Eighty One - Laura's Story Pt. 06

20

Laura's excitement intensified as the day wore on. Knowing that the bishop was within her grasp made the waiting laborious. She was already on her final warning: ask whether it was time to leave just once more and Andrew had threatened to warm her backside again. In the end she decided to take Jasper for a walk. She knew how long each route took and picked the one she knew would take the same time as she had to wait. Don't hurry she told herself, let him sniff and take his time or they would be back too soon. It was a lovely evening, warm with a gentle breeze. Her thoughts naturally returned to the exhibition. After the disappointments she had suffered so far, she wasn't convinced that it would be as simple as the gallery owner had led her to believe. In any event, she was determined to get that bishop, and was ready to face their misleading tricks.

Once Jasper had been confined to the conservatory they were ready to leave. The drive took longer than they anticipated. They had allowed for heavy traffic but not for an evening kick-off at the football stadium. Still, they were at the gallery just after seven. The door was locked but the lights were on inside. The owner appeared moments after Andrew rang the bell.

"Mrs Miller, how nice to see you again. Come in, come in," she said ushering them inside.

"This is Andrew, my husband." The owner shook his hand.

"Pleased to meet you Andrew. As you can see, we're nearly ready." The gallery looked good. The main lights were turned down low leaving spotlights to draw attention to the exhibits. The owner gave them a brief tour of the exhibition as they made their way to the back of the gallery. Apparently, most of the illustrations were drawn for magazine articles and published from the late seventies and throughout the eighties. Laura recognized some of them from her internet research. The easily noticeable theme being women dressed in leather and latex bound in uncomfortable positions. "You must come back next week and see them in more detail," she said to Laura, "I doubt you'll have time tonight."

"Yes, I'd like that, thank you."

They went through to a back room where various people were milling around. A side table held trays of food covered in silver foil. Glasses, of various shapes and sizes, stood next to an assortment of wines, fruit juice and overpriced water. Laura took in the sight with some relief. At least they were serving drinks and finger food; perhaps the woman had been straight with her. On seeing them enter the room a young man made his way over.

"This is Mark," the owner said by way of introduction, "he looks after the exhibits in the collection." They shook hands and made small talk for a couple of minutes. Laura noticed that the two young ladies organizing the food were dressed in black skirts and white blouses. She had chosen a red summer dress with a bold flower pattern. She spoke to the owner.

"I'm sorry but I didn't know it was quite so formal," she motioned to the young ladies, "should I have worn black?"

"Don't worry, you'll be just fine." Then she turned to the young man. "So Mark, does Mrs Miller fit the bill?"

"Oh yes, no problem there at all," the young man said with a pleasant smile.

"Great. Come on then, we'd better get you ready." Laura followed her out of the room. They walked down a short passageway before reaching another door. The room looked like a store with frames, stands and boxes neatly stacked to one side. "You can get changed in here, your clothes are on the bench, but we'd best do your make up first."

"My make up?"

"Oh yes, Mark insists that it's all true to the Bishop style. Sit here and I'll see to you." Laura sat on the bench and waited while the woman gathered various items from a table.

That tingle of excitement revealed itself once more. She knew it was another of their games, a ruse to humiliate her and more than likely there would be a plan to trip her up, but Laura was determined that it wasn't going to work. During their trip to Devon she had declared her willingness to see this through and Andrew's consent eliminated the need for guilt. A new found freedom to enjoy the adventure had taken away the worry and self reproach. It had turned into a personal battle to find out whether she could endure what they had planned. She welcomed the opportunity to be swept along on the tide of the unknown, and of course she could endure whatever they threw at her. By the end of the evening that bishop would be hers.

"Let's get your hair done first." She brushed Laura's hair up into her hand forming a tight ponytail right on the top of her head. "There we go." She said as she skilfully slipped a strong elastic band over the tail, holding it in place. "Not too tight is it?"

"No, It's fine," Laura assured her, smiling. Starting at the base she then wound black sticky tape around the ponytail until about three inches stood in a firm vertical tube from the top of Laura's head. The bright red lipstick she chose from the bag had never been used. After pulling off the plastic wrapper she stooped down and applied it to Laura's lips. "Do you want to work that in for me." Laura rubbed her lips together. The thick paste felt slightly sticky. "It's special stuff, takes a while to dry, but once it does it'll last all day." The woman continued to apply the make up. Laura knew that a lot of women found it uncomfortable to have another person make them up but she had always found it quite pleasant. She liked to visit the big department stores and be made up by the staff. It always seemed to end up being too heavy for the daytime but she looked good.

After a few minutes the task had been completed. Reaching into the bag one more time the woman pulled out a hand mirror which she passed to Laura. The image took her by surprise: she really did look like the women in the illustrations and nothing like the real Laura. It was so erotic, and she loved it.

"That's you done then. Your outfit's on the bench over there. If you'd like to get undressed I'll give you a hand getting into it, it'll be a bit of a struggle on your own." Laura assessed the items on the bench, they didn't surprise her. She quickly undressed, neatly folding her clothes before placing them on the seat. Being naked before strangers had become second nature to her and embarrassment a thing of the past. She picked up the dark blue, latex cat-suit.

"It'll be easier to start with the hood," the woman said, "and then pull the neck of the suit down over it." The hood's thin, black material stretched easily and covered Laura's head perfectly; her new ponytail poked through the top. There were holes for her eyes and mouth and two small breathing holes beneath her nostrils. "Wow, you look great, see?" the woman said, holding the mirror up. There was no evidence of Laura in the reflection, only an anonymous fetish model.

It took a few minutes to wriggle into the suit before the woman closed the discreet zip from Laura's pubic area up to the middle of her back. After sealing her in the woman walked round to the front and, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, she adjusted Laura's breasts which protruded from two holes in the front of the suit. A corset and long gloves, both in black latex completed the outfit. "There are some shoes under the bench, they should fit," the woman said, "then we can finish your make up." The 'shoes' turned out to be black shiny ankle boots with enormous heels.

"I can't walk in these, I'll break an ankle."

"Don't worry, you wont have much walking to do." Laura put the boots on and found them to be quite comfortable. How did they know her size? The woman then completed her make up by applying the red lipstick to her nipples. Unhappy with the first attempt she wiped it off with a clear liquid and had a second attempt. "Perfect. You do look good," she said admiringly, "Robert Bishop would be proud. Lets get you out there then. Oh hang on, where's that reel?" She sorted through the bag once more before pulling out a reel of black cotton.

"What's that for?"

"To tie you up with." She said, as though it was obvious.

Andrew and Mark were discussing one of the illustrations as Laura was helped into the gallery. "Wow, look at you." Andrew said while slowly walking around her. "Beautiful, just beautiful."

"We're all ready here so lets get you in position." Mark said, walking her over to the centre of the gallery where a raised black circular dais stood below a bright spotlight. "Let me help you up. Kneel down facing the front door." He adjusted the position of her wrists and ankles to line up with tiny black plastic rings set two feet apart into the surface of the dais. The position spread her legs and made her backside stick out. Her breasts hung down beneath her, the bright red nipples, highlighted by the spotlight, drawing in the eye. She couldn't have felt more exposed if she were naked.

"This is a scene from a series Bishop did called 'Fanny hall'," the owner informed Robert as they stood watching Mark work. "We're making a slight variation from the original with the bindings." She then spoke directly to Laura. "It would be easy to tie you in position, as the girl was in the original, and you'd have no option but to see this through, but we won't force you to do anything you don't want to do. What we have in mind will be much harder, forcing yourself to stay put. Mark's using just one strand of cotton at each ankle and wrist to tie you so you can leave whenever you want. But I'm sure you want that bishop badly enough to stay, don't you?"

"Yes." Laura answered, her voice barely audible.

"And if you can keep so still that all the threads are intact at the end of the night it'll be yours." She turned back to Andrew. "I have every confidence in her, she looks very determined."

"You don't know the half of it. She'll do it, just you see." Laura appreciated his confidence in her. She would not let him down again.

"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.