The Photographs

Annabelle sits in the school room. She feels stupid for having had forgotten her signed slip to go on the school excursion, for she is stuck with Mr Anders and he is sitting at the front of class reading a novel while she's stuck there twiddling her thumbs. Anaabelle looks outside but can only see blurs the windows are so dusted, so she focuses on the floorboards which creak as she leans back in her chair. "Stop rocking on you chair please;" mutters Mr Anders. Annabelle stops, and then she stroppily leans on one hand. She is bored. She tries to daydream but her daydreams come up with nothing inventive. "Can I go for a walk?" she asks with a sigh. Mr Anders looks at her and then to the door which shows the lavish green of lawn beyond its open frame. He clears his throat as he thinks - the sun in warm but not too warm, the day is bright with some wandering overcast; he thinks about the camera in the back of his car which he has only just brought, and he thinks of the bright idea of trying it out. "As a matter of fact I could take you to the forest on a photography excursion;" he mutters after a minute. "It will eat the morning up at least;" "Okay;" smiles Annabelle. She has never been near a camera let alone used one, she finds it exciting that she may get to learn how to use one. Into the woods the both trek. They wander through the trees only twenty minutes until they come to a rock cliff face. it is filled with lines and shadows that could make a good photograph and the spread of flowery lawn before it looks perfect for a picnic shot. "This is nice;" mutters Mr Anders. "It's got lines and contours which suit;" "Oh..." mutters Annabelle as she puts down the camera she has been carrying. "Not on the ground!" gasps Mr Anders before picking it up. "That's what the stand is for;" Annabelle blushes deep red as Mr Anders sets up the camera. After ten minutes it is set up and he is taking photographs of the cliff face. However the subject is a little dull after four or five photographs have been taken, so Mr Anders looks to Annabelle who is leaning on a tree. "Would you take a pose?" he asks. Annabelle perks up to attention. "Me?" she asks pointing to herself. "Yes;" mutters Mr Anders. Annabelle nods and then she walks towards the rock face. She smiles as she stands before it and Mr Anders takes a photograph. He laughs a little, then he asks her to stand to the side and he takes another one. A few pictures later he is bored and wanting more, so he approaches Annabelle and slips a sleeve over one shoulder before returning to the camera to take another photograph. Annabelle smiles, turns, and smiles again at direction, and at each photo taken Mr Anders grows a greed for more. Annabelle is perfect, she is there, she is willing - why not take some nude photographs? The subject is a little bit illegal, more then a little bit actually; but there is no one around, why not do it? Take some good pictures to sell? "Could you take bother sleeves over your shoulders?" he asks. Annabelle hesitates but she does it, and after a few more photographs Mr Anders is approaching her for more. He pulls her arms out of her sleeves, and then he pulls her top down so that its collar is under her bust. Annabelle gasps as she grows fear and shy, but Mr Anders pats her cheek. "It's just for the photograph;" he mutters before he races back to the camera to take another picture. He takes a good one, then two, then three. He asks Annabelle to pose with a hand on her breasts, and then without. It is a dangerous move, but he collects a decent picture. He drools over it and how easy it is. He has it, the perfect picture, the perfect muse. He looks to Annabelle and smiles. "Do you mind taking all your clothes off?" he asks. Annabelle shakes her head. "I couldn't!" she gasps. Mr Anders nibbles on a finger. "Take it all off;" he then orders. "Or I'll make you;" Annabelle shivers, she feels the lethal tone and she grows scared. She quickly dresses and tries to run away, but Mr Anders catches her and he drags her back where he slaps he with harsh that her cheek stains red. "You'll do it!" he growls as his lips become wet from greed. "You'll do it, or I'll hang your head!" Annabelle touches her cheek and sobs. "I don't want to do it!" she screams. "You'll do it!" grows Mr Anders before he takes her clothes off himself. "You'll do it or I'll hit you again!" Annabelle sobs. Then she shivers as she poses nude for the first time. Mr Anders gets his photographs of a shaken and upset girl. However after a while, when her tears dry, the photographs turn into pictures of a naked girl. Mr Anders smiles, and then he raises his brows. "Put your hands in-between your thighs and rub yourself;" he orders. Annabelle drops her mouth open. "Or I'll beat you;" he adds. Annabelle drops her surprise and she rubs herself. Mr Anders laughs at her and then he narrows his eyes. He has no reason to not rape her, but he stops himself - it is not the right time. Mr Anders sells the pictures to Mr Newbury who gives him two hundred dollars for everything but the pictures of the rocks. Mr Newbury plans to sell the pictures for thirty dollars each to people outside the country to make a profit of one thousand three hundred dollars. It is the perfect crime. "It looks like you assaulted this girl;" he mutters. "She was shy in front of the camera;" mutters Mr Anders. "I hope you didn't do it against her will, I would like more pictures;" he adds. "Of course;" tells Mr Anders. "And of anyone else like her;" tells Mr Newbury. "The younger the better;" Mr Anders nods. "I'll see what I can do;" he tells. But deep in his mind he is nervous, he will need more kids, and he will have to do it so they don't tell. So Mr Anders takes a whole group of girls on a picnic trip and he feeds them tea which has them asleep in no time. Then he undresses them one at a time to take pictures of them alone and together. It is a lovely sight, and Mr Newbury drops his jaw and drools as he looks at the pictures. However with everyone looking so dead he can tell that he will need to put Mr Anders on a more honest track. "I like the first collection the best;" he mutters. "Do you mind taking pictures of her in beads and jewels?" Mr Anders nods, and in a day he is inviting Annabelle into his home for a photography session. Mr Anders dresses Annabelle in nice dresses, jewellery, and other items. He takes photographs inside, outside, and even in the bath. He becomes most inventive and has over a thousand pictures in no time. Mr Newbury looks at the pictures and cheers. He sees art at its finest, and he gives Mr Anders three thousand dollars for the lot. Mr Anders cheers and he drinks with Mr Newbury who gazes at the photographs fondly. "This one looks like a star;" he mutters before he packs the photographs inside a bag. Mr Anders smiles and politely drinks more wine. There is little he can say, he is not entirely comfortable of taking so many pictures and getting thousand of dollars for them. Sure it is easy money, but he wonders if it is ethical. Here he is taking illegal pictures and selling them, and he can't help but wonder how he can get away with it. Mr Anders tosses and turns in his bed. He feels uncomfortable, so uncomfortable he can feel chains on his wrists and ankles. He has been arrested, he has been charged, the charge is jail, he is to be kept in a prison and beaten for years. mr Anders wakes up with a gasp and he wipes his brow. "I can't do it anymore!" he mutters. "I'm going to get life in jail if this continues on;" However on his next meeting with Mr Newbury he gets an invitation to make ten thousand dollars. "To take nude photographs where she is being raped;" is the last sentence on Mr Newbury's lips. Mr Anders looks at the money - he is being paid before the shots have been taken, that is big business. He wants to shake his head, but with ten thousand dollars glimmering in front of his eyes he can only nod. What is a girls virginity anyway? They are going to do it some time. Mr Anders raises his brows. "By whom?" he asks. "I'll send a couple of people over;" mutters Mr Newbury. "They'll know what to do, you just take the photographs;" It is a hard shot to take. There are many assaults and Mr Newbury has no cotton to stick into his ears. Leading Annabelle into a dark room where two thugs wait for her was his ultimate deceit. Watching them, listening to them, seeing her blood - it makes alarm bells ring. There is a lot of violence, and many screams; at one point a neighbour knocks but after a while they go away. Mr Newbury cringes as he finishes his last shot, and then the two fellows leave. "Well that's then thousand dollar;" he mutters before he puts the camera on automatic picture. Then he has sex with ANnabelle herself while she is only semi-conscious, the eye of the camera filming his own deciet which Mr Newbury collects when he takes the envelope of photographs. Pictures turn into movies, Mr Newbury gets his hands on a camera and he makes reels good enough to sell. He collects many girls inside of his mind only - he wishes he could; but the world would squeal so he sticks to Annabelle who manages to suffer through kidnap and abduction so he can take his next dirty movie. Mr ANders gets thousands of dollars, and Mr Newbury gets his own opportunity to rape Annabelle at a garden party. It's all the rage for a summer, but then the fad grows weak and Mr Anders is told to get some new girls or he is though. "I've done enough;" mutters Mr Anders. "I have no heart for it anymore;" Mr Newbury nods and then he shakes Mr Anders hand. "Then we'll leave it at that;" he adds. Mr Anders grows grim, but on the drive home he sighs - life will be better without the dark underworld behind his mind. He can get back to normal teaching. But when he gets home cop cars are at his door and his house have been broken into. "Is everything okay officers?" asks Mr Anders. The cops look to him. "Just checking to see if you collect dirty pictures and dirty movies; there are reports that you might;" they mutters. "I have nothing;" tells Mr Anders, happy he never kept a film or reel of what he had done. "With your permission we might like to search the house a little more;" they mutter. "Go ahead;" tells Mr Anders. "But you won't find anything;" Hours later the cops leave, and Mr Anders closes the door. He has been hurt, shaken, violated; but he gulps down his anger with a drink before moving on with his life. He has just been given his last paycheck and he is retired. Mr Anders looks to Annabelle who sits at the table biting her nails. She looks different, more glowing; he shrugs before moving back to a book he has interest on. Annabelle looks at the floor as she sits there shaking; she has been stung, but she manages to hide it. They both ignore each other, and after a while they forget each other; it's a day past, and in time Mr Anders throws his cameras into the bin; they are dusty and broken, and will no longer function not even if he wishes to use it. He smiles it is a slight victory that he has thrown his hobby away, he can forget. But sometimes at night he screams - he is being thrown into a jail cell and beaten after all the photographs he took turn up in court to haunt him like cells from a broken memory; the court finds him guilty, and he needs to wake up before he is able to breathe easy.