A Work of Art 2 · Part 2 (2/2)
Previous
“We need to be at the gallery in a couple hours. I have the rental truck downstairs. I just need to wheel both of you into the freight elevator, take you down, load you up and deliver you as well as a few other of my works. I just need a few phone calls to make sure everything is in place for your showing.”
Eileen watched him through the rippled panel. He had turned the mike off and with her being bound as she was, she really couldn’t hear what he was saying. The warm afterglow of her pleasure still lingered like a wonderful memory inside her. However, it made her hungry for more.
Soon after Mark hung up, he opened up the elevator gate and started carrying in several of his smaller works, already wrapped in bubble wrap and ready to be taken to the gallery, sort of like her, Eileen thought. Next, her ‘double’ was carefully wheeled to the elevator and disappeared as the elevator sank to the garage.
It wasn’t long before Eileen saw Mark return and felt herself being moved to the elevator. The wheels under the base were smooth-rolling and she felt almost as if she were gliding until the bump of the elevator lip destroyed the illusion.
The bound woman found that she could turn her head just a little from side to side and she found a little bit of comfort in the fact she could watch her Master as he pushed the buttons to ease them both down into his garage.
When the elevator stopped, she notice a big, yellow Ryder truck parked beside them. Eileen didn’t remember it when she pulled her Mercedes in. Of course, she had other things on her mind, but she would have noticed it, she thought.
Mark steadily pushed his Eileen sculpture out and onto the loading ramp of the truck, carefully securing it before pulling the lever and easing it up to the bed of the truck. Then, he pushed her in beside the other sculptures. Eileen did not see the other angel sculpture, but she supposed it was under the tarp in the corner of the truck.
The artist uncoiled some more rope and wrapped it tightly around the translucent cube holding his angel slave. The last thing he needed was to damage it on the way over to the auction; this sculpture being more valuable than the others packed inside the truck. After he made sure everything was secure, he stepped out the back and pulled the door closed, locking Eileen in the dark.
The excitement of what was about to happen alleviated some of the pain but her need to pee had also grown to the point that she couldn’t hold it any longer. Soon she felt a warmth spread around her sex and trickle down the inside of her left leg. She soon realized the Mark had taken in account that particular need and had a tube that made sure to drain her pee away and into some container in the base.
After the horror of what she had to do went away, Eileen began to enjoy her bondage a bit more. True, she had a few little aches here and there and she was a bit hungry but the promises of lustful sexual torment eclipsed those little things totally.
Eileen was still dreaming taboo dreams when the door of the truck slid open and a pair of workers as well as Mark stood on some kind of loading bay for the auction house. The bound woman squinted in the bright sunlight as the workers began to take each of the sculptures out. Eileen was the last to go as they wheeled her through the storeroom and into the gallery proper.
The gallery was larger than Eileen had imagined, with tall vaulted ceilings and vast expanses of white walls. A corner of the gallery had been set up expressly for Mark and workers busied themselves carefully displaying the other sculptures and a couple of sculpted panels for the walls. Each had their own erotic elemental signature that her Master was noted for.
Mark focused on getting the Eileen sculpture ready. He had already notified several good clients of this sculpture and really needed to get top dollar for it. As he was plugging her in, he notice her urine sack was partially filled and smiled a bemused smile knowing that at least that part of his planning had worked.
The lights inside flickered on and Eileen felt the humming begin inside her as well as the electric tingles on her nipples and clit causing her utter a swooning moan. Warm sparks of pleasure arced through her as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of total encasement. All Eileen could do now is feel and that realization started to turn up her sexual thermostat.
The workers paid no attention to her as they completed their tasks around her, not knowing that their movements were touching in places that they would never touch. Slowly, a storm of bliss was building inside of her as the vibrators and clips worked their magic.
Then they all stopped.
She opened her eyes to see her Mark standing there, remote in hand and waging his index finger.
“Not now, little slave, not until showing,” Eileen heard in her earphones.
Apparently Mark had heard her. The embers were still burning however and there was nothing Eileen could do to fan them. She would just have to wait for the showing.
The workmen had finished their tasks and a few well-dressed people mingled around her and the other sculptures. Eileen assumed they were the gallery owners getting an advanced peek at what they were about to sell. Mark had disappeared for a bit but Eileen saw him reemerge wearing a very stylish grey suit. He looked very confident; very in control as he mingled. That was her Master, Eileen smiled.
Soon some lights dimmed and spots turned on various displays and Mark stepped in front of his prize piece and turned it on.
Once more Eileen’s electric friends caressed her with their buzzing, sending another flash of pleasure flooding through her. She strained against her mummification yet nothing yielded as the humming bliss continued to build within her.
Opening her eyes, she watched well dressed men and women, wine glasses in hand, wander around her and watch her as if they knew she was inside seething in rapture. Whenever they drew near, the electric tingle shocked her swollen nips and clit, causing her to moan uncontrollably. Time and time again, she would be engulfed in a white hot orgasm as the patrons watched her outside her acrylic cube.
Then Eileen saw something that sent ice piercing through her gut.
Eileen spotted her husband.
The bound woman could not take her eyes off of him as he carefully studied each of Mark’s pieces. Her husband knew of her affection for Mark’s works and had surprised her with a piece or two on special occasions. She was positive that he did not know about the affair. His business endeavors took up far more of his attentions than she ever did. Eileen was his trophy wife, dressing up the estate not unlike an antique sofa or a painting. No, the only reason that he would be here would be to buy something for her.
Devon, her husband, came over to Eileen and began to eye critically. She found she was holding her breath despite knowing that he did not have the slightest clue that she was inside. The humming and buzzing continued but she fear kept their attentions at bay as Devon continued to circle around her.
As her husband circled back in front, she heard Mark in her earphones. “Eye-catching, isn’t she?” Mark said.
“Quite,” Devon said, still looking at her, forefinger on his chin and his glasses perched at the tip of his nose.
“I think this is my most difficult piece yet,” Mark continued, “A fair amount of thought and work went into this piece, things that you can appreciate time and time again.”
“Are you the artist?” Devon asked.
“Yes, I am. Guilty as charged.”
“My wife is very fond of your work,” Devon said, “I have several of your pieces at home. I find your stuff intriguing but not on the level as say, a Picasso or a Pollock. But still, you do fine work and my wife adores your stuff so I am more than happy to be a patron. What make her happy makes me happy.”
Mark smiled and shook the man’s hand, “She is lucky to have you to give her things that she enjoys.”
Eileen breathed a sigh of relief as her husband wandered off. Eileen was sure that Mark had no idea with whom he was speaking. She would have to tell him after the auction in the confines of his studio.
Slowly people started to drift away towards the separate auction room. Mark stood by the doorway as the bidding started on the art displayed here tonight. One by one, each piece was carefully transported by gallery workers to the stage.
Then it was Eileen’s turn.
Workers unplugged her and carefully trucked her to behind the curtain to the platform. As a spotlight highlighted another of Mark’s works, Eileen was placed at another part of the stage and plugged in. Mark had shut off the lights and speakers, but the vibrators came back to life as well as the electric teasing of the clamps.
The pleasure rushing through her flashed as a spotlight now illuminated her. The red and blue lights turned on and she knew now she could be heard. She felt the vibrators turned onto a high pulse as the strength of the current teasing her clit and nipples increased. Bolt after jarring bolt of pure ecstasy coursed through her as the bidding started. She could barely hear it above her own moans as an orgasm rushed higher and higher inside of her until it engulfed he in gut-wrenching bliss. Her body strained against her cocoon but she felt no give as the hammer went down and she had been sold…
Ending 1:
Mark was pleased. Eileen went for far more than he had expected; more than any other of his large works of the past. Even in these bad economic times, there was still money to be made in art.
As the patrons were writing checks and presenting cards to the gallery’s host, Mark took advantage of the post-auction chaos to wheel in Eileen’s replacement and put a tarp over his enslaved angel. Quickly he loaded her onto his idling rental truck and secured her. All of his other works went as well and after doing some mental calculations, Mark was set for at least another year. He would claim his check, minus the auction house fees, in a few days. Right now, however, he needed to get back and get his Eileen out of her prison.
“You went for a pretty penny,” Eileen heard Mark tell her through her earphones, “I think in part to your performance.”
Eileen felt herself blush. Even though she was unplugged, the lingering effects of her orgasms still were sending a ripple or two through her from the memories of being on display. She didn’t know how much the people could hear her, but she was sure that her moans caused more than one stirring between their legs.
“I have one more surprise waiting for you, my little slave, when we get home.”
So far, all of her surprises had been above and beyond good and her mind dashed ahead to envision what he had in store for her. Whatever it was, she was sure that it couldn’t possibly be any better than the one she had just been through.
Then she thought of her husband.
Soon she would have to making the trek across town and to her ‘real’ home. Her friend, Susan, would have covered for her again, saying that their shopping trip lasted a bit longer than expected and both of them spent the night at a hotel. For Susan, it was a game she excelled at and spending a day or two at the Hilton was just the bonus she needed from her hum-drum world of interior design.
However, even Susan didn’t know where Eileen was. No one did save herself and her Master.
The truck slowed, then stopped and the rear door was lifted open. Mark pulled the canvas from his sculpture and unbound it from the interior of the truck. Carefully he moved Eileen from the truck, through the empty garage and up into his studio.
As soon as the artist parked Eileen, he started to undo the panels. Eileen was grateful to see an undistorted world again as he put the acrylic panels aside.
However, instead of releasing Eileen further, Mark wheeled a small television in front of her and turned it on. There, on the screen, was a woman that looked remarkably like Eileen. In fact, the woman was wearing the clothes that Eileen had brought with her to change into when she left to go back to Devon.
“Hi Eileen,” the girl on the television said, “You don’t know me but I am going to be you today! Mark here asked me to be you. I know it is probably a shock to hear that, but be patient and all will be revealed.”
The camera pulled back and the fake Eileen opened the door to the real Eileen’s Mercedes. The actor’s white-gloved finger caressed the sedan’s top.
“You see, Eileen,” the woman continued with her slight southern accent, “Mark cares for you very much so he has decided to keep you for himself. I know Mark’s tastes so I know what that probably means for you. So, I am helping Mark make you disappear. I have your passport along with all your other little goodies that makes you you and I have a one way plane ticket to Quebec. I will drive your wonderful little car to the airport, park it and take the next flight there where you will disappear and I will reappear to take a flight back a few hours later as myself. It’s that easy.
Your husband, I am sure, will spend quite a bit of money trying to find you but you and your friend Susan have made sure that your little ‘thing’ with Mark was very discrete. So I am sure his private eyes won’t find you and knowing him, at some point his money will be worth more to him than you and he will stop the hunt.”
Eileen could believe what she was hearing. The shock completely drained her.
“So enjoy the rest of your life as Mark’s little plaything. I am pretty sure he won’t tire of you.”
With that, the fake Eileen got into the Mercedes, shut the door and drove away. The screen then went blank.
Mark took the DVD out of the television set and dropped it onto the floor, grinding it into pieces before carefully sweeping it up and dumping it into a dust bin filled with the remnants of past art projects. He then stepped back over and looked into her eyes.
“Surprise!”
Ending 2:
Mark was pleased. Eileen went for far more than he had expected; more than any other of his large works of the past. Even in these bad economic times, there was still money to be made in art.
As the patrons were writing checks and presenting cards to the gallery’s host, Mark wanted to take advantage of the post-auction chaos to wheel in Eileen’s replacement and cart his slave away.
“You were right,” Mark heard a voice behind him say, “It is very eye-catching.”
Mark turned around to see a patron he had spoken to earlier as he was looking at the piece.
“Thank you,” Mark said, “but you have to excuse me. I need to get the piece ready for delivery to its new home.”
The man smiled, “No need to do that. My people will be here shortly and take of all of that.”
The color drained from Mark face, “With a piece like this, I like to make sure that everything is correctly installed. I have my truck here and it would be no trouble at all to drive it over there and make sure it is properly taken care of. If I could just get your address, Mr… “ “Devon Chaucer,” the man said, “But I don’t think it is so complicated that one of my staff can’t handle it. You see, I am expecting my wife back from a shopping trip and I wanted to surprise her. Of course, when I came here I wasn’t expecting to pay for such a lavish piece of art, but my wife is worth it.”
Mark was about to say something else when two well-dressed workmen came up.
“Is this the piece, Mr. Chaucer?” one of them asked.
“Yes it is, George. Make sure to secure it tightly. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to it before I surprise my wife with it.”
Quickly the workers wrapped Eileen in some bubble wrap and began to wheel her out with Mr. Chaucer trailing a bit behind.
“Are you sure you don’t want my help?” Mark called out weakly, “It would be no problem.”
“No, that is quite alright. I got it from here. I don’t want to ruin it if she has gotten home before me.”
“I am pretty sure you won’t,” Mark said dejectedly under his breath, “I am pretty sure you won’t.”
Ending 3:
Mark was pleased. Eileen went for far more than he had expected; more than any other of his large works of the past. Even in these bad economic times, there was still money to be made in art, he grinned.
As the patrons were writing checks and presenting cards to the gallery’s host, Mark called his other contacts to make sure everything was going as scheduled.
Claudia was already at the airport. She was nearly the same height and build as Eileen and with the proper wig and a pair of sunglasses, she could be Eileen’s twin. She had already dressed in Eileen’s clothes and sported everything that Eileen had worn, including her wedding ring.
Claudia had driven Eileen’s Mercedes to the airport and parked it in the long term area. The suitcase belonged to Claudia as well as all of its contents, but nothing that would scream out not belonging to either woman. Claudia’s other ID was safely in the briefcase she would be taking to Quebec with her.
One way tickets usually are a red flag to security, so Mark made sure to make it two way. However, Eileen would be making the return trip. He even used her credit card to book it from a payphone in the Mall a month ago when he was sure of the auction date.
Like his previous auctions, there were certain clients that knew the real contents of his art and would pay a pretty penny for them. This drove up the prices of his other, smaller pieces as well as making it easy for his clients to take home their newly purchased slaves.
Mark also made sure that Eileen kept their affair a complete secret, instilling fear of her husband finding out as well as others, making sure she didn’t tell even her best friends about Mark. Her husband didn’t suspect, he was positive of that. So another rich housewife was bound to some dungeon somewhere to please someone else.
The sculptor was a little sad to see her go, but his lifestyle needed cash as the Crimson Group was always in need of more product. Quietly he slipped out of the end-of-auction crowd to out in front of the Gallery to light a smoke.
“Do you have another?” a woman’s voice asked.
Mark turned around to see a very attractive brunette with dark, almond shaped eyes and a ‘fuck-me’ type of smile.
“Sure,” Mark pulled out his cigarette case and offered the woman one.
“Thanks. I am trying to quit, but the stress of these auctions, well, let’s just say I need something to calm my nerves.”
“I know what you mean,” the artist said as he mentally took note of the brunette’s selling points, “I definitely know what you mean.”
Vote on the ending you liked best, on Fesseln's blog Fesseln's Fiction
Since it is usually a long space of time between postings and re-postings of this story, I am compiling a mailing list so that you can receive chapters as they are produced. Or visit my weblog at http://fesselnsfiction.blogspot.com/. Any and all comments are welcomed and appreciated.
A Work of Art 2 · Part 2 (2/2)
Previous
