“Can we have the top over here.” Mark called to one of the helpers. The lad returned carrying a small circular glass sheet. Mark carefully placed the glass top on Laura’s back creating a living table. Due to the raised dais the glass finished at standard table height.
“There,” said the owner, “I said you’d be serving the guests, didn’t I?”
“You did.” Was the only response Laura could muster.
Laura had a twenty minute wait before the doors were to be opened and the invited guests would witness her indignity. The time dragged. All she could do was stare at the front door and imagine how she would feel when people arrived. For the first few minutes she felt relaxed, special even, after all she was soon to be the centre of attention, the prize exhibit. However, before then, the reality of her situation proved to be a little different.
The helpers milled around her concentrating on last minute preparations. One of the young girls stood champagne flutes on the glass top. The owner straightened labels and fussed over details. Nobody acknowledged her existence, as though they had forgotten the human part of the exhibit. She had no idea where Andrew was, certainly not in the half of the gallery between her and the door.
Finally the owner announced that they were ready and shooed everybody to the back of the gallery. On her way to unlock the front door she paused at Laura’s side. As if seeing her for the first time she studied the exhibit from different angles before reaching out to smooth the latex at the back of her legs. Her hand continued upward to caress the shiny rear before moving back down, briefly lingering in the crease between her buttocks. Laura shuddered as she felt the touch of soft fingers stroking down the length of her hanging breast. Two fingers lightly pinched the nipple as they passed. Laura hoped she hadn’t smudged the make up. “So beautiful.” The woman whispered.
21
The front doors were opened and Laura heard the excited voices of the people who had been waiting outside. A steady stream of eager spectators made their way toward her. The closer they got the more she started to panic, asking herself over and over, what she thought she was doing. She ran a successful business, she was respected in her field and she went to Sunday lunch with her parents. She had a normal life, why was she risking it all by doing such things? The constant flutter between her legs gave her the answer. And besides, if somebody she knew came along they wouldn’t recognize her: she didn’t even recognize herself. She wondered if her handling by the owner had been a one off or whether the guests were allowed to touch the exhibits. That fluttering was developing into a throb.
The turnout was impressive, the owner was good at her job. People lingered around her table long after collecting their drink, giving her the opportunity to study those in attendance. Laura wondered who the people were who made up the guest list. Who was your average buyer of retro porn? In reality the crowd looked mainly like they would at any other gallery opening. All age ranges and social groups seemed to be represented from city whiz kids to distinguished looking gentlemen with just enough greying at the temples to look as though they could afford to buy. Some of the women were dressed in casual summer dresses, others in more formal evening wear. Laura wondered if they preferred to dress up for an opening or whether they were going somewhere else afterwards.
Laura recognized a tall handsome man she had met more than once when they had both pitched for the same contracts. As many others had done he slowly circled her, admiring the exhibit from all angles. To Laura’s relief there was no sign of recognition.
As the evening wore on she found herself mentally swapping roles with the guests and analysing their observations of her. She watched the eyes of the people studying her body. She followed them as they swept over the shiny latex, then moved down to take in the orbs of her dangling breasts before ending their journey at the bright red nipples. She enjoyed seeing the lust she created in some and the discomfort in others. Some of the looks she couldn’t read, others she most definitely could—and it frightened her. She would not like to be at the mercy of some of those people, despite what her body was telling her. What she found hardest to accept was the small group who showed no interest in her, the ones who walked straight past with nothing more than a cursory glance; how dare they? She had been put into a humiliating situation to bring a fantasy to life, for their enjoyment. They could at least be disgusted.
Then she saw him walk through the door. Graham Weston had arrived to enjoy her humiliation. She felt an increase in both her heart rate and the level of her excitement. She needed to have some serious words with her traitorous body. When it became difficult to breath she realised that she had been holding in her stomach, not that she needed to, it was flatter than most women of her age. What would he think of the distended breasts hanging below her? What the hell did it matter, he was a selfish tyrant using her for his own amusement, she should be having very different reactions to his presence.
Had he gone there to delight in her distress? Well he was out of luck; his plan had backfired. She felt a strange power knowing that her humiliation was the catalyst for his sexual pleasure. Straining her eyes she tried to see if any physical evidence gave him away.
I wonder if he’s brought my bishop, she thought. He must have. Her excitement grew. Of more interest though, he was with a woman. She appeared to be more than just a companion for the night. Their arms were linked together and she leaned in when she spoke quietly in his ear. There was definitely an intimacy to their behaviour. Was he married? Laura couldn’t imagine his lifestyle being compatible with marriage. But then what did she know, she was on a very steep learning curve.
Andrew crossed her line of sight as he made his way toward the couple. She watched him shake hands with Weston but needed to be introduced to his companion. Laura reminded herself to ask about her later. Andrew gestured in Laura’s direction before all three made their way over. Thank goodness for the hood, at least he wouldn’t see the colour rushing into her face. They stood to the side just out of sight. She could hear them talking but not all of what they were saying. From the bits she could hear the topic of conversation was of no surprise.
“I have a penchant toward exhibitionism,” Weston said quite openly, “enforced or voluntary. Giving people a glimpse of what we usually do in private can be so thought provoking. This,” he said gesturing at Laura, “needs no further clarification, but other situations can be so intriguing to the unaware.” He walked around the exhibit once more, pausing briefly to speak to the group while facing Laura. “And look at the benefits for the lucky victim,” he said, “they learn a lot about themselves and what motivates them. Let’s hope they put it to good use.”
The lady moved into view and stood in front of Laura. Delicately bending her knees to one side, she stooped down to look Laura in the eye. The seconds passed slowly and their eyes remained locked. She reached out her hand and gently stroked a finger across Laura’s painted lips. Her smile was warm and accompanied by a barely perceptible nod of the head. Laura read it not as sympathy but admiration.
“Anyway,” Weston said, “we must be off.” As she was passing, the owner overheard his remark and stopped.
“You’re not leaving already are you Graham?”
“Unfortunately Julie, tonight we had a prior engagement. But you can rest assured that we’ll be back during the week; we love exhibits of this quality.”
Laura wanted to object. You can’t just leave, she thought, where’s my bishop? Perhaps this was another of his games, a ruse to get her to break the cotton. She didn’t move. Perhaps he had already given it to Andrew or the owner, if he had it at all. Disheartened, she watched them leave.
Laura assumed the event to be drawing to a close, the crowd had thinned considerably. She watched the owner take Andrew over to a small group of people standing in one corner. They spoke to one couple in particular. He was tall and well built, probably in his early thirties. She wore a long, red, tight fitting dress which tastefully displayed her slim figure. The heels on her shiny red shoes made her nearly as tall as him. They spoke for a few minutes, now and again the man gestured toward Laura. Andrew then looked over, pausing as if considering, while they waited. Turning back to them he shook hands with the couple. The owner patted his shoulder smiling. It looked like a deal had been done.
Five minutes later, and there could have been no more than a dozen people left. The owner locked the front door and pulled down the blinds. She then made her way over to Laura.
“Some of my friends and best customers have been invited to stay and watch.” She turned and called to the back of the gallery. “Mark could we finish with the table now please?” The remaining glasses were taken away, quickly followed by the glass top. Laura felt fingers groping beneath the bottom of the corset. As the zip was pulled down the sudden flow of cool air made her shudder. She hadn’t realised how warm it had been in the suit. The zip continued to be pulled until it was completely undone.
“Yes,” the owner told her, “this will be your real test. Your breasts have been on display all evening but now you’re going to present your most private parts to these strangers—your most intimate openings. After that you’re going to earn your bishop, and if you’re good you might even get a reward yourself.”
22
A further wait gave Laura the opportunity to study the guests who had been invited to witness whatever humiliation had been planned. They were mostly men but there were a few women, she wasn’t sure why that pleased her.
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