"Well then maybe this little exercise is a good thing in more ways than one. Maybe you are actually more than just my muse. More than just my little bondage slave."

Henrietta wasn't asking questions. More like she was stating facts. And once again she moved things on quickly. It was as though she didn't want to give the young girl too much time to process things in her own mind.

"Now Amy, I know you are not shy about your body and stuff. I mean there is no way a girl like you, with the 'weapons' that you have at your disposal, could be shy about those weapons and assets. But do you think, if you take your time, I mean if you really take it easy, you could remove your blouse for me? I mean, I know it won't be easy, I know that. But you can do it slowly so your breathing doesn't become too difficult. The thing is Amy, we need to disable your hands, and your arms next, and well, the blouse will be kind of in the way. So if you could remove it for me, that would be a great help?"

Amy's heart missed several beats at what she was being asked to do. It was like all of a sudden she was expected to bare her breasts. Her weapons of choice. She'd done it countless, really countless times before. When she was teasing someone she wanted to manipulate. When she was having sex. She'd done it more times probably than she cared to even try to count. But this was different. So different. She brought her eyes up to meet those of Henrietta but by that time the flush in her face was complete. Henrietta just smiled.

"I guess I could."

Probably Amy had never realised that her voice was as much a weapon as the rest of her feminine attributes. Henrietta knew though. She herself remained demure, ladylike as that fusion of American drawl dripped out of Amy's mouth.

"Good girl. Why don't you do that then hmm? It will give me the chance to take a good, long look at those mighty weapons of yours. They've been teasing me all day, and I have to say I'm falling right into their trap. I'm more than sure I'm not the first one to do that."

Amy was probably as close to being mortified as she could be. It might have been better if Henrietta was coming on to her in a sexual way rather than hinting that she was being entrapped in some kind of way. She was used to that and could deal with that in everyday life. It wouldn't even be the first time another woman, or girl had come on to her. But the artist wasn't doing that. She wasn't coming on to her. She was Mary Poppins simply requesting the little girl to get out her toys. It created a sensation in Amy that she didn't understand and in a way couldn't even comprehend. The thought of taking off her blouse, baring the breasts that the woman had made so much of. It kind of disturbed her. And yet at the same time, it excited her as well. The mix. The whole mix was being blended in her mind. She felt like her head might explode, or something.

It wasn't easy for the American girl to remove her blouse. On so many levels it wasn't easy. There was the psychological aspect of it. And the fact that Henrietta's eyes did not leave Amy. In fact there was barely a blink. Henrietta's huge eyes focused completely and utterly as Amy peeled off the blouse. There was also the physical effort that had to be put into it. She was basically seated, and twisted with her legs swung to one side. Unable to move her feet to spread some of the strain. That strain most telling on her spine from the neck down. And then she had to move her arms more than she had so far. Popping one button at a time. The silk peeling away from a fleshy cleavage that was more than generous. The biggest move, the biggest effort though was when she had to force herself forward on the chair, to actually remove the green silk blouse. And the moment that the breasts were revealed in all their glory. That was when the physical and the mental effort all combined and Amy expelled air in a gush of combined relief and something approaching humiliation. The lights and the cameras were now firing off longer bursts, catching more frames as Amy removed her blouse as it fluttered to her bound feet.

"Oh My God Amy. They really are magnificent, glorious weapons of mass destruction. Oh My Gosh. I almost don't know what to say. And 'no bra' - how brave must you be to go without a bra? I can't tell you how proud that makes me feel of you Amy."

Amy had sat back exhausted from her efforts - she never wore a bra unless she had to - and when she was out on a Friday crawl round bars, the way she was and the way she had a habit of doing, a bra didn't even figure into proceedings. She had been aware of her breasts swinging free and under her, almost crushing into her bound lap as she had finally removed the blouse, and then of the complete exposure of her tits to the woman looking on as she had got back up. Henrietta had sounded suitably and realistically astounded by the sight of Amy's bared breasts. Like Mary Poppins witnessing one of her charges first milestones. Amy had an added level of humiliation to deal with. Her nipples, erect hard. More so than they had ever been, and knowing that it was because of her arousal.