Claire Sinclair in bondage

By: GlobeTwo

Chapter 1, Claire Sinclair, Miss October 2010 and Playmate of the Year 2011, finds her inner Bettie Page

Claire Sinclair loved posing for Playboy. She especially loved all the lingerie and for her centerfold she loved the classic pin-up Bettie Page look: the piled up hairdo, the sheer garter belt and the thigh high silk stockings. Sure it was a little scary taking off her clothes in front of all those men but she got used to that real fast. Then she was selected to be a model for the Bettie Page clothing line, modeling in all those vintage cut dresses and even more lingerie. Cute and vivacious Claire was in pin-up heaven so when her mentor Olivia called her out to her studio to do some new sketches she leapt in her car, her cute face giggly with excitement.

 

She learned not to show ; too early but still she couldn’t help zipping her beat up car through the busy traffic on the way to the Malibu studio.

 

She practically skipped into the studio; the space was divided into two rooms: a drawing and painting studio and the photo studio where Claire did most of her posing for the artist.

 

She went to the drawing studio first; the easel was empty except for an old paperback book from the Fifties. The yellowed pages seemed fragile and she picked the book up gingerly. The cover revealed everything: In the right hand corner it read, No. 1, LDL Publications, $5.00 which may have seemed like a lot in the 1950s but the title screamed out in bold letter ‘BETTIE PAGE IN BONDAGE’ which made the young girl blush but she read on: ILLUSTRATED WITH 32 actual bondage poses of Bettie Page. The cover photo showed Claire’s idol in a chair, shackles on her ankles and wrists and a metal collar around her neck and chained to the shackles.

 

The young girl swallowed, as if she felt attacked, but she turned the page and continued to read: “Still an other hard bondage pose was the time the Bettie Page was tied to several iron pipes held up on wooden brackets. For these stringent poses Bettie was tied onto the pipes by another model, who bound ropes around and under Bettie’s elbows and forearms. Bettie was posed in the photos so that she had to support most of her body weight on her elbows tied to the pipes. Strands of rope were criss-crossed over her thighs, knees and arms to hold her up firmly on the thin bars of iron. The customary rubber ball gag was in Bettie’s mouth, which prevented her from telling the other model, with whom she was working, that her bondage was too tight. The iron pipe was cold and clammy to Bettie’s body and the manner in which she was bound kept her from sliding around on the pipes. Thus, suspended off the floor, the luckless Bettie as the ‘victim’ had to suffer while she was portraying her role.  Her brow furrowed deeply with both real and simulated pain, Bettie had to wait for many minutes while the photographer set the camera in focus in order to get a clear sharp picture.”

 

Claire couldn’t help gulping again as she read the text and stared at the pictures showing Bettie willingly climbing onto the parallel iron bars and gracefully draping her arms over the top line. She studied the model tying the white ropes onto Bettie’s limbs, and she noted the delicate care being taken; Claire knew from reading many books about her idol that even though she showed panic on her face Bettie was never really in pain. Still, the ball gag, the wide eyes, the white rope against the black stockings, it sure looked scary.

 

“Are you scared, Claire?” Olivia had slipped in behind her. The young girl did startle a bit and hastily dropped the book.

 

“Um, no, we’re just going to work on poses right? Some Bettie Page clothes?”

 

“Of course, dear,” the older woman patted the nymphet’s check. “Let me show you this outfit.”

 

The tiny black dress glistened like patent leather but was thin as tissue paper. The hanger weighed more than the dress did. “It’s latex,” Olivia said in response to Claire’s unasked question.

 

“Latex? Like rubber?”

 

“Oh, it’s very much a Bettie page thing. Try it on, you’ll see.”

 

The young girl felt ambivalent but Olivia was the artistic genius so she acquiesced. Using one finger to dangle the dress on the hanger she headed to the photo studio and the dressing room.

 

“Claire, just change behind the partition for now.”

 

Claire gave a teenaged shrug, giving not a moment’s thought as to why the dressing room in the studio couldn’t be used, but once in front of the makeshift dressing table she was all business. She slipped out of her tight tee shirt and jeans only pausing for a moment to consider her voluptuously nude body. She was all curves and creamy pale flesh. She held up the few cubic inches of latex and wondered how all that body she saw in the mirror would fit in the tiny, tiny garment.

 

Sitting on a chair she let her feet slip into the top of the dress and wriggled it around her ankles. The latex seemed to lick her skin as she twisted the loop of material up her legs. She had to work the thing on like it was the world’s smallest girdle.

The latex stretched to accommodate the width of her legs; it was, for a moment, a patent leather strap over her knees and she still had to work it over her hips. She parted her legs and the supple material gave way; she felt like her legs were in a cool embrace but she dedicated her focus on jiggling the latex over her hips. She had to stand now and she was doing a sexy little dance, shifting her weight from foot to foot and grunting with exertion as she tugged the dress up over the juicy curves of her ass.

 

Finally she got the thing around her waist and she pulled the hem down over her bare pussy and her shapely hips. She looked in the mirror and gasped. Wow, was it tight.

 

Now she had to work the top part of the thing over her belly and breasts and get the halter strap over her head. She spent a long time wriggling and writhing and grunting; she felt like she was wrestling a lover as the latex kissed over her soft skin but when she finally managed to push each bodacious breast into its snug-fitting cup she could stand straight and see herself.

Holy shit, she looked like a siren from a film noir. The latex shimmered like black onyx. She felt like she was being embraced by the snake in the Garden of Eden.

 

She slapped her palms on her hips and the latex made a satisfying kissing sound and she giggled as she set to work on her make-up.

 

Only the most ruby red streekwalker lipstick would do and she puckered her lips and vamped for the mirror as she worked. She brushed her long wavy hair over one shoulder like a dark Veronica Lake and then teardrop diamond earrings completed the picture. She gave the mirror a sultry look and giggled some more.

 

Fishnet stockings were perfect and so were thin strapped stiletto heels. She strutted out from behind the partition and was greeted by the hot burst of flashes from Olivia’s camera.

 

“Perfect, Claire, just perfect. Work it for me. Jiggle that bottom. Give me a coy look. Yes, an over the shoulder double take. Yes! Bend down, yes, cleavage, yes! Perfect!” If Claire Sinclair as Miss October was pretty well a perfect Playboy centerfold Claire Sinclair in the tight black latex went further, she outstared perfection itself.

 

 

The flash exploded a thousand times and Claire could have posed in a thousand more ways; the dress was inspiring her to be really really sexy and wicked.

 

Both artist and model were working themselves with a frenzy of erotic vigor and when they finished this part of the shoot both were panting as though they’d been having orgasms.  Fully sated at last, Olivia put down the camera and both took a short break to drink water and catch their breaths. The artist held up another latex outfit. ”Ready?” she asked? Claire didn’t need to be asked twice.

 

OK, the latex dress had felt strange and was a bitch to struggle into and peel off but the next outfit was truly exciting. Claire felt that at last she was in the groove for the Bettie Page bondage look even though, while it was S&M latex, for sure she wasn’t going to be tied up.

 

Because it was so skimpy it was much easier to writhe into. It was like a super tight swim suit except below the navel all it had were four straps hanging down with clamps to hold up the sheer black silk stockings. The slick and sleek black latex made the bare and pale skin of her juicy bottom glow excitement and her naked pussy tingle with eagerness. The snug garment cinched tightly around her waist and belly and was held up with halter straps with the halter missing. Her bare breasts surrounded by the tight black latex straps seemed to float in the air as a gift for a voracious mouth to gobble up. The shoes were the highest heels she’d ever worn and the thin straps showed off her shapely calves even as the tall spiked heels thrust her hips out in sensual poses. Her nimble hands wriggled into the shoulder length latex gloves and when she slapped her gloved hands against her bare thighs they made an intriguing noise that echoed through the studio.

 

What happens when a cute retro girl thinks some more about Bettie Page?  The skipping of a few heart beats apparently! Claire was certainly a girl who merited considerable attention and justifiably turned heads everywhere. But seeing herself in full Bettie Page bondage regalia? Golly, she loved this transformation and contrast to the retro Betty and Veronica skirts she usually wore. She vamped for herself in the mirror and pursed her lips – it was so playful and SO saucy! Her Bettie Page admiration was well known and this transformation completed the picture. As she morphed into tight black it would appear that the bold Miss Sinclair was quite captivated with this shiny aesthetic and she was up for some real naughtiness! She was such a turn-on when she got all moody and sultry! And she never before felt so anxious and eager and aroused by the notion that she was about to pose. “Ready?” she called out to Olivia who was waiting patiently.

 

Like a stripper in Minsky’s Burlesque Claire took her time revealing herself. She let a spiked heel peek out from behind the partition. Slowly the lovely calf, encased in clinging sheer silk slipped into view then the whole leg. Shinny black gloved fingers teased over the edge of the partition and Claire’s beautiful face peered out for a second. Olivia found Claire devastatingly sexy, so young, so sweet; yet she seemed to have such a wicked and knowing twinkle in her eyes. From her teasing, she seemed to be quite the performer and dancer and Olivia could only imagine just how good a stripper she'd be if she was ever tempted. Not only was she the ultimate glamour sexpot of our time, but she surely had the potential to be an outrageously perfect stripper! One delicious thing about her was that she was so young, yet so into the classic glamour of a bygone era.

 

Olivia gazed with entranced focus as the young nymphet slinked into view; the girl had her back to the camera and she teasingly jiggled her naked bottom. Then with her gloved arms covering her chest she slowly turned around. With a fetchingly seductive smile she gracefully let her arms drop to her sides. When her bare breasts, so ripe and fresh surrounded by the black latex straps, were revealed, Olivia, who had seen many magnificent models in her studio, let out an audible gasp.

 

Artist and model took their time posing and Claire vamped and teased with the imaginative zeal that only one so young and wicked could bring to the camera. So focused were both of them on capturing this sexy moment and channeling the spirit of the immortal Bettie Page that neither of them heard the van pull up behind Claire’s car. Five burly young men piled out and let themselves into the photo studio while the artist and model continued to shoot in the other room.

 

Olivia’s cell phone suddenly vibrated angrily. The artist shot one more frame before putting down the camera. She knew who was calling. “I have to take this,” she said solemnly, “Take a break.” She flipped the phone open, giving Claire a guilty look as the girl skipped innocently to the couch. “Hello,” she said flatly. She recognized the number.

 

“We’re here.”

 

Olivia gave the smiling Claire another guilty glance before turning her back as if that would make the conversation more secret. Her voice was now conspiratorial. “Give me a few minutes.”

 

“We’re ready to go. We’ve been studying those Bettie Page books you gave us. Man, are we ready to go. Is she ready?”

 

“I need a few minutes.”

 

“Man, we are ready to go.”

 

“I understand. Occupy yourselves.”

 

“How? The whole place is nothing but chains and whips and shit.”

 

“Play some card.” Olivia snapped the phone closed and turned back to Claire.

 

The young girl looked like a wild creature, a wood nymph Olivia had stumbled on in a clearing. The girl had her head cocked to one side and her eyes sparkled with curiosity and mischief. “Who was that?” she asked.

Olivia sat next to the luscious nymphet and gently pushed a stray lock of the girl’s hair back into place, her fingertips softly caressing the young girl’s cheek. “Claire, you always pose so well for me.” Claire nodded smiling. “And I want this session to be special.”

 

“Me too,” Claire said, her face radiant. She looked down on her own bare breasts and the tight latex hugging her voluptuous body. “I love the outfits.”

Olivia rose and took Claire by the hand. “Let’s go in the photo studio. You’ll understand what I have in mind.”

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