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 web 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 break-ups to consider moving in with
someone again, which was fine, since she was busy constructing a career in
advertising, and craved the independence their relationship gave her.

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.

One night, 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 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 ankle cuffs, collars, harnesses. She
discovered that the ivy plant hanging in the corner of the studio hid a
solid iron hook that had more purposes than supporting vegetal decorations.
And the bolts used to balance his easel could be put to better use as well.

One night, 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 between 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. 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 with an
event everyone would talk about. Would she help?

Of course, she replied. 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 one. 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 look too good 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, and 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 put a final touch
to her look 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 problem coming 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 gave him the only sign her free fingers allowed her to give.

"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 a 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 thirty minutes. He went to change into a black suit
and tie, gave a final check to the exhibition halls, chatted with the girls
for a couple of minutes and then returned to his favorite "statue."

"Listen to 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 started, her eyes indicating panic. Good, the dildos were 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 density,
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
reputed 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 passed
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.

Chelsea Shepard, April 2000
 

Note:  You can find more of Chelsea's work on Adrian Hunter's site.  You will find a link to that site on my home page.    Peter.