Former Glamour Model, India Reynolds

Standing to one side, currently on her own, was a brunette awkwardly holding a drink on her own and looking around.

She certainly stood out as a looker, but trashy too. Obviously she felt a bit out of place too, as other couples and people walked by giving her the side eye. Men would nudge each other and nod over, women would sneer. Nobody spoke to her as she nervously drank some more and tugged her clothes down in a valiant effort to hide more of her legs.

She'd certainly dressed for attention, her legs completely bare and on show, propped up on black heels. The smooth tanned skin ran up to the bottom hem of her very short jacket. If she was actually wearing anything below her waist, it couldn't be seen easily.

The white jacket was cinched around her and fastened with only two buttons. In the deep V between the lapels, more tanned skin was on show, her large breasts obviously completely free under the garment.

I almost felt sorry for her. Perhaps, with her long straight brown hair and blazer, she thought she was dressed quite classily?

But I advanced, like a predator stalking prey. Although her clothes - or lack of them - had initially caught my attention, who she was had been more important.

She was India Reynold, a former page 3 girl and topless model. I'd happily masterbated to her pictures countless times and now, with the opportunity for the real thing, I couldn't pass that up.

With all my experiences today, I knew that I was in complete control too. The 'hunt' was over before it had really had a chance to start.

"Hi!" I said cheerily, startling her.

"Oh hi," she said uncertainly. Perhaps she'd been hoping for someone she recognised to speak to her.

"You're India, right? India Reynolds?"

She smiled a bit at the recognition and then a moment of worry crossed her face.

"Oh right, yeah! You recognise me from Love Island?"

The grimace crossed my face before I could stop it. Love Island was the reality tv show she'd been on recently, presumably in a bid to leave her glamour modelling behind and become more respectable. So perhaps that's why she was invited here, where the other celebrities were a little more family friendly, not to mention more well known.

"Actually," I grinned and gestured to her chest, "I recognise you from your tits."

Almost in slow motion, I saw the words register with her like a slap, the shock, the moment of shame, the anger. I even saw her drawing back her hand - the one with the drink - ready to thrust it at me. I saw all of that as I carried on quickly with the magic words,

"I'm a big fan of yours."

There was a pause as she froze and then relaxed. Certain I wasn't about to get covered in drink, I continued, "And a big fan of them too!"

I chuckled and she smiled, but it was obviously half hearted on her part.

"I um, don't really do that any more. I'm more into reality tv now and I'm starting a career in the media so-", she began a pitch that sounded more like she was trying to convince me than state fact. Or perhaps even convince herself.

"I don't care about that," I cut her off, deflating her, "Why bother? Do what you're good at."

It was cruel, even if honest. It also felt damn good. She was at my mercy, even in this room full of people. I could be an asshole, misgynistic creep and she wasn't going to do anything but listen. Moving closer, she shrank a bit but didn't actually move away. I took her drink from her and put it to one side, out of the way.

Slipping my arm around her, I leaned into her ear to talk softly, with blunt words.

"You know what you are. Why do you think you're dressed like this," I ran my hand up her leg, under her jacket and to the edge of her underwear, confirming that yes, she really was wearing nothing down there, "And they-," I gestured at everyone else, "Are dressed like that?"

She swallowed and slowly nodded, "I mean...yeah, maybe you're right but-"

I shushed her with my finger to her mouth, "No buts! You're good at something. You know how rare it is for people to be both good at something and to know what that is? You really think people are gonna want you on their respectable shows when they've all seen you parading your body around, trying to get men off?!"

"I wasn't-"

I cut her off, my finger on her mouth turning quickly into a pinch of her cheeks.

"Don't lie. Don't try to pretend that Page 3, or all those other topless shots were some kind of higher art. They were aimed at one thing."

I pulled her closer and turned towards her, grinding my hard cock into her side.

"You were really good at it too," I loosened my grip on her cheeks, "You have an idea how many loads I've probably jacked off just to you?"

She looked down, "Thank you. I'm....grateful."

"There we go!" I said cheerfully, "That's more like it! And while we're at it, I've seen you keep on pumping filler into your lips..."

I cupped her chin in one hand and lifted her face, inspecting her.

"...Not too bad today. But stop it. You're not a blow up doll. You have any idea how pretty you are?"

For the first time, she smiled a genuined smile and looked up, "Really?"

"Hell yes! When I first saw you, fresh faced, in any magazine that would have you...I honestly fell a bit in love with you!"

"Aw!" she smiled and leaned over to kiss my cheek, "That's so sweet of you! Thank you!"

"No no," I said, reaching my free hand inside her jacket. There was tape sticking the material to her nipple, so she didn't accidentally flash anyone. It was easy enough to tug it free and then wrap my hand around her breast, squeezing. "Thank you!"

She giggled a little as I groped her, seemingly now at ease with her role in life. As I felt her up, I looked around at the well dressed men and women standing, chatting, passing by. None of them gave us a second glance, although they could clearly see what I was doing.

"You happy you can finally get your hands on them?" she said, as I moved to her other tit and began squeezing that.

"Yeah," I growled, "And maybe you can make up for those years of teasing without being able to touch them. Or you."

"Of course," she said, unbuttoning her jacket so the edges could both be pushed out of the way, "Go nuts!"

She was naked underneath, but for some lacy underwear. I bent my head down and immediately began licking and nipping at her tits, like a starving man. Eventually one of my hands ventured south, under the waistband of her panties and feeling her bare pussy.

"Ah well er...that was normally off the table actually...," stuttered India. She was right of course - she only ever did topless modelling and nothing more. Not that it mattered to me.

"And?" I glowered at her, as I ran my fingers against her pussy lips, "Maybe you should get over yourself and start doing some actual nude modelling eh? We can't keep wanking to your tits forever."

"Oh," she suddenly looked hurt again, "I thought..."

I stood up and looked her in the eye, "You thought what, because we liked seeing your rack years ago that would keep being the case? You know there are women online, younger than you, fresher faced, perkier tits, who wouldn't bat an eyelid at showing their cunt on camera?"

My words looked like they were battering her but I wasn't done.

"In fact there are better looking women, happily getting fucked on video or taking two dicks at once...but I'm supposed to still be interested in your tired bullshit?"

Again she was left looking at the floor, without answers. Thankfully, I had one.

"Take your jacket off."

"Wha-," she began but I was already tugging it off her, leaving her completely naked in her heels, save for some panties that just about covered her pussy. I threw the jacket to the floor in front of her. Interestingly she made no attempt to cover herself up, even in a room full of people. I looked around and although some people were noticing - she was a naked woman after all - no one was shocked or outraged. I heard one woman say to another from a few metres away, "Check it out, anybody suprised by that?"

"She's just talking to a fan," came the response.

"Oh please," said the first one, "Any excuse though, right?"

I brought my attention back to India, who was apprehensively waiting for me.

"On your knees," I barked. Her eyes widened at the implication as she stayed upright. I grabbed her throat and forcefully kissed her, shoving my tongue down her throat with zero art or grace, aimed simply at dominating her. I pulled back, holding her gaze.

"Let's see if your mouth can actually earn you some warranted attention, cock tease."

As she complied, slowly lowering while looking up at me, semi-defiantly, I was unzipping and freeing my ramrod straight cock.

"I hope you like the taste of Rachel Riley's cunt," I chuckled, slipping my thumb into India's mouth and opening it up.

Before she could react to my words I'd pushed my glans into her warm, moist, semi-willing opening. Her lips and tongue were heavenly against my shaft as I slowly, steadily began thrusting into her mouth.

I bent my knees a bit to give me more leverage, ran my hand through her expensive hair and then wrapped some of it into a fist.

As I tightened that, my other hand move to grip her head. The wet 'ack ack' sound of dick pillaging mouth became louder. She was struggling to keep her lips wide open, to give me a nice easy passage.

"You're good at this India. You should go pro!" I chuckled. She didn't look impressed but mostly she was struggling as my onslaught continued, picking up pace.

The wet suction of her opening felt so good, almost as good as forcing my will onto this woman I'd lustfully worshipped in years past. Anger rose in me as I thought about how lonely I'd been as a loser, constantly masterbating to celebrities and models. If anything, I told myself, this power was just karma.

"Take it you fucking whore," I grunted, the head of cock starting to batter at and enter her throat.

Drool was now continually pouring from poor India's mouth, her eyes streaming with wet mascara down her face while I gripped it and used her as a fuck sleeve.

"Fucking professional cocktease, you fuckin' deserve this!" I roared as I began ramming my angry shaft down her throat, pushing her head into my crotch. Her hands began limply slapping at my thighs but I was too close now.

Jack-hammering into her tight wet hole, I felt myself climb to the edge and then, with a few almost inaudible grunts of, "Fuckin'...slut, fuckin' cunt, little fuckin' bitch!" I was empting my balls straight down her straining throat.

Cum, lust and anger flooded out of me, through my cock, into the convenient fuck-vessel of India.

I still didn't loosen my grip, merely thrusting a little in and out to milk out every last drop until I felt there was no more.

I finally pulled out as India gasped, coughed and spluttered. More saliva poured from her mouth, even as I casually wiped my sticky wet dick onto her hair.

"Go back to modelling, or whatever the fuck you call getting your tits out for money," I said to her as I zipped up, "Stop being precious about showing your pussy. And start doing porn, like everyone wants."

I didn't wait for her response before I turned around, observing the complete non-reaction of everyone else in the busy room, and walked away.