("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
                     `6_ 6  )   `-.  (     ).`-.__.`)
                     (_Y_.)'  ._   )  `._ `. ``-..-'
                    _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
                   ((('   (((-(((''  ((((
                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
		_________________________________________
		                WARNING!
		This text file contains sexually explicit
		material. If you do not wish to read this
		type of literature, or you are under age,
		PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
		_________________________________________




			Scroll down to view text













Archive name: artpain.txt 
Authors name: Argus (no address supplied)
Story title : Art of Pain, The

--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2004.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------

The Art of Pain 
by Argus (no address supplied)

***

A lovely young art critic finds herself captured by a 
provocative artist whose work depicts females in 
bondage and pain. (M/f-teen, bd)

***

She wore a dress with a long, pleated skirt when she 
knocked at his door the next morning. He opened it 
promptly, smiled slightly, and then shrugged her in.

"My model called in sick," he said.

"Oh." She hesitated, relieved in a way. "Well, I 
suppose we can still conduct the interview."

"Or something."

She frowned suspiciously but said nothing as she 
preceded him into the large, open area where his easel 
and paints waited.

"Have you ever done any modelling?" he asked.

"No," she said.

He leaned back against a wall, powerful arms folded 
over his chest, and smiled.

"I seem to recall seeing a picture of you in one of 
your columns once."

"Oh, that." She flushed slightly. "I wasn't counting 
that. I just did that as a favour to a friend during 
school."

"He wasn't very good."

"I thought it quite a good likeness."

"There's more to art than painting a picture. There was 
nothing of your soul in that picture, nothing of your 
inner beauty, of your longings, your dark fantasies, 
your wilfulness, your intellect. He didn't do you 
justice."

She blinked, startled, and felt her stomach flutter.

"Ah, well. He was just a student," she said lamely.

"I'm sure I could do better."

"I'm sure you think you could," she said tartly.

He pushed himself off from the wall and moved closer to 
her, and Pamela forced herself to stand still as he 
towered over her, oddly menacing even with a smile on 
his face.

"Come now," he said. "We both know my art has 
fascinated you, that you have had fantasies about it, 
that you have discovered an interest in being bound 
which you did not know you held. Why be ashamed of 
that?"

"I'm not ashamed," she said with an attempt at 
aloofness.

"Why don't we explore those feelings then?"

"Because I choose not to."

"Then model for me."

She snorted.

"You need the money. I pay two hundred pounds a 
session."

She licked her lips at the thought of so much money, 
but shook her head firmly.

"Ashamed of displaying your body?"

"Of course not!"

"Then...?"

"You're so smug and superior," she said caustically.

"I've reason to be. You have a fine body. And I've 
already seen... or touched it everywhere that counts. 
Why not make some money?"

"You make it sound like prostitution."

"All work is prostitution, if you care to think of it 
that way. You're paid to do things you don't 
particularly care to, be it fucking someone, or washing 
tables and floors. This is considerably easier than 
that."

"Except I'd have to do it naked."

He shrugged and smiled. "But you're an art connoisseur, 
no? The 
human body holds no shame for you."

She made a face. "Fine. I'll pose for you... for three 
hundred pounds."

He laughed.

"But that doesn't include any sexual favours."

"I want to draw you, not fuck you. If all I wanted to 
do was fuck you I'd have you on all fours right now."

She was flabbergasted at his arrogance, but before she 
could reply he'd thrown a robe at her.

"Undress over there," he said, pointing at a small 
alcove.

You are out of your bleeding mind, she thought as she 
moved across the room. Yet even as her chest tightened 
with anxiety she felt her legs trembling with sexual 
anticipation, and try as she could she could not quell 
it.

The thought of three hundred pounds was not something 
to be cast aside either. It would pay her rent, for one 
thing.

Her nipples were already firmly erect as she removed 
her bra, and her chest grew so tight she could hardly 
breath as she slipped off her stockings and panties and 
drew the robe tight around herself.

She fought to appear composed, then padded out of the 
alcove, her bare feet soft on the wood below. He turned 
and looked at her, and her stomach tensed up, her 
fingers trembling inside the pockets of the robe.

"We'll keep it simple," he said. "Nothing too dark or 
strenuous. Take off the robe and come here."

She took a deep breath, then, face flushing redly, she 
opened the robe and shrugged it off.

He looked at her carefully, eyes moving up and down. 
She held her breath under the close scrutiny, stomach 
churning as his eyes caressed her from head to toe. She 
had never felt quite so naked before, and was both 
shamed and exhilarated.

He reached out, touched her shoulder, and turned her so 
he could see her backside.

"Good," he said finally.

His hand closed around her upper arm and he eased her 
across the room towards the spot of sun before his 
canvas. Once there he let go of her, then picked up a 
length of soft black rope.

"Put your arms together behind your back, palms 
together," he ordered.

Nervously, she obeyed, fighting to show a casualness 
she did not feel. You're just a model, she told 
herself. Stay calm. Don't be a child.

She felt the rope encircle her wrists. He was tying her 
quite carefully, laying one loop precisely after 
another so that half a dozen lines circled her wrists. 
She felt his hands rise, gripping her upper arm, and 
the rope circled her just above the elbow.

"A-are you going to tie my elbows together like... like 
that other girl?" she asked anxiously.

"It's not that difficult. Just relax."

"But I... "

"Relax."

She felt the rope twining around her arms, tightening 
slowly. Her arms were drawn back together, and she felt 
the strain in her shoulders.

"Oh!" she gasped.

He massaged her shoulders, his big fingers surprisingly 
gentle, and eased up on the rope for a minute. Then it 
was tightening again, and she winced as her arms were 
drawn further back.

"I..."

"Relax," he said softly.

She gasped as her shoulders screamed, then felt her 
elbows touch. 
"Oh God!" she panted.

The ropes wound around and around, then a length went 
between them, cinching tight.

He let her go, and she stood still, breathing raggedly 
as she adjusted to the oddity of her position. She 
found herself wishing for a mirror, wondering what she 
looked like with her arms so tightly pinned back.

He came before her, and she saw a thin wire in his 
fingers. She stared down at it, noticing the loop as he 
brought it against one of her already erect nipples. 
She blushed at the sight, then felt a jolt of anxiety 
as the loop closed around one stiff nipple, closed... 
and closed tighter.

"Ow! Oh! Ohhh! It's too tight! It stings!" she cried, 
rapidly shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"It will ease in a moment," he said calmly.

He moved away, then returned with another wire, another 
loop. She stared at it in anguish, watching as it 
pressed in around her nipple, sliding in to the base, 
then pulled tight.

She kept quiet this time, clenching her jaw as the 
stinging pain assaulted her. Her heart was hammering 
and she was breathing roughly and rapidly.

"There now. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

He hooked a finger beneath the wire, and lifted 
slightly. The stinging grew in intensity, and she 
gasped, rising to her toes as her nipples were tugged 
upwards and towards him. She watched them stretching 
out, watched her breasts distend, sharpening into cones 
as he pulled still higher. The pain in her nipples grew 
dark and burned.

"Please!" she cried.

He lowered his finger, easing the strain on her 
nipples, though keeping her on her toes.

"Such small things, nipples. Two tiny bits of flesh, 
yet how they sting, and how easily the pain can control 
us if we give into it."

He raised his finger again, and again she gasped and 
cried out softly. He lowered his finger, then moved 
back, pulling it, and her along, even while keeping her 
on her toes.

"Stop it!" she cried.

"It's only a tiny bit of pain," he said mockingly. 
"Surely such small pain can't control a strong woman 
like you."

He drew down a small chain which hung above her, and 
clipped the centre of the wire to it. Then he patted 
her head and moved back to his easel.

Pamela was left gasping and sweating under the bright 
light, on the tips of her toes, her nipples stretched 
to at least an inch in length. Her back was arched 
painfully, her head back, hair brushing against the top 
of her buttocks.

It was an exquisitely uncomfortable position, and her 
nipples were burning embers. Yet his audacity and her 
own daring had her feeling deeply aroused. She was not 
in the habit of exposing her body to virtual strangers 
in such a fashion, and though she told herself that as 
an art student she should not see doing so as sexual, 
with this man it was.

Her toes began to ache far worse than her nipples, and 
her feet trembled. She felt genuine fear at what would 
happen if she could no longer support herself.

"Please!" she called, unable to look at him. "I can't 
stand on my toes any more!"

"So don't," he replied.

"The.... the chain is too high! My nipples..."

"Perhaps I should give you something to stand on then."

She felt something heavy dragged across the floor, and 
turned to see him approach with a metal post. It was 
gleaming stainless steel, and had a heavy round base. 
It most closely resembled nothing so much as the posts 
which supported velvet ropes blocking access to 
paintings and sculptures at the many exhibitions she'd 
attended.

Except for the odd pedal just to one side.

"J-just lower the chain," she gasped.

Instead he pushed the post in against her, so that she 
could stand upon it. It was higher towards the middle, 
of course, than at the edges, and even while this left 
the metal post pressed against her groin she sought to 
get her feet in as close to it as possible.

Of course, she immediately recognized the phallic 
aspect to the post, and glared at him before he moved 
away. No doubt he would work it into his painting as 
some kind of giant penis.

Yet the relief in her feet was flooding her body, and 
she groaned as she was able to stand almost flat, the 
sides of her feet pressed in against the centre post.

The post was not nearly as wide as most of those she'd 
seen, and she wondered if he really thought she was so 
much in heat she would try to impale herself upon it. 
Certainly it was not too high to do so, for its rounded 
top was perhaps an inch or two above her pussy, digging 
gently into her lower abdomen as she stood there.

The muscles of her arms tightened against the rope 
behind her, and her hands felt the top of her buttocks, 
the warm, rounded flesh, tighten and loosen as she 
shifted her weight from foot to foot.

I'm just doing this for the money, she thought, and to 
prove how wrong he is.

Yet she could feel the slickness of the metal now where 
it pressed into her groin, and she flushed with 
embarrassment, wondering what he would say when he 
pulled it back and saw the metal glistening.

She cursed her body furiously even as she fought the 
necessity of moving back away from the metal.

"Do you suppose I should keep you?" he called. "I could 
simply keep you in chains and train you like a sexual 
slave. I could make you my bitch dog and give you to my 
friends when they came by."

"Y-you could try," she panted dismissively.

"I have a feeling you'd beg for the opportunity."

"Y-You have an odd fantasy life!"

He walked closer to her, then slowly circled her.

"You have a lovely ass," he said. "Would you like to 
know what I'm thinking about it."

"N-Not particularly," she breathed.

"Have you ever been sodomized?"

The question was breathtaking in its casualness, and 
for a long moment she could not answer.

"No," she said finally. "And I shant be today either."

He smiled, his teeth gleaming. "I said I'd do nothing 
to you without your permission, and I won't. But I 
think this bottom could use a few strips across it, 
then something thick and hard inside."

Bastard!

He moved back to his easel and took up his brush as she 
stood there, mind surging with sexual electricity, 
breasts swollen and stiff nipples stinging. She pushed 
herself unconsciously against the metal bar, which had 
warmed now, gently grinding her pussy against the steel 
as heat surged through her veins.

"If you beg me," he called, "I might be willing to fuck 
you."

She did not trust her voice to respond.

"You're not a virgin, are you?"

"Don't be a-absurd," she snapped.

"I didn't think so. That being the case, why don't you 
ease yourself onto that post. It will improve the 
picture immeasurably."

"I-I will not!" she cried, her insides twisting.

"Why not? It's not like you haven't spread yourself 
before. And it's not all that thick. Why, I'm thicker 
myself."

She sneered weakly, and caught herself rubbing against 
the post.

Then he was beside her, and his hand was on her bottom, 
all-but covering it, his middle fingers slipping down 
beneath and touching her opening.

"Just move forward a bit, and lift yourself up," he 
said mildly.

"I... no I..."

She had risen instinctively, pulling her bottom up from 
those fingers, and as he eased her forward she felt 
herself rasp across the rounded top of the post, then 
sink. She felt the pressure against her opening, and 
even as she shrank from humiliating herself by doing 
so, could not prevent her body from sinking further.

She could have jerked herself away, and desperately 
wanted to, yet her body would not obey. She felt her 
labia spreading wider and wider, and groaned at the 
strain as the metal slipped into her opening.

"That's it," he said, his voice soft, calm.

"I-I..."

But he was gone, back to his painting, and her tired, 
aching toes eased her lower still, until she had at 
least two inches of the thing inside her. Part of the 
steel was cold, the part which had not been gripped 
between her thighs or pressed against her belly, but 
most of it was warm, and her soft sleeve clung to it.

Now that she was directly over the thing her right foot 
was pressed against the small pedal there, and 
unthinkingly she shifted her heel to get some 
additional height. The pedal went down, and she gasped 
as she felt the post rise inside her.

"Oh God!" she whispered.

It had risen an inch, somehow, and she shuddered as her 
arms pulled against the rope binding them. Her foot had 
slipped off the pedal, and it lifted once more, yet the 
post did not descend.

It was hard, and warming within her snug sleeve, and 
she turned her head to see Simmons painting, head down, 
eyes flicking up occasionally.

I really am mad, she thought wonderingly.

She felt her lower body grind slightly, felt the 
irresistible hardness of the steel within her, and the 
slickness of her lips clasped around it. Her foot 
shifted and eased onto the pedal, and the post rose 
higher. An inch, then two, then four, then six, slowly, 
one push at a time, until her abdomen felt swollen and 
distended by the thickness of the steel rod lodged 
within her.

Her body trembled slightly, the sexual electricity 
setting her nerves fraying and her muscles twitching. 
She had never felt so lewd, so carnal, or so sexual 
aroused. She breathed in slow ragged gasps even as she 
fought - foolishly, she knew - to pretend she was 
entirely aloof from what was going on.

She shifted her foot onto the pedal and the rod pushed 
higher still. Her insides ached with it now, and she 
felt the first twinge of pain from deep within her. But 
at the same time it felt so magnificent inside her, so 
deep and thick and hard. She felt brazen and wild, and 
her pulse pounded as the blood raced through her body.

She forced herself to go still as he moved out from 
behind his easel and approached.

"I forgot this," he said, smiling as he held up a small 
metal object.

Pamela saw it without understanding. She felt his hand 
between her legs, touching the post, rather than her, 
but could not drop her eyes to see.

"This fits against the post, you see. It slots in 
right... here, and then..."

Pamela cried out as a hard pressure was jammed in 
against the top of her opening, right where it gripped 
the steel post. That pressure bore down almost 
nauseatingly hard against that most sensitive portion 
of her anatomy which rested just above the pillar.

She writhed, hardly able to cry out as pain and 
dizziness tumbled within her body. Never had her 
clitoris been subjected to such pain, such pressure, 
and she gurgled in helplessness as he returned to his 
easel and left her there to shudder and moan.

"P-P-Please!" she whimpered. "P-Please!"

She could not form a coherent sentence, could hardly 
keep her mind in one piece as her body burned with 
feverish pain and dizziness.

It subsided only slowly, leaving her with a feeling of 
intense pressure down there.

"Bastard! Fucking bastard!" she half sobbed, half 
panted.

He ignored her, painting furiously.

As the intensity of the pain diminished she felt a 
surging relief, yet still there was that awful 
pressure.

She knew, as her mind began to recover, what he was 
doing. But she did not find the crushing pressure 
brought against her clitoris to be arousing: Quite the 
contrary. For her lust was cooled for some time.

Yet it had been so powerful that it could not be 
quenched, and soon it began to overcome the pain and 
pressure, and her hips began to grind instinctively, 
even as that served to accent the pain.

Every little movement pulled her clitoris against that 
terrible pressure, and send a flood of pain/nausea and 
pleasure flooding through her body.

Soon enough the pleasure overcame all or absorbed it. 
The sensations coming from her clitoris became almost 
narcotic in their intensity, and just as irresistible. 
As the pleasure rose up around her she could not stop 
herself from twitching and pulling, from tugging 
upwards and sliding down. Each movement made her gasp 
in pain and pleasure, yet she continued to move, caught 
in the grip of a terrible lust which could not be 
denied.

And just as the pinching of her clitoris sent sharp 
pains shooting through her groin those pains were 
echoed, if with less intensity, as her body tugged 
against the wires clutching her nipples. Sharp, biting 
little bolts of pain ripped into her body as she 
writhed there helplessly, and her body poured sweat as 
the heat of her arousal swamped her senses.

She shrank from climaxing before him, even as some part 
of herself greeted the prospect of such slatternly 
behaviour with glee.

Yet she could not prevent it, nor could she silence her 
long wavering cry of wonder and ecstasy as the orgasm 
crashed down around her. Her body exploded, threatening 
to tear apart at the shocking power of the sensations 
released within her. Never in her life had she 
experienced its like, nor imagined anyone could.

She trembled violently, eyes rolling back in her head, 
body awash with fire as the climax rolled through her 
nervous system, an unstoppable force of raw, jagged 
power which blotted out the world.

Her head whipped back until her nipples felt ready to 
tear right off her breasts. She swayed and trembled, 
moaning aloud. She would have fallen over had the steel 
rod not been thrust so deeply into her nether parts.

She felt it tearing at her and the pain wakened her 
somewhat, regaining enough mind to catch her balance. 
Still, she barely held herself up as she gulped in air 
and tried to clear her mind.

"Very good," he said. "See if you can do that again."

"F-fuck you!" she panted.

He was beside her, grinning, and his booted foot came 
down the pedal. She grunted as he pumped it hard and 
another inch of rod thrust up into her body. Another 
pump and another, and she was on her toes, gasping and 
moaning.

"S-stop it!" she gasped.

"You'd do well to learn more respect for your 
employers, my girl," 
he said.

It was jammed up against her very cervix now, and the 
pain ate into her even as she realized she was utterly 
helpless to resist whatever he chose to do.

"I... S-soorry," she said in a choked voice.

"Are you?"

He cupped her breasts - which were cone shaped by the 
pull on her nipples - and held them in his hands, 
stroking his hands along the undersides. "How will you 
make it up to me?"

His fingers rose to pinch her nipples lightly, then he 
stepped back. His foot kicked the post and the rod 
began to sink away. She moaned in relief as she sank 
with it, falling back onto her heels. The metal 
crushing her clitoris was withdrawn, and she almost 
fainted from relief.

END

From the e-book The Art of Pain - by Argus. Argus 
novels have been published by Nexus, Olympia, Beeline, 
Silver Moon, Star, and Chimera. His e-books can be 
downloaded at http://www.ebookblue.com

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 28