Body piercings

Rachel wasn't sure what to do with herself once she was stripped of the tiny bikini. The problem was soon solved when some of the boys came back to her with something in their hands.

"What are they?" she asked.

"Body jewellry," one answered, taking firm hold of her breasts and rubbing her nipples. "Just making your nipples hard," he explained, ignoring the fact that if they became any harder they'd explode.

Deft hands worked on her ears and then her nose, forcing her to remain still as others fiddled with her belly button and, worst (best) of all a pair went between her legs, eliciting a squeak as they worked something into the piercing holes of her labia.

Rachel didn't resist as someone opened her mouth and pulled on her tongue, slipping a tongue stud into place as deftly as if she'd done it herself.

"First round," the director called, and they backed off. "Stand still," he said at first, and circled her to take pictures. The camera zoomed in on her ears, taking numerous shots of one and then the other. Then they moved to her front, taking a shot of the ring that been put in her nose, the stud in her tongue and then close-ups of her breasts, bare but for the piercings the boys had placed through them.

Rachel wasn't sure if she should be mortified or turned on, and it became more confusing when the photographer reached her pussy.

"Wipe her down, she's glistening," he said, making her blush. Would they mistake it for the suntan oil or her own juices?

A few shots later they were changing the piercings. Once again the hands of men she didn't know manhandled her most sensitive parts, removing the jewellry that was there and replacing them with something else. The hands at her breasts and pussy were quick and methodical, and yet they were too quick for her liking. She wanted them to linger, to push herself upon them as the cravings grew within her.

Round after round of pictures followed with jewellry she never even looked at. She found herself looking forward to the pauses, to the touches, to the fingers that would pinch her nipples and pull so the piercing could be removed or inserted. to the fingers that would do the same to her labia or clithood. Or, best of all, to her clit itself.

"Damn, can't get ahold of the sucker, it's too wet," they'd say, mortifying her as much as when the photographer would call out. "She's wet again, I need a wipedown."

It was humiliating, it was arousing, and worst of all it wasn't giving her the orgasm she so desperately wanted.

The worst moment was when the director called, "That's it for the body piercings. We're done on that."