Note- “Focus” is both a sequel to an earlier story, “Tame Your Pet,” and an homage to the novel Venus in Furs.

Heinrich was suspicious as soon as the woman walked through the door.  The modeling agency that sent her was legitimate; he had taken work from them many times when he was under cover here in Los Angeles. But their services could have been commandeered by the FBI or some other government office. Heinrich had been using the cover of a professional photographer for decades (it was the perfect smokescreen for reconnaissance, no one questioned why a photographer would want to inspect buildings and terrain in great detail), he had met hundreds of models. This woman was not one.

She was older than any model he had ever worked with, and shorter. Her body did not conform to the aesthetic universally favored in commercial photography. Her figure was alluringly hourglass, with lusciously full breasts and curvaceous hips. She was not unattractive. To the contrary, she was smolderingly sexy. But that very fact detracted from her value as a model. No one looking at an ad in which she was featured would pay any attention to the product; they would be too distracted by her body.

“The agency sent me with this commission,” she said, handing Heinrich a glossy folder embossed with the agency’s logo. Her voice matched her form- lush and languorous, rich with the promise of voluptuous delights if only the opportunity arose. The folder contained a single sheet of the agency’s letterhead, with one line of text: “Three-day shoot at standard rate. Please follow model’s instructions.”

This was also unusual, and deepened Heinrich’s suspicions. He peered at the woman over the sheet of paper in his hand. She returned his glance with a coy smile that hinted volumes- as if this whole scene were an inside joke between the two of them.

“What shall I call you, Miss…?” he asked, lacing his voice with a touch of menace.

“I like to be called Goddess,” she replied coolly, “but for the purposes of our work you may call me Krystal.”

Heinrich responded with a fake laugh, though nothing in her tone had suggested that she was joking. Everything about this situation was wrong. His professional instincts told him that he should drop everything, grab the cash and one of the fake passports hidden in the safe in his closet, and head to the airport. But other factors made him hesitate. His current job (not his photography charade, the real commission he held from shady figures operating somewhere in Central Asia) was very lucrative, and he was loathe to forfeit the $1.5 million dollars he had been promised on its completion. Then there was his reputation to think about. A mercenary in the world of international espionage and terrorism was only as good as his last score. If word got out that he had been scared off of a mission by the appearance of a sexy blond this might be the last time anyone entrusted him with a job of this magnitude.

“All right,” Heinrich said after a moment’s hesitation, bowing slightly and gesturing the woman into his studio. One thing gave him comfort. Though he was certain that she was not a commercial model, he was just as certain that she was not career military or law enforcement. Perhaps he was just being paranoid. If not, if she had been sent here by the FBI or some similar agency, she was obviously an amateur deputized for this task. That being so, even if his cover had been blown to some degree, he could take advantage of her weakness and inexperience to safeguard his getaway once the job was done.

Krystal breezed by Heinrich, enveloping him in a fragrant haze as she passed. She was dressed in a low-cut satin blouse and a tight skirt short enough to expose a shiny decorative garter on her right thigh. Black stockings and stiletto heels set off the shapeliness of her legs. She glided languidly into the center of his workspace and turned to face him, her hand on her hip.

“The agency told me what they want from this shoot,” she said, “so you are to follow my direction.”

“Yes, so I understood from the commission letter,” Heinrich replied. “I am being retained for three days, this must be a very elaborate project.”

“Not really. It is for an ad campaign that wants to tell a kind of story in pictures. You will photograph me in various attitudes and poses. They will take the raw material you provide and put it together into a narrative.”

“I see,” said Heinrich, though the truth was quite the opposite. The scenario grew murkier as it unfolded. Still, he felt he could safely play along for a little while longer, if only to see what he was up against. “Shall we begin?”

“Yes, do,” Krystal answered, in a tone more of command than response.

Heinrich threw a switch that lit the workspace and retrieved his camera. Krystal struck a casual pose in the center of the lighted area and waited for Heinrich to begin. He raised his instrument to his eyes and waited for direction. “How shall we start?”

“Full length portraits. Try to capture me from all angles.”

Heinrich adjusted his lens and began shooting, taking Krystal in from head to toe. She leaned and turned gracefully as he worked, giving him various views of her figure from different perspectives. Without realizing it Heinrich settled into the rhythm of the work very fluidly. She was a natural subject, her form seemed to erotically explode upon his lens effortlessly. Each turn produced a composition more elegant than the last, each picture seemed to arrange itself spontaneously into a magnetic vision.

In one shot the curve of her calf was accentuated to devastating effect. In the next the cleft between her breasts beckoned seductively. Here the shadows on her thigh made Heinrich’s lips twitch in an involuntary kiss. There the roundness of her ass sent a thrill through his cock.

After a few minutes Heinrich heard a strange sound, and realized it was his own breathing. He had begun to pant, as if with extreme exertion. The feeling of his camera seemed to alter in his hands. It felt drawn to Krystal, as if it could recognize in her the fulfillment of its own purpose, a figure that was meant to summon desire from light and shadow.

“That’s it,” Krystal mused, “Let the camera worship me.”

Worshipping her. That was what the camera was doing. And as he worked, Heinrich found he could not separate the camera from himself. It worshipped her. He worshipped her. It wanted her. He wanted her. And wanted her. And wanted her…

Time collapsed. The room melted away. Heinrich was aware only of her. Her legs. Her breasts. Her waist. Her hips. Her hair. Her shoulders. Her arms.  Her lips.  Her hands.  Her EYES!  He wanted her desperately…to kiss her, caress her, hold her, fuck her. But above all he wanted to photograph her. He needed more pictures of her. The WORLD needed more pictures of Her.

“That’s enough for today,” Krystal announced. Heinrich stood dazed, completely insensible to how much time had passed. Sweat poured down his face. His camera was clutched in white knuckles. His cock stuck out perpendicular to his pelvis, ramrod stiff. He glanced up. The clock read five P.M. Seven hours had passed.

“I think we produced some good material,” Krystal said, not acknowledging by her tone or demeanor any awareness of Heinrich’s overwrought state. She walked slowly forward until she was within a foot of him and reached up, placing her hand on his cheek. The sensation of her touch sent lightning racing down his spine and up his cock, he gasped at the suddenness of the sensation.

“You’ll be tempted to masturbate as you review our work for today,” she declared. “You will not do it. I want you fresh for our session tomorrow.”

Krystal let her hand drop and walked to the exit of the studio without a further glance in his direction. Heinrich watched her depart, his camera still clutched tightly in his hands, his cock painfully erect, his mouth hanging open in gaping incomprehension.

After the door slammed shut and she was gone Heinrich continued to stand frozen for several minutes, his heart pounding. What had just happened? He tried to sort through his memories of the last hours and assess his next move, but it was difficult to think. Finally, he gave up attempting to formulate a long-term plan and resolved to focus on the immediate situation.

Walking back into the office attached to his studio, he connected his camera to his desktop computer. The camera’s memory was full; he had taken thousands of images of Krystal. He started the pictures scrolling full-screen, and sat back to watch as they passed before him. Their effect was distressingly powerful. Heinrich felt himself slipping back into the strange fugue state he had entered while photographing Krystal in person. As Krystal’s face and body filled his screen in various poses and from different angles, desire welled up in his own mind and body, filling him with a kind of psycho-sexual pressure that made him feel like a balloon filled to the point of bursting. Like a child eating deliriously through a bag of candy, he could sense that he was doing himself no good, but he could not stop.

Heinrich unzipped his fly and let his cock out of his pants. It was fully and painfully erect. Spontaneously and without thinking he began to stroke himself as he gazed at Krystal’s image. Those legs…those breasts…his desire for her was overwhelming. It cried out for release.

His cock wilted in his hand. What was wrong with him? He played with his flaccid cock, trying to coax it back up. No amount of stimulation helped, despite the fact that the images passing on Heinrich’s screen still made his heart pound and his breath come up short.

It was her. She had forbidden him to masturbate, and he could not disobey. How had she done it? Heinrich had some experience with brainwashing and mind control, but had never encountered anything like this. Realizing his situation, he became genuinely frightened for the first time. If he had needed a sign that he should run, this was it. There were cash and documents in his safe. If he acted now he could be on a different continent by tomorrow morning.

He moved to rise, but the image on his screen caught his eye and stopped him. The way the shadows gathered in the dimples of her knee made his fingertips tingle. The way the swell of her breasts gave way smoothly to the delicate arc of her shoulders made his lips pucker longingly. The image changed, and she was glancing at him coquettishly over her shoulder. The lines of her back blended sensuously with the supple curves of her ass and thighs.

Heinrich settled back into his chair to take the picture in, and caught himself up short. What was he doing? He had to leave. But the picture was so fine…looking at it made him feel so good. The next one was just as alluring. She had turned to face the camera, hands on her hips, right leg extended so that its line from hip to toe drew the eye along its gorgeous length. What would it be like to lie face down and place his lips against those toes?

The thought was interrupted by the realization that his cock was hard again. It pulsed with each beat of his heart, a small bubble of pre-cum anointing its tip. This frightened Heinrich again. Would his cock remain rigid if he continued to look at the screen? For how long? He knew he could make his erection subside by trying to masturbate, but he could feel himself slipping into complete absorption in her image. If he succumbed to the impulse just to look at her (oh yes….yes…) would he remember to try to play with himself? Was psycho-somatically induced priapism possible?

None of the prognoses looked good if he did not pull out of this spiral. Either the FBI would come storming through the door, his cock would go gangrenous, or both. He placed his hands on the armrests of his chair and pressed down, pushing himself to rise. But then the picture changed to one of her leaning forward, a buoyant smile lighting her eyes…her face. The angle gave a clear view of her cleavage, her bountiful breasts pressed against the fabric of her blouse as if they might spill out. Heinrich slumped back into his chair, transfixed. What would it be like to see her nipple, to suck it? He could imagine it, engorged yet yielding, pressing against his palate and tongue…

A knock woke him. He had fallen asleep in his chair, images of Krystal still scrolling on the screen before him. His first thought was to look down. His cock was stiff with morning wood, but did not seem ready to rot off his torso.

Another knock, this time more insistent.

“Who is it?” asked Heinrich, hurriedly zipping his fly.

“It’s Krystal.” Her voice jolted him fully awake. “I’m here for our second session.”

Heinrich looked about himself with alarm, seeking his bearings. His first thought was that it was too late to run- she would bring down the authorities on him if he tried to leave the studio. His second thought was to wonder whether his first thought was true. Was he really trapped here, or had he persuaded himself of that notion so that he could photograph her again? After a moment’s thought, he picked up the camera off of his desk, inserted a new memory chip, and rose from the chair.

Emerging from the office, Heinrich was surprised to see that Krystal was not alone. She was dressed differently today, her magnificent body covered by a long white fur coat quite unsuited to the LA climate. A diamond necklace glinted on her exquisite throat, her legs were sheathed in black silk, and her feet sported red patent-leather high heels, but the rest of her attire was concealed by her coat. Her hands were on her hips, each clutching something that could not be made out against the white fur in which she was encased.

Her companion was a man in his late thirties. His back was to Heinrich, and he did not seem to be an FBI agent, because as Heinrich watched the man was stripping naked down to his underwear.

“Today you will take a series of photographs with me and my pet,” Krystal declared.

Heinrich nodded. It was the only response he could summon in his dazed condition. Krystal seemed satisfied with this answer, she turned and strode to the center of the workspace. Once there she turned again, pulling the lapels of her coat back to reveal that underneath she wore only lingerie. Her stockings were held up by frilled garters attached to a tight black silk corset, over the top of which the expanse of her breasts spilled enticingly, leaving only her nipples concealed.

Krystal raised her right hand, revealing the fine leather collar and leash held in its grip. She snapped her fingers and pointed to the floor. When she did Heinrich could see why she called the man pet. He jumped to fulfill her command, falling to his hands and knees on the spot she had indicated. When he was in place she affixed the collar to his neck, retaining hold of the leash.

“Let’s begin,” she ordered, and assumed a standing pose by her pet’s side. Heinrich lit the workspace and began working the camera, exhausted but unable to resist the call of her form. In moments his fatigue was forgotten. The sight of Krystal holding sway over her pet was eerily compelling. As she moved through a series of postures, now placing her heel on her pet’s neck, now clutching his face in her slender fingers, now straddling her pet as if riding a pony, Heinrich become more and more engrossed. Each image was more thrilling than the last. Each seemed to tell a new story of conquest and submission, to reveal some new facet of what it meant to be a man possessed and controlled by such a Superior Woman.

“Now some action shots,” Krystal announced. She shifted the leash into her left hand, and transferred what she had been holding in her left hand- a riding crop- to her right. Raising the flail, she brought it down upon her pet’s back with a loud “thwack!” Heinrich worked his shutter, appalled but amazed by what he was seeing. Krystal continued to savage her pet as Heinrich recorded the scene, the images pouring through his lens searing themselves into Heinrich’s mind. Krystal worked her crop with the grace of a dancer, the movement of her limbs and torso eliciting sighs of yearning from the photographer. The pet did not cry or protest, indeed the look on his face was one of gratitude and rapture as welts rose. Everything about the scene was enthralling, but most captivating was the air of total dominance and control that Krystal projected. She revealed herself before Heinrich’s eyes as a true Goddess, a force of nature as implacable as the earthquake or the storm.

Heinrich had been sweating since first seeing Krystal, but as her divine fury raged his composure disintegrated more thoroughly. Tears leaked from his eyes, making it hard to line up his shots. His heartbeat became erratic, his breath ragged. His cock strained achingly against the seam of his pants. His hands began to tremble, so that he had to fight simply to keep hold of the camera. He could feel his mind begin to snap, eventually he was sure to go mad with desire…

Finally Heinrich collapsed to his knees, a moan of pain erupting from his throat. “Oh God,” he gasped. “Please….please….”

“What is it?” asked Krystal in an irritated tone.

“Please beat me too,” Heinrich begged.

Krystal straightened and surveyed the photographer, her look one of stern disapproval. “We’ve worked hard today, you’re tired,” she said, her tone less conciliatory than her words. “Come pet,” she commanded, snapping her fingers, “let’s leave Heinrich to rest. I’ll be back tomorrow for our final session.”

Hearing that she was leaving, Heinrich remained in a heap on the floor, weeping softly. Krystal and her pet ignored him as they prepared to leave. When the pet was finally dressed and accompanied Krystal out onto the street, Heinrich was still prostrate.

After he had been alone for a few minutes, Heinrich composed himself. Wiping tears and snot from his face with his sleeve, he rose and looked about him. Now was the time to go. No doubt he would be picked up as soon as he stepped out onto the street, but to linger here was madness.

He walked into his office, ready to retrieve what he needed from his closet safe. In mid-stride he stopped. His computer was still on, the screen-saver dark but the hard drive still humming softly. Heinrich looked down at the camera. It was filled with images of the scene he had just witnessed. Of her. Of Krystal, her lush body gracefully contorted in gorgeous fury as she exerted mastery over her pet. Surely it couldn’t hurt to take a brief look…

A knock woke him in his office chair the next morning.

“Let’s go, Heinrich,” Krystal called. “Time is wasting. We have one more session to shoot.”

Heinrich could only imagine what he must look like as he emerged from his office. He had not showered, changed, or eaten for three days. The hollows of his eyes must be black pits, his hair a nest for birds. As a professional photographer he had scorned the “selfie,” but some perverse impulse made him wish he could take one now.

“It’s about time,” Krystal groused, registering no notice of his appearance. She was dressed more plainly today, in fitted jeans and a button-down shirt. Even such workaday attire could not dull her sex appeal- at the sight of her Heinrich felt his cock stiffen despite his hunger and exhaustion.

As Krystal readied herself to be photographed, Heinrich looked longingly toward the door to the street. He wondered what would happen if he bolted through it right now. Probably the entire Bolivian army was waiting on the other side, a la classic “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.” Even so, a few final moments of freedom would be nice.

“Come, let’s begin,” ordered Krystal. Heinrich obeyed. It no longer surprised him to find that he could not refuse her.

Krystal had pulled a chair into the center of the workspace and seated herself facing Heinrich. “Today you will focus on my face,” she declared. “Tight close-ups. Study all of my features and contours.”

“Yes,” Heinrich mumbled. Placing the camera to his eye, he adjusted his lens, filling the view with her visage. God, she was beautiful. He began to shoot, striving to capture the elegant angle of her cheekbones, the sweet curl of her lips. She gazed back at the camera intensely, her expression changing subtly from moment to moment, conveying now cool contentment, now sexy and sexual confidence, now smoldering passion, now quiet joy….

Again he felt himself steadily entranced, the experience of her beauty intoxicating him so that time distorted and space compressed. His fatigue fell away, his worry disintegrated. A lightness filled him as he savored her mouth…her hair…her skin…her eyes. Her eyes. Those piercing green eyes, so aglow with intelligence, humor, and power. He could feel his own pupils dilate as he was drawn into their emerald vortex. Peripherally he could see that her mouth was moving, making a word soundlessly over and over. His mind grasped it even as he focused more deeply on her eyes. “Surrender….surrender….surrender…”

Time seemed to freeze. As if he were watching a movie, Heinrich saw the studio fill with men wearing dark suits.

“He’s ready?” one of the men asked.

“Yes,” Krystal answered. “You can empty him now. He’ll tell you everything he’s ever done, even names and facts he doesn’t realize he remembers.”

“Thank you, Goddess,” the man said. Gesturing to a man to his left, whom Heinrich recognized as Krystal’s pet, he continued, “Special Agent Smith didn’t lie about your abilities.”

“Special Agent Smith knows what I can do from personal experience,” Krystal noted, making Smith blush as she favored him with a smile. “I’m happy to serve our country any way I can.”

Heinrich was being led to the door, guided by one of the suited men. This was the end, he knew it, but somehow he was not frightened. Only one thing concerned him. Where was his camera? He turned, and saw Agent Smith placing it into an evidence bag. The agent guiding Heinrich was startled when he suddenly erupted.

“No!” Heinrich cried, gesturing toward the camera. “I need those pictures! I need those pictures!”

Three men were on Heinrich, holding him, trying to wrestle him into restraints as he lunged for the camera. Then, as suddenly as he had erupted, he became calm. She was there, standing inches in front of him.

“Shhh…it’s all right,” Krystal cooed, stroking Heinrich’s face with her slender hand. “You can see the pictures whenever you want. Sleep now…sleep now….”

“Yes,” Heinrich agreed, and was pleased to find Krystal was right- her image filled his sight when he closed his eyes.

The End