*PerryGallagher

I never know how a model is feeling during a photo shoot.. This Beautiful woman took the time to write about her experience shooting with me.. and her fantasy of our next shoot. She writes so well I wanted to share it with you.

When I drink I can feel him. His eyes upon me. Click. Click. Everything takes on the meaning of composition, colors, connection, a smoldering sensation. My eyes close in the stupor of my drunkenness and I feel his finger graze my cheek, brush strands of hair away from my face, caress my arm, position my hips. Arc your back he tells me. Click. Click. The strict guideline of propriety drives my senses to overload. His voice makes me wet. Find me he murmurs. I stare into that lens as my honey pot tingles, daring him to open his one clenched eye. He never does. Click. Click. It’s just me, alone, performing for him and I do a bang up job. I’ve given quality control the day off. I arch my back, tilting my ass out, throwing back my head, so if he wanted; he could come up behind me, grab my hair and take me in one swoop. Click. Click. I think he might be as dirty as me. I can’t wait to look him in the eye and ask him to tie me up. I want to place the rope before him and ask him “Tie me up, Perry.” I know when I ask my eyes will be glassy, my voice will have a timber to it that leaves no mistake as to my lust. He’ll tie me up. His breathing will change and then click, click.

Being tied up has it advantages. There is a permission that you have when you are tied up that you don’t experience otherwise. The best at submission understand me. If you embrace it, give in to it, the pleasure is sublime. Submitting gives you total control. For the head cases, a tie down and a proper spanking set all right with the world. There is no room for anything in ones head but the feelings tearing through the system, tilting everything they touch. There is a rush from a series of proper wallops that snuggling just doesn’t provide.

I knew he would tie me up. Click. Click. My wrists are bound to one handle on a very large platter. My ankles are bound to the other. My forearm and knees kiss the cold platter. It won’t be cold for long. I turn my face to him, my hair falling ever so slightly over my shoulder, offering my neck up to the cameras gaze. Click. Click. I make my eyes say come and get me. Click. Click. I am here for the taking. Click. Click. Don’t you want me? Click. Click. I can’t help but flex against the bonds and they are tight. I can’t get out of this without help. Should I beg? Would it help? My gaze has never said beg, only come hither. Would it look different? Would it please him? Would he moan? Click. Click. He stops to review and I hear that soft little moan. My eyes close and my lips curl into a satisfied smile.

I can tell you.. If I could have read her mind I wouldn't have all the beautiful images of her that I do.