Photographs of Fillies

They thought the pictures would be private...not postcards! Now they would have to gamble their virtue to reclaim them!

 

(ff, Mff)

By: Punchinello for Pulp Erotica

 

Silver City, 1890

“Why, hello, ladies. Can I interest you in a portrait photograph?”

Susan and Ellie stopped in their tracks. “Oh, Susan, let’s stop. I’ve always wanted my picture taken.” The traveling photographer had his wares on display on a table outside the Silver City Hotel. The girls looked over the fine sepia-tone photographs of gentlemen and ladies. They were very good, all posed nobly on a velvet bench or chair in front of a velvet curtain with decorated with fancy tassels. “Oh, look at them. Wouldn’t your folks just love one?”

Susan, taller, blond, and sober-looking, looked the man over. He wore a thin waxed mustache and a fine black top hat with a cape. His vest was patterned gold and red and held a first-rate gold watch in the pocket. “These are very nice, mister.”

“Blackheel,” the man smiled. “Hamish Blackheel, at your service miss. And may I say, it would be a particular pleasure to shoot you— your portrait, that is.”

“Oh, let’s do it, Susan,” the younger, dark-haired girl urged. “How much is it, Mister Blackheel?”

He regarded her kindly. “Just two bits for the sitting, darling; a quarter dollar.”

“That’s only fifty cents for the two of us,” Ellie whispered.

“I know, Ellie.” Susan reached down her dress front and pulled out the little purse she kept nestled in her bosom. She counted out the money. “I have enough. I’ll spot you yours.” She knew Ellie wasn’t carrying any money.

The seventeen and eighteen year olds made an appointment with the man to take their photographs that evening in the hotel. They took his card and then went on about their business at the local mercantile, where they thought they wanted to look at ladies’ hats.

 

That evening, the two girls found their way to the Silver City Hotel, hearts racing, to have their portraits taken. Mr. Blackheel met them in the lobby and ushered them up the stairs to the room he had rented as studio. The girls marveled. The room was done up in red velvet with gold tassels and brocade, fancier than any place they’d ever been before. The rich textures and colors, together with the marvelous camera and lighting equipment, made the girls’ heads swim.

“I feel as tho I’ve stepped into another world,” Ellie murmured.

“This photography is quite a science,” said Susan knowingly.

Blackheel slipped in behind them and closed the door. “It certainly is. One must be intimate with the disciplines of optics and chemistry as well as...art.” His smile seemed more oily now.

The girls posed for two portraits each: demure, serene, yet noble and proud. But they spent a great deal of time finding the poses. “What a lovely neck you have, my dear,” he told Susan from behind the glaring gas lamps. “So slender and smooth, like the stem of a flower; and your face is the beautiful blossom.” Susan blushed. “Ellie,” he said, “can you tilt your head just a little? I want to see that sparkle in your eyes. You have such beautiful eyes.”

The girl went red all over. “I believe these lights are making me dizzy.”

It wasn’t long before the girls had posed for two more portraits in which they sat together. As they finished, Susan popped open the buttons of her restrictive dress a little to catch a breath in the warm room. “That will be five dollars, please, ladies. You’ll have the photographs in a week or so.”

“Five dollars!?” The girls were astonished.

“Oh yes. It’s all there on the back of my card I gave you this afternoon. Twenty-five cents for the sitting, twenty-five cents for each portrait, and fifty cents for each printed photograph. We did six portraits, so a dollar and a half; and six prints, so three dollars more is four dollars and a half; and of course the two sittings: that’s makes five dollars even.”

“Five dollars!” Ellie gasped.

“We don’t have five dollars,” said Susan. “We can’t afford to have the printed photographs made.”

“Well,” Blackheel thought, “then it’s only...a dollar and a half for the portraits and fifty cents.... That’s two dollars then—but surely you want to have the photographic prints made?”

“We have two dollars even,” Susan said evenly. “You tricked us. You tricked us into doin’ this.”

Blackheel smiled his oily smile again. “It’s all right there on the back of the card, miss.” He turned away, attending to his equipment. “But I suppose there might be options....”

Ellie tugged on Susan’s arm. “Sue, let’s just go,” she whispered, gesturing toward the door.

“I’m not skippin’ out on any debt, Ellie May Carpenter. We should have read the card first.” She turned to the photographer. “What can we do to make it up? We can wash out some of your clothes. Or we can mend some holes they might have.”

Blackheel turned back. “Well...there is something. You see, gentlemen back east, way back east, they enjoy certain photographs of ladies, you know.”

“What kind of photographs?” Ellie asked.

“Well, you know,” Blackheel went on casually, “the sort of... intimate portraits of ladies who aren’t ashamed of their beauty. You know...beauty portraits.”

“Beauty portraits?”

The girls had to think about it, but Blackheel assured them that the photographs would be kept in his private collection and sold secretly to men back east in art books as French imports. He even showed them some of other girls. It all seemed very safe and rather artistic....

 

The girls disrobed behind an oriental divider, where a chair sat ready to hold their dresses and petticoats. In only their underclothes, they came out into the hot glare of the lamps again. Blackheel had moved the set around and spread the fancy velvet curtain across the narrow bed which had been hidden behind it before. The girls took turns posing with bottles and glasses of wine, even drinking some and feeling the room turn. “I don’t know where my head’s gone,” Ellie giggled.

The girls were soon letting their hair down and brushing it out for the camera, even taking off their buttoned boots and stockings and parading around in just their pantlets and bustiers. “It’s very avant garde,” Blackheel commented. “Very Continental.” Off came the bustiers, leaving them in their thin cotton chemises. “Girls, would you give each other a kiss? Just a soft kiss on the lips, but you’ll have to hold it.”

Their minds all mixed up and hearts all aflutter, the two girls sat up before the camera and kissed softly on the mouth. “Hold it,” Blackheel said. “Close your eyes and hold it.” Susan closed her eyes and breathed in Ellie’s soft scent, felt her moist lips part slightly, the hand on her thigh flex just a little. She felt the warm place between her thighs moisten slightly and tingle. The flash of the photograph made stars sparkle in her eyes. “Don’t those ladies in the postcards show their bosoms?” she heard Ellie say innocently.

In a minute, both girls were unbuttoning the other’s bodice and exposing their pale breasts. More photos made both girls dizzy, and they put on cowboy hats and posed as cowgirls by the window. But then they flung off their hats and went back to the bed, where Ellie pressed the older girl down and whispered, “I’ve got powerful urges, Sue. Do you feel it?”

“Mmmm, yes,” Susan breathed. And they kissed softly and openly, young tongues intertwining, young bodies rolling on the bed together. Their tops came off completely and took turns licking and sucking the other’s warm, soft, breasts. Susan’s were smaller, with long, pointed nipples; and Ellie, altho younger, had the heavier, broad-nippled breasts.

Ellie pressed her hand on Susan’s belly and slid it down under her pantlets, down between Susan’s legs, where her moist sex was warm and waiting. The two girls kissed again as Ellie peeled Susan’s pantlets down and kneeled down to kiss her flat belly. “Mmmm,” the older girl moaned again. Her blond sex was exposed, pink lips full and wet beneath the yellow curls. Ellie breathed heavily as Susan smiled and lowered her pantlets for her also. Then, naked together, the girls lay back on the bed, Ellie kissing Susan’s thighs, and Susan running her hands thru Ellie’s dark brown hair.

When Ellie pressed her tongue into her friend’s wet slit, Susan gasped. She arched her back and pulled Ellie in deeper, lost completely in the pleasure of the movement. Ellie licked it eagerly, tasting her friend—tasting any girl—for the first time. “Mmmm. Oh. Oh!” Susan moaned.

Ellie pressed her own hand between her thighs and felt the slick sex beneath her dark bush. She found the tiny pleasure button between her cunny lips and rubbed it quickly and hotly. Susan continued to moan and writhe as her own cunny yielded sticky honey that Ellie gladly licked up. “Oh! Oh, yes! Oh Ellie! It’s beautiful! Oh honey lick it!” Ellie licked the hot sex button that stood out between Susan’s pussy lips. She sucked it and teased it until her friend was gasping and groaning, pressing her head deeper, and rocking against her hard and fast, crying, “Yes! Oh yes! Don’t stop, you precious girl! Oh yes, yes! Suck it, please! Suck it more!”

She rocked and writhed for a moment more and let out a heavy wail of uncontrolled lust as her womanly passion erupted and made her young body shake and quiver. Ellie backed off and lay on her side, frigging her hot little puss madly while her friend recovered. In a moment, she was gasping and humming, breathing hard and moaning like Susan had, saying, “Oh! Oh! Oh! It’s so good! It feels so good!” and finally collapsing beside her on the little bed.

The two girls cuddled and petted for a few minutes more as Mr. Blackheel captured the final moments of the series, a study in womanly passion and carnal pleasures.

The girls left with a dollar each and the promise of their portraits in the mail in the coming weeks. They left together, shamefaced and mortified by their actions, yet liberated in a way, and holding hands like little girls.

 

They got their portraits in the mail, two weeks later, just as Mr. Blackheel had said. They were beautiful: whimsical and wistful at the same time, capturing their very essence. Their parents were powerfully pleased and set the pictures in frames and put them on the mantle above the fireplace, one of each girl in each home. They even each had a copy of the two of them together—clothes on—to keep among their personal things. In all, it was a capital endeavor, even if it made the two of them just a little uncomfortable to be alone together.

 

Then, one day at the mercantile, just when they thought their sinful deed was well behind them, Ellie and Susan were looking at cloth and spied a rack of postcards that the shopkeeper kept behind the side counter.

“Oh, sweet Jesus, would you look at these!” Ellie snatched the postcards off the rack. Stacks of beautiful girls reclined in lewd poses—some of them very familiar.

Susan snatched a handful. "It's like what we did. Oh!" she gasped. "This one's us!"

"I saw," said Ellie. "These too."

“Hey! Those aren’t for ladies!” The shopkeeper had come out of the back with a bolt of cloth.

“They are ladies!” Susan said. The two of them scooped up the whole lot of them and rushed out the door, the shopkeeper howling like a coyote.

“My pa is gonna kill me if he ever saw these!” Ellie said as they rushed away from the mercantile. She held the pile up against her bosom as she ran across the street and up onto the boardwalk in front of the bank.

Susan ran alongside clutching another handful. “Ellie, are these the only ones? What if there are more somewhere?” She looked around, as if more nudie postcards might be hanging on the railing posts of the boardwalk.

“Susan, I don—” But as she turned Susan ran smack into her and the postcards went all over the boardwalk.

As they stooped to pick them up again before anyone noticed, a shadow fell over them. “Well, well. What do we have here?” said a voice as deep as a well. It was Jim Griffin. He crouched down to pick up some of the fallen cards.

“Please, Mr. Griffin, give ‘em back! Oh please!” But the dancehall gambler kept a firm grip.

“Easy, Ellie Holder. Let’s just have a look.” He looked them over with a wicked grin. “Well, well. My, my,” he mused. “I always did wonder what you pretty girls were concealin’ in those dresses....”

Susan unbuttoned her bodice and pulled it well open. Her creamy breasts caught Griffin’s attention immediately. She quickly stuffed the postcards she’d gathered inside and began buttoning it up again.

“Miss Ellie, you and Miss Susan come to the dancehall after hours tonight, and we’ll play a little game of cards for the rest of these,” Griffin said. He tucked his handful of postcards into his vest and walked away.

 

That night, the girls made their excuses at home and went out together, claiming to be on an errand for the other’s mother. They went to the dancehall filled with trepidation. It was a wild place, and filled with debauchery, they knew—or at least they heard—until after midnight. Even at that late hour when they arrived, drunks and bums were still stumbling out into the street. The girls waited until the dancers and musicians had also packed up before going to the door. Inside was Jim Griffin, sitting all alone in the dim, silent hall.

“Good evening, ladies,” he said, sucking on a narrow cigar and nursing a bourbon.

The girls shuffled in, wide-eyed and wondering, amazed at the strange trappings of the dancehall. Pictures of naked ladies hung on the walls. Rich curtains hung at every doorway and window. They sat with Griffin at the felt-topped gambling table, nervous and uncertain.

“These are the rules. I’ll bet with the postcards of you two lovely girls," he said. "And you’ll bet with items of clothing you’re wearing.” The girls went slack-jawed in disbelief. “The rules are simple, ladies,” Griffin stroking his thin mustache. “If you want to win back your postcards, you’ll have to wager your... frillies.”

“Mr. Griffin, please,” Susan said earnestly. Her large, bright eyes were dewy with tears. “We just have to get those postcards back. Our parents will kill us dead if they ever knew....”

“I understand,” he said kindly. “That’s why one postcard will equal one item of clothing, straight up, even-Steven—maximum bet of two items at a time.”

 

And so they began, the girls each taking off one boot to ante up, but Jim Griffin raised them quickly, and soon their boots and stockings were on the table, along with three postcards. The girls quickly saw a disparity: the gambler’s one postcard was equal to one item of clothing all right—from each girl. “After all,” Griffin said, “if it were money, I’d be anteing up a dollar and each of you would follow suit.” They bit their lips and took their cards.

Griffin won the first hand easily: the girls held nothing and folded quickly without betting further. Next, the girls peeled off their pretty dresses and sat barefoot in their petticoats. Jim raised them again and forced them to offer up their bustiers and garters. Ellie folded again, but Susan called Jim with her petticoat. Jim showed a pair of kings; Susan had only tens.

As the cards were dealt again, both girls watched closely, wary of a gambler’s skill at cheating and worried for their remaining modesty. Ellie drew a pair of eights and an ace. Susan drew king high. They ponied up an additional item each on top of their antes: Ellie’s petticoats and Susan’s bustier. Susan now sat in her chemise and pantlets, unaware that her hard nipples showed clearly thru the thin fabric. Jim raised again—he had little to lose—and the girls reluctantly peeled off another item: Ellie’s bustier and Susan’s pantlets. She now sat in chemise and cotton drawers, her smooth legs drawing Jim’s leering looks. “You are an awfully pretty girl, Miss Susan. Do you know that?” he asked, looking at her and at the pretty, pouting expression on the postcard in his hand. Her nose was upturned a little bit, where Ellie’s was just a button. Her lips were full, altho not as full as Ellie’s, and her eyes were large and bright.

“Thank you,” she said bashfully. Her blond hair was loose and fell over her eyes a little. She couldn’t look at him directly. He was quite a handsome man; firm jaw, mysterious eyes, an easy grace with the cards. Perhaps his admiration set him off balance for once; he showed two pair to Ellie’s three eights.

Ellie gratefully collected the clothes and postcards and began to put them on again. She even pushed Susan’s pantlets toward her. “Not so fast, Miss Ellie,” Jim said. “You’ll need those again soon, I think.” The dark-haired girl slumped back in the padded chair with a worried look.

On the next hand, the girls got in deep again, leaving Susan with a hard choice: her chemise or her drawers. The girls exchanged looks, and Ellie offered her own pantlets. The two girls took their cards. Jim smiled. “I’ll raise you two,” he said. Susan’s heart dropped.

Susan looked at her cards again: three sixes. “Can I— Can I just say that I see you... with my undershirt and my drawers?” Ellie folded outright over a pair of deuces.

“I’ve got to see them on the table, Miss Susan,” the gambler said. He looked her over and fingered his remaining postcards. “Look, sugarplum, I’ve already seen you with your clothes off—just... not in color.”

“I think he’s bluffin’, Sue,” Ellie said ruefully. But she had folded, so it wasn’t her panties that were in jeopardy. Susan slowly unbuttoned her chemise and peeled it back. Her beautiful young breasts were pale and pointed. The red nipples stood straight out, much bolder than the girl herself. She lay the garment on the pile and peeled off her drawers under the table, careful to keep out of sight as best she could. Both girls looked around nervously, worried that any dancing girl or bartender might wander back into the hall to watch the fun.

The pretty blond eighteen-year-old dropped her cotton drawers in the kitty. “I call,” she said softly. She tried to hide her breasts and hold her cards at the same time.

“What do you have?” the gambler asked, taking special pleasure in her discomfort. She showed a pair of jacks.

“I’ve got...” Jim drawled, spreading them out, “a pair of fillies.” The queens of diamonds and hearts topped the spread. “Would you look at that?”

Ellie couldn’t help but give a little moan for her friend. But it wasn’t over. Jim leaned forward and looked the younger girl in the eye. “Miss Ellie... I’d like those drawers and chemise of yours too,” he said. “How about we cut the deck for them?”

“What do you mean?” the girl asked. Her dark eyes were soft and wet—enough to melt a gambler’s heart... nearly.

“We’ll cut the deck for high card. I’ll put up two pieces for every one of yours.”

The girls looked at each other. They didn’t know what to do. If they lost all their clothes, would Jim make them walk home naked? It couldn’t be so! How awful! Susan clutched her bosoms and bit her lip. Ellie looked at Jim. “All or nothing,” she said.

Jim smiled. “Now that’s a gambler.” He shuffled the deck while Ellie peeled off her top and drawers. Her round breasts hung soft and supple, like delicious fruit. Her clothes went on the pile with the other things, and both girls sat huddled behind the table as best they could, naked and small.

Jim let Ellie draw: a ten. Then he offered it to Susan. “You cut for me,” he said.

She picked up a small stack and turned it over, hardly able to look. Her face told it all. “A king,” she said with a gasp and suddenly began sobbing. The tears rolled down her cheeks openly, and Ellie was only half a breath behind, collapsing in a tearful puddle on the table.

Jim rose from the table. “Now girls,” Jim Griffin said in his kindly voice. “This doesn’t have to be. There’s no call for tears.” They quieted a little, holding back the flood, but only barely.

“I’ve got another game....”

He stroked their bare backs gently, raising a wild thrill thru both of them that traveled to every crevice of their bodies. “You can get it all back,” he said stooping between them, “every last thing, just by giving up one... last... thing.” He kissed them both softly with each word; first Susan’s tear-stained cheek, then Ellie’s, and finally Susan’s warm, full mouth.

“Everything?” Ellie asked.

“Everything.” He kissed Ellie’s soft lips and caressed both of their smooth, naked backs, right down to their firm, round bottoms.

“And nobody ever knows?” asked Susan.

“Nobody,” Jim smiled. And he raised her up to sit on the table, exposing her bare breasts again. He kissed her breasts and sucked the small nipples, making her moan softly and let her head roll back. He stood between her legs and kissed her warm throat. Ellie stood up beside them and stroked Jim’s back, gaining his attention and getting a warm kiss on her full, wet mouth. Jim began to unbutton his shirt and pull it off, and Ellie helped. Susan looked him in the eye as he bared his chest and kissed her again, taking her open mouth with his probing tongue. She tasked his bourbon and felt his thin mustache, felt his muscular body against her naked frame, and she practically swooned.

Ellie helped Jim off with his shirt and stood behind him, frail and naked, stroking his bulging crotch from behind. As he kissed Susan again, the younger girl pulled off his boots and socks. He stood in his tight-fitting trousers, the bulge growing by the moment, and ran his hands all over the sweet blond’s naked body, even down to the V of her thighs and the yellow mound of treasure beneath.

"D— Do you promise?" she asked?

"Darlin', I promise," he said.

Susan moaned softly as his hand invaded her, sliding easily between her lips and gently stroking her moist cunny. “Oh, yes,” she moaned breathlessly. “Mmmmm, Mr. Griffin, that’s— That’s wonderful.”

Ellie was pulling down Jim’s trousers exposing his hard buttocks and his stiffening stem. She pressed her naked body against him from behind and took him in her hand, holding a man's handle for the first time. “Ellie... oh, thank you, darling.” She stroked it to full erection, eliciting a heavy groan from him. To Susan, he whispered, “It’s time.”

Susan spread her legs and lay back, flattening the little pile of clothes on the table. Jim guided his rod between her pink lips and pushed it home slowly. The girl gasped, fluttered her hands, head turning this way and that, eyes tightly closed. Ellie stroked Jim’s naked frame, her young body coming alive with daring and desire. “On the table,” he whispered in her ear.

As Jim slid his cock into Susan’s moist hole, Ellie climbed onto the table and kneeled over her friend’s face. “Yes,” the man said, and slid in and out of that sweet slit slowly, watching the dark-haired girl lower her juicy cunt down to Susan’s mouth. Susan held her friend’s hips and pulled her down to her, at last dipping her tongue into Ellie’s sweet honey pot.

Ellie gasped and moaned, “Oh! Oh, yeah. Oh, Sue! Suck it, Susan; it’s so good!” Jim leaned forward, cock sliding full into Susan’s twat, and kissed young Ellie hard on the mouth, tasting her tongue and making her moan. He played with her breasts, finding their hard little nipples and teasing them. He fucked Susan slowly all the while, making her moan into Ellie’s pussy even as she licked it and sucked the younger girl’s little pink button.

Ellie continued to moan as Susan began to writhe and rock. Jim slid into her again and again, a little faster, a little harder, making her gasp and hum and lose control. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” she cried in rising intervals. “Harder! Oh yes! Harder!” she begged.

Ellie pressed down on her face and fingered her own clit at the same time, raising a fiery lust inside her that spread thruout her body. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded. “Please suck it, honey. Oh!”

And suddenly, both girls were moaning and in sharp, staccato breaths. It made the cream boil in the gambler’s balls and rise up to shoot into Susan’s wet, blond cunny in thick white streams. He pulled out all the way for a moment to see the semen spurt, and then plunged it back in hard, making the girl groan and tremble and finally lock her legs around him and shake in the grasp of a hard orgasm. Her quivering body and hot moans of ecstasy sent Ellie over the edge as well, and the dark-eyed girl stiffened and arched her back as the waves of pleasure crashed over her, making the luscious cunny liquor flow into Susan’s open mouth.

Jim raised them up and kissed both girls in long and languid embraces that made their weary bodies loosen and relax.

 

The girls gathered all the postcards, put on their clothes again, and rushed out, heads spinning. They went down the street quickly, staying close, and ducked inside a barn where horses here stabled. In the dim light offered by the moon, they collapsed together in the hay and laughed and cried. They promised each other never to do such wicked things again.

“Never,” Susan promised.

“Never,” promised Ellie.

Then they sealed the pact with a soft, soft kiss.