Blonde & Bound

Recently I was shooting with a photographer and another model. She and I look a bit similar to one another, particularly if you happen to be a drunk customer inside a strip club. During our shoot she happened to mention that a certain director whom we both knew had asked if she danced at Larry's Rack Shack. She grimaced with disgust as she told me about this and punctuated her disdain with a toss of her long, blonde hair.

"Can you imagine?" she practically snorted. "He actually thought I was 'dancing for dollars' or something."

She wanted to continue articulating her reaction to this effrontery, but perhaps could not think of the correct way to describe it. I waited during a long, pregnant pause. Words failed her and she tossed her hair again and looked away. She was avoiding my gaze because she knew I danced at Larry's Rack Shack and she was trying to insult me. Her comment hung in the air and she did not yet know how I would react to it. Finally she snuck a glance at me. I looked back at her and said:

"Yeah, well, maybe he saw me there and thought it was you. I've been dancing at Larry's for a while."

As if she did not know.

"Oh.. well.. " she faltered, momentarily non-plussed. Evidently she had not expected me to offer such a flat assessment of the situation.

"I mean.. it's one thing if someone wants to be a stripper.. I mean, we all have to make money, but.. I don't know.. I wouldn't do that. You know what I mean.. "

I smiled as I looked at the long, blonde hair and giant breast implants framing her befuddled face.

"I understand." I said with genuine agreement. "It's easier to do porn."

The irony was not completely lost on her but there was no way she could come up with a suitable response. She turned her back to me, clearly ready to end this line of conversation. Then she realized that the photographer was looking at us and he had been listening to our exchange.

"You know what I mean, right?" she implored him with a fetching smile, believing she saw an ally in her midst.

He grinned back at her and she took it as encouragement.

"I tried stripping when I was nineteen." she informed him. "That was before I became 'Ashley Lace'. Now that I've established myself there is no way that I could ever go back to stripping in some titty bar. People know who I am - it would be humiliating!"

She glanced briefly at me.

"No offense intended to you." she lied as her eyes darted back to the photographer.

Her words delighted him. She was manifesting her insecurity so readily that I knew he was going to start messing with her head - she may as well have painted a bulls-eye target over her fragile ego.

"I mean.. Ashley Lace could not just walk into a bar and start dancing for dollars." she continued with a laugh. "I am already moving a little too high in the celebrity world."

I looked down at the floor because I did not trust myself to even look in the general direction of the photographer. He would be revelling in her foolishness and I would start laughing. The moment passed and we began shooting a few minutes after that. An hour later Ashley and I retreated to the dressing room. The photographer followed us and sat there watching us touch up our makeup.

"Hey, you both have the same purse." he called out.

Ashley and I looked down. Yep, we sure did. She reacted with both surprise and approval.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Did you get yours at the store in Beverly Hills?"

"No." I responded. "Someone gave it to me years ago."

"I love Louis Vuitton!" she gushed.

I nodded and smiled because there was no reason to squelch a happy subject. Honestly, I never would have paid so much for a purse and I had no interest in any type of designer merchandise. I'd been carrying that handbag around since 1999 because someone had given it to me and it had not yet fallen apart. Years ago Louis Vuitton gear became a staus symbol for middle-class attention-seekers, but, surprisingly, the products have some substance. They are very well-made. The workmanship does not justify the price, but they are very durable. Ashley began rhapsodizing about the new Louis Vuitton purse she wanted. The photographer did not share her enthusiasm.

"How can you get excited about a mass-produced line of merchandise?" he asked her.

Ashley looked at me. At that moment I did not feel like prostituting my opinion to defend a purse and salvage Ashley's cheerfulness. Assembly line products don't rouse my passion regardless of whether they are well-crafted or not. Also, I didn't like Ashley enough to bother humoring her any more than I already had. She did not know what to do so she made a stab at acting haughty.

"These purses are really expensive." Ashley informed him. "They are luxury items."

She looked over at me for corroboration.

"They certainly are expensive." I verified.

"Well, that's just stupid." the photographer asserted with disgust. "You girls are stupid to pay lots of money for characterless, mass-produced purses that thousands of other people have too."

I remained silent. The insult wasn't intended for me. He knew I had not paid for mine.

"It's a luxury item." Ashley said again.

The photographer glowered with disgust and I stayed silent although I felt a bit uncomfortable.

"This is an investment!" Ashley declared huffily as she gestured emphatically at her purse.

Hooboy. She was done. The photographer was going to move in for the kill. He wouldn't take the higher road. At least I doubted it. Then again, he might surprise me. Ashley was too easy a target. There was no challenge. Her ignorance seemed to encompass the room, hanging over it like a spectre. It would not be fun to embarrass someone so ignorant. Would it? Would the photographer seize the opportunity?

"An investment?" he shot back at her with a type of burning incredulity that seemed to emanate straight from his soul.

Ashley's color was rising and she had no idea what to say so she remained silent. She realized that she had said something really stupid, but she did not understand why it was stupid. She was afraid to speak because she knew she might dig an even deeper hole for herself. Ignorance is not always bliss. She began brushing her hair. The brush snagged in her long locks and I saw the unmistakable track on her scalp that revealed that she had hair extensions. I hadn't known she used hair extensions.

"Do you really believe that you will be able to sell that purse for more than you paid for it?" the photographer demanded.

"That's not the point." Ashley said miserably.

"It's not?" the photographer asked.

Silence.

"Didn't you just say it was an investment?" he reminded her.

He kept on her for awhile, increasing her embarrassment and completely demoralizing her. She stayed pretty silent for the rest of the shoot. He told her she could leave later in the afternoon and asked me to stay to shoot a bondage gallery. I breathed a sigh of relief after she dressed, packed her bag, and walked out the door with her Louis Vuitton purse and Louis Vuitton keyring in her hand.

The photographer was setting up the lights for the final gallery.

"You are merciless." I told him.

"What do you mean?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"Come on." I said. "That whole lecture about how Ashley would end up broke if she did not learn how to put her money into appreciating assets before her career ended, how she only has a few years left in this business, that comment you made about how your maid has more business sense than Ashley does. Oh, and that last bit of advice about how she better be looking for a man she can marry while she is still pretty enough."

"Oh, that." the photographer said with a straight face. "I was trying to help her out."

"Ha. Ha. Ha." I said without mirth. "Puh-leeeeze!!"

He broke and started laughing. I began laughing too. We chortled for a while. It was kind of funny. Ashley was probably blasting down the freeway in her Lexus as she relayed a distorted version of the day's events to someone over her cellphone.

Ten minutes later the photographer had finished tying me to a straight-backed, black chair. He shot rapidfire photos for a while before he spoke again.

"You know, you should really start thinking about finding a man to take care of you. I can't believe that you still dance at Larry's Rack Shack."

My eyes bulged and I ground my teeth into each other, but I could not speak since there was a gag in my mouth.


Join my site to see the full "Chair Bound gallery in The Bondage Room now!



- XXOO Tanya









***