She met him in one of those
trendy new downtown bars. Dressed
in a black woolen sweater and jeans, he was perched on a stool behind
a pint of beer, chatting with the bartender, seemingly oblivious to
the cheerful noises around him.
She knew the bartender, too. In
minutes, the three of them were engaged in an animated discussion over
the latest gossip.
A couple of hours later, he invited her to share a last drink in a quieter
setting. There, he confessed
he made his living as a web designer, but his true passion was painting.
She knew nothing about art, but he was so enthusiastic about
it, she wanted to see his work. Soon, she promised. Maybe
even tomorrow. But first,
her bedroom.
They dated for three months without any commitments beyond fun and sex.
He told her he had had too many painful breakups to consider
moving in with someone again, which was fine, since she was busy building
a career in advertising and needed her independence.
During the first month, they spent most of their nights at her place.
Occasionally, she came to his apartment for a special "painting"
evening. She had fun posing
for him, whether naked, dressed, or a bit of both.
Inevitably, he'd leave his brushes and colors to make love to
her in the studio, on the floor, a sofa, a table, or against the wall.
She was always hungry for his touches, and loved the way he pushed
her limits to accept positions she would have found obscene a few long
weeks ago.
When he was sure she was ready, he pulled silk scarves out of his pocket
and tied her hands to the feet of the sofa.
She barely resisted, and literally exploded when he fucked her
hard on the wooden floor.
This successful experience was repeated one week later, with
leather cuffs replacing the silk around her wrists.
After that, she began to visit him more often than he visited
her, eager to explore these sexual games further.
Week after week, she discovered new things ... gags, blindfolds, collars,
harnesses ... the ivy plant hanging in the corner of the studio hid
a solid iron hook that had more purposes than supporting vegetal decorations
... the bolts used to balance his easel could also be put to better
use.
As their life together progressed, he introduced her to the duality
of pain and pleasure. She
gasped as he came close with tiny clamps connected by a silver chain,
and winced when he applied them to her breasts.
At first, she begged him to remove them, but when the initial
pain turned into an oddly erotic sensation, she accepted them and let
him play with the chain that sent waves of pleasure down to her crotch.
Not that she had much choice in accepting them, defenseless as
she was, standing spread-eagled between a door frame.
After the clamps came other toys: dildos, vibrators, various plugs.
She had trouble with the first anal intrusion, but pleasure helped
her give in. She was curious
by nature, and once her mental barriers were broken, there was hardly
anything she wouldn't try. She
trusted him, too. He never
truly hurt her, and always stopped whenever he felt he'd gone too far.
And of course, he always gave her volcanic orgasms that carried
her through the whole week until their next encounter.
Yet, their relationship was not restricted to bondage fun.
They shared many leisure moments at private parties with friends,
going to the movies, or visiting art galleries.
Sometimes they spent very quiet moments watching TV, reading,
or creating a new piece of art, her posing, him painting.
One night, he asked a favor of her.
He had finally attracted the attention of a well-known gallery
owner who had agreed to host his first exhibition.
The date was set, invitations were sent, and the paintings were
wrapped for transport. However,
he wanted to make the opening night special.
Something everyone would talk about.
Would she help?
"Of course," she replied without hesitation.
But when she pressed for details, she got evasive answers, leading
her to conclude she would have to pose during the whole evening.
His request seemed reasonable enough, and, truth be told, she
didn't mind being the center of attraction for a hundred respected art
lovers. Maybe she could
even do some customer recruiting.
When the day arrived, seasonally chilly for autumn, she accompanied
him to the gallery in the afternoon to help him with the cocktail arrangements.
When everything was set, he told her it was time for her to get
ready.
They went to a small room adjacent to where they had stored more snacks
and drinks. Wasting no
time, he asked her to undress.
Once she was naked, he unwrapped her gala outfit.
Despite its obviously erotic aspect, which would undoubtedly
embarrass her in public, she instantly fell for the exquisite beauty
of the ornament.
It was nothing more than two shiny chrome parts to cover her breasts
and her crotch. The metallic
bra with fiercely protruding peaks reminded her of Madonna's famous
lingerie. Silver chains
connected the two items, and more links hung free from various ends.
When he came forward, she balked at the sight of the two dildos hidden
in the crotch piece, black monsters that didn't promising to her.
He saw her frown, and had to cajole her with convincing words,
kisses and touches before she let him insert the two plugs into her
holes. Then he adjusted
the chastity belt and locked it with a tiny padlock around her hips.
He used a similar padlock behind her back for the metallic strap
of the rigid bra.
When her breasts were encased, she was surprised to feel her nipples
compressed against the cones.
The bra's external form had led her to believe she would have
plenty of room, but the cones were filled, constricting her breasts
in a most uncomfortable fashion.
This, plus the awkward sensation of the dildos, made her uneasy.
While she was pondering, he locked an elegant, yet inescapable collar
around her neck and connected it to the chains from her bra. He added a final touch with four more fleece-lined metallic
restraints. Two went around
her thighs, which he also linked to her chastity belt, and the other
two kept her hands securely tied behind her back.
"Are you sure about this?" she finally dared to ask, hoping
to raise doubts in his mind. "After
all, it's your reputation at stake here.
People might not like this."
"Don't worry. They
won't see your, hmmm, intimate accessories.
All they'll see is a wonderful sexy outfit, all set for the third
millennium. Nothing wrong
with that.
"But," he continued, "this is not the time for you to
question my artistic visions."
Puzzled, she watched him rummage in the bag and produce a strange transparent
device.
"Open your mouth, sweetheart."
She was so confused by the look of it that she did as she was told,
immediately regretting her obedience.
Her tongue played with the small round ball inside her mouth
while he was buckling the translucent strap around her head.
Next, he attached a tube to the plate covering her mouth and
blew. The small ball grew
bigger. And bigger.
Until it filled her mouth so completely that she couldn't even
let out a moan. He carefully
removed the tube and snapped the tiny valve shut.
She was securely gagged and yet, from a distance, or in a darker
environment, nobody would notice the thin plastic layer covering her
mouth and circling her head.
At that moment, butterflies flew into her stomach. She didn't like this at all.
When he motioned her to come out of the room, she moved her head
as much as the collar would allow, indicating her discontent.
He sighed.
"My dear, the key to your freedom is in my studio.
If you don't come with me and do as I say, you'll have serious
problems getting out of this outfit."
She felt sure he was lying about the key, but unable to prove her case,
she followed him to the back of the gallery.
He pulled back a red curtain, which added a bright color touch
in the center of the white wall, and revealed a hidden alcove, perfect
to host a full-body statue.
She didn't need his adjunction to know where she was supposed to stand.
But once she had taken her position, she was shocked to see him
chain her thigh cuffs to two rings drilled on each side of the alcove.
In rapid succession, he shackled her feet and locked them to
the ground, her legs just slightly spread apart.
Then he moved up to free her hands, only to lock them back to
the walls, one above her head, the other down, close to her hips.
He had her lean slightly forward, then brought her back against
the wall as he connected various clips to her waist belt, her bra and
her collar.
He stepped back to admire his work, and laughed when he saw the anger
in her eyes.
"You shouldn't be so mad.
After all, you'll get a lot of attention tonight.
Isn't it what you want?" he jested.
Furious, she flipped him the only gesture her free fingers could make.
"Oh, we won't have any of that tonight," he growled.
He left her alone for a few minutes and returned with leather mittens
for her hands, which he folded into fists for complete safety.
He spent the next half hour working on the spotlights and was satisfied
when the soft blue halos gave her the fake appearance of an alabaster
sex goddess. From a distance,
the illusion was perfect. Provided
she stood still. But he
would see to that as well.
Suddenly a knock on the main door reminded him of the upcoming event.
He let the three young hostesses in and showed them where to stand and
what to offer his guests. Checking
the time, he realized the gallery would open its doors in less than
30 minutes. He went to
change into a black suit and tie, gave a final inspection to the exhibition
halls, chatted with the girls for a couple of minutes and then returned
to his favorite "statue."
"Hear me well," he whispered to her, trying not to draw the
attention of the girls. "If
you move, I'll use this ..."
He showed her a black box with a switch in its center.
He pressed once and she twitched, her eyes indicating panic.
Good, the dildos are working.
"Alternatively, I can also use this," he added, taking a second,
similar box from his pocket and activating it.
This time, she winced and tried to bring her arms back to cover
her breasts. The sparks
in her bra were low intensity, but very effective on her sensitive nipples.
A good deterrent if she aimed to spoil his party.
He swiftly let the boxes disappear in his pockets and walked away, ready
to welcome his first guests. What
he hadn't told her was that his guests all belonged to the local bdsm
community, of which the gallery owner was a respected master. In truth, he could have exposed her fully naked and no one
would have objected. But
she didn't need to know that.
One hour later, the gallery was buzzing with conversations and laughter.
The exhibition was clearly a success, and several orders had
been taken already. At
the back of the main hall, a small group commented on the statue in
the niche.
So still on the outside, yet so tormented on the inside.
He would have to make it up to her later.
But that was never a problem.
Copyright
© 2000 by Chelsea Shepard. All rights reserved.
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