THE GIFT

THE GIFT

FROM THE ANTHRO BOOK - 'THE GIFT'

By ANTHRO

*********************************

P R O L O G U E

It could have been anywhere, another fashionable street in any modern city. This had been an upmarket area for as long as the city had been there and tall, traditional buildings loomed over the network of narrow roads which were wholly inadequate for the constant traffic. Elegant people mixed with window shoppers and tourists passing little galleries, couture houses, stylish jewellers, expensive bars and bistros, promenading through a tidy and antiquated district.
The sun yawned through the dark, tinted window of the 'Pyramid Gallery' as Zaine gazed out at the drifting shapes of passing strangers on a late summer afternoon nearing the end of July. With hair cut fashionably and in a dark blue Bolero suit he looked like a sculpture, chiselled and unmoving, with jaded eyes that were unmoved. The dark grey shoes clicked across the resonant floor as he moved toward the enormous, dark window. He watched the outside scenery which never really seemed to change but only rearrange. A constant flow of soulless and tedious vehicles drifted past like a constant desert breeze while he stood watching in the air cooled foyer. Zaine looked down to the left where the Avenue crossed the main road and smiled a little when he saw the large vehicle gliding past the shadows of tall trees. He appreciated style in whatever form it manifested and the Golden 1931 Duesenberg Beverly was as easy to appreciate as it was unusual. The spectacular, dark windowed, vehicle dwarfed the insignificant traffic as it whispered along the avenue. Only the Chauffeur was really visible to the gaze as his deep brown eyes tried to penetrate the depths of the dark and gauze curtained windows, but to no avail. As the perfectly restored Classic turned to the left and disappeared Zaine shrugged mentally and slowly walked around the minimalistic chrome and white stone, entrance foyer.
For a few moments he still thought about the vehicle's occupants, one dark haired, the other a dazzling blonde whose hair was so startling that it had to be unnatural. They were a strange pair, often seen but rarely communicative outside of a small and elegant circle. Aside from being rather wealthy they also had style and that made them at least noteworthy to him. He thrust a hand into his trouser pocket and strode back into the main gallery allowing them to pass from his mind, after all outside of smiles, nods of acknowledgement and some insignificant conversations at a few social events, they were essentially strangers to him.

U N E X P E C T E D

G U E S T S

It was Friday, a week or so later, the day before the opening of a new show by a very fashionable fetish photographer. The two Duesenberg women stood before the dual, smoke glass doors and entered the Pyramid Gallery simultaneously. It was the synchronous hard clicking across the white marbled floor which alerted him to their presence as he sat on the black stone desk gazing through sheafs of paper documentation.
They walked up to him quickly, before he could stand up, and approached him closely enough to exude their harmonious perfumes in a sensual haze of scents. Their faces were unsmiling but not sullen, in fact their beauty probably excluded a gamut of normal negative responses. Both women were probably in their late twenties but looked considerably younger. He stared at them, wondering how the front door had been unlocked. Standing up and straightening his dark tie, Zaine nodded and smiled pleasantly before he spoke.
"Good afternoon ladies, how can I help you?"
The dark one on his left spoke from behind a pair of gold trimmed, black Ray-Bans.
"Good evening Mr. Monroe, my friend and I were wondering whether we might be afforded the opportunity of inspecting the new work of Benan Dravenan? Would that be possible?" Her voice resonated with European tones through her well dictioned English.
Zaine stood quietly, considering how to refuse their request politely. Decisions like that tended to be at the specific auspices of Mr. Martinelli, the gallery owner, rather than a struggling artist, reduced, by a lifetime's addiction to expensive tastes, to running rather than exhibiting in a gallery.
"The opening is, regrettably, not until tomorrow evening. At the moment there are still some fine touches to be dealt with and it would be most uncommon to allow public access to the Gallery until the official opening. I am sorry ladies."
"Oh dear, that is most disappointing. We really did want to have a private little preview before tomorrow!" Ms. Rabanne said quietly.
The blonde women smiled a wide, pink lipped grin and spoke to them both in a husky, mid-Atlantic tone.
"Perhaps if we called Rocco...sorry, Mr. Martinelli...I'm sure he'd accommodate us. May we?"
Usually when beautiful women wanted something from him he would slip into his charmingly smooth, manipulative mode to ingratiate with or profit from the situation - these women were in a league beyond such transparency. Zaine's mind was elsewhere as they tactfully tried to persuade him to relent, he was thinking how odd it was to see them without the plush vintage vehicle they always travelled in, this despite the fact that they both resided in the exclusive apartment block a few hundred yards along the Avenue, overlooking the river.
As the blonde woman's words had barely finished the subdued blip of his Panasonic phone distracted him as if manipulatingly planned to the second, it was all it took to relent.
"Ms. Rabanne, Ms. Vanden, I can allow you five minutes only. I don't have to tell you it is against policy so please be brief. Excuse me, my phone..." Zaine said succinctly.
They smiled their appreciation and he watched them approach the next glass doors into the Gallery proper, beyond the main foyer. Zaine mechanically responded and dealt with his call. Ms. Rabanne, the dark haired and more reserved of the two, looked discretely chic in her dress suit, masculine in cut but tight enough to be evocative. Her thin, black heels clicked on the hard floor, her long hair tied and plaid to her bottom, wiggled behind her in a lustre of glowing black.
The other woman, with the stunning flow of shocking blonde, was more overtly bright in a short pink chiffon and lace Versace, lime casual jacket, bare, tanned legs, spike court shoes, and a black Classic Chanel bag draped over her shoulder. The mix of evocative colours all made her brilliant hair glow around her like an incandescent halo.
The dark woman turned back briefly to look at Zaine before entering the Exhibition Gallery. She tilted her Ray-bans to rest up on her forehead, her dark eyes piercing and painted immaculately, her white shirt and black tie curving in a modish travesty of masculinity. It was only then he recognised how well shaped and sculptured her face was, easily as captivating as the flamboyant blonde's.
As he automatically responded to his telephone call, hardly hearing the conversation consciously, as he watched them through the smoke glass doors. They perused the large, glass frames, photos of the bizarre and arcane styles of the fetish photographer, almost huddling in animated conversation, only rarely giggling and once appearing to mock. With a discrete blip and a click he disposed of the call. Zaine waited outside watching them illuminate the huge, empty room, replaced the phone in his inside pocket and plunged his thin hands into the trousers of his Armani suit, the jacket pushed behind them. He turned and gazed at the diffused yellow light strain through the dark windows behind before turning again to the sound of approaching, synchronised, clicking heels. The two women smiled, chatted briefly about how much they liked the basic presentation apart from the main piece, featuring a cultivated body chained and linked to a bizarre restraint and torture construction, both claiming its impact would be enhanced by mounting it on the gallery's rear wall where the strains and contusions would be much more shocking.
Zaine nodded in agreement explaining that it was really the owner's decision and such things were often a matter of taste. The blonde woman stared at him, noting the outline of his nipple ring, staring down at his thighs, at his knickerless crotch - staring the way workmen ogle women as they pass. It was uncomfortably amusing. Somehow she communicated to her dark haired friend, who quickly scanned him whilst still talking about the presentation.
Thanking him again, they departed, after accepting an invitation card to the official opening the next evening. Zaine assumed they were now returning to their nearby apartment, locked the front entrance and returned to work.

M I D W E E K

E N C O U N T E R

Five days later, on Wednesday evening, Zaine sat at his regular sidewalk cafe as twilight changed the sky, sipping at a Cointreau and lime, pulling on a black Russian cigarette. She was late and he idly stared at the constant flow of passing women. A ripple of heads turned and a thin black figure approached, electric blue hair jiggling with every pace. She stopped at his table and he stared blankly at the curves rippling from the skin tight, leather, Mugler catsuit, bursting from underneath the chic pseudo-biker's jacket and standing tall in Cuban heeled, knee length boots.
"Good evening", she breathed oozing wisps of 'Escape'.
Zaine mouthed a perfunctory reply, uncertain.
The vision giggled, "It's Marissa, Marissa Vanden?".
The rich mid-Atlantic tone bubbled with amused enthusiasm. He was shocked, it was her certainly, but most unlike her. From what he knew their men friends tended to be discreet, rich, anonymous figures seeking discretion and privacy...surely she wasn't going to meet someone in such an outrageous, albeit alluring fashion. His brow furrowed as he spoke.
"But your hair...it's.." he trailed off.
"A wig!." she replied casually, "May I?".
Zaine stood up immediately and waited for her to sit, place the small package beside her, then turn to him.
"So?" she whispered, dismissing the cautious waiter away with a wave of her hand.
The young man was at a loss, but started chatting none the less.
"You and Ms. Rabanne didn't attend the opening, perhaps it didn't impress you after all?" he asked.
"Not at all, we were...busy" she smiled, eyes as blue as her hair.
"Strangely enough the piece you mentioned was repositioned, just as you suggested." he stated while she scanned his relaxed frame briefly before locking on his eyes. She said nothing. "I might add the artist didn't appear either, not even a picture." He paused, she showed no interest.
"Well... Ms. Vanden"
"Call me Marissa. Well, Zaine...is that your real name? So...I wonder if you would like to come to dinner with Lianne and I, this Sunday."
"It's very kind of you both, I..."
"There is a price to pay, " she interrupted, edging towards him slightly "...but I think you might be willing to pay it?"
Zaine gazed at her flawless face, there was nothing there but beauty.
"What do you mean? A price...a price for dinner with you? Is there a charity function or..?"
Zaine was a little alarmed, uncertain if he was actually being inversely propositioned like a paid escort. It was a little insulting and confusing the way such an implication came from nowhere...aside from the one or two indiscretions which only comparative poverty had forced him to do. He waited for her innocent face to explain.
The long, red nailed, fingers slid the hard black package to him.
"This is a present from us both to you, if you wish to accept it, you must accept its authority and implications." Marissa smiled a wide, natural smile. "I can't explain, not here. This gift will make things clearer to you. No, don't try to open it - it's locked and the key has been left in your mailbox at home, my number is inside when you open it. Phone me tomorrow night at nine o'clock precisely if you wish to come for dinner."
Zaine was thoroughly intrigued and puzzled, watching almost vacantly as the black leather woman stood up sending a whiff of sensual scent towards him, mixing with the leather and her own particular essence.
"Goodbye Zaine, I do hope I'll see you on Sunday, phone me tomorrow." she smiled, blowing an air kiss to him, then turned away with a confident elegance and the creak of leather and rubbing thighs. Zaine threw the remains of his drink back and pulled the package towards him. It was about the size of a small jewellery box, quite heavy and wrapped in shiny black rubber with a bright red ribbon. There were still turned heads watching the direction she had left in, smiling and approving men sometimes sitting with irritated and patient women. Zaine stood up and immediately started for home, his romantic appointment for the evening was already forgotten. Now there were only the two beautiful women.

T H E

G I F T

The next evening Zaine sat by the phone, smoking and absently watching the trails of smoke rise and sparkle with a host of tints as evening sunlight penetrated the large stained glass window which provided the main illumination for his living area, overlooking his studio floorspace. Again and again his eyes kept returning to the box Marissa had left at the bar last night. The key stood out from the lock, chic and well crafted. The box itself was hard black leather, and its' contents still surprised him in spite of the number of times he had scrutinised them.
Last night he had cautiously opened the box, lifted the lid to find a pair of velvet lined, black leather wrist restraints with silver buckles and sturdy 'O' rings and beneath it a second set with two 'O' rings for each ankle restraint. Zaine had rested one in his palm, impressed by its ergonomics and weight. With scrutinising eyes he looked at the steel work and noticed each piece carried a little Hallmark of the letter 'W', a star and then the letter 'S'. It took very little to guess what the women had planned. Beneath the restraints was a strangely bound book, flipping the clasp he opened it - opened the book of photographs.
The pictures were graphic, explicit, shocking and yet fascinatingly riveting making the recent exhibition look like the work of the Virgin Mary.
Eventually Zaine noticed the subtle similarity in style to those in the exhibition, the tones, the content and use of black and white grain. He drew an obvious conclusion. Below the book was Marissa's personal card, which now sat propped against Zaine's telephone. He was astounded that he was still considering dinner, but he was.
Drawing lightly on his cigarette Zaine examined the small book of expertly printed photos. A woman, almost certainly Marissa, was suspended by her ankles and wrists from a single steel ring on the ceiling, eight heavy tear-drop weights hanging from holes through her flesh, a shadowy figure stood to her right, gripping sparkling tools in a dark grip.
Another picture showed a woman in half light, tethered to a chrome structure, flesh rippled with straps and chains, skin dark with thick strokes and welts oozing little streams of dark liquid, her body openings stretched wide with glistening steel dilators allowing some bright internal light source to shine out like a trio of searchlights. It was an undebatably brilliant picture while also being undeniably debased. Zaine's hand quaked a little. The other pictures became progressively wilder, bodies stretched, pierced, flogged, used as vessels and instruments, organs swollen and bloated, some cut and bleeding including a spectacular study taken with a fast shutter speed capturing someone's ejaculation microseconds after being struck by a heavy studded belt, blood and semen frozen in a rainbow of agony and release.
Zaine was as riveted as he was apprehensive. No one was clearly apparent - what with the lighting, masks and positions, perhaps they were merely spectacular fakes... but if they were not...then these two women led stunningly bizarre lives - if it was indeed them as the photographic models, a mistress and slave. It was quite apparent what role he would be delegated in the proceedings. Zaine stubbed the dying smoke out in a steel, nineteen fifties ash tray, swallowed his drink, poured another and tapped the phone buttons, realising he'd been seduced long before he had even spoken to them.
Five short buzzes later Zaine heard the response as Marissa answered and spoke.
"Zaine?" she enquired in a relaxed tone "Well, are you coming to dinner?"
"Yes."
"You understand your subordinacy in proceedings?"
"Yes Marissa, I understand. I'll be wearing the bracelets."
"Great," she replied "we're both looking forward to Sunday. But I'll be calling round on Friday evening to measure you up and give you your instructions."
"Instructions?" Zaine said questioning.
"Yes. Instructions." she repeated in a chill tone "And to do a couple of other things."
"When shall I expect you?" he asked her calmly.
"Nine p. m. probably. Oh, and Zaine..."
"Yes?"
"Be naked when I arrive, I'm busy on Fridays and won't have much time. See you tomorrow then, Goodbye." she said huskily, and then she was gone, leaving him hanging on an empty line. It had been a strange week he thought as he replaced the receiver and relaxed against the lush sofa, feeling just a little flushed and adrenalated.

Q U E S T I O N S

Friday seemed to drag for Zaine, the mundanity of the everyday gallery work was no distraction for him, all he could think about were the two women and Marissa's appointment with him that evening. Sitting behind the desk with the usual, muted repetition of the world continuing outside the dark windows, he thought about Lianne and Marissa. Even in their circles they were unusual despite being an integral part of the elitist society they never quite emulated. They seemed to do very little but socialise, travel and attend events - all of which they integrated with easily and with an elitist popularity. A friend had once suggested to Zaine that they were, of course, lovers but no-one knew for certain any more than they knew where their wealth came from - they were rich and thus it made little difference if it came from hereditary sourcing or if they were gun-runners.
Zaine lit another black cigarette and pondered some of the people they were rumoured to have been associated with. Most of the allegations involved wealthy or powerful men including political figures and advisers. He puffed out a billow of cloudy smoke and felt the eternal irritation of his believed poverty and restriction. If only he attended more of the elegant and expensive functions they frequented he would have heard so many more juicy tit-bits of information. But this thought also triggered the though that with their choice of rich and significant figures - why did they want him?

P R E R A R A T I O N S

That Friday evening Zaine hadn't reached any solid conclusions or expectations...it was simply going to be an event that would be explained as it unfolded until he understood the actual reasoning behind their bizarre invitation. There was a price to pay - and the assumed price was his expected submission to...who knew what? If the pictures were anything to go by it would at least be an experience to remember... and something of value to him might arise from it - aside from the aesthetic pleasure of being with the two beautiful, if mysterious, women.
Inside his studio the delicate voices and sparse piano sounds filled the large, main chamber which was lit with a series of discretely sourced lights all emanating a harmonising unity of subtle, pastel tones. The fading light just illuminated the stained glass windows and added extra high toned colours on the walls and ceiling. Zaine padded about the balcony which overlooked his studio below, feeling the thick carpet deep and rich between his naked toes. It was about eight thirty when he began to feel the buzz of elated, anticipatory nervous excitement. The thought of being defencelessly naked for Marissa's arrival was both erotically pleasing and disturbing at the same time.
The erotic and sexual implications of their invitation were something more than the physical, these were strategies which played with the mind and based themselves on preconceptive reaction. Certainly Zaine acknowledged that he had experienced what might be colloquially termed kinky sex and he himself had undertaken various significant body piercings since he was about 19, that being a little unusual in itself, but nothing which compared with the manner in which his anticipated liaison had come about...never before had an assignation developed without his initial acknowledgement, agreement or instigation.
Zaine stared at the mirror dominating the rear wall of the balcony living area. He stared at his own nudity, the well toned muscles and tan, the tiny white zone of his crotch, the sparkle of the various steel rings through his flesh - he felt no shame. It was almost time. With a quick movement he sprayed a few bursts of Cacherelle Pour Homme over his skin and looked at his work below, smiling. A minute or so later the doorbell bleeped in its subdued low frequency tone. Zaine swallowed and padded down the wide stairs to the door in his nudity to answer.
Pulling the heavy door back confidently he found Marissa stood there filling his view. Once again her image was different, looking unlike her previous self, her beautiful hair now back combed and swollen into a giant blonde mane which was swept back with a contrasting black lace band. Neither of them spoke. Zaine stood aside and ushered her into his stylish studio. She merely smiled widely in reply as she entered, each step slow and careful as she perched carefully on black strap court shoes with enormous spiked heels. She appeared to tower above him.
Zaine closed the door and faced her, while 'Music for Airports' filled the silence between them. Marissa wore a yellow silk, two piece collarless suit with black buttons, jacket cut wide to show she wore nothing beneath it. The skirt was shorter than was fashionable but seemed to enhance her incredibly long legs, wrapped immaculately in YSL 5 denier sheer black tights and complimented by the heavy little silver padlocks which hung from the locked buckle-straps of her shoes. They stared at each other, her face pale with darkly painted eyes, a bright slash of neon-red lipstick and pinkish rouge, framed by the long trails of sparkling diamonds which hung from each ear. He smiled nervously, a handsome dark eyed smile.
Marissa's fingers, wrapped in thick, tight, black rubber gloves, stroked her silver Samsonite attaché case.
"Would you like a drink Ms. Vanden?" he asked casually as if his nakedness was of no consequence to either of them.
"No thanks, where's your bathroom?"
"It's through here..." he said leading her forward to a wide passage behind the short stairway he had just descended and running beneath the balcony living area.
Inside the pale blue, tiled room he turned to go until a sharp command stopped him.
"Wait," Marissa stated sharply, gazing round the large chamber appreciatively, eyes fixing upon the enormous tiled bath in the middle of the room, "Get in there."
Zaine hesitated for a moment, walked across the cool floor and climbed into the large, deep tiled enclosure. He stood before her, skin cool and erect despite the comparative warmth of the tiled room. Their every movement echoed about the large chamber, especially her heels as she walked slowly to the middle of the room. With a glance she became aware that he was standing with arms folded in the middle of the large bath, illuminated from behind by the opaque glass, window filled, wall. She placed her case on the marbled shelving by the rear wall, which faced the door, opened it then clicked something inside and finally removed a large chrome can which she began to shake vigorously. Zaine watched how her movements made her cleavage shimmer.
"Run some cool water and soak your legs." the yellow Goddess commanded. She stared deeply at his body for the first time, drinking in the flesh, the legs wrapped in a silky down of thick dark hair up to the trimmed pubic area. Wordlessly she approached and sprayed the can directly against his legs without bending as a thin hint of lemon exuding from the creamy contents which cascaded over his rich tan. She began to rub the thick mousse into his legs, covering his thighs, continuing until the whiteness enclosed both legs totally. With folded arms he watched her silently as if she were some Geisha undertaking a ritual cleansing - but no Geisha ever looked like her. As she had to bend and lean he tried to avoid gazing into the billowing and shifting jacket where it revealed the shimmering, firm bosom in little flashes of dim revelation. Zaine tried not to feel aroused as the cool fingers of rubber constantly massaged and stroked his limbs, her flesh defended by the smooth black sheaths, he noticed the ghost of a smile play about the corners of her mouth.
Marissa casually stroked a hand across his belly as he anticipated its moving further down to where his flesh was already swelling into an appreciable firmness. She turned back to the spray can and pressed another mousse ball from it, rubbing it into his chest, squeezing the muscles, eliminating the rich mat of chest hair beneath the creamy white, rubbing under his arms, along his forearms and even his fingers.
She stopped. Zaine was undoubtedly stimulated, aside from the stinging sensation the lather caused, the feel of her fingers shielded by the smooth rubber gloves, squeezing and kneading his flesh had excited his mind as much as his body. His brown eyes still caught the occasional silhouette of a well formed breast as she tranquilly went about her task, her skin a uniform map of lightly tanned flesh. She turned him round and sprayed cream over his bottom, his muscles tightening as she rubbed it into each millimetre of skin and cleavage.
"Turn!" she said.
Zaine faced her and she stared into his eyes, spraying a generous portion of cream on her shiny, black palm. Her deep blue eyes never left his as her hand moved down to his belly, rubbing and stroking slowly, with her staring all the while. Rubber gripped his semi-erection, slipping under to lather his testicles and genital flesh ...providing the coverage for the last areas of untouched flesh.
Zaine breathed out in a long discreet sigh as she finished her task, releasing the swollen member. She stopped then turned back to her case, withdrew something, placed it on the marble and turned to lean back against the cool blue tiled wall to watch him.
"Stay there for fifteen minutes," she instructed crossing her black clad limbs, "don't sit down either."
"Where were you going last night, Marissa?"
"Call me 'Ms. Vanden' - for the present." the woman said in a soft, quiet tone as she lit a Kent 100 cigarette, inhaled and continued. "I was going to see you."
"Dressed like that?"
"Didn't you like it? Did I look displeasing to you?"
"No, of course not." he stumbled, instantly ill at ease. "I only meant that...well, you looked so different from any other time I've seen you."
"You look different to me now, so? Perhaps you just haven't seen me at the right time or in the right places. You're beginning to make me think that you don't find me attractive, despite your complimentary and on-going salute." she replied with a nod to his erection.
"No, Mar...Ms. Vanden, I find you very attractive. Last night you looked...perfect." he said sincerely.
"I dressed for you...to bring your gift."
"I didn't want you to think I was being discourteous or critical, quite the contrary. I found you irresistible - stunning! Everyone in the cafe did, I'm sure. When I saw the photographs of you...I..."
Marissa exhaled an exasperated trail of smoke as she interrupted him.
"Do you want to fuck me?" she asked casually.
Zaine was shocked by her directness, but moreso with the actual language she used and the comparative vulgarity of her statement. Its total incongruity with her persona was perversely stimulating and erotic to him.
"Yes, of course." he said.
"Good." She paused and glanced at the old railway clock on the tiled wall before she spoke again. "Wash all that stuff off now, sit down and do it."
Zaine complied and found his body hair rinsing off in a molten, shaggy tide to leave his skin shiny and hairless. He tried to make his surprise discreet.
The yellow clad figure moved towards him, placing a hand inside her jacket momentarily, her mouth opening simultaneously.
"Rinse!" she told him.
As he turned the shower head on, the water burst over him in a multiplicity of rivers, running over his hairless, muscled torso. Her eyes devoured him.
"You look good Zaine. Much better now, don't you think?"
Zaine stared over to the mirrored wall behind her. His initial shock subsided as he noted how his genitalia now looked somehow... enhanced. In the mirror she looked even taller and more desirable than in reality. He finally nodded in agreement.
Marissa shifted her gaze, picked up a large white towel and held it open to wrap around him. Zaine stepped out to her and felt her thin, sinewy arms pin his own down to his sides. Her scent floated headily and Zaine moved his lips gently to hers.
"Don't, Zaine! Don't dare." she demanded in a steely tone without moving.
His organ swelled - thrusting against her belly, but she made no acknowledgement.
"Now I want you to get dried and then I'm going to take a few vital statistics and measurements."
Zaine complied quietly and when dry he stood before her, the irritating wisps of cigarette smoke stung his eyes as it burned away, ignored in the red glass ash tray. Marissa removed the thin gauge, steel measure from the shelving and started to survey his bodily dimensions stating area and measurement aloud. Before she had finished Zaine was already weeping a guilty tribute to her ministrations. She ignored it, packed away her case and simply told him to follow her by the crooking of her finger.
Back upstairs she sat down on the soft leather sofa, in a manner which Zaine considered to be deliberately provocative. Helplessly he drank in the sight of a creature he was coming to desire more than anything he could remember in a long time, perhaps a lifetime. Her thighs and legs looked as if she had been stretched on a rack to elongate them to such a length, appearing as if there was still a significant section hidden under the short skirt. As she stretched her arms to rest on the back of the sofa at either side of her she afforded him a revealing glimpse of the firm roundness of her breasts as if quite deliberately. She folded her arms and crossed her legs as he stared at her with a wistful smile on his face. How could someone get inside of himself so easily - was she simply ridiculously beautiful or extremely manipulative and clever?
Marissa quite apparently scrutinised his work but said nothing and simply straightened her half opened jacket to a more presentable manner and began to instruct him.
"On Sunday Ms. Rabanne's chauffeur will call for you at 8.45pm exactly. You will be wearing all of your body rings with the thickest gauges you possess, I noticed more piercings than I thought you'd have. After your adornment you will connect these to the rings through your nipples and the other to the large vertical ring in your testicles."
She continued talking whilst removing two short and one long chain and grip attachments.
"The only other things you may wear are a suit, shoes, body rings with attached chains and your 4 leather bands." She stood up and straightened her suit, walked with that same, careful, high-heeled walk towards the door, case in hand. "...And, Zaine, you may not eat from midnight tonight but you may drink water! You must not submit to any biological urges from midnight on Saturday. Nothing! Neither body nor sexual functions can be permitted. Also during our engagement you must not ask any questions or try to disrupt proceedings - you must simply accept that 'what happens will happen' and that 'nothing is what is seems'. I want you to remember these words, Zaine,...'nothing is what it seems'! Do you understand? You must do what is expected of you, otherwise you might spoil it all - and for yourself. Lianne and I are really looking forward to Sunday!" She smiled, opening the door and almost exiting, pausing only to finish with a mischievous "Oh, by the way - don't relieve yourself in any way from now until you come to dinner. 'Later!"
The door was closed and she was gone.

A N T I C I P A T I O N

From a nameless church there was a dim, rolling peel of church bells slipping into Zaine's studio. Warm, dying embers of sunlight stretched across the black carpeted floor as he looked up to the giant clock face staring down at him accusingly with its long thin hand. For the fifth time that night Zaine stared into his own image, hair perfect, his smoke blue suit just right, shoes a casual grey, wrist bands a tight black. He could feel the steel through his flesh, cool and hard. On a grained wooden table sat a thin glass half filled with water. He retrieved his black cigarette from the three quarter full ash tray, took a couple of distracted puffs and consigned it to join its other wasted comrades. The billowing smoke hung guiltily in the long stretches of low sunlight. It was almost time.
The doorbell buzzed him to attention and in a brief movement he was down the stairs at the door and opening it. Standing back from the door, awaiting him, was a startling figure. She was standing erectly, as tall as himself, with a strikingly pretty face beneath a shiny, peaked hat below whose brim were glowing green eyes, large and bright. Her rich, deeply tanned skin was young and smooth, contrasting pleasantly with the glimpses of damson hair which occasionally caught the reflections of light. She had a small mouth with magenta toned lips that looked as if they were always shiny and moist. Zaine liked the little black steel ring she wore on the right side of her nose, it matched identical ones hanging at the top and bottom of each ear.
"Mr.Monroe?" she inquired and continued without waiting "I'm Miss Rabanne's driver."
She was nameless and vision like. Zaine said nothing, he simply looked her up and down then nodded. Her legs were long and thin, wrapped in clinging fishnet that oozed little bubbles of darkly tanned flesh out from their confines and on her feet were tight, little, patent leather ankle boots. The only other clothing she appeared to be wearing was a long, close fitting, black jacket with gleaming, silver buttons, and cut to just below her bottom. In her hands she held thick, black, leather gloves. It had never occurred to him before that their woman chauffeur, or would that be chauffeuse, was so attractive nor wore such an interesting uniform.
Zaine stepped out and closed the door. She was already leading the way to the car. He followed her down the large stone steps of the building, his eyes catching sight of the angular hips and the deeply rounded curves of her fishnet buttocks, which appeared to be separated by nothing more intrusive than the thick black seam of her tights, shifting from side to side with every downward step. They descended two floors and exited from the front of the building. Directly before them sat the spectacular Duesenberg. The driver wiggled along the wide pavement, pressed an infra red remote and stood erectly holding the rear door open for him to enter.
"Please get in, Mr.Monroe." she asked betraying a thin Austrian accent in her neatly articulated English. Before she closed the door she smiled warmly and her eyes sparkled in the pleasant light. "Ms. Rabanne and Ms. Vanden are looking forward to the pleasure of your company this evening. I hope you have a pleasant evening, sir!"
Zaine nodded and sank into the lush red leather seat, breathing the scent of the car in. It resonated the fragrance of the women as much as leather and wood. He gazed about the shameless opulence. It was bigger inside than some of the tiny apartments his friends purchased just so they could have an address in a highly desirable area. Everything was in matching red leather and highly polished wooden trim. Art Nouveau lights were evident in the corners and before him was a large wooden cupboard with a small chrome bar at the top built into the dividing wall between passenger and driver. The glass separated him from the nameless driver, only her tucked up damson hair, sleek neck and narrow shoulders were visible. The lush vehicle travelled noiselessly and its interior was well protected from the sounds of the outside world. Fauvre played from speakers he couldn't see, filling the spacious rear compartment with lush and atmospheric music. There was nothing out of time in the vehicle, it looked as it would have the day it was manufactured. Zaine admired the adherence to the original, classic style, it showed taste.
The little pale gauze curtains hardly moved while the vehicle was in motion and Zaine found himself gazing out the dark glass to the passing world beyond.

A R R I V A L

In a few moments they were smoothly driving along the river to the park, he in the rear, listening to the gently haunting music. It was beautifully surreal, sitting against the rich leather seats where they usually sat, watching the real world go about its evening rituals. Families, lovers, groups of youths, milled, sat and chatted within the lush greenery, moving through the long shadows, innocent of his bizarre assignation. Zaine smiled inside and out. It was five to nine and the vehicle was turning smoothly into the Rabanne apartment block, not far from the Pyramid Gallery, disappearing into their private garage entrance. The large grey enclosure had three or four cars parked within its spacious arena and Zaine noticed a spectacular example of design and style - a beautiful black 1939 Bugatti Atlantic 57, of which there were about 7 left on the planet, nestled discretely in the corner beside a white 1952 Mercedes Gull-Wing SE. The big car stopped gently in the middle of the garage, the driver killed the discrete engine and exited. The rear door was opened by the smiling driver, quite automatically. Zaine was led over to a steel gate which opened without signal, followed by a steel door and into which the driver indicated he was to go.
"Ms. Rabanne and Ms. Vanden will be waiting for you up in the penthouse suite, Mr. Monroe. Good night and, again, have a pleasant evening, sir." she stated, impersonally.
The door whooshed shut behind, closing and sealing him in, and Zaine felt gravity resist the swift ascent upwards. The lift was in the tradition of the old building with dull steel and black Naugahide panels and an old dial indicating the floors they were passing. The top was number 5 / P and was the same black lettering as 4. Zaine assumed that this lift was theirs and opened only to floors 4 and 5, which they probably owned. It was hard not to be impressed with such rich grandeur when he appreciated that tiny, 3 room apartments in this huge building went for astronomical sums. The women, aside from having an impressive residence, also probably had a spectacular view of the city from the Penthouse, to the North overlooking the river and lush park. He had to admit to himself he was feeling a little nervous. As he considered the invitation there was a sudden rationalisation that elicited an incomprehensible flash of apprehensive fear. Zaine never felt himself to be a man reluctant to rise to a challenge of any kind and so he shot himself a quick glance in the dull distortion of the steel beside him and prepared himself for an interesting evening. In moments he was there, the lift stopped and once again the door opened. A dull cloud of subdued light revealed a slim figure in dim silhouette. Zaine waited within.
"Entre, Monsieur" the figure said with an obvious, soft French accent. Zaine's eyes slowly adjusted and he entered the long, cool, marble floored corridor, its walls lined with a host of erotic black and white photographs. He followed the girl into the relative light, watching her pace ahead of him in her short maid's uniform. Zaine could see she was very slim and quite small, childishly petite almost, with her long auburn hair tied back and pulled up leaving only little wisps to hang in a deliberate flow from beneath her lace cap. Her short, black silk uniform shimmered and swished as she walked before him, reams of cropped lace tiers waving above sheer, black, silk hose, the tiny white lace apron hidden from his view save for its large bow at the rear designating an impossible narrow waist. As she walked it was with small, carefully measured steps designed to ensure that she did not fall from the ankle breaking height of her dark stilettos. The swishing of her clothes and the echoes of her heels made for a pleasant audio distraction.
Zaine took note of the photographs, the grainy texture and bizarre subject matter. A host of famous photographers work adorned the white walls, Ritts, Newton, Blade, Manray, Carlos-Clark, Meisel, Mapplethorpe and others more inventive and unconventional. None of the works he viewed had been published to his knowledge although he had seen a few in exhibition. Given their subject matter it was not surprising, even less so when the faces of some very prominent and famous people stared out beautifully from some very bizarre situations.
The opposing wall had much more controversial and contemporary material, the type of things which were creating scandalous sensations like high class pornography wearing an artistic veneer. Some almost unknown artists were being acclaimed and finding their work being priced in the same category which was once reserved for time served craftsmen who had spent half a life-time creating work which could command significant prices. Zaine paused at a picture titled 'A' showing a gorgeous, black haired woman with a shoulder length, paged hair and holding in her left hand a mysterious gynaecological contraption of glistening chrome. The woman had a very contemporary face but the picture gave the impression of being quite old. The eyes in the picture burned into him and it took a little time to notice she was wearing a transparent body suit which revealed her lush nudity beneath, all of it bound up in a sophisticated network of leather body strapping. It took him a little time to move on, slowly walking past the spectrum of strange, high quality, erotic photographs. It was seductively fascinating and seemed to tap into his own inspirations, the things which fired his own modest paintings.
Behind him the long corridor stretched back, past the lift, to steel black double doors and ahead of him, where the maid stood waiting, were mirror - like reflections of the far end. Her round face looked towards him attentively as he slowly approached her, still admiring the long gallery of photographic work. The maid, he could now see, had big, half-lidded eyes that were light brown, a rounded little nose and a sharp, darkly painted, mouth. Her silk uniform seemed to disguise how thin and immature she was despite the adult veneer and her probable actual age, the tiny bosom being raised and uplifted to artificially overflow the square cut front of her uniform. Zaine noted quickly that, like the nameless driver, the little maid seemed almost robotically inhuman - irrespective of her overtly attractive looks.
After she opened the large doors she stood inside the anaemic pink room and ushered him in, bowing a little and he found it difficult not to notice the fullness of her tiny breasts peeking up at him from the low cut uniform.
"If you weel wait 'ere, Sur, I shall eenform Ms. Rabanne an' Ms. Vanden zhat you havff arrived." she said to him in a rolling undulation of heavily accented English. Zaine smiled a little, nodded and walked to the glass wall which overlooked the Avenue and the entrance to the building. As he moved he could feel the little hanging chains jiggle delicately against his skin, subtly arousing his erogenous zones. The maid went off to the rear, opened more black doors, slipped through and closed them again silently. Standing there he could see a continuous flow of short, green shrubbery running along an intricate steel fence about eight feet from the sealed glass wall and on the far side of the neatly paved roof. It was apparent that the entire roof was a private and accessible vista at the women's disposal. Through the glass he looked past the fence and out onto the Avenue at the exquisite buildings far across on the other side easily dwarfing the tall, old trees. With the sun casting a deep red tone to the sky the urban view was uncannily attractive.
The pink room was like an expensive and intimate ante - chamber or even a waiting room. The wall facing the doors had an expansive, pale grey sofa facing the corridor entrance wall with a large, widescreen television on the right and a sophisticated hi-fi system on the left, each flanking the large black doors to the corridor. There were two matching white tables with intricate metalwork for legs at either side of the black entrance doors, their surfaces were devoid of any decoration. It was a silent room and when he noticed no extraneous sound he found it a little disconcerting. Zaine looked out again and watched the red August sky spread and increase its intensity on the long, flat clouds.
The maid returned completely unobserved and spoke unexpectedly.
"Entre, Monsieur!"

D I N N E R

A T

N I N E

The figures entered a large room with a vast area of glass walls that looked out onto the park and river behind the building. When he turned the maid was gone and he tried to take in the immensity of the lush surroundings. The Mint-Blue room was subtly lit from above with a myriad of tiny, star like lights while modernist lighting stands highlighted specific areas of the large but intimate living area. The open plan structure combined with the raised and lowered sections of the room lent it a multi-functional and refreshing impression. To his left was a raised section predominated with greenery and populated with sofas, chairs and little tables, sprinkled with sculptures, some large paintings and a variety of Objets d'Art. That section overlooked the rest of the room and was mirrored on the right by a huge dining area which looked directly North, down to the river and park and allowed an unhampered view of the disappearing city in the distance.
Directly before him was a colossal fireplace dominating the central section. On an immense, pastel blue sofa the two women sat, rising as he entered. They wore identically cut dresses, formal Chanel Boutique evening dresses. Both Crepe, Halterneck dresses were backless garments with plunging 'V' necklines that cut to just below their navel, it adhered to their hips like spray paint and flounced in a short asymmetric cut at the tops of their thighs. The only difference was their colour, Marissa - the blonde, wore black while Lianne - the brunette, wore white. Both women had smooth shiny limbs and seemed to be bare legged and wearing Jimmy Choo high heeled sandals which matched their respective outfits. Lianne wore a short string of small pearls that rested across the curving bosom while Marissa modelled an unusual pendant of black twine with an intricately crafted White Silver padlock. It was quite clear that, without being overtly revealing, they wore nothing else. The evening began exactly on the stroke of nine.
"Good evening, Zaine, I'm so glad you could be with us tonight." Marissa said, bouncing over to him.
"I'm delighted. Both of you look wonderful this evening."
Lianne cocked her head a little as the other two returned to the sofa. "Don't we look wonderful all the time?" she inquired.
Zaine blushed a little and before he could reply the dark haired woman spoke again.
"I'm simply teasing, Zaine, may I call you Zaine? Good! Please sit down. Would you like a drink? Marissa indicated that you've been 'fasting' recently - I really must try that one day."
Standing close to them he noticed their unusual and highly appealing scent reminding him of a sensual musk. Lianne had penetrating dark eyes that seemed to smoulder as she gazed at him from beneath the smooth, dark hair. When she walked or stood up Zaine was drawn to the way her bosom juggled, shaking the high and prominent fleshy mounds whose outline was quite clear beneath the crepe dress. Finally they all sat down facing each other on the sofa at unconsciously regular intervals around the low, round, glass table.
Zaine found that he had to consciously avoid staring at them but their flesh seemed so particularly young and vibrant, most visually seductive. When he realised that their garments were almost luminously radiant and revealing their nakedness beneath he had to make an effort of talking to their eyes and not their bodies. Just as he could catch glimpses of a blonde triangle from beneath Marissa's black dress, so too with Lianne's dark hair and thick brown nipples surrounded by a tiny cluster of matching dark areola. Despite the visual pleasure he found it a little disconcerting to repeatedly avoid his natural, unconscious scrutiny of them throughout their conversation. Their casual attitude, as if they had been well acquainted for some time, and their hypnotically revealing dresses were disorientating the normally impeccable social etiquette Zaine usually conducted himself with - they were dangerous.
The night progressed pleasantly, initially discussing events and people they all knew, referring to their taste in cars especially the Bugatti which Zaine had instantly fallen in love with, laughing and joking about everything and nothing.
Later they dined at the right hand side of the room with Zaine in the middle of the long table looking out onto the dusky landscape of the park and river while the two women sat at either end to his left and right. The meal itself, served beautifully by the nameless maid, was exquisite as was the range of wines presented. After dessert and liqueurs they sat sipping coffee and Zaine noted that he felt a little light headed and assumed from the relaxed intimacy that the women must have been feeling the same heady effects. Throughout the evening the lack of any overt sexual overtone induced a great deal of excitement within Zaine as did the teasing glimpses of the women's heavenly shapes quivering and occasionally revealing themselves from beneath their chic dresses. To some extent Zaine found their conventionally glamorous dresses more exciting than seeing them dressed as Dominatrix or Slave, the designer garments never allowed you to forget they were beautiful women with bodies to be proud of, it was a subtle but deliberate stimulus. It wasn't what he had been expecting and he found it difficult to understand what all the mystery and subterfuge had been about.
It was verging towards midnight and the three sat back around the glass table before the fireplace cradling their drinks as gentle muzak oozed into the room and the subdued lighting created an enhanced, relaxed familiarity between them. The conversation had become a little more intimate and trusting as, within the warmth of their rapport, the amusing tone of the chatter turned to more personal snippets of scandal, diversity in art, and even embarrassing anecdotes of their common acquaintances. It all made Zaine feel relaxed without reducing the level of excitement he still anticipated. It was easy to talk and still appreciate their bodies, the shifting undulation of tender flesh, the long necks and slim arms but most especially the shining legs that seemed to go all the way up to their neck. Zaine knew that they too had been appraising his flesh at regular intervals during the evening. The end of the conversation in which they were engaged came suddenly and with no hint of warning. Almost as if on a pre-arranged, telepathic signal the two women rose and Lianne announced that "It was time to get ready."
The two angels, looking like opposing twins with their alternately arranged dress and hair colour, smiled softly as they each kissed Zaine on the cheek and then left the room via a single door to the right of the main entrance, almost conspiratorially. The maid entered again.
"Pleez follow me, ziss way, Monsieur."

M Y S T E R I O U S

E V E N T S

Zaine followed her bobbing hips as she entered a double door in the midst of the one the women had exited from and between the main doorway to the huge room. Inside, facing them as they entered, was an entire wall of just-pink mirror, about eight feet high. The floor was a thick white carpet and the walls were fashioned in studded white leather. There was no furniture or decoration of any form here, only a single door on either side of the room adding to the one behind him.
"Pleaz rhemove yo'r clothis, Monsieur , tzen han' zhem tu me. Merci" she told him gently.
It was apparent that she was not leaving and he was to undress before her. He only paused for a moment before removing his shoes, jacket and finally his trousers. Zaine stood naked before the maid, the three chains dangling from the rings through his nipples and testicles, ignoring how she impersonally stared at him. Her appraisal and final judgement of his well muscled and hairless body was not apparent in her eyes.
"Pleaz wait een he'a." she requested leading him to the right hand door.
They left the white, mirrored room and entered a small, dark blue, tiled room. One wall, on his right, was filled with a mass of glass shelves, instruments and containers as well as a plethora of medical accoutrements - it reminded Zaine of a clinic. To his left was a bizarre, steel framed chair covered in black leather, a little like a gynaecologist's. On the same side and towards the facing wall was another chair which appeared to have a strange flushing system based centrally where one would sit. Between the two chairs was a dark blue door. Above the door itself was one of his own paintings, a quasi surreal mix of colours featuring a woman dressed only in accessories as she sits on a magenta coloured car to the side of which a man is dressed in attendance wearing a maid's uniform. It was strange to see one of the few works he had sold to date gracing such a strange room. For a moment he felt ambiguous about its presence in their home, like everything else about this whole evening it made him feel quite strange. His work was the only adornment in the room - any other time he would have simple accepted it as flattering and pleasing to his ego. He turned his eyes away from his own creation.
The door was closed and Zaine stood alone in the cool vestibule lit by a dully glowing ceiling. There was a faint chime discernible from the living room. It was now midnight.
The blue door on his left opened and Marissa walked in wearing a sleek white, short sleeved uniform which came tightly down past her thighs and finished a few inches above the knee, hugging her legs so tightly that it incarcerated them and restrained her walk. It was identical to a nurse's uniform, except this one was had a large zip running down the front and was made of a very sheer and shiny latex material. Her blonde mane was piled up under a little white cap revealing her long, thin neck where a few hanging wisps of golden hair were entrancingly arranged. Marissa walked in tiny, restricted steps balanced on the highest white heels imaginable - heels so high that she towered above Zaine easily, squeaking as her calves and thighs rubbed the underlying rubber tights which were flimsy and transparent.
Zaine stood awkwardly, unsure where to rest his hands. Being before her was unlike being naked before the maid. Whilst he appreciated that Marissa had seen his nakedness only two days ago, it was somehow different and awkward after having socialised and conversed so convivially with her less than five minutes ago. And yet his eyes were inexorably drawn to her riveting beauty and allure, with the shimmering halo of back-combed, blonde locks she looked like a perfect photo image.
"You look good, Zaine, much nicer without all that body hair - it gives you a sleeker and more naked appeal. Please take a seat on the right hand chair, go on!" Marissa said casually.
Zaine smirked a little and tilted his head before padding across the cool floor, chains swinging freely. The chair, similarly to its partner, was made of steel and chrome with protective padding. One significant difference between the chairs was the lack of seating on his chair, there only being a padded, horseshoe frame that supported the rear of the hind quarters and left the mid section free above a steel funnelled tube which sank into the floor. There were a series of hoses, straps and unconnected outlet valves. As he sat there he suddenly felt very vulnerable despite the erotic fantasy elements of the rubber clad nurse.
Marissa stood at the wall of shelves selecting a variety of jars, objects, and implements - all of which she noisily placed in a little steel bowl. Zaine said nothing as he had been requested to do by her on the Friday evening. Marissa smiled as she placed the steel bowl into a pre-cut section of the sophisticated and clinical chair pointed up in a hollow stencil designed to accommodate it. Mechanically she confined his wrists and ankle straps to the locks on the chair's hardware making him confined and submissive to her functions. Her make-up looked a little more seductive and menacing but Zaine considered that it may have been due to the drastic transformation of her clothing. The disturbingly erotic sound of her body and clinging uniform was beginning to make him feel quite stimulated, especially as he felt the results of the alcohol still careening through his system.
"Okay, Zaine, now this won't hurt a bit! If you fasted the way I asked you to...did you?" she asked him.
"I did as you asked, Marissa."
"Nurse! I'm the nurse for the moment!" she corrected.
Zaine smiled as she turned away and he watched the incredible bottom shift hypnotically as she took the little steps back to the shelves again, it made her look like an expensive Catwalk model showing Mugler clothing. Marissa was slipping her hands into surgical rubber gloves as she walked back to him.
"We have to clean you up a little, Zaine." Marissa muttered as she pushed two fingers into a thick jelly from a section at the side of the chair. She held the jelly sodden fingers up as if she were inspecting something, but it only afforded him a moment to fully comprehend what she was about to do.
Her toe pressed a little foot switch and the legs of the chair parted enough for her to stand between them and lean forward over Zaine's genitals, spilling a gorgeous flow of fleshy mounds for his inspection. The slippy fingers rubbed around his anus and began to feed the excess up into him. When she inspected her work and approved she slowly began to slide a first scintillating finger into him.
"Nice?" she asked.
"MMmmmm!" he concurred
"That's good. Relax your muscles, just let my fingers slide into you - that's it, past the second joint and...I can feel them passing the neck now. Just relax while I lubricate you...and try not to get erect, I'll need you dormant to fit something to you. Okay?"
"A little easier said then done, but I'll try. It's a little distracting when my nurse is so beautiful and desirable."
Marissa laughed a little contemptuously as she worked her two fingers about inside his anus, gently spreading the fingers to stretch him.
"Look, Zaine, I know you find me attractive, just as we find you. I know I'm beautiful and I don't need to be complimented, it just gets in the way of...our adventure. Look on me as your nurse, simply carrying out some necessary functions...until we go through that door, later."
"So, Nurse, where did you get the painting?" he asked trying not to let the soft pleasure he was experiencing mar his speech.
She laughed and began to withdraw her fingers, pulling the used glove from her hand when it was free.
"We got that some time ago. Do you like it?" she asked him.
"Yeah, I do...it has sentimental value to me. It paid the deposit on my apartment."
Marissa laughed a little as she fitted a new glove after disposing of the old one. She spoke as she continued her work.
"I think you got a bargain, Zaine. It certainly cost us more than it's worth...I mean, it's hardly original - it's just got style! Now I'm just going to slip this inside you."
He watched her holding what looked like a 10 or 12 cm silver tube with a wide steel ball on the end of it. It was already dripping with the lubricating jelly as she pushed its cool, rounded head against his already wet anus. He sighed aloud as it began to open his muscles and push inside his passage, stretching the tissue as it was slowly and carefully inserted within him. The round head slipped into the rear chamber and allowed the yawning muscles to snap back and clutch the thick tube in its grip. Zaine was breathing a little heavily and found his penis already to be semi-swollen. The intrusion felt strange and he could feel her every movement beneath him, out of his sight. The unnatural feelings manifested as more obvious pleasure with the wave of reverberating echoes and little changes of direction the insertion made within him as the nurse connected a wide tube to the base of it.
"Well done, Zaine. That's the difficult little bit over for now.
It looks as if you didn't find it too unenjoyable, it's an interesting sensation isn't it?" Marissa inquired as she dumped the gloves in the little bin in the corner whereupon she immediately selected another pair. Quickly she clutched a thinner steel tube, about 7 cm or so long and perhaps 1.5 cm wide, while her other hand was already peeling back the soft penile foreskin with its 3 tiny, thick rings pierced through the end. The half swollen penis head glistened as it caught the dull light and reflected the two large rings protruding from the urethral mouth.
The nurse's pinky slipped through the centre of both rings, pulling the steel forward so that the top sections pulled hard against the tip and the bottom exits, one on each side of the Frenum, and were pulled out from the underside of the glans where they penetrated inside the flesh and down the urethral tract.
"Zaine, try not to erect any more than you are while I'm doing this...it'll only make it more painful if you do. I'm just going to slip this steel...down...here. It's absolutely beautiful the way it stretches the unwillingly yielding flesh...a real picture."
The man in the chair gritted his teeth as he felt the wide tube immediately cooling the flesh around the top of the urethra and then to press downward, stretching him open widely. He kept his mouth shut and his discomfort silent as he felt the base of the tube collide with the steel protrusions of his rings. The nurse gently twisted the tube until two pre-cut slots allowed the steel to slip past a little easier until it jammed against the physical constriction of the downward tract. With a gentle rolling she tried to accommodate the penetrator but it was making no real progress and she started to push a little more firmly - feeling the tissue slowly pulling open as the rounded end jammed and opened the narrow gap.
"Sheeet!" Zaine called out, unwillingly feeling the pain and realising that he was becoming more stimulated again.
The white, latex nurse pushed a little more firmly and Zaine felt a burning pain deep inside his organ, much more intense than before but he kept completely silent although his entire body was wracked and tense.
"Let it out Zaine, just shout if it hurts - I don't mind hearing you scream." Marissa stated in a matter-of-fact tone.
As she pushed the steel further down inside him the pain became intense for long slow moments of careful manipulation and then suddenly flashed in a peak of temporary pain as he then watched the tube slide in with a hungry gulp leaving only an oval steel rim around the penile opening where the steel rings also jutted out.
His breathing was hard and neither of them said anything but there was a strange twinkle in her eye as she held his penis in her hand - all the while exuding the clinical scent of her rubber body and a succulent scent. With her foot she pressed another switch and he heard the very faint sound of a motor purring, sending tingling little vibrations along the anal pipe.
He gasped aloud as he felt the sudden, measured influx of warm liquid filling his insides. The nurse smiled a natural and unexpected smile, but just for a brief second or two and then she picked up an instrument which she slipped down the artificially opened tip of his penis. As her fingers turned the device he felt steel closing off the opened flesh tract and his organ was not catheterised but sealed shut.
The nurse put the little steel adjustor away and watched his face and body as liquid continued to fill his insides to make his pleasant sensations manifest in his quickly erecting organ. Zaine found the warm enema pleasing and stimulating his erotic sensations, he even enjoyed the absolute helplessness he felt as his shaven penis pulsed with erecting blood which tried to crush the steel within him. But soon the mild pleasure turned to pain as he felt his organ trying to encroach on areas that were now solidly defended and unyielding. The steel jammed within him made his teeth grind and he found that there was absolutely no significant movement open to him - his anus was locked down with the enema pipe, his limbs were restricted by the gift of their binding bracelets, his testicles were locked down with the anchored chain which he hadn't notice her tether. He was incapacitated and a helpless object wriggling about for her scrutiny like a thrashing fish out of water.
Soon the internal pressure was high enough to press and distort his internals but it was as nothing compared to the burning agony of his penis. All the while she stood before him, the top of her uniform further unzipped to allow her chest flesh to be even more apparent.
With another kick she made the internal fluid mix about in a bubbling and erotic fury that stimulated a thousand different nerve centres at once, most of which Zaine found to be new and thrilling enough to cut down the pain level in his erection. The nurse bit her bottom lip as she watched his immobile thrills from her unmoving position, the warm rubber revealing the subtle changes in her exterior physiognomy as it sub-consciously reacted to the stimulus she obviously found pleasing. Zaine found the pressure and the pain to be making him feel the uncanny sensation of impending climax - an ejaculation that had nowhere to escape to.
This time he didn't hear her press the switch again, he just felt the sudden, high pressure driven, release of his expanded bowel as the enormous quantity of fluid was flushed unceremoniously out of him again.
As he lay on the chair, mouth open and feeling the last of his fluid waste quietly disappearing he realised that the deep pain in his penis had passed to become no more unbearable than a new piercing...he felt a ripple of pleasure within himself - bound with a deep desire for his nurse.
Marissa smiled as if she could read his mind but she simply turned away from his huge, thick erection and bulging, ring pierced nipples and began on some other task at the wall. Zaine lay there watching the rear view of her incredible form, seeing the nudity beneath almost as easily as he saw her white rubber costume. All the while she mixed and measured chemicals and powders, adding thick liquids and tiny crystals. When she was done she returned between his legs, bent down and teased his eyes with her lush body and resonant rubbery squeaks while she made alterations. Zaine heard her manipulating out of sight and then heard a forceful, mechanical gust of, thick, slow liquid. As her blonde head bobbed up he was already beginning to feel an unusual intrusion into his bowel again. A hot, thick, viscous fluid was slowly being pumped in leaving him feeling a strange tingle and swelling sensation inside. The nurse smiled in a self assured way that disturbed him, especially the way she raised the purple fluid filled hypo before her eyes. Slowly and deliberately he mutely watched her stick the needle-less tube into the steel opening of his penile exit, jamming noisily and uncomfortably against a valve or something. She paused.
Their eyes locked and she intuitively knew the sensations he was experiencing in his rear - the strange influence and expanding qualities which it carried...she knew he could feel it, just as she knew he was wholly unaware of the effect of the purple liquid. The nurse pressed a little on the base of the hypo, felt the valve allow it in and then she watched to see his reaction.
Zaine's face was a sudden mask of burning agony and he screamed aloud...wordless and nameless blasphemies. His mind was unconscious of the teasing way she rubbed herself against his captive limbs, leaning over him while the slow intrusion in the rear continued unnoticed as his genitals were gripped with hot and burning pain. She squirted a little more in, a bit more forcefully and he felt it penetrate areas it had not previously reached. His screams and restrained wrenching pleased her immensely and her eyes hungrily watched his handsome face and hairless body writhe in pain as it provided her sweet pleasure. With another squirt she shot more into him until about a third of the entire tube was inside him.
Although the pain did not diminish noticeable, Zaine caught his own strength and began to mentally combat this agony - reducing his shouts to grunts of discomfort. It disappointed her senses but impressed her a little. She removed the injector and the valve sealed behind it. The two thirds full hypo was put on the metal bowl and she took up another instrument and jammed it into his opened mouth, pressing it down his throat in a smooth and well practised movement. It was in before Zaine's pain addled senses had realised it. The nurse connected a tube to the open end and a little steel funnel accepted the garish, treacle like fluid which she forced into his jammed mouth.
"Trust me, Zaine, it's better I give this to you this way - it tastes so hideous you wouldn't be able to consume it. I give you my word you'll feel the benefits of it later tonight... or I suppose it's morning, whatever - it'll be a unique experience for you."
Zaine could say or do nothing, he simply felt things and reacted to them...just as he felt this thick slush being forced into his body, defenceless in his mouth, anus and urethra. The nurse continued the intrusions until there was no more of the measured dosage in his mouth or penetrating his anus. Her nimble rubber fingers pulled the force-feeder out and she kissed his half closed mouth very suddenly and without provocation. Marissa stood there smiling, an erect vision between his open legs.
"How do you feel now...any penile pain?"
"Not...much, it's just kind of numb all the way down...a sort of aggravated, tingly numbness."
"Good, that means you've acclimatised to it."
"Acclimatised to what? I didn't anticipate being medically raped and having a chemical factory relocated within me."
"Are you telling me you haven't done drugs before...in fact regularly, in large quantities sometimes and certainly with a significant variation. Well are you drug and chemical free in your private life?"
"...No! But I don't snort 'Persil' either. It's some weird gunk you've put in me...even now I can feel...things, responses inside me."
"You're meant to! Don't assume things...nothing is what it seems.
You needed to be purified and enhanced in a few statistical details, so that tonight's...'celebration' can be spectacularly enjoyable for all of us. Now I have to feed in your last section of medication - just what's left of the purple fluid!"
"Jesus...No! Not that, it was absolute agony. Don't do it!"
"You obviously don't appreciate how good you look when you're screaming...it soaked me, Zaine. I give you my word that it won't hurt this time...honestly. You have to let me add the rest!"
His eyes burned and he said nothing...there was really little he could do if she wanted to, he was trapped and she might do it anyway.
He refused to give her the satisfaction of either a reply or a request to refuse. Zaine gripped the chair and tensed his muscles as he saw her bend over, find the valve and then quickly unload the remains deep into his genitalia.
Surprisingly it was not a sudden ripple of pain, but a flush of erotic pleasure that flowed through his body and left him speechless.
Marissa smiled and stroked his hair attentively as Zaine half closed his eyes and felt the tingling swelling enhance his genitals in a rushing buzz of arousal.
The nurse disconnected the pipe beneath him and pulled the steel, anal intruder out from his insides leaving his bowel filled with a thick red fluid that was slowly expanding with his own internal body heat.
Zaine was helpless to move so exquisite were his sensations, it was only when Marissa was touching and stroking his nakedness that he could appreciate how pleasurable her touch was. He hadn't even realised that he was released again. The nurse leaned over his parted legs and deliberately let him see into the unzipped rubber top, knowing her fleshy swells were moving before his gaze as she mopped his brow and gently stroked his skin with her ungloved fingers. He felt the cool touch of her squeaking rubber uniform against his torso and genitals - he could feel the heat of her thighs as he slowly became a little more co-ordinated and capable again...without losing any of the pleasant feeling his body was modifying to.
"Come on, Zaine, that's enough. We have things to do, get up!"
"What now, Nurse?" he asked light heartedly while becoming suddenly aware of an overwhelming hunger for gratification and physical pleasure.
"Now we're going to play, Zaine, through the...blue door!" she giggled and then quickly adopted a harsh tone as she opened the heavy door to reveal nothing within but absolute blackness.
Zaine found himself quite steady and co-ordinated as he followed her to the door. His anus felt as though it was still opened with the steel and, despite the clinging lubricants, he realised that none of the fluid within him was escaping. It almost amused him as he thought of himself as being sealed, front and back.
"Go inside, hands behind your back!" she commanded, a long thin arm pointing into the darkness of the black room from which she had emerged earlier on. Zaine walked cautiously into the darkness, inside there was no light and Marissa walked in her slow, careful steps a little behind him, watching his bottom move as he walked. Her bright blue eyes regarded his hard muscled back and discernible waist, the powerful hips and firm buttocks below which another large steel ring hung from the base of his testes...she watched him hungrily and yet dispassionately as the darkness consumed them and the blue door slammed shut with a crashing thud.

THE GIFT

BY ANTHRO

* * * * * * * * * I M P O R T A N TN O T E .* * * * * * * * * **

ANTHRO SHOULD LIKE TO DRAW YOUR ATTENTION TO THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

THIS WORK IS INTENDED AS ENTERTAINMENT FOR BROAD MINDED ADULTS ONLY.

IN NO WAY DO WE CONDONE OR SUPPORT ANY ACTIVITIES WHICH INVOLVES COERCION, A LACK OF CONSENT OR RAPE.

NO REPRESENTATION IS MEANT TO DEPICT ANY FORM OF UNDER-AGE PARTICIPANTS OR COERCIVE ACTIVITIES.

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT IN ANTHROWORLD AIDS, H I V & V. D. DON'T EXIST, BUT THEY DAMN WELL DO ON PLANET EARTH,

SO BE SAFE, USE A CONDOM AND PRACTISE SAFE SEX.

PEACE, ANTHRO