Patient Narrative - Christina Melendez - entry eleven: A new year and a photo-shoot with Suzanne Johnson

I spent a typical stressful Christmas with Mom's side of my family. That meant a trip to West Virginia. We had to fly to Dulles Airport and then drive west, for three hours. Yes, three hours, in a rental car, with my parents. And things were never that great at my grandparents' place. They never liked the fact that Dad's parents were from Mexico and that she had taken Melendez as her last name. However, Mom sort of got the last laugh on them, when Dad got all that money from his investments. We now had more money than the rest of them combined, and while the others toiled in crappy minimum-wage jobs, Mom spent most of her life traveling and doing fun vacation-type stuff.

It was that year, the final Christmas I'd spend with my family as a teenager, that I realized what was going on with my parents and all those cruises, why they were showing off, and to whom. I knew that my grandparents were pretty nasty to Dad when they first met him. But, what could they say now? There was no question that Mom, at least from a material point-of-view, had a much better life than anyone else in her family. She also felt that all that travel and partying and cruises made her "sophisticated". She loved to return home as and present herself as "the world traveler". My grandparents had been very wrong about Dad, and she loved to rub that in their faces whenever she had the chance.

As I watched Mom bore everyone with her travel stories and Dad sitting next to her, silently looking at investment statistics on his cell phone, I thought to myself: I don't know what I want from my life yet. But I do know what I don't want. I don't want to be like any of them: not like my grandparents, not like Dad, and certainly not like Mom.

I was constantly thinking about Yvonne. I couldn't help it because we were texting and sending selfies to each other continuously. I knew that she was spending Christmas with that friend who had gotten her the job at Gi-Gi's. I was glad about that, because if her family was as bad as she made them out to be, I could imagine being with them over a holiday would be pure hell.


My parents left on yet another cruise a few days after we got back from West Virginia. I was so happy to see them get out of the house and to have Yvonne come back over. I hadn't seen her for nearly a month.

The next two weeks were the best of our relationship. As always, I took off my clothes the moment my parents left the house and was appropriately naked when she came over. She had gone back to her normal bossy behavior, so she took control of me as soon as I was in her arms. Her hands were all over my body and I passively allowed her to seduce me. If felt so good, being like that with her.

I served dinner, and as we were cleaning up, we noticed it was snowing outside. Snow storms weren't common in our area, so we watched the snow come down in my back yard for a few minutes before going to the hot tub room. We exchanged massages and sat in the hot tub with the lights turned off and watched the snow as it continued to accumulate outside. It went without saying school would be canceled the next day.

The snowstorm was the most severe the region had experienced since a record-breaking storm in the 1930s, so we were snowed-in for the entire week. Even Gi-Gi's was closed, so neither of us had any reason to leave my house. There was plenty to do, so we didn't get bored: Yvonne got me to improve giving massages and I got her doing more advanced yoga moves. We spent hours in the pool and hot tub, and more time in bed. We had naked dares, chased each other around the house, and took lots of pictures. We cooked together and I taught her several recipes so she wouldn't be so hopeless in the kitchen.

When I lost one of our dares, she gave me the only spanking that I got from her the entire time we were together. The spanking was different from the ones I was giving her: it was more playful and seductive than punishment. I went over her lap and placed my bottom at her mercy. She was totally fascinated with that part of me, so she massaged and rubbed my ass more than she slapped it. Feeling the caresses and the warm slaps on my exposed bottom, and knowing that she was taking in every detail of my bare backside while I was submissively lying over her lap completely turned me on. She knew that, and slipped her fingers between my thighs to give me a really great orgasm.


The weather warmed up and the streets cleared over the following weekend, so after a week of non-stop sexual adventures in my house, Yvonne and I returned to school and resumed our normal routines, which included pretending not to acknowledge each other whenever anyone else was around. My parents came back in the middle of the week, Yvonne went back to her job at Gi-Gi's, and I went back to studying. It was frustrating that I couldn't see her. However, I realize something now. I think that one of the reasons we were so passionate with each other when we were together was because of the other times we were forced to be apart and couldn't see each other.


Over the months we were together, Yvonne and I took hundreds of pictures of each other, as well as plenty of us together that were taken with the timer on her phone. Every single picture we ever took of ourselves had to be without any clothes. The rule with our cameras and cell phones was the same as it was when we were alone in my house, we could not use a camera unless we both were fully undressed. The same rule applied to selfies: no clothing could be in the picture. So, we sent each other a lot of nude pictures.

However, Yvonne was not satisfied with the growing collection of amateur images we had of each other. She wanted something special and more professionally done. In the middle of January I realized how determined she was about that when she told me that we were going to have a three-hour session with the famous erotic and glamour photographer Suzanne Johnson. I was stunned. Suzanne Johnson? How on earth did Yvonne manage to get a session with Suzanne Johnson? How did she even know her?

Suzanne normally worked out of Chicago, where her husband and son lived, but she spent part of her time traveling around the US and had a system for setting up temporary studios in the cities she was visiting. The place where we were going was one of those temporary studios. When we showed up at the door, we were greeted by a young woman who was wearing a skimpy chemise that was completely open on the sides. She was not wearing anything underneath. The only other items she had on were a cloth belt to hold her garment in place and a pair of deck shoes. She told us to got into a changing room and remove all of our clothing, to include the necklaces and bracelets we were wearing. I nervously undressed and did as I was told. I put my necklace and two bracelets in a pocket of my coat. Then, as naked as we could possibly be, Yvonne took my hand and led me to the main part of the studio.

Suzanne was wearing the same style of chemise that her assistant was wearing. She was naked underneath that one garment, and like her assistant, wore nothing else except a light belt and deck shoes. That was her normal work outfit in the studio. She kept the temperature warm for her models and did not want to be uncomfortable while moving equipment, setting up cameras, and giving instructions to her subjects. I later learned that style of chemise was popular in a European country called Danubia and that Danubian women typically wore chemises when the weather was hot. Suzanne liked the style, which was perfectly suited for moving about in warm temperatures, so that garment became something of a trademark for her. She bought several, in different colors, and rarely wore anything else when she was working.

Suzanne was tall and voluptuous, and pretty in a Victorian sort of way. She was soft-spoken, but at the same time very direct with what she wanted. Whenever she had a camera in her hands, her personality became very intense and she was somewhat intimidating. If you were her subject, you did what she wanted and that was the end of it. It was her profession to convert you into high-quality art, and it was something she was very good at.

The photographer had two ways of charging her customers. She was more than happy to photograph subjects who didn't have any money, as long as they agreed to grant her ownership of the photos she took and allowed her to publish or use them however she wanted. I knew that was the arrangement Yvonne must have made with her.

As I stood naked in the studio with Yvonne holding my hand, I realized that what we were doing with Suzanne was a just a variant of the streaking we had been doing outside a few weeks before. Yvonne loved to see herself naked and wanted to see her body posted around the internet. She wanted people to look at her. What better way to do that than to have someone as well-known as Suzanne Johnson take a bunch of high-quality figure and fetish portraits, show them in art galleries, and distribute them online?

Suzanne started the session by taking pictures of Yvonne by herself. She experimented with lighting, different backgrounds and poses, and with different cameras. She had Yvonne dance, stretch, lie down, and sit. Then it was my turn. Yvonne was totally excited as she ran up to me, squeezed my hand, and nudged me to move in front of the photographer's cameras. I took a deep breath, very worried about the commitment I was getting myself into and how it might impact my future.

Suzanne had a way of making a person submit to her and not hesitate about having dozens of nude pictures taken. As I danced and posed, the only thing on my mind was satisfying her. I don't know how she did it, but as soon as her camera started flashing, she established a psychological hold over me.

Suzanne directed Yvonne to join me and we started posing together. At first we were simply standing, or sitting, or lying next to each other. Little by little, Suzanne directed us to become more intimate. With the photographer moving all around us, we hugged, kissed, and caressed each other's bodies. We stopped just short of having sex. However, we were both aroused, and that precisely was what she was looking for. We had a hungry look in our eyes and our expressions. Now she was getting exactly what she wanted from us and her camera.

Suzanne's assistant was joined by a second woman who was a bit older, but like her boss and co-worker, dressed in a chemise that was open on the sides and nothing underneath. The two women quickly moved a round red cushioned platform into place and told Yvonne and me to get on it. We were still aroused, and at that point Yvonne took control of me. She got on top of me and pinned my wrists to the cushion and kissed me. She rolled me onto my stomach and massaged my shoulders and bottom. Then she lay on her back and got me to get on top of her and kiss her breasts. I was on my elbows and knees and my bottom was spread and shamelessly exposed. I didn't care about that at all. Suzanne and Yvonne had captured my imagination and my actions. It was a decadent photo-shoot and I had become a perfectly willing participant.

That was only the first half of the photo-shoot. There would be a second half: with me spanking Yvonne. I was very nervous about spanking my lover in front of a professional photographer. The spankings were the most intimate thing we had going on between us, but now we were sharing our secret with the artistic world. However, when Suzanne started giving me directions, I realized right away that Yvonne must have told her about her fetish before we started and that she wanted it as part of the session.

Yvonne settled over my lap and Suzanne took a bunch of pictures with several cameras from different angles. I felt that I needed to spank her convincingly, which meant spanking her hard. My companion went quiet as the minutes passed and her bottom became more and more red, and as the heat and sting that she so much loved built in her skinny backside. In spite of the pain, the only sound coming out of her was an occasional moan of erotic pleasure.

When I finished, Suzanne's assistants scurried in and moved the platform away from the cameras. They replaced it with a model's stand. Apart from that, there was nothing else in front of backdrop where the cameras were set up. So, that was just the first part of the spanking session. I wondered what Susanne was going to have us do next. Yvonne already knew. Suzanne told her stand up and put her hands on the model's stand. She obeyed, and looked at us with eager anticipation.

Suzanne handed me a paddle. It was a cruel-looking wooden paddle, much scarier than the leather one I was using at my house. When she saw the surprised look in my eyes, she commented:

"Your girlfriend and I have agreed that we want the second part of our session to be more intense. So, you're gonna paddle her. You've gone through this at school, so I'm assuming you know how to use one of these, right?"

"Uh... I... I 'spose..."

"There's really just a couple of simple things to remember. You swing through your target, and concentrate the swats on the lower half of Yvonne's bottom and the very upper part of her thighs. The pattern you're going with is a swat concentrated on her right cheek, then a swat on her left cheek, then one flat across both cheeks. Firm swats, but not too hard. The point is you want to stretch it out. Got all that?"

"Uh... yeah... I... got it."

"No safe-words, but the rule is you'll stop as soon as dark patches or blisters start forming. Then we'll keep her in position for a while I get some pictures and she recovers. After that, you two make up."

"OK..."

I knew enough about spanking to start out slowly. I caressed and patted Yvonne's bottom before I started spanking her. I slowly rubbed the paddle on her bottom and then tapped her a couple of times. She was nervous and anxious, which gave Suzanne some good facial shots to get her expression. I drew back and got ready to give her the first real swat.

POP!

Yvonne gasped and whimpered faintly. It turned out that paddle was going to be a lot more painful than she anticipated. She became nervous and worried, which was perfect for the emotion that Suzanne wanted to capture.

POP!... POP!... POP!... POP!... POP!... POP!...

Yvonne gasped and started trembling. It hurt, in a scary sort of way. However, she had committed herself and was not about to go through the humiliation of trying to back out of the agreement she had made with one of the nation's most respected photographers, an agreement that she had negotiated herself.

POP!... POP!... POP!... POP!... POP!... POP!...

I kept going, because I also felt it was important that Yvonne go through with the fantasy of hers. I had gone through a similar emotional experience the first night I went streaking with her. Even thought it had been my fantasy to go streaking, it turned out to be different than I imagined and the hardest thing I ever did. But afterwards, I was glad I went through with it. I would have hated myself had I not pursued my fantasy, so I never regretted it.

I knew that Yvonne would go through the same experience. She had requested a real and intense spanking, one that would really hurt. She wanted to have it documented with high-quality erotic photos. It was what she had been dreaming about for a long time. It would be different that what she had expected, but later she would think it was worth it.

POP!... POP!... POP!... POP!... POP!... POP!...

Tears were running down Yvonne's cheeks. She was actually starting to cry. Suzanne moved around, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible but wanting to get pictures of her model's teary face and her reddening and swollen bottom. She also took plenty of close-up pictures of me, trying to capture my look of worry and my determination to finish what we had started.

POP!... POP!... POP!... POP!... POP!... POP!...

Yvonne's body started shaking from her crying. Her bottom was covered with painful-looking dark patches. I glanced at Suzanne, silently asking for permission to stop spanking. She responded:

"Do what you whatever you can to make her feel better. She's in a lot of pain right now, so caress her and comfort her. She needs to be comforted, and that has to come from you."

I put down the paddle and gently rubbed Yvonne's injured backside. She stood up, hugged me, and cried. It was a moment of redemption and love, a perfect end to a very intense photo session.

A few weeks later, Yvonne showed me some of the pictures from out photo-shoot. I thought: Wow, those images are very powerful, and totally sexy. Just looking at them gave me an erotic thrill. We were not professional models: we were just two ordinary young women who had just turned 18. We had no experience modeling at all. That was the strength of the way Suzanne Foster did photo-shoots. She didn't like using professional models because she knew that a lot of photo-sessions with models end up looking fake and staged, with was what they are, fake and staged. What Yvonne and I had done was not fake. That showed in every photo I saw from that session. Our expressions, our postures, and our bodies: it looked genuine because it was.

There was no question about it. Suzanne Johnson was extremely talented at what she did. There was good reason she was so well known and so respected among the artistic and fetish photography communities.
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Pub: Feb 22 2021 03:05 UTC
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