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Both mother and daughter subjected to African lust.

one! It's my first time! He's going to pay me and everything!"

Faith's excitement was obvious, and the clerk noticed be that she was as pretty as she was enthusiastic. She was petite, with the shapely legs of an athlete or dancer. Her flowing red hair framed her face, inviting his gaze. She appeared to be wearing very little makeup, just enough mascara to accent her sparkling green eyes. Her lips were full and sensuous, the color of ripe strawberries. She appeared to be about his own age and guessed that she probably attended, as he did, one of the colleges in town.

Faith reached out and took hold of the clerk's name badge, turning it so she could read it.

"Okay, Paul B," she quipped, "let's get moving. You've got to help your friend the model get ready for her debut."

The two moved toward another part of the store where they would find the first item on Faith's list. Paul stopped in front of an assortment of rope and cord rolled up on spools.

"How about this?" He asked as he reached up and pulled out a length of bright red braided rope. "Will this work?"

Faith took the rope from him and looped it around her wrist.

"I hope it won't make my skin raw," she said, pulling the loop tight.

"I can get you some gloves to protect your hands," Paul offered.

"Oh, I won't be handling the ropes," she replied. "They'll go around my wrists and ankles when I'm tied to the bed. I think this'll do. What's next on the list?" she asked, smiling up at him.

"Okay," he said, moving down the aisle. "Let's go this way." Paul wasn't sure he'd understood what she'd just told him, and was afraid to ask for fear that he was wrong and would look foolish or worse for imagining that she was going to be photographed tied to a bed.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" Faith asked as they walked through the store. She continued without waiting for his answer. "My brother says I am but I never thought I was pretty enough to be a model or anything. I hope he's right. My dance teacher, that was last year in High School, she thought I was pretty, and told me so. But she thought all us girls were. She was a lesbian."

"I did it with her once,you know. Sex. It was kind of nice, but kinda not. I don't think that makes me a lesbian or anything, just curious, don't you think?"

Paul didn't know what to think. He didn't know if he could believe his ears. Here was this girl he just met, a pretty girl, a girl his own age who might even attend the same school he did, telling him straight out that she was going to be tied up and photographed by her very own brother, and that she'd had lesbian sex with her High School dance teacher. He was so overwhelmed he could barely function, much less respond to her question.

"It wasn't that great, you know," she continued. "I didn't really like going down on her, it gets kind of sloppy down there. I think you boys just do it because you think you have to so we'll go down on you. You know what, though? You don't have to. Most of us girls actually love having a nice big cock in our mouths. Some of us prefer it, even. Especially when you want to wrap it up and get on with your day. Quick and dirty, but everyone goes home happy."

"Here we are," he managed to say, stopping where a variety of clamps were displayed. "The list just says clamps. Are they for holding up lights, or backdrops or something?"

"No," she replied, quickly glancing around before stepping closer to him. "They're for here," she said, touching one of her firm, round breasts.

"I - I'm sorry, I - I don't understand," he stammered. "They're for what?" She looked at him sternly and he asked again, "Clamps for what? Your - your breasts? How can..? Wouldn't that hurt you?"

"Oh, no, my brother would never do anything to hurt me. I don't really know, though, I've never tried it. Maybe it hurts a little, at first."

"But where...," Paul resumed, concern evident in his voice. "Where do they go?"

"I'm not really sure," Faith replied, idly moving her hand over her small, firm breast.

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