"You sure you wanna do this?" The woman's voice echoed through the stark, white-walled room.

Heather had taken off her blouse and bra in front of her, and was covering her breasts with her hands, with nervousness clear on her face. She was shaking and standing where the camera couldn't capture her.

"Move to the center, stand firm, and smile a little," the woman ordered. "You look sad. We need to brighten up a little."

Heather tried a fake smile, too fake to be mistaken for a real one. She merely showed her teeth, while her eyes and facial expression were betraying her true feelings.

The woman stood behind a camera and took a picture. "No, that won't do," she said in disappointment, "You know what? Forget about the smile. Keep a shy nervous face. I bet the viewers like that even more. Pose as if you are caught naked and desperately trying to cover yourself with your hands."

Heather didn't need to fake a pose like that. That was hardly any different from the actual situation she was in. She just stood there, while the woman took pictures of her, recording her agony.

"I like how your face looks shy and nervous," the photographer woman told her, "And I'm encouraging you to keep it that way. But you are not getting paid merely for your facial expression, are you, honey? Drop the hands."

Heather swallowed hard, her cheeks burning up. She fought hard with herself to let her hands drop to her sides, exposing herself to the camera. The studio lights felt like they were aiming for her with burning beams.

The photographer, a middle-aged woman, nodded in approval. She was professional, yet there was something grim in her eyes — an indifference towards Heather's feelings and existence, which was scary. She began to snap more photos, each click piercing through her model's already desperate mind.

"Now, your trousers and panties, honey," the woman told her, "And keep the embarrassed face. The viewers will love it."

Heather felt her heart racing as she fumbled with the button and zipper of her jeans. She had never been so exposed to anyone. She tried to steady her shaking hands, and pushed down her trousers, stepping out of them and her underwear.

The woman's eyes scanned her naked body, a smirk playing on her lips. "Good," she murmured, "You have a natural beauty, Heather. Now, let's fix some poses."

The cold floor against her bare feet made Heather flinch as she moved to the center of the room. The photographer began to give instructions, her voice smooth and authoritative. Heather did what she was told, bending and arching her body on command. Each click of the camera felt painful.

"Now, your ass," the woman told her, "Turn around and bend over."

Heather wanted to gather her clothes and run out, but she knew she needed the money. She turned around, bending at the waist. The only thing that relieved her a little was the fact that the camera couldn't capture her face in that position.

"I want to capture your face in this position as well," the woman told her, "Put your hands on the table, and turn your head towards the camera."

The little relief Heather had found melted away with the photographer's words, as she continued, "And bite your lips a little to demonstrate shyness. Our customers love shy girls."

With trembling hands, Heather did as she was told, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. She felt the coldness of the studio's air against her exposed skin and had to fight a desperate urge to cover herself. The woman moved closer, adjusting the camera angle to get a perfect shot.

"Good, now arch your back a bit more," the photographer instructed, "And spread your legs wider."

Heather complied, feeling more vulnerable than ever. The cold, unforgiving lens of the camera captured every curve and line of her body, leaving her nothing to hide. She remained frozen in place, reminding herself of what might happen if she didn't go through with this.

The photographer stepped back and took a look at her work. "Perfect," she said, "This is the best work I have done in a long time. I'll upload the pictures on the site tonight, and I bet the viewers would want to see more of you, doing more than just posing, with a man or a woman. Can I tell them that they will soon?"

Heather's mind raced. The thought of her naked images being out there for anyone to see made her stomach churn, let alone someone touching her in front of a camera, but she knew how far her desperation and need could drive her. The money she was to receive for the solo pictures wasn't much, and she knew she would need more soon.

"I-I don't know," she stuttered with a sad voice, "I need to think about it."

"Okay then. Remember to check the feedback. Good pictures usually get a lot of comments. I'm sure they will help you to decide. By the way, we give a nickname to every model. Do you have something in mind, or should I choose myself?"

"I don't know... you choose."

"Okay. How is Amber?"

"Fine."

"Alright, Amber it is. Aside from that, we'll give a little backstory to every model. You know, something about why they are here. It helps the viewers to connect more with them and makes the whole thing more realistic. Do you have something in mind, or should I write a backstory for you as well?"

"Write whatever you like," she said, as she hardly stopped herself from bursting into tears, "Just don't use my real name or any information that can be used to identify me."

The photographer connected her camera to a computer to copy the pictures and examine them more carefully, as Heather dressed in haste and left without saying anything.

Heather's mind was misty with fear and desperation. The reality of what she had done was setting in. She felt sad and embarrassed. Despite her pictures weren't online yet, she couldn't help trying to hide her face from strangers, as if the whole world knew about her and what she had done.

She got onto a bus, still unable to hold her head high, and wishing to disappear from sight. The ride home was normal, but it felt slow and agonizing. She kept imagining the possibilities if her family discovered what she had done, and how people around her could change their behavior towards her.

When she finally got home, she couldn't occupy herself with anything, or even think about anything other than what had happened. She just sat alone, waiting idly until night, and finally brought herself to open the porn site to see the results and reactions.

A small picture of her was available on the first page, with the following explanation: "Meet our newest model: Amber. She was in desperate need of money, so despite her shyness, decided to pose for us. You can easily see the shyness on her face, and we love her for it. Let her know how much you like her. With some encouragement, we might be able to get her to pose for more pictures."

Heather was surprised. The backstory was accidentally true, despite the site owner not knowing her or her motivation. She really was in desperate need of money, and had agreed to pose for naked pictures because of it. She wondered what kind of people can be so cruel to take advantage of a girl in such a situation, and openly admit doing it.

She clicked on the box, which led her to a page filled with her pictures. As soon as the pictures were displayed on the monitor, she covered her face, and let out a quiet scream. The pictures were not merely demonstrating her body, but her desperation and agony.

She wondered who would even want to see her like that. Perverts? Predators? Or maybe just lonely people seeking a glimpse of what they couldn't have in their real lives?

Heather seriously considered calling the site owner and asking her to remove the pictures, not because of caring for a model, but because her own reputation and business was at risk. The pictures looked horrifying to Heather, and she assumed they looked like that to other people as well.

But then she saw the comments section. Everyone was happy to see her like that, just as the photographer had predicted. None of them expressed any sympathy for her. On the contrary, some were openly expressing their desire to take advantage of girls like Heather and telling stories about how they had done so in the past.

The comments were like knives in her soul. Each word was a stab to her pride, her dignity, and her self-respect. Yet she couldn't stop reading in a desperate attempt to see some hope; like someone saying it's wrong to take advantage of her like that, he understands her and doesn't blame her for what she has done, he doesn't let such pictures change his opinion about a girl, or something like that. But there was none. The viewers were merely interested in her sexually. She was just an object to them.

The money she had earned from the photoshoot was in her account, but she felt degraded. Abandoning her university and sleeping in the streets now seemed preferable to earning money like that.

Without thinking any further, she picked up the phone and called the site owner, who picked up quickly, but Heather had a lump in her throat and couldn't talk.

"Hi Heather," the woman answered, "I uploaded your pictures. Have you seen them? They came out great. There is positive feedback already. Will you come for more pictures later?"

"Listen," Heather said crying, "I made a mistake. Please delete my pictures. I'll give your money back."

"Heather, are you alright?"

"Just delete them... Please... Now."

The woman paused for a moment, and then answered, "Honey, we made a contract. The pictures are my property now. You are an adult person. You shouldn't have come to me if you weren't okay with that. Besides, what is the point of deleting them now? I guarantee that hundreds of people have downloaded them already, and they will show up for free on other sites. So, you will merely lose what I paid you if I do that."

Heather hung up on her and threw the phone away. She just sat and cried in desperation, knowing her life would never be the same again.