch for me I was away. Even so, he waited for me to get set up before laying into her. All he asked me after that bit of a fiddle was, "Are you on?" and he's back laying into her.

"Three fucking punters," he rants. "Three of my best clients, paying photographers, who now think I'm taking the piss because you have basically been fucking my entire reputation up its arse! You stupid fucking cow. What is it, d'you think you're special or something? You think the world should molly-coddle you? You stupid bint, you're here cause you fucked him up in the first place! But apparently fucking one honest man up the arse isn't enough for you and you've got to fuck me up the shitter as well!" Bit of a pause for a second. Basically she's been flinching like an idiot each time he calls her a stupid fucking cow or a silly bint or whatnot. Probably nobody's ever talked to her like that in her entire fucking life before. And he goes next, "You know what your job is in here? What your actual job is? Six words, six fucking words, that's what your job is. You ready for the big revelation?"

She looks scared as a whimpering puppy. She nods this tiny little nod.

He lays it on thick, voice all dripping sarcastic. "You do what the photographer says. Did you hear that? I'll say it again. You do what the photographer wants. Cause believe me darling, you don't have the option of thinking you're above it, not with you owing him what you owe him and not with you fucking my fucking reputation up the arse! Three fucking complaints I've had, three fucking complaints out of three fucking customers! From three of my best customers an' all, who I personally recommended your sorry arse to! You pose too slow. You won't stop in a pose. And you're stingy as an oyster with a pearl in its pussy. So you know what? Me and him here, we're gonna teach you your fucking job, and make sure you fucking learn it!"

The poor bird was quaking in her boots. He looked around for a prop. Grabbed a tall kitchen breakfast bar stool with a screw down seat and no back and clonked it in the middle of the colourama that was still out on the floor from her last shoot. He spun the seat till it lowered itself down further than I might have figured. Then he says, "Get over it."

"Sorry?" my non-paying tenant Angela asks.

"Get over the fucking stool."

She starts to nervously lower her bum onto the seat.

"Over it!" Carlton shouts.

She stops going down with a jerk, half stands up, really nervously and keeping her knees bent.

"Get over the fucking stool!"

"How?" she asks.

"On your fucking stomach, you stupid fucking tart, how else?"

"Don't shout at me!" she quails.

And he's off. "Don't shout at you? Don't fucking shout at you? You stupid, sorry little cunt, don't fucking shout at you? On your stomach, on the fucking stool, now!"

She jerks towards it, but she's either too frightened by the shouting or she genuinely still doesn't understand, and she doesn't get as far as actually touching it with her stomach.

He goes up to her. He leans right over her. He says, "Are you just extremely stupid then? Is that what your problem it, that you're too fucking thick to understand a clear instruction?" He shouts right in her ear. "Well? Are you?"

Her voice is quaking. "No?" she goes, asking it like a question.

"You dozy, stupid little cunt. Stick your stomach on the fucking stool!"

I got to admit that when he called her a stupid cunt I was in new territory. I heard a bloke call a bird a stupid this and a stupid that before, like he just done when he called her a stupid bint and a stupid tart. But I never heard a bloke call a bird a stupid little cunt before. Did the trick though, cause she dropped her stomach onto the top of that stool. Fair pressed her stomach to it!

She had on this white basque which right at this point was holding a fairly decent pair of 36 C's in, plus she had on a pair of white stockings to match and a pretty garish pair of non-matching red knickers over the suspendies hanging down from the basque. Down on her feet was a pair of clunky high heels with big thick heel parts. Plus this girl's got a decent head of genuine blonde hair on her which this punter before had had her put up in stupid-looking schoolgirl bunches. She was now perched over this stool with her knees bent and her hands, which were, no question, trembling, just gripping the legs of the stool. And he tells her, "Pull your knickers down to you knees."

She still doesn't react, after all that. "Sorry?" she goes.

"What's your job?" he asks her quick as a flash.

There's real hesitation.

"What-is-your-job? Parrot it back to me."

"Um..." she says.

"Fuck sake." He stands up behind hert. And no warning, he wallops her on her arse. I swear, she nearly jumped out of her skin. He brings his big, heavy black hand down with a right royal crack onto one of her arse cheeks, no preamble, he just cracks her one. Her eyes had opened like fried eggs, you can see all their whites, and she's flinching so strong she nearly falls off her stool.

"Your job? Do what the photographer tells you." He says this quiet near her ear, but he cracks his hand down hard on her arse again. "What did I tell you to do then?"

"Um… um… do what the photographer says?"

"No, before that."

She just stops there, trembling like a clockwork toy. "Um… um…"

He shouts it at full volume. It's a good job we're in a basement with his flat on top, I think. "Pull your stupid red knickers down to your stupid fucking knees! Why am I still fucking waiting?"

Her little hands shoot all a-tremble and tug her garish red knickers down to her little knocking knees.

"Good. Now grab your arse cheeks."

"What?" she asks.

"Fucking unbelievable," he says. "Just how stupid can you possibly be? What did I just tell you?"

"Grab my…"


Her face is starting to dissolve in tears. He has no sympathy. He turns to me and says, "What kind of a fucking idiot tit head have you brought me here?"

"I fink she's a bit scared, Carlton," I say.

"Scared? Is she fucking scared? She fucking will be by the time I've finished with her." And he reaches down and grabs one of her arms. Yanks it back and clamps it on a buttock. Grabs the other arm, pulls that back too. She squeaks in fear as he does it.

"Now get up," he says.

It takes her a moment to react, but the next thing she does is drop her hands down so she can start to push herself up. Quick as a flash, Carlton shoves his big black hand down on the middle of her back. He lowers his head towards hers. "When did I tell you to let go of your arse?" he asks, halfway calm.

"Um, you said get up," she says.

"I know I did, it was me who said it."

"I've got to…"

"No you fucking haven't. What was the last thing I said?"

"Get up?"

He pushes close and wallops her across a thigh. "Before that, you time-wasting little cunt!"

She squeals as he slaps her again. Her answer is barely above a whisper. "Grab my bottom."

"So when I said get up, did I also say ley go of your bottom?" He mimics her voice.

She faintly shakes her head.

"Good. So take hold of your fucking arse, and get up!"

She seems to be half waiting for him to drag her wrists backwards again. He raises a hand like he's about to slap her with it, and she creeps her trembling fingers back around her backside. Not as far as he did though. He jerks on her wrists.

"Now get up."

She can't. She's too bent over the stool, too off balance. She tries pushing herself up with her stomach muscles but can't make it happen.

"You'd better get a fucking move on," he says.

She tries again. She has to bring her legs forward to either side of the stool. She manages to get a bit more upright.

"Over here," he says, pointing to a spot in front of the stool. She keeps her hands on her arse but she pushes herself more or less upright. He goes apeshit. "You stupid fucking cunt!" he rants. "Just how fucking stupid can one girl be? What have you just done?"

"I got up," she says in a relly high squeak, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Get up off the fucking stool! Did I say stand up straight? You just destroyed the fucking pose!"

It registers with her. Her face dissolves in a muscle-quake of tears. But he's having none of it.

"Bend your stupid fucking body over like it was before," he says.

She creakily bends herself down.

"Now get your fucking arse over here!"

She's full-on crying now. She starts to back up away from the stool. She shuffles to the side, still holding her arse, and clunks forward in her massive ugly heels.

As she goes, he mimes to me, "Get the camera down in her face!"

"She's crying," I mime back.

He steps up and whispers, "I know, I'm fucking making her cry! Now get it down in her face! Move it around, fucking film her!"


"Shove it in her face!"

"You want me to film her crying?"

"She's got to do all this posing in front of cameras, hasn't she?"

"Yeah but…"

"Gloat," he hisses. "Mock her with it."

"Seriously?" I mumble. "She's looking kind of ugly."

"You think porn's meant to be pretty?"

"You want me to make her look ugly?"

He sighs, annoyed. "This is to teach her a lesson, innit? The lesson is how to act in front of a camera. So get some big wide angle close-ups of her ugly weeping mug and her big fucking arse!"

All this in a hiss. I'm a bit thrown by it all, feeling like I'm being given a hard-on and kicked in the nuts at the same time. I pin my eye to the camera. There's a manual zoom, I give it a fiddle. She's down in front of me, arse slightly towards me, bent over with her hands touching her bum. She's been given a few seconds break as Carlton hissed at me but all it's done is let it all sink in. I walk round to her front. I feel guilty, feel like a right bastard and I go down on one knee in front of her face. She looks up at me, looks at the camera, her mouth starts some serious trembling.

"You know what the word wider means, don't you?" Carlton asks her, dropping his head down close into my frame.

Her head jerks towards him. She tries to nod it.

"My punters say you don't," he says.

A little thin squeak comes out of her throat.

"You ain't pulling yourself very wide back here right now. So here's an instruction. Wider."

I take his cue and get up and walk round her with the camera so I can see her hands on her arse. She very faintly pulls on her cheeks with the faint grip she has.

"If you're going to pull wider, your hands will have to be closer," he says. And again, but this time slowly, he pulls on her wrists, one at a time, to pull them further around her bum cheeks. "Now," he says. "Wider."

She pulls a little. My camera picks up how much her hands are trembling.

Carlton lowers his head down next to hers. He shouts it. "Wider!"

Her hands suddenly jerk her cheeks apart. Not as wide as she can, but definitely wider. I quickly track round to her face again to try and catch her reaction.

Carlton steps behind her and looks at her arse. "You want to know what wider actually means?" he asks.

Her head trembles as she half-looks back.

"I asked you a fucking question. Do you want to know what wider actually means?" he shouts.

She nods her head. Her mouth and facial muscles are twitching in fright.

"I asked you a fucking question, give me a proper fucking answer!" Carlton shouts at her.

"Yes," she squeaks, with a face like a trapped animal, "please."

"This is wider," Carlton says.

I stand higher. Tilt the camera so I can see over her back but still catch her face. He grabs one wrist, grabs her arse cheek, tugs the cheek to the side, yanks the wrist forward, clamps her hand onto her arse cheek to hold it. He does the same with the second arm and second cheek, this time even more roughly. He pulls it away again. Tugs on her arse cheek to drag it wider. Picks the first hand off again. Pulls on that cheek, clamps the hand back down.

Her face just goes. It completely dissolves. Her knees buckle so she's down low looking ugly as fuck. She's snivelling, her lower lip is jerking about and there's snot dribbling from her nose. Out of the corner of my eye I see Carlton signing me to come round and look at her back end, and part of me is glad I have to. He's jammed her hands on so the holes between her legs are stretched tight as a bow string. The perinaeum between her cunt and her arse is sticking out, her cunt below it has been pulled open so the pink is clearly showing with a little gap opened in the middle of that. Her bumhole looks oblong, not round. Carlton moves his foot in and kicks one of her feet wider. Then he pushes on her back so her hips are forced lower.

"Pretty as a picture," he says. He bends his head to her again. "That's what wider means," he says. "A tog asks you for wider more'n once, and I find you've give him any less than this, I'll smack you so hard you'll end up in next week. Now then. He's got you in a pose. He's taking pictures…"

He waves me round to the front to shove my camera up in her face again.

"He hasn't told you to move. What do you do?"

Her face reacts to look away when I stick the camera just a foot away.

"What do you fucking do, Missy?"

She can barely summon speech. "Don't know…"

"I'll tell you. You fucking stay in it. You fucking stay in your pose. You let him take all the fucking pictures he wants. He don't tell you to move for a minute, two minutes, ten minutes - you don't fucking move! Now. You're too far forward. I want you back here, over by the stool. What do you do?"

"Um… um…"

"Jesus Christ. You walk backwards, you silly tart!"

She can hardly summon movement from her legs. When she does, she immediately puts her feet together and her hips rise up, though her hands try their best to keep hold of her arse.

Carlton just goes bonkers again. He says to me, "Just how fucking stupid is this twat you brought me?" To her he goes, "Did I tell you to lift your hips up? No I fucking did not!" He presses them lower with both of his hands. "And did I tell you to put your stupid fucking shoes together? Did I?"

She shakes her head in this quick, traumatised tremble. He forces one leg away from the first, then he pushes her second leg even wider than before.

"Now fucking get your arse back here!"

She's in a terrible state, she's flinching when he yells at her, her mouth is slitted open in down-mouth fear. She manages to force first one foot then the next to waddle backwards like a mad human duck. She looks like such an idiot.

"Feet wider," he tells her.

Her head flinches. "Can't," she says.

"I fucking tell you to do something, you fucking do it! Don't you never tell me you fucking can't!"

She forces one leg an inch wider to the side.

"Not far enough!"

She waggles the same foot even farther off centre.

"Yeah. Well," he says. "Well that's a halfway decent pose at last, looks like you're finally making some kind of a fucking effort. And now that you've deigned to show up to the shoot, I feel like taking a few pictures. Only what is it, paramount, that you've got to do?"

She twitches her head a short way towards him. "Sorry?"

"God you are stupid. I'm walking away for a mo. What mustn't you do?"

She looks really scared in case she gets the answer wrong. "Move?" she asks.

"At fucking last," he says. "At fucking last!"

He stands up. I stay where I am, pointing the camera at her for the moment. Then he signals that I should get up and join him.

Review This Story || Author: Smackmagnet
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