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The Adair Gallery,
the next evening...
The show seemed to be a success, at
least as far as Erin could tell. Whether or not Beverly
Adair was making any sales, she had no idea, but the crowd was
reasonably large without being a crush and most of them seemed
to be enjoying themselves. Half the guests were
expensively dressed urbanites of every adult age,
patrons-of-the-arts. They were definitely enjoying themselves, socializing,
drinking champagne, and impressing each other with their
knowledge of the arts. The other half were Artist-types,
dressed in black. They were also drinking champagne, but
most appeared to be either bored or suffering from borderline
clinical depression. Erin strongly suspected it was mostly
affectation, that their Goth–EMO–Vampire-wannabe personas were
as much a part of their "uniforms" as black jeans, turtlenecks,
Erin was dressed in a "little black dress" on loan from Madison,
together with a pair of matching heels. The dress was
sleeveless and rather short, and she was showing a generous
amount of legs and cleavage. She'd wanted to look good,
and before leaving the townhouse, Madison had assured her she
had succeeded. Her brown hair was combed back and captured
in a tight ponytail to keep it out of her way as she
worked. Her Nikon was slung across her right shoulder by a
black leather strap with a row of bandoleer pockets for holding
Erin had been discretely snapping photos for about two hours,
and knew she had some good stuff. The theme of the show
was "Damsels-in-Distress," and all the works depicted the female
form, usually the nude female
form, in various forms of restraint and/or peril. A
variety of artistic techniques and media had been used by the
various artists, and the paintings, prints, and sculptures
ranged from the realistic to the abstract..
Erin changed memory cards and drifted towards her favorite venue
of the show, the so-called "Shibari Room." The entire
space was dedicated to the works of "C. Adams," all of
which were realistic sculptures of female figures bound with
rope. All were of some sort of translucent, amber plastic
and were lit from below. The effect was...
mesmerizing. Sitting with legs crossed, kneeling, standing
on both feet, standing on one foot, or fully suspended, in every
case, each figure's anatomically correct musculature matched its
pose. The "women" looked very real, as did their bondage.
Beverly Adair, dressed in a stunning dress of black satin
embroidered with vertical rows of silver seed beads, joined Erin
as she entered the room. "Magnificent, aren't they?"
"They are," Erin agreed.
"She always works with the same model," Beverly explained,
"starting from life-casts of plaster or fiberglass. After
the resin sets, a great deal of trimming and polishing
follows. Finally, she applies the rope. Conditioned
"It must be difficult for the model to hold the required pose,"
"Holding the pose is not an issue," Beverly purred. "The
model is bound for the casting in the same manner as the final
figure. It's the only way to achieve the required
realism. She allowed me to witness a session. It
Erin blinked in surprise, staring at the room full of helpless,
amber maidens. She turned to her hostess and employer for
the night. "H-how long was the model tied up? During the session,
Beverly smiled. "The binding, alone, took nearly two
hours. Applying the cast took an additional hour and a
half. Setting time was two hours, and removal of the casts
required one more. So, she was tied up... half a day?"
Erin shuddered in sympathy. "Talk about suffering for your
"Or, in this case," Beverly chuckled, "having your model suffer
for your art."
She smiled at Erin. "It's a lifestyle choice, I suppose."
"I suppose," Erin muttered. Her eyes were on the maidens.
"Come," Beverly said, taking Erin's arm and leading her from the
room. "Let's get some champagne. I have something
I'd like to discuss with you and Madison."
|artists & models
and Madison were standing beside the champagne fountain, sipping
flutes of bubbly and watching Beverly chat with various groups
of guests as she made her way from the room.
"I really appreciate this," Erin said.
Madison smiled. "A week relaxing at Beverly Adair's
country estate, watching you charm our hostess while you try and
finagle a one woman show? I'll survive."
Erin grinned. "I did agree
to model for her, so some work
will be involved."
"Work!" Madison snorted. "Sitting around while she
paints. Some work."
Erin smiled. "Remember, she promised to paint you, too."
Madison shrugged, drained her flute and set it on the
table. "And speaking of work..." She strolled back
to the piano.
Just then, a blonde walked up to the table and began filling her
flute from the fountain. Erin smiled (and tried not to
stare). Whoever she was, she was remarkable. She had
one of those faces with balanced features that are quite
attractive, but not classically
beautiful; however, her greatest asset was her body. The
blonde was one of the most physically fit individuals Erin had
ever seen. Her well-defined muscles slid under her smooth,
tan skin as she moved, but her curves were very feminine. She
was an athlete, not a
"Lyndal Douglas," the blonde said, presenting her right
hand. A quirky smile curled her lips and her blue eyes
Erin hurriedly transferred her flute to her left and returned
the handshake. "Uh, Erin. Erin Gillard."
"I know," Lyndal answered. "I work for Beverly. She
pointed you out."
"Pleased to meet you," Erin said with a grin. "What do you
do? For Beverly, I mean."
Lyndal smiled. "Whatever is required. I also help
out at the estate." She nodded towards Madison, who was
playing the opening bars of what Erin thought was probably a
Chopin Nocturne. "Your friend is very good."
"She is," Erin agreed. She noticed Lyndal's smile and
followed her gaze to the sculpture near the piano. It was
a strange piece, something like an oversize canopic jar of milky
glass. As Madison continued playing, subtle tendrils of
multicolored light danced across the surface of the "jar," and
they were sparkling in time to the music. "That's pretty,"
Lyndal's smile broadened. "I think so. I believe the
effect is from a matrix of LEDs embedded in the plastic."
She sipped her champagne, then shifted her gaze back to
Erin. "I understand you'll be joining us at Bev's place,
Erin nodded. "Beverly's asked me to pose for her."
"Bev asks every female she meets to pose for her," Lyndal
chuckled, "myself included. Welcome to the club."
"You've posed for Beverly?"
Lyndal nodded. "I've been the subject of six of her
oils. She says I have 'strong lines'."
"I'll say," Erin chuckled. "If I might ask, how do you do
it? I mean... I work out, but you have an amazing body."
Lyndal grinned. "Thank you. Power yoga, running,
swimming, and resistance training. I enjoy the burn."
"It's certainly paid off for you."
Lyndal smiled. "I have to circulate and keep an eye on
things. It was nice to meet you, and I'll see you on
"Same here!" Erin answered as Lyndal strolled away. She
sipped her champagne and watched her new friend's firm buttocks
and long, strong legs as she negotiated the crowd. I wish I had a bod like that,
she mused. Hmm...
'power yoga.' Maybe I can talk her into a demonstration.
|artists & models
The Adair Gallery,
a bitch, and her name is Crystal, Lyndal mused.
Lyndal was naked—or rather, she'd started out naked. She'd
relieved herself (numbers one and two), neatly tucked her hair
under a latex swim-cap, showered, then reclined on her back on a
padded massage table. Crystal smiled, and the "fun" had
First came the clear plastic wrap. It was the standard
kind used for food preservation, but Crystal had chopped the
original twelve-inch rolls into three-inch rolls that were more
convenient for her purposes. Following her "captor's"
orders, Lyndal had donned latex gloves and formed her hands into
fists. Then, Crystal had tightly, carefully wrapped them
in plastic, immobilizing the blonde's fingers and hands.
Next, her arms were individually wrapped from wrists to armpits
and her legs from toes to crotch. Crystal was careful to
overlap each wrapping by half and to maintain uniform pressure
that stretched the plastic but didn't compromise Lyndal's
What happened next fell into the twin categories of maintenance
and entertainment. Specifically...
In each case, the attached tubing or power/control cords and
wires were carefully coiled and tucked out of the way.
- A catheter was inserted into Lyndal's urethra with
- A vibrating butt-plug was lubricated and inserted into her
- A "Rabbit" vibrating dildo (with rotating head and
clit-ticklers) was inserted into her vagina.
- Clamps with tiny, pill-style vibrators attached to the
serrated jaws closed around each nipple.
Next, Lyndal's torso was wrapped as tightly and completely as
her limbs. Care was taken to swaddle her loins in
redundant, carefully stretched layers. The final result
was as waterproof as a pair of rubber panties. Lyndal's
breasts also received special attention, with figure-eight
wrappings that caused each of the pink, fleshy globes to bulge,
ever-so-slightly. The various devices inserted in her
orifices or clamped to her nipples were now completely covered
and secured in place. In fact, Lyndal's entire body was
covered from the neck down.
Her legs were placed together and wrapped at the ankles and
above and below her knees. Then, her arms were placed at
her sides and secured with wrappings around her hips and wrists
and her waist and elbows. At this point, Lyndal may or may
not have been helpless. It's possible that with time and
considerable effort she could have twisted free of her
wrappings—but Crystal was far
A posture collar of clear PVC was buckled around the plastic
mummy's throat. Then, Crystal produced a bundled mass of
dozens of intertwined loops of clear plastic tubing This
was dropped over Lyndal's head and shoulders, and after a great
deal of lifting and rolling of the captive's body, the nature of
the coils become apparent. It was a net that covered
Lyndal from throat to toes. As Crystal worked her way down
the matrix, snapping together twenty or more tiny clips, the net
tightened. When the final clip was secured, it
criss-crossed and hugged Lyndal's curves with gaps of no more
than an inch or two between loops.
Crystal leaned close and smiled sweetly. "We better do a
test before we move on to the next step, don't you think?"
The question was rhetorical, for Crystal didn't wait for a
response. Also, the strip of Elastoplast plastered to
Lyndal's lower face from ear to ear and nostrils to chin
rendered the captive mute, in any case. Crystal plugged
the fittings at the ends of the tube net into a long, clear hose
connected to a pump next to a small plastic reservoir, then
turned a valve and flipped a switch. A blue liquid
appeared inside the tubing, moving in fits and starts as it
forced out the air in the line. Finally, the net was a
uniform blue in color. Crystal turned off the pump and
closed the valve. "We'll test the system, again," she
promised, "before I put you away."
Lyndal rolled her eyes and sighed through her gag.
Meanwhile, Crystal had produced a roll of clear plastic.
It was different from the layers of plastic wrap already
mummifying Lyndal's body. It was stiffer, and crinkled as
she unrolled what became a long, narrow, clear tube.
Starting at Lyndal's feet, she worked the tube up and around her
prisoner's body, lifting and rolling her already well-wrapped
form, as required. She carefully cut small holes and
passed through the catheter hose and various wires and cables as
required, then produced a hot air gun on the end of a long
cord. She carefully tucked the top ends of the plastic
over Lyndal's shoulders, and pulled the trigger.
As hot air played over the plastic, it crinkled and
shrank. Crystal worked her way down Lyndal's body, taking
her time and making sure every square inch of what was becoming
a hard, clear shell felt the gun's blast. She paused when
she neared Lyndal's feet to cut her free of the remaining roll,
leaving a long flap of at least a two feet. This was
wrapped and tucked over and under Lyndal's feet, then the
encasement was finished.
The entire wrapping and shrinking process was repeated a second—Whirrrrr—and then a third
When Crystal turned off the gun and put away the remaining
shrink-wrap, it was as if Lyndal was encased in fiberglass, or
nearly so. Also, her face was flushed and beaded with
"Goodness," Crystal cooed. "Are we all hot and
bothered?" Another rhetorical question. "Let's cool
you off for a while, shall we?" She turned the valve on
the blue plastic line, then tapped the buttons of a small
electronic panel set on the side of the pump. "I'll leave
the system on maximum for a few minutes." She stretched a
pair of broad, nylon straps across Lyndal's waist and thighs,
secured the attached buckles—Click,
click—then pulled the free ends through the friction
locks to pull out the slack and pin Lyndal to the table. Vrrrrrip, vrrrrrip.
"Now, I want you to try and escape while I'm gone." She
headed for the doorway, then looked back and paused . "If
you succeed, we'll call it even and I'll let you do this to me."
The door closed.
Lyndal sighed through her tape-gag, gathered her strength, and
began fighting her encasement. The multiple layers of
plastic, the fluid-filled tube net, and the shrink-wrap cocoon
defeated her efforts with ease. She found she could twist
her shoulders, crunch her stomach, lift her legs, or flex her
knees, but no more than an inch in any given direction.
Escape was not going
At least the cooling system
works, she thought.
|artists & models
returned in about ten minutes, pushing a cart from the loading
dock. On the cart was a sarcophagus. It was smooth,
black, and streamlined, and its only decoration was the name
"Lyndal" stenciled on the side in metallic gold. It was
molded in fiberglass, and its bottom and top halves were held
together by a horizontal row of twelve flush-mounted, locking
clamps, six on each side. A thirteenth clamp secured the
top lid of a box-shaped bulge molded into the base of the foot
area. Crystal and Lyndal had built the encasement
together, as well as a second sarcophagus. The two were
nearly identical, only the second unit was shorter in length and
was labeled "Crystal."
Crystal strolled to the table, smiled, and peeled the tape from
Lyndal's lips. As always, the Elastoplast surrendered its
adhesive grip with great reluctance, stretching Lyndal's lips
and the skin of her lower face as it was slowly, gently pulled
Lyndal licked her lips and worked her jaws. "Ahh!
Crystal produced a Hello
Kitty sippy cup with a bright pink flex-straw and held
it to Lyndal's lips. "Mojito," she purred.
Lyndal sucked on the straw, her smiling blue eyes locked with
After a few seconds Crystal pulled away the straw, took a sip,
herself, then set the cup aside. "Now," she said, still
smiling, "as I see it, there are two options. Option one,
I plug in your catheter—twat, tushie, and tit cables—the cooling
net—and the body temperature, pulse, and breathing rate monitors
into the sarcophagus' support system. Then, I pop in your
respirator-gag and earplugs, lace up your isolation hood, lower
you into your packing case, snap on the lid, inflate the
interior padding... and leave you for the night."
"And option two?" Lyndal purred.
"I leave you more or less as you are for the rest of the night,
then pack you up in
Lyndal grinned. "Option two is sounding pretty good, but I
assume there's a catch."
"You know me too well," Crystal chuckled. "To earn option
two, you have to do me a favor."
"A favor? Let me guess."
Crystal's smile broadened and turned somewhat sinister.
She peeled off her t-shirt, unsnapped and removed her bra,
unzipped and pulled off her jeans, unlaced and kicked off her
sneakers, then stripped off her panties. Now as naked as
her prisoner (not counting the multiple layers of Lyndal's
plastic cocoon) she retrieved the ends of the "entertainment"
cables, opened the lid at the foot of the sarcophagus, and
plugged them into the appropriate color-coded receptacles.
She flipped a few switches, lifted a small remote control from a
slot, then returned to the side of the table. The remote
in her left hand, she climbed onto the padded surface, straddled
Lyndal's encased body, and knelt. She settled the weight
of her diminutive form on Lyndal's smooth, plasticized chest
with her knees to either side of the prisoner's plasticized
shoulders and arms.
She then leaned down—and they kissed. Lips smacked,
tongues rolled, and toes curled. Crystal's toes curled, anyway. Lyndal's
toes were too rigidly encased to do any significant curling.
After a brief eternity, Crystal broke off the kiss, smiled, and
triggered the remote, pressing its various studs, one by
one. "Pussy vibration with dildo head twisting...
butt plug... and nipple clamps. Oh, goodness!" she
giggled, "I can feel the nipple clamps on my thighs." She
scooted forward until her pussy was hovering above Lyndal's
face. "Now... that favor. You do me while the
vibrators do you. Think you can handle that?"
"I-I'll d-do my best," Lyndal responded. The vibrators
were making it difficult for her to concentrate.
"Good girl," Crystal purred, and lowered her pussy to Lyndal's
|artists & models
The Adair Gallery
loading dock, the next morning...
Beverly led Erin and Madison
through the gallery and out onto the loading dock in the
back. She was dressed casually, in jeans, sensible flats,
a cotton blouse, and a light jacket. Her guests were
casual, as well, having followed her instructions. Madison
was carrying a small suitcase, and Erin a small duffel.
"I really appreciate this, Ms. Adair," Erin said.
"Think nothing of it," Beverly answered, "and I told you, call
me Beverly." She smiled at Madison. "Both of you."
"It's really nice of you to let me tag along," Madison added.
"I'll make you earn your keep," Beverly chuckled. "I have
a baby grand in my sitting room. And I really want you to
pose for me, Madison, as well as Erin. You'll be my first
Madison blushed. "Okay."
There were two vehicles at the dock. Both were
black. One was an SUV, a hybrid Escalade, and the other
was a full-size pickup, a Silverado. Marta and a very
short young woman with short, black hair were tightening cargo
straps, securing several wooden crates in the back of the truck.
"You both know Marta," Beverly said.
Marta smiled. "Hello." Erin and Madison returned the
"And this is Crystal," Beverly continued, indicating the
smiling, twenty-something woman. She was devilishly cute.
"One of my helpers."
"Pleased," Crystal said, and shook hands with the roommates.
Erin glanced at the wooden crates. All but one looked like
they might contain framed paintings or large prints. The
exception was roughly the size and shape of a coffin.
"Some works I'm returning to the estate," Beverly explained,
then gestured towards the SUV. "We'll take the Escalade,
and Marta and Crystal will follow in the truck."
"Isn't Lyndal joining us?" Erin asked. "I was hoping she
would show me some of her yoga moves."
Beverly turned to Crystal.
"Lyndal's wrapped up in something at the moment," Crystal
responded, "but she'll be along."
Beverly and Marta exchanged a smile, then Beverly turned back to
Erin and Madison. "Okay, then. Let's go."
Crystal and Marta deployed a tarp over the truck bed and its
cargo, secured its clips, and lashed in down for good
measure. Meanwhile, the roommates had put their luggage in
the back of the SUV. Beverly climbed behind the wheel,
Erin rode shotgun, and Madison had the backseat to herself.
"You should be ashamed," Marta whispered to Crystal as they
finished securing the tarp. "'Lyndal's wrapped up,'
indeed. Do you want to drive, or play with the remote?"
"I played with the remote last night," Crystal grinned.
They climbed into the cab, Crystal started the engine, and the
convoy of two drove away.
|| THE END
artists & models