© Copyright 2007 - Chevron - Used by permission
Storycodes: M/f; wrap; pvc; latex; display; public; cons; X
Terri climbed the massive stone steps that rose toward the entrance of the Institute of Modern Art. Winter had come early this year and had brought with it the first snow of the season. The bitter wind seemed to ignore the multiple layers of clothing she had wrapped tightly around her body. Pushing her way through the revolving door, she was greeted by a pleasant blast of warm air.
A kindly woman in her mid forties sat behind the reception desk and didn't seem to take notice of her entrance. Terri unwound the scarf from around her neck, pausing for a moment to glance around the foyer. To her left, there was an ornate Chinese dragon constructed entirely out of old soda cans. Off to the right, there sat a sculpture of a young girl nursing a wolf cub. "Weird..." she mumbled, walking slowly to the edge of the desk.
"May I help you dear?" the woman asked without looking up from her computer screen.
"Hi...uh...my name's Terri Pritchard. I called a few hours ago about the temporary position listed online."
The woman didn't reply right away, taking her time to finish typing out whatever she was working on. "Hmm?... oh yes. Mr. Eaton is expecting you. Take the hall to the left there... it’s the sixth door on the right." She went back to what she was doing without ever glancing up.
On the way to the office, Terri shed her coat and gloves. She hadn't bothered to dress professionally today, wearing a sweater over a long-sleeved t-shirt, a pair of old jeans, and some tennis shoes. The ad hadn't been very descriptive as to what was expected of her. She pulled a folded slip of paper from her pocket to inspect it one more time:
Wanted: Temporary Help Needed to Present New Exhibit
- Looking for female age 18-25 to aid in presenting a new piece.
- Must be available from 8:00pm to 12:00am Thursday the 11th.
- Formal dress not required.
- Decent pay for minimal work.
Call number below to apply.
At first, Terri almost hadn't bothered as it was already after 4pm on the 11th. When she called the number, she thought the phone interview to be the most peculiar of any she had ever experienced. The only questions the man had really asked pertained to her physical appearance. At first she was tempted to hang up on the guy, but when he mentioned the job paid $2000 for a measly four hours of work, she found herself unable to turn down the offer.
She stopped in front of the large oak door and straightened her hair. The nameplate read "Mr. James Eaton, Head of Cultural Exhibits". Knocking on it softly, she was told to enter by a voice inside. Terri turned the handle and was greeted by what one might expect of an office in an art institute: stacks of papers, large bookshelves that extended to the ceiling, and hundreds of pictures strewn all over the place.
"Please excuse the mess... I'm afraid my things are a bit disorganized. Here have a seat." he said clearing a stack of papers off a plush, leather chair. Terri tried to hide her smile. The man couldn't have been much older than thirty, and she thought he looked rather attractive in his formal suit and tie.
She plopped down in the chair and stated herself bluntly, "So... Mr. Eaton. I'll admit you've got my curiosity piqued... but what do you need me to do that could possibly warrant paying so much?"
Eaton sat behind his desk and propped his arms up on his elbows. Terri thought she could make out a faint smile behind his folded fingers.
"Well you seem to be a fairly competent woman Ms. Pritchard. I won't waste your time beating around the bush. Every month I hold a special event here at the Institute... of a... questionable nature." She shifted in her seat nervously, and he seemed to pick up on it. "No no. Don't worry yourself. This isn't where someone in black jabs a needle in your neck from behind." His attempt at making a joke didn't do much to reassure the girl. "As I mentioned on the phone, I work with different cultural art forms. One of my favorite cultures is that of the fetish and BDSM community. This event is one that focuses on what we like to call 'Human Bondage Art'."
Terri didn't calm down completely, but she felt brave enough to ask a question, "So...you tie people up?"
He let out a slight chuckle and unlocked a filing cabinet behind his desk. "What we do is a little more than just 'tie people up'."
She opened the folder he passed her, almost falling out of her chair when she saw the pictures inside. The first was a woman lying on her back in the nude, arms pulling her knees open provocatively. Although, the most shocking aspect was that she was covered head to toe in white plaster. Another picture featured a woman intricately bound and suspended four feet off the ground. She wore only a blindfold and a large rubber ballgag, drool flowing in a steady stream to the floor below. "Shibari" he commented. "Japanese rope bondage."
She closed the folder calmly and placed it on his desk. "So...what would I have to do?"
He looked delighted, handing her a contract of some sort. "You will agree to be placed in a private exhibit inaccessible to the general public... for four hours. During this time, the guests invited to the event will be able to observe you... while enjoying hors d’oeuvres and drinks of course. This is largely a social gathering where some of the most powerful people in the city and their friends can hobnob." Eaton didn't have a hard time reading the uncertainty in her eyes. "You will, of course, be monitored constantly by an armed guard in charge of enforcing our "no touching" policy. Your safety is paramount. We naturally reserve the right to take pictures of you during the event... but these will not be openly distributed. Guests have the option of purchasing the prints for their private use. I of course keep a few for my own collection..."
Terri sat in the chair quietly while he spoke, glancing over the relatively straightforward document. The whole situation seemed a little sketchy, but everything sounded good in theory. "So Ms. Pritchard...what do you say?" he asked while rising from his chair.
Almost as if treating it like a bandaid, she scribbled her signature on the last line before she could think about it for too long. The girl hopped up and shook his hand firmly, "You got yourself a deal Mr. Eaton! Let's do this."
A large smile spread across his face. "Excellent. You don't know how much this is helping me. Our model canceled on us two days ago, and the other three applicants all refused the offer... once they learned what the job entailed that is. I thought I might have to call off this month's meeting. Please follow me."
They walked out of the office and further into the bowels of the enormous building. She asked something else as they went, "Do you... umm... prepare the models yourself?"
He chuckled again. "No Terri... you don't mind if I call you Terri do you? Every month we hire an artist to come in and create a unique work. We merely provide the model and the materials. This serves as a way of getting their name out to the industry... as well as a way for the Institute to generate much needed funds."
He led her into a well lit room. The walls were lined with gigantic posters of bound women similar to those Terri had seen in the folder. In the center of the room, there stood a pedestal two feet high with a diameter of approximately three feet. A door opened across from them, and a man about her age approached them pushing a metallic cart. "This is Monsieur D'Eon. He's an up-and-coming French bondage artist and photographer. He'll be preparing you for the event... and subsequently conducting the photo shoot. He doesn't speak much English, but he's a very kind gentleman. I have no doubt he'll treat you with the appropriate respect and courtesy. Now... if you'll excuse me." Eaton walked off the way he had come without another word.
Terri was clutching her coat tightly to her chest, looking around the room with an overwhelmed expression. The young Frenchman approached and gently pried it from her vise-like grip. "Please... come 'ere to strip?" She blushed slightly but walked to the pedestal with a confident front in place. Terri kicked off her sneakers and pulled off her socks, D'Eon busying himself with something on the cart. The sweater and t-shirt went up over her head in one motion, and the ragged jeans dropped to the floor. She caught his eyes wandering over her form like she was a fresh lump of clay.
"Everything... please." The girl sighed, having secretly hoped she might get away with her underwear at least. Turning her back to him, she unhooked her bra and pulled it off.
A shiver went down her spine. The room wasn't exactly cold, but the gravity of the situation began to dawn on her. Terri's thumbs slid under the elastic band of her panties and she wiggled out of them. Without much warning, the young man swept up her clothing, depositing the pile on his cart. She took a deep breath before uncrossing her arms and turning to face him. "Take dis..." he said handing her a shiny mass of material. Her hands unfolded it to reveal a pair of latex panties. Terri gave him a questioning look but pulled the panties up her legs with the help of the talc powdering the inside.
He approached her while she smoothed a few wrinkles out, "Magnifique... please...". He stood her on the platform and pulled his cart closer, the surface of which was covered by rolls of shiny black tape. "PVC... no stick" he smiled trying to reassure her by showing it would only adhere to itself. Without saying another word, he placed his right hand on his shoulder. Terri got the idea a few seconds later and copied his action. D'Eon flashed her a thumbs up before grabbing a roll of tape off his cart.
Starting at her elbow, the young man worked the tape slowly around her bent limb. He made sure to apply it evenly and in more than one layer, the effect rendering her arm completely useless. She couldn't help but observe, with an almost morbid curiosity, the way he was absorbed in the process. Terri's left arm was bound in a similar fashion, leaving her with two alien-looking appendages. The PVC tape crinkled as she moved. She attempted to test the limits of the bondage by flexing her arms, but he asked her not to struggle until the process was complete. She glanced down at herself, utterly aware that her breasts were now out of her protective reach. Although, D'Eon seemed too involved in binding her to worry about copping a feel.
The Frenchman lowered her to her knees in the center of the pedestal. Carefully lying her sideways, he bent her right leg at the knee and began wrapping tape from her ankle around the back of her thigh. Another roll of tape steadily disappeared, Terri's leg slowly becoming a shiny black stump (he even took the time to cover her foot). She thought perhaps his hand lingered a bit too long between her thighs when he tipped her over the other way. The girl chose not to bring it up though, silently watching him as her other leg was bound together. When he finished, D'Eon sat her up on her shins and grabbed a mirror off his cart. Terri blushed deeply at the sight of her bound form. Her breasts jut out provocatively, while her body posture seemed to suggest the utter helplessness of her situation.
"All done?..." she asked a bit apprehensive. He merely smiled and held up another roll of tape. His hands deftly circled her abdomen starting at the edge of the rubber panties and ending below her breasts. He paused for a moment, seemingly to ponder whether or not he wanted to conceal her chest. However, the internal deliberation was short. Within a matter of minutes he had blazed through two more rolls of tape. The girl was now covered from the neck down in several layers of shiny black that glinted in the lights positioned above and below.
Terri shifted a bit, the pressure on her legs from the kneeling position was starting to become uncomfortable, and her shoulders had already begun to ache. Despite the mounting discomfort, she had to admit the situation turned her on. Here she was, bound helpless in the middle of an art gallery, soon to be the conversation piece in some kind of kinky soirée.
D'Eon approached her with something clutched in his hand. Leaning in close to her face he said, "Please open..." She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but that was all he needed to get the ring gag between her teeth. Terri grunted and struggled helplessly as he secured the buckle behind her head. The crinkling of the PVC tape echoed through the empty room, yet it only helped to emphasize the futility of her actions. When he had finished with her and returned to the cart, she spat all the curse words she could think of past the ring. The 'artist' had another limp black object in his hands that resembled the panties he gave her. After he unfolded the hood, her cries of hatred turned to those of pleading.
There wasn't much she could do to stop him from stretching the shiny hood over the top of her head. The material conformed tightly to her features and sported only one opening, a mouth hole positioned over the gag. Thrust into darkness, Terri thrashed around on the platform (if you could call it thrashing) to the point where she almost tipped over. "No no no." came D'Eon's barely audible voice. He repositioned her in the center and commanded her to remain still. When she began to struggle again, he clamped his hand over the mouth hole and held it there until she calmed down.
She remained still, listening to the sound of what she thought was metal chains clinking together. A few moments later, a rigid collar slipped around her throat and was sealed by the unmistakable sound of a lock closing. Terri attempted to resume her struggles, but it appeared the collar had been tethered to several points on the edge of the pedestal. There was no way to tip over now, even if she wanted to. Her helplessness was complete.
Several minutes passed without incident. Terri's exertions had left her exhausted, the multiple layers of tape causing her to become soaked with sweat. The pressure, the heat, the pain, the helplessness... all of it was contributing to an unanswered desire building up from within. She flexed her limbs against the tape, but there was negligible give in the tight windings. Terri shifted, tugged, and fought uselessly against her bonds, all the while D'Eon stood with his arms crossed observing her plight with a grin.
The Frenchman took a cloth and a spray bottle off his cart. Spritzing the silicon substance on random areas of her body, he began to buff the PVC and latex to an even glossier shine. Terri seemed to calm somewhat under his gentle touch, listening to the unfamiliar tune the young man hummed as he worked. After several minutes, he appeared to be satisfied and set the items aside. "Tu es une belle femme." He ran a hand over her slick, black cheek. "Ze will be 'ere soon..."
He pushed the cart out of sight and went to greet the first of the guests. Terri froze up when the muffled sound of voices reached her ears. Within minutes the entire room was alive with conversation, clanging champagne glasses, and haughty laughter. She blushed furiously beneath the hood, suddenly embarrassed by the thought of so many strangers seeing her like this. She now found the rubber covering to be somewhat of a blessing, her anonymity being her only remaining possession. A strange whining sound followed by a loud click startled her. Those two sounds accompanied each other several times in rapid succession, always coming from a different direction. Finally, it dawned on her that D'Eon must have begun his photo shoot.
Terri shifted back and forth trying to ease the pressure on her tortured legs. Becoming frustrated with her limited mobility, she renewed her fruitless attempts at breaking free. The sounds from the shifting tape and the rattling chains seemed to attract the attention of the guests. D'Eon decided to take a break, moving his equipment back so that people could get an unobstructed view of her struggles.
The first couple approached her and commented, "Isn't she just beautiful dear?"
"Oh yes... quite so. Full of spirit too." Terri merely groaned behind her gag, flexing her limbs against the tape.
"It couldn't be much longer till Midnight...right?" she thought as more people crowded in around her.