An Art Installation

This isn't the first time I've written about someone being made into a work of art. But this time has a different purpose, a different focus, and a few elements I don't usually get to play with.

I know I'm not the only one who thinks androgyny is hot. Just like I know I'm not the only one who will read this and wish the instructions were coming TO me. But alas, we can't all live our fantasies. Some of us can make phone calls, but most of us have to just read about it. ;)

Enjoy.

An Art Installation

 The first thing Lynn found in the bag was a roll of bondage tape and a phone. As soon as she turned the phone on, the first instruction arrived. Lynn kicked off her shoes and tossed her clothes into a pile on top of them. She hit a button on the phone, and the second instruction arrived.

The bondage tape pressed down Lynn's breasts, flattening them more and more against her chest as she wrapped layer after layer. The next instruction had her pull a plain white shirt out of the bag. Directly below the shirt was a nicely wrapped box with a silk bow. She almost tore it open, but knew that she had to follow the instructions explicitly. And the instruction was to put on the shirt. With her breasts taped down, buttoning her shirt made it look like she'd never had breasts to begin with.

Next, the stockings. She let the shirt hang and began rolling the stockings up her legs, careful not to let a single run form. No one would see them, but she would know. And He would know, somehow. Bending down with her breasts taped down was difficult; it would have been better to save that part for last. But the instruction that came up on the phone screen was very clear.

She pulled on a garter belt and hooked the stockings into place, then bent down again, having to hold her breath as she slid her feet into the legs of the leather pants. By the time she was able to work her feet in far enough to stand up straight, she was starting to get dizzy. She gulped in air as she stood and wriggled the pants up to her thighs.

The phone on the table flashed as the next instruction came through. Lynn waddled over to look at it and groaned at what she read. The harness was easy to find, but no matter how much time she spent looking through bag, there was no lube.

She sighed and tried to work up a good mouthful of spit, sticking the first dildo into her mouth, pushing it into a casual deep throat. She closed her eyes and tried to enjoy the moment, tried to focus on what was coming later, on why she was going through these instructions.

She moved towards the wall as she slurped on the plug. Once her shoulders rested against the wall, she pulled it out of her mouth and lowered it behind her. Pressed it to her ass and took a deep breath. With a gasp and a little bit of a moan, she bent over and let the plug slide inside her, wincing as it passed her sphincter. She took another deep breath and let a smile flash across her face before reaching between her legs and pushing the other dildo into her pussy. She buckled the harness on at either side, then slid the lock through the latch and clicked it shut.

There was no key. Just a tiny pair of bolt cutters in the bag in case of emergency.

Lynn wriggled a little, knowing the the smallest movement would cause the plugs to move inside her. Then she clipped the battery pack to the front and pulled the pants the rest of the way up. She tucked in her shirt and buckled the belt.

The phone flashed again. She looked to the next step in the instructions, hoping that it would be time to open the nicely wrapped box in the bag.

The instruction told her to take the bag! Lynn almost didn't read the rest of it, just pulled the box out of the bag and, in her excitement, very nearly tore it open. But then she noticed the next part of the text. 

Take the box out of the bag and set it aside.

She groaned.

Put on the collar to a comfortable tightness.

Sure enough, there was a collar under the box. It was a small collar, thin like it was made for a kitten. Lynn measured it out around her neck and buckled it closed. It was against her skin, but still slid around easily. It wouldn't take long for her to forget she was wearing it.

She sighed and looked down as the next instruction came in.

Tighten the collar by one hole.

Interesting. She pulled the collar a bit tighter. No difficulty breathing, but tight enough that she wouldn't be able to ignore it. Like a hand gently choking her, like His hand on her throat as a constant reminder of her place.

She smiled and read the next instruction. Her hand slid down her pants and pressed her finger inside enough to get it wet.

Smear it under your nose, the instructions said. Then you can open the box and put on what is inside.

Lynn bit her lip for a second, trying to decide if she really wanted to go ahead and do it. Never too late to back out. He wouldn't think any less of her if this was too far. If she decided to stop, He would be okay with it. He'd still care for her. Even if it disappointed Him, there would be no judgement.

But there was something about the instruction, something about the word 'smear,' that made her go ahead and do it. Besides, she wanted to see what was in the box.

The scent of her sex drifted up her nose with every baited breath as she pulled the ribbon off the box and opened it up.

Inside was a white rubber mask with a bright red cross stitched on the front. Lynn smiled and lifted it out of the box. There was a note underneath.

Put on the mask, the note said. The cross goes on front. Then go to the door and knock twice, then three times.

Lynn looked at the mask, then towards the door of the tiny little room. Just a few quick steps.

She pulled the mask up to her head, then pulled it down over her face, the two little tubes sliding into her nose and giving her unrestricted breathing.

There was nothing else. She could still smell herself under the mask, but she couldn't see a thing. And while she could feel the door and could feel herself knocking, she didn't hear anything. There was some kind of padding in the mask. No, more than that. There was a soft hum of static in her ears. White noise.

A gentle hand took her wrist. Another hand behind her back helped her step forward. After a few steps, the pressure stopped and the hands went away. Then hands pressed on either side of her shoulders. Her arms were raised to her sides, and her feet were brought together.

The rope work started at the back of her neck, then wrapped around her shoulders. The rope crossed her back, tying off along the way, and then began looping down her arms. Another rope started at her waist and started moving down her legs, tying them together in a cocoon of rope.

One arm was gently pulled behind her back, the other over her head. The wrists were tied together, her forearms tied together. It didn't hurt, but it was far from comfortable.

The rope kept going around her body, forming a long strip of knots down her back like an additional spine made of rope. Nothing was too tight, but there was no way she could move freely. A trigger was put in her palm, her thumb over the button. Lynn didn't need to be told what it was for.

Gentle hands helped her lay down, and she heard the clicking of climbing gear at her shoulders, her mid and then lower back, her thighs, her knees, and her ankles.

Lynn was lifted up off the floor. She hung, either a few inches or a few feet off the ground; no way to tell.

The white noise went away, and His voice started to whisper in her ears.

“I hope you're comfortable,” he said. “You look stunning. Absolutely beautiful. I always told you that you were a work of art, didn't I? The people at the party are very impressed. I'm sure the other guests will be too. Tonight, you're going to be an art installation. They'll be able to see you floating there, an androgynous form hanging above their heads. They'll stare up at your cross and wonder. Are those curves an illusion caused by the rope, or do you have a woman's body? Is that bulge in your crotch just coincidence, or do you have a cock? Is the collar there to make you feel like a sissy boy, or to let you feel a bit feminine?

“Don't worry, doll. I'm not going to tell anyone the truth. They'll spend the night wondering, looking at you, trying to figure out what's under all that rubber, all that rope, and all that leather. They'll wonder about the noises you make. Assuming, of course, that they can hear you over the music.

“I'll leave that up to you. Be as loud as you want to be. And enjoy yourself. Enjoy being a piece of art.

“I know you're going to love it. In fact, I've made sure of it. We'll talk after the party.”

The voice vanished, the white noise started up, and then it started.

The dildos. They started to vibrate.

Slowly.