Bob Harrington stood with the light wind ruffling his hair. The wind would make today's shoot interesting. Bob's daughter, Sue, modeled for a site that catered to pedophilic tastes. She was all of nine. Now she was starting a new project. The studio had landed a sub-contract for a similar site and selected Sue as one of the models for a different type of shoot than usual. It was looking to be an adventure.

The site they were sub-contracting for had began with a woman photographing her own daughter, then six. The site was artsy, rather than explicit. The woman had draped the child in fabric from her sewing bin and shot her in ballet poses. The site had generated so much interest she'd gone full time with it. Demand grew beyond what one child could satisfy and she'd added more models. Demand was now so high she farmed out studio work. All the shoots had to be outdoors. The girls would be dressed in a thong and covered in scraps of fabric. Some attempt had to be made to cover the nipples, it didn't need to be effective. Both active shots and close up details were to be taken. No deliberately erotic poses would be accepted. Both artistic and technical standards were very high.

Sue was in wardrobe. Normally Bob ignored wardrobe and sat in the lounge reading. Here, that was not an option. Wardrobe was a tent. "The yellow looks horrible on her," Bob said. He wished he'd kept his mouth shut. The elderly woman who worked both wardrobe and make-up was a professional and Bob respected her.

"You're right. With her red hair and pale skin, the refections make her look like she has jaundice." The woman rummaged through the box of fabric. She came up with a sheer russet. She tore it into strips and made a halter and skirt by tying the strips together. "That looks much better. She needs accents, would you find scraps to tie on her head and arms? We'll go for a pirate look, I think."

Bob was flattered to be asked. He found a black and silver print and tore it. He made a bandanna and tied a strip at each elbow. Sue was fidgeting by the time he finished.

"That looks wonderful. Let's do make-up, the photographers look ready." A short time later she said, "Look at yourself in the mirror child. My, don't you look grand!"

Sue was pleased at how she looked. She could have posed for the cover of a post-war adventure about castaways on a desert island, except those covers had featured busty grown women.

Betsy, the lead photographer, said, "What happened to the yellow? I wanted that to contrast with the background."

Bob explained and Betsy agreed that that was why they paid a professional to do wardrobe.

Betsy and her assistant, who went by 'Sliver', were draped in digital SLRs. A large format rig, with a digital back, was on a tripod. The background was a crumbling shale ridge. The sun was at a prime angle to evenly light the scene.

They had Sue stand at the ridge while both women did arcane things with camera settings. They shot a couple of tests and ran them through a laptop. "Looks good Boss," said Sliver.

Sue struck up a 'victory' *pose*. Shutters clicked. She tried to climb the rock face. Her butt hung out and she went nowhere. Shutters clicked. Sliver went in close for detail shots of her foot. Betsy worked the large camera for a full height shot.

They had Sue crouch on a pile of shale. The halter had slipped and one rosy nipple hung out. Bob felt a twinge of arousal. 'Damn!' he thought. 'Now my own daughter is turning me on.' He wished he could be free of the need to sell his daughter's services as a model.

The photographers had Sue run through a series of poses, Betsy acing as director. By the time they finished, every inch of Sue, except the two inches or so of pussy, had been exposed and photographed. Bob was hard and knew he'd find no relief but his own hand. Later, much later. The wanted to shoot several sets in one day of each girl they'd brought. There were three. He'd be here until the light failed.

"Damn man! You look ready to burst!" said Sliver. The punked out young woman was a graphic arts student working for spending money. Her tattoos and piercings were not Bob's sort of thing. She groped his crotch painfully. "A hard man is good to find. You're not gonna last until the end. Wait until you see what we did to Meg!"

Meg was a ten year old and just starting to bloom. She was hot, as far as Bob was concerned. They had tied an inch wide strip around her as a top. It covered her nipples, but squashed the flesh of her newly growing breasts out around the edges. Sheer ankle length panels made for a breech clout effect. Her firm little girl butt hung out, not covered by the thong. The fit, spare child's body showed every muscle and the underlying bone structure, unlike the grown women present. MacramÃ(C) ropes had been wound loosely around every part of her. They accented the thin, ropey limbs. Her golden hair was done in a topknot from which a ponytail flowed. The frayed ends of the cord headband blended with the ponytail.

As she ran through the poses Bob ached for relief. His nuts were throbbing. His hard-on grew painful. Meg's mother eyed him with undisguised scorn.

Sliver walked over when the set ended. "Told ya!" She groped him again. "You any good with that thing, boy? I might do something for you at lunch, if you ask right." She licked his cheek with a studded tongue.

May was up next. May was nine, like his daughter, and especially hot to him. She'd stroked him to orgasm during a previous shoot. He couldn't watch. He went to the wardrobe tent, where Sue should be getting ready for her next set.

"Oh, the old problem is back," said the wardrobe lady.

Sue was there and so was Meg. Neither wore anything but a thong. Bob nodded to the girls, "Not a good topic right now."

The wardrobe lady said, "They've learned what it means by now. We'll drop it if it makes you uncomfortable. What do you think Sue should wear next? They are moving to the trees. Something pixie-ish I would think."

"Ma'am, What is your name? I've never heard and you've always been so nice. It's a shame not to call you by name," Bob said.

"Goodness! No one ever asks me. I'm not sure the crew even know. Victoria, I was named after the Queen. She was dead by then, but my parents remembered her fondly from their childhood."

"You were named after a Queen? Cool!" said Meg.

"I wish I was named after someone famous," said Sue. She leaned against her father. Bob's hard-on threatened to explode.

"We really need to get Sue dressed," said Victoria.

Bob scrounged in the box. He found a shear green panel with tiny brown leaves printed on it. "That's perfect for the main garment, Bob. You rip and tie, I'll do her make-up to compliment it."

Bob managed to get a thin halter and mini skirt out of the fabric. Victoria slathered cold cream on Sue's face and scrubbed. The child had done this often enough to hold still through it. Bob's erection went down. He'd dressed and cared for his child all of her life. Dressing her felt comfortable and non-sexual, even when he pulled her thong out of her crack and spread it properly.

"Find some strips in reds and oranges for armbands," said Victoria.

Bob found them. He found wired garland and made wrist and ankle bracelets. "That's very good Bob. You have a knack for this."

"I look like an elf!" cried Sue with delight.

Victoria piled Sue's hair on top of her head and secured it with another piece of the garland. She sent the child off to the photographers.

"Let's start on Meg now," said Victoria.

Bob found a strip of burnt orange and made Meg a halter. His erection returned, this was not his child and her budding boobs were under his hands as he worked. He knotted a strip of the fabric in the middle and placed the knot between her breasts. He tied it in the back and spread the cups around her boobies. He found a mottled red and gold print for a long triangular skirt. The skirt was tied at the left hip and the tail hung to her ankle on the right. The yellow panel Sue had first been considering became a long head veil. It worked with Meg's well tanned coloring. Victoria cleaned the child's face and applied make-up.

"I look like a gypsy!" said Meg. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Harrington." She planted a smooch on his cheek.

Bob's balls were throbbing again. He put gold junk jewelry around her ankles. He tugged and smoothed her outfit.

"This has been a most interesting shoot," said Victoria. "I've spent fifty years working in dance and theater and this is the first time I've had to make costumes on the spot from rags. It's a lot of fun and you've been a big help Bob. You know, we should find you some relief. Maybe May's mom would help?"

"Sliver made an offer, I don't know how serious she was."

"Stay away from that girl, unless you like pain. I think she's teasing. I suspect she's still a virgin. She puts on a show as a hard case, but there's a scared little girl there if you know how to look."

"I'll do it!" shouted Meg. "I must be the only model who didn't get to see a man's thingy! All the other's did and May even got to make one squirt. Let me!"

"That's not a good idea, child. You run along now, you're all done here," said Victoria.

"Please, at least let me see it. Mommy won't let me and daddy just laughed when I asked. I'll just look. Please?"

"If your mother won't let you, we can't," said Bob. He wished he could. The little imp was one of the causes of his discomfort. Her hot little butt and beginner's boobs had been the chief cause of his painful erection. He wasn't about to ruin his welcome with the web company over her.

"Oh, just let her see it!" said Meg's mother from the door. "I'm sick and tired of hearing her whine about this. Hell, let her jack the damn thing off! I don't care anymore."

Bob knew she was just talking out of anger. He had no thought of doing what she said. He knew she'd regret the words before he had his pants open.

Meg was at his zipper in a fraction of a second. "Mommy said I can! Let me see!" She jerked the zipper down and unfastened his waistband. Down came the pants and underwear. Bob hung out in all his swollen glory. "Wow! That's cool!"

"You've had your look," said Victoria, "off to the photographers with you, before we have trouble."

"You heard me. Let her jack it! Help her get started. I don't want her doing this with my husband, and I think he's weakening."

Meg needed no second confirmation. She ran her hands over Bob's dick. "How do I make it squirt?"

Victoria positioned Meg's hands. "Pump it up and down, like this." She guided Meg's strokes, jacking Bob through the child's hands. Bob lasted no more than two dozen strokes. He was that aroused already from more than an hour of frustration. He shot harder than usual for him. His cum spattered the yellow veil.

Meg laughed and sang out, "Ididit! I did it! That was great! Can I make it squirt again?"

"Let's just find you a new veil. I didn't like that yellow anyway," said Victoria.