Chapter Eight - Mr Nsync

"Love is hard to find, hard to keep, and hard to forget."

Mr Nsync often posted painful love quotes like the one above on his Facebook status. In his mid-twenties, Mr Nsync was a self-proclaimed photographer who traveled frequently between Kuala Lumpur and Singapore for model shoots. He once mentioned that he had shot over 100 models, but it was unclear if he meant at events or personal shoots.

Upon viewing his photos, I didn't find them attractive. Compared to photographers like Fatty J or EI, his skills seemed lacking, despite using a professional camera whose model I couldn't recall. However, in the modeling industry, sometimes we need to tell white lies to get paid by such photographers.

Mr Nsync expressed interest in doing TFCD shoots with me. However, I declined his requests as I felt it would be a waste of time if he didn't put much effort into editing. After numerous requests for TFCD fashion shoots, he eventually asked about my price for lingerie shoots. I quoted a higher price, and to my surprise, he agreed.

The next day, we met up.

Mr Nsync booked a hotel room for the lingerie shoot. I wore black lace lingerie, but I noticed he didn't take many photos and seemed more focused on looking at me. Typically, photographers would snap away like a machine gun when shooting women in lingerie or bikinis. Some even got so excited that they used flash incorrectly, which could be blinding. Curious, I asked Mr Nsync if there was an issue with my poses.

"Nothing is wrong with you, Cat. You just reminded me of her," he said.

"Who is she?" I inquired.

We paused the shoot, and Mr Nsync began sharing the sad story of his ex-girlfriend, a fellow KL model. They had been together for a few months until he discovered she was seeing another guy behind his back, and shockingly, he was the third party.

Mr Nsync became emotional, paid me in full for the shoot even though we only did half the time, and then left, asking me to stay in touch. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him, having experienced heartbreak myself.

A week later, Mr. Nsync messaged me in a peculiar manner. He posted another love quote and then asked how I was. Concerned, I chatted with him briefly, but he became increasingly emotional, expressing how life felt meaningless without his ex-girlfriend. I sensed he might be contemplating drastic actions, but then he unexpectedly invited me for a drink.

Feeling uneasy about rejecting him outright, I agreed to meet him at a bar. When I arrived, Mr Nsync was already drinking. Despite appearing somewhat intoxicated, he was coherent.

"Hi Cat, thanks for coming. Have a seat and order some drinks," he said, lifting his cup.

"Why are you drinking so much?" I asked, worried.

This triggered Mr Nsync to pour out his sorrows, lamenting about missing his ex-girlfriend and feeling betrayed. He urged me to drink with him, threatening to drink more if I didn't. After about an hour, he suggested moving to another location. Having learned my lesson, I made sure not to overindulge this time.

We ended up in a nearby park, where Mr Nsync became emotional again, speaking nonsensically about death and rebirth. Feeling frightened, I tried to console him and encourage him to move on from his ex-girlfriend. Suddenly, he grabbed me, calling out his ex-girlfriend's name, Mabel.

"Mabel, don't leave me! Please don't leave me!" he cried...

He hugged me tightly and kissed my neck. I struggled to break free, but the more I resisted, the tighter his grip became.

"I'm not your ex-girlfriend! Snap out of it!" I yelled at Mr Nsync and kicked him.

He winced in pain.

"I'm sorry, Cat! Stop kicking me!" Mr Nsync blurted out. I was shocked to realize he had been pretending to be drunk.

Angry and frustrated, I demanded he tell me the truth. He confessed to fabricating stories about his ex-girlfriend to gain sympathy from models. He admitted to using the same tactic with me, claiming I was one of the few who believed him.

"You're sick! How could you manipulate us like that?!" I scolded him, seething with anger. He reminded me of other manipulative individuals who had taken advantage of my kindness and vulnerabilities.

"I'm truly sorry... I just miss the time I spent with Mabel, especially when she made me have sex in her boyfriend's house." Pressing for more honesty, I discovered Mr Nsync had a fetish for being a sex slave, leading him to concoct elaborate lies to engage with women before seeking punishment from them.

A wicked idea crossed my mind. I couldn't explain why such thoughts emerged.

"Go buy condoms now! I'll be waiting here!" I commanded him. Mr Nsync was taken aback but complied, rushing to the nearest convenience store. Fifteen minutes later, he returned with a box of condoms in hand, looking flustered.

"Take off your pants behind that tree and put on a condom! I'll let you fuck me," I instructed him.

Mr Nsync seemed shocked by my sudden decision to engage in sexual activity. Even I was surprised by my own words. Believing me, he hurriedly followed my orders.

Approaching the large tree, I gazed at him sternly. "I want you to fuck me from behind as deeply as you can! Don't cum until I say so! If you do, I'll kick you straight in the balls!" I asserted firmly.

With those instructions, I lowered my panties and hiked up my dress, revealing my backside in the dim light. Nervous, Mr Nsync struggled to maintain his arousal. I assisted him with a quick hand job while he attempted to touch my breasts. I rebuffed his advances, warning him not to touch me without permission.

I felt a shift within me. Perhaps due to past experiences of being taken advantage of, I desired to assert control and dominance. After a few minutes of stimulation, Mr Nsync was ready for the position I had commanded.

He thrust vigorously into my wet pussy from behind, but I demanded more. I scolded him for not being firm enough and cautioned him against climaxing prematurely. The pressure seemed to affect him, as he exerted himself to please me while maintaining composure to avoid premature ejaculation.

My strategy worked. I controlled the situation, reveling in the power dynamics. I moaned softly to avoid drawing attention from passersby in the park. Fulfilling a fantasy of outdoor intimacy, we found cover behind the tree, opting for privacy over the bushes to avoid insects crawling on us.

As Mr Nsync grew exhausted and eager to climax, I denied his request.

"Keep fucking me, I'm warning you! Don't cum yet!" I commanded.

Reflecting on that moment, I found amusement in my assertiveness, a departure from my usual demeanor. It was oddly satisfying to tease him and delay his gratification. When I had my fill, I instructed Mr Nsync to stop. He complied, removing himself, and leaving the condom filled with his release.

"Don't contact me again," I declared as I walked away.

“Why?” Mr Nsync persisted.

I chose not to respond.

Following that encounter, Mr Nsync attempted to reach out, but I warned him to refrain from contacting me further, threatening to expose the size of his manhood. Fearing the repercussions, he ceased all communication.

I couldn't say if he continued his deceptive tactics with other models. One thing was certain: he would carry on with his photography, maintaining a facade of professionalism. However, I was confident he would steer clear of me in the future.