Sumi picks up the garment bag, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. She disappears behind the changing screen, and Hiro's anticipation heightens. He adjusts the lighting, his mind already envisioning the poses, the angles that will best showcase her youthful form for his depraved clientele.
Sumi steps out from behind the screen, and Hiro's breath hitches. Even in the simple, flowing dress, her youthful beauty hits him with a surprising force. Her face, still carrying the soft roundness of youth, is undeniably cute, her lips full and slightly parted in a hint of nervousness. Her eyes, wide and clear, hold an innocent trust that almost makes him feel a twinge of guilt – almost.
But it's her body that truly arrests his attention. The dress, while seemingly modest, clings in all the right places, hinting at the delicate curves just beginning to form. The V-neck dips low enough to reveal the gentle swell of her still-small breasts, the soft mounds pushing against the fabric, the subtle shadow of her nascent cleavage a whisper of womanhood. Her waist is narrow, a sweet indentation above the gentle flare of her hips, a shape that speaks of untouched innocence and burgeoning sensuality. The hem stops mid-thigh, showcasing the smooth, pale expanse of her young legs, their delicate contours promising a softness that makes his fingers itch.
"Damn, Sumi," Hiro says, letting out a low whistle, his professional mask momentarily slipping. "That dress… it was made for you." His eyes trace the line of her body, lingering on the soft curve of her breasts, the delicate slope of her thighs. He imagines the feel of her skin, the warmth of her youthful flesh beneath his touch.
Sumi fidgets slightly, pulling at the neckline. "It's a little… low, isn't it?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
"It's artistic," Hiro assures her quickly, his smile widening. "It's about capturing a certain… vulnerability. Trust me, it'll look amazing in the photos." He steps closer, his hand almost reaching out to adjust the dress, to subtly deepen the V, before he catches himself. "Alright," he says, regaining his composure. "Let's get started. I have some… specific poses in mind." His gaze lingers on Sumi, a silent promise of the exploitation to come hanging heavy in the air.
"Alright, Sumi," Hiro begins, his voice now a practiced blend of professional direction and a barely concealed lust. "Stand right here, facing the light. Relax your shoulders, and just… be yourself." His gaze lingers on the delicate curve of her neck, imagining running his fingers down her smooth skin.
Sumi follows his instructions, her natural beauty shining through – the wide, innocent set of her eyes, the slight curve of her lips hinting at a shy smile. But Hiro's focus is drawn to the soft V of the dress, the way it hints at the delicate swell of her breasts, the subtle shadow of her nascent cleavage a promise of untouched softness.
"Okay, now try tilting your head just a little," he coos, his gaze fixed on the exposed curve of her neck, the delicate line leading down to the tempting dip of the dress. "And maybe… just a little pout with your lips. Like you're thinking about something… secret." He imagines those innocent lips pressed against his own.
The pose subtly emphasizes the fullness of Sumi's lips, drawing attention to her mouth, and the slight shift in her neck pulls the fabric of the dress taut against her chest, outlining the gentle mounds of her developing breasts with a clearer definition. Hiro's groin stirs.
"Perfect," Hiro murmurs, snapping a few shots, his eyes lingering on the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. "Now, let's try one with your hand resting lightly on your hip. That little curve of your waist is just so… lovely." His eyes trace the slender indentation of her side, imagining his own hand there, feeling the softness of her skin, the gentle flare of her young hips beneath his touch.
As Sumi places her hand on her hip, the soft fabric of the dress shifts, clinging more closely to the gentle curve of her developing form. The hem rises slightly, revealing more of her smooth, pale thigh, a tantalizing glimpse of untouched skin that makes Hiro's breath catch.
"Excellent," he repeats, his voice a little breathier this time, his gaze fixed on the exposed expanse of her young leg. "Now, turn your body just a little to the side, so we catch the light on your… silhouette."
The side angle emphasizes the delicate curve of her developing breasts, the soft mounds outlined beneath the flowing fabric.
"And maybe… just lift your arm a little, so the dress… drapes a bit more," he suggests, his eyes fixed on the way the movement pulls the fabric taut across her chest, revealing the subtle contours of her breasts, the gentle lift making the V-neck gape slightly, offering a more enticing view of her delicate cleavage.
"Alright, Sumi," Hiro says, "I think we've got some really great shots. You're like a professional." He avoids direct eye contact, a flicker of guilt – or perhaps just the fear of his own urges – crossing his features.
He gestures towards another garment bag. "Now, for the final set. We're going with a sporty theme. Think… athletic chic." He offers a tight, knowing smile. "This outfit might be a little more… streamlined."
Sumi takes the bag, a renewed sense of unease settling over her. She retreats behind the changing screen, the soft rustle of fabric the only sound for a moment. Then, a small gasp escapes her lips.
The leotard is nothing like the casual dress. It's a single piece of shimmering, almost liquid fabric that seems to cling to the very essence of her form. The material is incredibly thin, offering little to the imagination. The neckline plunges even deeper than the dress, stopping just above the sensitive swell of her young breasts, the delicate areolae subtly visible beneath the sheer fabric. The sides are cut high, revealing the smooth curve of her hips and the delicate line of her bikini area. The back is almost entirely open, exposing the delicate curve of her spine and the gentle swell of her buttocks.
Sumi holds the leotard up, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and a growing sense of violation. It's less clothing than a second skin, a blatant display of her barely-there curves. She can see the faint outline of her nipples pressing against the sheer material, the subtle shadow between her legs. It feels impossibly revealing, designed not for sport, but for a predatory gaze. A cold dread washes over her as the true nature of Hiro's "opportunity" begins to dawn. This isn't about a poster anymore. This feels like an exposure, a deliberate unveiling of her young body.
"Hiro, this is… this is practically nothing!" Sumi exclaims, holding the shimmering leotard away from her body with a horrified expression. "I can see right through it!"
Hiro forces a reassuring smile, though his eyes are already greedily tracing the delicate outline of her form visible beneath the sheer fabric. "It's athletic wear, Sumi! Think of it as aerodynamic. It's supposed to be form-fitting, to show off your… natural athleticism." He steps closer, his gaze lingering on the way the leotard barely conceals the soft curves of her breasts, the delicate shadows hinting at her nipples. His groin tightens involuntarily at the innocent display of her barely-there nudity. A girl this fresh, this untouched, unknowingly presenting herself like this… it's a potent, almost unbearable temptation.
He leans in, his voice a low murmur, his eyes fixed on the delicate rise and fall of her chest. "Look at the lines, Sumi. It's elegant, it's artistic. It'll make you look like a goddess of the track." He's so close now he can see the faint blush rising on her cheeks, the delicate down on her arms. He wants to reach out, to feel the smooth warmth of her skin, but the thought of ViperStrike's payment holds him back – for now.
Suddenly, the door to the photo club opens, and a man steps in. "Hiro-san, I'm here," he announces, his voice a low, gravelly drawl. His real name is Takeshi Kurosawa. He stops short, his eyes widening as he takes in Sumi's barely-clad form. A predatory grin spreads across his face, his gaze lingering on the sheer fabric clinging to her young breasts and the delicate curve of her hips. Pure, unadulterated lust radiates from him.
"Well, hello there," Takeshi says, his eyes locking onto Sumi's. "You must be my partner. It's a pleasure." He emphasizes the word "partner" with a knowing smirk that makes Sumi instinctively shrink back.
Sumi clutches the leotard to her chest, her discomfort palpable. "Couple photos?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper. "I… I didn't know there would be couple photos."
Hiro steps forward, his arm casually draping across Takeshi's shoulder. "Just part of the concept, Sumi! We want to show the dynamic of athletic pairs. It'll be fun!" He shoots Takeshi a subtle, conspiratorial wink.
Takeshi moves closer to Sumi, his eyes never leaving her body. "Don't be shy, little blossom," he says, his voice oily. "We're just going to be having some fun, right?" He reaches out a hand, his fingers brushing against her arm, and Sumi flinches visibly. The thought of posing intimately with this man, practically naked, fills her with a growing sense of dread. But Hiro's persuasive words, coupled with Takeshi's unsettling presence, leave her feeling trapped and unsure of how to refuse.
Takeshi's eyes practically undress Sumi as she stands there clutching the sheer leotard. He lets out a low whistle, his gaze lingering on the delicate curve of her spine visible through the almost-nude back, the gentle swell of her barely-covered buttocks making his blood rush south in a hurry. "Damn," he mutters under his breath, "I definitely paid for the premium package." He can't wait to get his hands on that tight little body.
He grabs his own gym bag and heads behind the curtain to change. Even though he's got a face only a mother could love, he's actually in pretty good shape, all lean muscle from years of pushing himself. He slips on the tight-fitting gymnastics gear, the fabric hugging his physique in a way that emphasizes his strength. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, a confident smirk spreading across his face. He might be ugly, but he's got the cash and, for today at least, he's got her.
He steps out from behind the curtain, his eyes immediately locking onto Sumi. He saunters over to her, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Well, hello there again, little blossom," he says, his voice smooth and oily. "That outfit really shows off your… assets. You know, for such a tiny thing, you've got some pretty impressive curves." He lets his gaze drift down her body, lingering on the sheer fabric clinging to her breasts and the delicate curve of her hips. "We're going to have so much fun together today." He reaches out a hand, his knuckles lightly brushing against her bare arm, making Sumi flinch. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you." His smile doesn't reach his eyes, and Sumi feels a cold knot of dread tighten in her stomach. This isn't just a photoshoot; it feels like something much darker.