"How?" I repeat back, noticing where his eyes have found themselves and putting just enough scorn in my voice to cow him a little more, "How can I help?"
Omg he's totally staring at my tits again. Even at a time like this.
"This is a fetish isn't it?" I say, controlling my tone now, more quietly, patiently. Controling my own voice, controlling him. He likes being controlled "I think I can help you with that..."
My breathing - I'm purposefully breathing nice and slow, nice and deep. Letting him watch, for the moment, my big breasts swell up and downn in my tight top, filling the neckline with dramatic, healthy bulges of cleavage. Letting those pheromones flow off me and do what they will.
“Charlie, look at all these," I say, pulling up older sketchbooks, thumbing through them in front of him, drawing his eyes, "look at all these women you've drawn. Did you notice this? Starting in the spring, into June, into the summer..." He even has them dated haha. "Have you noticed how the pictures all start to change? Over time?" I continue, "Have you noticed how they all started to look like me?"
As he remains speechless and subdued, my voice is brimming with unlimited confidence, even as I draw his attention back to the big monitor screen.
"And these?" I say, pointing out all the folders of redhead camgirls, "And these?" Tall busty girls with my smile, green eyes. "They all look like me, Charlie, they do. And you collected them. Hundreds of them, thousands of pictures, so much money spent on videos, or the chance to talk with them. Girls that look like me. Why, Charlie? What were you looking for?"