Chapter 38 MODEL SUBMISSION
I just turned twenty-one. I'm a model fresh off regional castings. I've done a few magazine editorials and one viral swimwear campaign that blew up on Instagram that caught the attention of international agencies.
My booker calls it “the breakout.” I call it barely scraping by. The rent in this city eats half my bookings, and I'm still paying off the lighting equipment I bought to shoot my own content.
Then Victor Lang called.
Direct line—he didn't use his assistant or any agent middleman. A British accent that makes your spine straighten even when you're alone on your couch.
“Miss Harlow,” he said. “I've reviewed your portfolio. I'd like to discuss an exclusive sponsorship. Dinner tomorrow by eight, at the Peninsula. Wear a black dress and no patterns.”
I didn’t ask how he got my number. I just said yes.
By eight, I'm in the suite he reserved for the “meeting.” Wearing a short black silk slip dress, backless and clinging to every curve. No bra. Strappy heels that added to my height. My hair was down in loose waves, and my lips were painted deep red.
I look expensive, I look like temptation, exactly what he requested.
The door opens without knocking. Victor enters, he is forty-five. Wearing a bespoke suit, eyes the color of midnight, assessing and unreadable.
He doesn't smile; he just studies me. “Punctual,” he says. “Excellent.” He closes the door and locks it.
I stay standing while he circles me slowly without touching. Just looking like I'm a rare piece, he's deciding whether to acquire. “Turn”
I do.
“Again. Slower this time.”
I do.
He stands behind me, so close that I feel his body through the thin silk. “You want the Siri global face contract. Three years. The benefits are a seven-figure. Plus bonuses, front row at every major shoe, your face on billboards.”
I felt tension within me. My nipples were already hard from his voice as he murmurs.
“Yes.” I replied, ready for anything.
“Then you understand there is a cost.”
“I’m listening.”
He steps in front of me, hooks one finger under my chin, and tilts my face up, forcing my eyes to meet his.
“The cost is instant submission, completely with no limits, no negotiation. You leave now the offer is no more. But you stay…you become mine until I release you.
My clits throbs at the words. I whisper, “I'm staying.”
He rubs his thumb on my lower lip, smears the red lipstick slightly. “Good girl.”
Then his mouth is on mine, not a kiss. More like a claim, tongue deep, teeth catching my lip, his hands fisting my hair so tight I feel pains on my scalp. I moan into him, I love his aggressiveness. He tastes like absolute control and aged scotch.
He pulls back. Steps away. He pulls back and steps away. “On your knees.” He commands.
I drop immediately, the carpets bite my knees, I look up, my lips parted, waiting for the next move.
He unbuckles his belt. “Place your hand behind your back.”
I obey. He ties the belts around my wrists. Pull it tight just enough to remind me my hands are useless. “Open your mouth.”
I do. He frees his cock, thick, heavy and rock hard. Without warning, he grips my hair and slides in. I gag instantly, he's too big and too deep, but he doesn’t slow down. Hold my head steady and thrusts in shallow moves until my throat relaxes.
“Breathe through your nose,” he says calmly. “You'll learn to take it all.”
Tears begin forming on my eyes, my makeup gets ruined, mascara starts to break. I don't pull away, I suck on him, letting him use my mouth like it belongs to him.
He groans, satisfied. “Perfect little throat, made for this.” He fucks my face with calculated moves pulling out every few thrusts to slap the wet head against my cheek, then pushes back in deeper making me gag.
“Look at me while you choke.”
I do, tears rolling down my eyes and my throat burning. I'm completely his.
“You’re delicate when broken,” he murmurs. “Then he pulls out completely. “Stand.”
I struggle up with my wrists still bound. He spins me and bends me over the edge of the bed. Lifts my dress to my waist. My g-string shifted to the side and left there.
His finger slides between my legs, discovers I'm wet. “Soaked already,” he says, almost amused. “I see you crave being owned.” He slides two fingers inside, not gentle. I cry out. He curls them, strokes that spot that makes my vision blur.
“Now listen, you do not cum until I permit it.”
“Please…” I moaned. The belt lands across my ass, I feel hot stings. “I said no.”
He fingers me harder and faster, brings me to the point of cuming then stops. Again and again.
I'm shaking now, and begging. My hips grinding the air. Finally he steps back. I hear condom packet tears. Then he stands at my back. Place one hand on my bound wrists. The other gripping my hip hard enough to injure me.
Then he slides in, slowly. Letting me feel every thick inch of his splitting me open.
I gasp, feeling the burning sensation and his fullness.
He slides out and pauses for some seconds waiting for me to adjust to his size. “This body is mine tonight,” he says. “Every hole. Every moan and every orgasm. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir.”
He starts to thrust in deep and hard. Controlled power in every thrust. The bed frame knocks the wall as he slams into me. My bound hands lay helplessly on the sheets. I can only receive.
He fucks me like he's marking me from the inside, every slam forces a whimper out of me. My clit drags against the mattress edge. “I'm trembling on the outside, desperate and aching.
“Please…Sir.. please let me come…”
He bends over me, his chest pressing my back. Mouth at my ear. “Beg like you mean it.”
“Please, sir,” I sob. “Please let me be your little model, let me cum. I'll be perfect. I'll obey everything. Just please….”
He pinches my clits and rolls it firmly. “ Come. Now.
I couldn't hold anymore, I screamed into the bedding, convulsing, pussy milking so violently he hisses, gushing around him, hit and slick, soaking the sheets beneath us.
He doesn't stop, he keeps pounding through my climax, chasing his release. “I'm gonna fill this tight cunt,” he growls. “Mark you so deep you’ll feel me when you walk the runway.”
“Fuck yes… give it to me…”
He thrust in one final time, groaning. Cock pulsing inside the condom. I feel every throbbing through the barrier. He stays buried, grinds slowly till he milks himself empty. Then he withdraws.
I fall on the bed, panting and trembling. Totally ruined. He unbinds my wrists. Massaging the spot with surprising care. “Turn over.”
I roll onto my back. Legs still shaking. He peels off the condom, ties it and places it on the nightstand like a trophy. He climbs over me, kissing me almost gentle this time.
“You performed beautifully,” he murmurs.
I'm a big mess, mascara rolls down my cheeks. My dress is twisted and my thighs sticky with my own juice.
He strokes my hair back. “The contract will be signed and delivered to your agency on Monday, seven figures. Three years exclusive all of them major campaigns.
“And…this arrangement?” My voice is tired.
He smiles at me like a predator looking out for his prey. “This is the renewal clause, if you're interested in still keeping your position. You'll come every quarter. Every Fashion Week. Every time I summon you. You come. You kneel. You come when I allow it.
My pussy throbs with promises. Hungry again. “Yes, sir.” I whisper
He kisses my forehead. “That's my girl.”
He stands, straightens his suit, fixes his face and looks charming again like nothing happened.
“Go shower, fix your makeup. My driver will take you home in fifteen minutes.
He pauses at the door, like an after thought and says. “Tomorrow night at my penthouse. Nine pm sharp. Come wearing only a coat with nothing under it.”
I lie back as the door closes. I just traded my submission for the career most models only dream of. And I’ve never felt more alive.
No trace of regrets. I smile into the rumpled sheets.
“See you tomorrow sir.”