The sequel to 'A Work Of Art' is complete along with three possible endings. I would like to have your readers vote on the ending they like best, contact me on my blog Fesseln's Fiction and let me know which ending is best.
Part 2
The word 'punished' sent cold shivers through Eileen's entire body. Her imaginative mind pictured the various things that Mark could do to her and had done to her in the past. None of those things, however, she feared were to be her real punishment for cumming without permission. Whatever her punishment was to be, she knew it would be creative, stimulating and torturous.
Mark had other things on his mind for her before he could punish his little blonde captive. Eileen was so beautiful laying there in her black leather bindings and her black leather gag. Her blue eyes were begging him to use her so she could pleasure him as only she could. It would be a shame not to use her.
The artist lifted her legs up and unhooked the chain between her ankle cuffs. Gently, he bent first her left leg until he could lock her ankle to her thigh. After he made sure it was secure, he did the same with her other ankle. All the time Eileen moaned and thrust herself towards Mark, hoping that he would forget about her transgression.
"Eager, are we, my little slave?" Mark asked, enjoying the sight of the struggling blonde as he teasingly tickled her swollen sex.
"uhhhhhhhh-hhhhhuuuuhhh," Eileen nodded, struggling even more for his touch.
"I think I should leave you like this," the sculptor smiled.
"Nnnnnnuuuuhhhhh!" Mark's captive shook her head. She most definitely did not want to be left this way. The embers of her last orgasm still burned hot within her and threatened to re-ignite with Marks little touches.
"Yes, I think I need to go get something."
Eileen moaned her displeasure as he climbed out of bed and went down the hall. She struggled a bit, more for the feel of the bindings than anything else. She wasn't quite flexible enough to caress herself. She strained a bit and she could feel herself with the tips of her fingers, but the touches teased more than they satisfied. She laughed a bit through her gag as she thought of the Rolling Stones tune and just how true it was for her. She quickly stopped when she heard Marks footsteps coming down the hall.
"Missed me?" Mark asked as he brought in a Champaign bucket, a bottle nestled within a nest of ice.
Eileen moaned and nodded as her lover set the bucket down on the nightstand.
"I thought you could use some refreshment, my little slave," Mark said, "something to cool you down a bit."
Mark pulled the bottle from the bucket and looked at the label. He really wasn't a wine snob; he just liked what he liked, regardless of the price tag. He hummed about a bit before holding the dripping wine bottle over his captive . . .
"So, what do you think, my pretty?" he grinned.
The ice-cold beads of water that dripped onto Eileen caused her to squeal into her gag and squirm to try to get away.
"You do not like this wine, little one?" He smiled, making sure the bottle stayed over her.
"Nnnuuuuhhh," Eileen moaned into her gag.
The icy drips felt like little electric pokers on her hot skin, tormenting her one drop at time. Mark purposely dangled the cold bottle over her breasts, letting the droplets dribble onto each of her nipples and making them even more sensitive. Each time it made her wail as Mark knelt above her with a fiendish look on his face.
Then he put the bottle back, leaving Eileen panting as she relaxed a bit in her bonds. Her eyes then widened in horror as he took out a piece of ice and held it between his fingers.
"Punishment time," Mark said evilly.
The bound blonde shook her head and moaned her objections into her gag, but the only effect they had was to prompt her tormenter even more. He took the cube and gently touched the tip of one of her nipples, sending a rush of fiery cold running through her body. Then she felt the welcome touch of his other fingers, gently slipping up and down her slit and grazing her swollen bud. Eileen could feel another red-hot tide of bliss building within her as he tickled her clit.
Eileen screamed again as the ice-cube caressed her other nipple, causing her to buck in her bonds. The cold of the ice only intensified the heat of his touch and the pyre of pleasure that was roaring with Eileen began to climb higher and higher.
Then he took his hands away.
Eileen looked up to see what he was doing, only to feel the chill cube touch her swollen bud. The shock of the cold ice cube shot through her as she jerked in her bindings. It was then Mark threw away the ice and pushed himself inside of her.
To Eileen, her lover's cock felt as if it were made of furnace-hot iron as he pushed himself deeply into her, causing a flood of ecstasy to engulf her entirely. Wave after broiling wave of pure bliss crashed through her again and again as he thrust into her with a fierceness that he had never showed before. Then, just when she thought it could not ever be better than this, she felt him shudder and squirt into her with a pleasure the shredded her very soul.
Mark collapsed on top off her and held her tight as the last of her orgasmic shivering subsided. God, how she loved this man and she wished she could spend an eternity with him just as she was. Mark cradled her like that for quite some time before slowly getting up and carefully undoing all of Eileen's bonds. The gag was the last to come out and Eileen worked her jaw a bit before leaning over and kissing him.
"That, my Master, was the most incredible thing I have ever felt," Eileen said, curling up on the bed beside the artist.
"You were a good slave too," he smiled and returned her kiss, their tongues dancing around another for just a bit.
"Thirsty?" Mark asked.
Eileen got an impish look on her face, "I am always thirsty for you, Master."
"Then I will go get the corkscrew and glasses."
Mark slipped out of bed and Eileen drank in his wonderful form. The sculptor was well built with a nice tight rear and blue-eyes the devil would be jealous of. His hands weren't really large but they had a gentle language all their own. That is one thing that first attracted her to him was the way he used his hands while talking, almost as if it were signing for the deaf.
It did not take him long to return with a pair of Champaign glasses and bottle opener. He sat at the edge of the bed and opened the bottle. The sparkling wine hissed as he poured some into each glass.
"Close your eyes, my little slave," Mark said as he held her glass.
Being a good slave, Eileen did as she was told. Mark teased her with the glass, gently touching it to her lips then pulling it away as soon as she tried to take a sipping. She giggled a bit when he caressed one of her nipples with the glass. The teasing went on for a bit until Mark finally let her sip the Champaign.
Besides the sex, this is what Eileen really enjoyed about being tied up and in the hands of Mark. He lovingly teased her and she felt more alive than she had ever felt before; more loved and more wanted. It was times like these that the big "D" word crossed her mind. However, there were a few things that her husband held over her and she would hate to see come out in open court. Sadly, it seemed that this was a good as it was going to get.
Eileen slowly began to drift off. The combination of her sexual exertions and the wine were making her sleepy. Mark didn't say a word as she nuzzled up beside him and floated into her own dream world.
In fact, Mark grinned a fiendish grin. The sleeping pills he had dissolved into her wine were doing their job. It was time to put his plan into action.
-o0o-
Slowly, Eileen began to wake up from a wonderful, lusty dream. She tried to stretch and she panicked when she found she couldn't. Her eyes flew open and she saw that she was in Mark's studio, trussed up tightly and her lips sealed with a strip of wide tape.
"I see my Galatea has awoken," Mark said as he walked over and looked down at his mummified lover.
Eileen tried to plead through her sealed lips. Mark smiled, leaned over, and gave her a light kiss on her forehead.
"There, there," Mark said, "I know this is probably a very big surprise to find yourself like this. But it’s part of the plan of getting you on the auction block tonight. I must say, my precious little slave, you look gorgeous. Let me roll you over to a mirror so you can take a better look at yourself."
It was a very strange feeling to Eileen, being pushed around the room like a teacart, unable to do much of anything except to whimper through her gag. It was a short trip to the mirror on the studio ceiling but it held a very erotic image frozen in its glass. Eileen looked at herself arched on some sort of metal frame completely encase in some sort of tape. Every curve and shadow was in itself a sensual sculpture. She tried to wiggle a bit, but there was only a slight hint of movement. Mark had indeed turned her into a statue.
As she struggled, Eileen also became more aware of other things. She felt an intruder inside her as well as a more slender one inside her anus. Neither one of the vibrators buzzed. She wondered if they were capable of it.
"You are completely wired, my slave," Mark said, as if reading her mind, "With many little surprises. But I don't want to spoil it for you. However, I do want to show you what you will look like after I get done with you. Just look to your right and you will see what you will be transformed into."
Eileen turned her head and saw a beautiful full-sized statue of a winged woman arcing as if she were flying up into the heavens, breaking through a box of steel and ice. The sculpture was electric blue in color and her angel-like wings were translucent and glowed an eerie bluish green. To Eileen, it reminded her of a hood ornament of an old time car.
"Of course, this is your stunt double," Mark grinned, "And she will replace you when the piece is actually taken home by its new owners. There is a lot more to this sculpture, and you will be able to see it firsthand. But first, I must get you ready for your showing."
Eileen really had a hard time believing that this was actually happening and the thought of being bound in front of maybe a hundred people made her more than a little bit horny and definitely made up for any fears she may have had. She also wondered just how she was wired.
Gently, Mark raised her head and tucked her golden brown hair into a bathing cap. Even when doing this, his touch was electric and she wished that she could get some movement going between her legs. But she could not budge and that alone frustrated her. After all her hair was neatly tucked inside, he started to put a pair of earphones into her ears.
“This is going to be a little uncomfortable, my little slave girl, but you must keep your eyes closed,” Mark told her before finishing with the earphones.
Eileen closed her eyes and felt Mark gently press some tape over them. She desperately wanted to know what he was going to do to her, but her whimpering did little to relieve her situation. Next the bound girl felt something being stuck up her nose. The cool breath of oxygen filled her nasal passages as he sealed the hose in place.
As Mark began wrapping her head in tape, Eileen began to panic. Never had her bondage been so total. She was being slowly mummified completely and there was nothing she could do to stop it. It didn’t take long for Mark to complete the task.
Mark stood back and looked over his work in progress. The heavy rebar frame arched Eileen beautifully. Her arms were bound in back of her and the frame made her point her toes. Her breathing tubes as well as all the cords were taped tightly to her body and would be invisible when he finished her.
Slowly, he tilted her body until she was vertical. As much as he wanted to introduce her to all the fun he had installed on her, he really didn’t have that much time to complete his second sculpture. So the artist focused on what needed to be done in order to get her onto the auction block.
First, he anchored her wings into the frame and made sure that the LED lights worked. Next he brought out several gallons of a heavy rubber-like paint; the same kind used to rubberize the handles of tools. The paint was the same electric blue as the sculpture next to Eileen. Starting with her head, he began to coat her liberally, making sure all of her was covered and there were no drips marring her surface. After she was dry, it would look as if she was cast as one gleaming piece.
Eileen wasn’t sure how long she hung there, completely mummified in tape and rubberized paint, but it had to be hours and her comfort level was dropping fast. Her arms ached as well as her neck and there were several parts of her body she dearly wanted to scratch an itch away. Eileen also needed to pee in a very bad way, the wine having made its way through her. She tried to moan to let Mark know of her discomfort, but very little came out. Finally, she felt some sort of movement and hoped she would be relieved somehow.
A black marble base with the acrylic ice and steel chest awaited Eileen. Mark eased her over to it and feed all of the tubes and wires down through the small hole on top of the base. Next, Mark slowly set the bottom part of the frame into the base, making sure Eileen was secure before releasing her from the cart. Down below the base Mark hooked-up all the wires and tubes that connected to his precious blonde’s bound form.
Eileen felt him rubbing something all over her as she hung there, completely unable to move. Mark began to lovingly polish the rubber-coating with oil in order to make it gleam. He was in his artist mode now, focused on his vision of what Eileen was about to become.
Inside her cocoon, Eileen began to warm to the artist’s attentions. He seemed to be touching every part of her body and being bound as she was, there was nothing she could do but get into her ‘sub space’ and enjoy the feeling of being rubbed.
The bound woman found that she was mentally exploring her own body. She was familiar enough with the feel of a vibrator to know that there was a pair of them inside of her; one residing in her puss and the other eased up inside her anus. She also felt some sort of tiny clamp clipped onto several of her sensitive parts, most notable being her nipples and her clit. Mark had a wonderful creativity when it came to making her cum and she was sure that this would be no exception.
Carefully, Mark took a scalpel and peeled away a portion of the rubber and tape covering her eyes. Eileen opened her eyes to see Mark’s smiling blue eyes looking into hers. She noticed a blue tooth like device off of his right ear and realized that that was the reason she was hearing him so clearly.
“I want you to see all of the people that are going to bid on you, my little slave,” Mark said as he grabbed a small container and make-up brush, “I have some make-up to blend around your eyes.”
Gently he brushed on the paste. Eileen noticed it was almost the same shade as the gleaming rubber encasing her body. Carefully he applied all around her eyes, even having her close her eyes so he could do her eyelids. After he was done, he stood back and looked at her with a critical eye.
“Almost ready for the show, slave,” he smiled.
Actually, Mark had quite a bit to do, but he didn’t want his captive to get too antsy. Not that there was to terribly much she could do about it, but he liked to treat his slaves at least a little like human beings.
The sculptor started finishing off the other winged captive first. Brilliant white rope ensnared its wrists and a bright red swath of tape sealed the sculpture’s lips. Next, the disassembled panels of the burning ice cube were re-assembled around the arcing angel, its wings breaking through the cube in the back of the sculpture. After making sure that the panels looked seamless, Mark plugged the piece in and the cube seemed to come to life.
Shimmering blue and red lights illuminated the trapped angel from below, emphasizing her every curve. The blues caressed the body slowly, like sunlight off a still ocean. The reds flickered between orange and red like flames. The effect was mesmerizing.
“You see, my little slave, the lights react with the observer’s motions. As I walk around the piece, motion detectors in the base activate various lights and sounds.”
Eileen frowned, not being able to hear what the sculpture was doing.
“I took the liberty of recording our little sessions, slave, and I tweaked them a bit to make your sighs sound like the wind moaning; wanting release. It’s subtle but I am sure it will get the reaction I am looking for. I think they are too soft for your earphones to hear. Now to get you ready, slave.”
Just as he had the other sculpture, Mark wrapped some rope around her bound wrists and applied a wide piece of red tape over where her mouth would be. He then started on encasing Eileen in the acrylic and brass panels that would make her look like she was trapped in ice. Looking out through the panels, everything was distorted but she still could make out Mark and everything that made up his studio.
Then Mark turned on the lights.
However, it wasn’t just the lights that turned on. Both of the vibrators began their sadistic hum inside of her. As Mark circled her, they both increased and decreased in their intensity. When Mark was in front of her, the vibe buried in her sex buzzed more. When he moved to in back of her, her anal vibrator hummed more vigorously. But, that wasn’t all. There was a slight tingle in the clips on her nipples and clitoris. As Mark moved closer, the electric tingle became more pronounced until it was almost painful when he was touching the cube.
The combination of all of the sensations coursing through her started the erotic flames dancing inside of her, licking at her libido and starting to fuel her orgasm. She could hear herself moan as her body tried to move in its confines but finding that she was totally immobilized.
“Of course, my little slave girl, you are wired a bit differently than your double and your moaning sounds will be heard, though synthesized a little to sound more like her. So everyone can see you and hear you.”
With a click of a remote, everything turned off.
“We need to be at the gallery in a couple hours. I have the rental truck downstairs. I just need to wheel both of you into the freight elevator, take you down, load you up and deliver you as well as a few other of my works. I just need a few phone calls to make sure everything is in place for your showing.”
Eileen watched him through the rippled panel. He had turned the mike off and with her being bound as she was, she really couldn’t hear what he was saying. The warm afterglow of her pleasure still lingered like a wonderful memory inside her. However, it made her hungry for more.
Soon after Mark hung up, he opened up the elevator gate and started carrying in several of his smaller works, already wrapped in bubble wrap and ready to be taken to the gallery, sort of like her, Eileen thought. Next, her ‘double’ was carefully wheeled to the elevator and disappeared as the elevator sank to the garage.
It wasn’t long before Eileen saw Mark return and felt herself being moved to the elevator. The wheels under the base were smooth-rolling and she felt almost as if she were gliding until the bump of the elevator lip destroyed the illusion.
The bound woman found that she could turn her head just a little from side to side and she found a little bit of comfort in the fact she could watch her Master as he pushed the buttons to ease them both down into his garage.
When the elevator stopped, she notice a big, yellow Ryder truck parked beside them. Eileen didn’t remember it when she pulled her Mercedes in. Of course, she had other things on her mind, but she would have noticed it, she thought.
Mark steadily pushed his Eileen sculpture out and onto the loading ramp of the truck, carefully securing it before pulling the lever and easing it up to the bed of the truck. Then, he pushed her in beside the other sculptures. Eileen did not see the other angel sculpture, but she supposed it was under the tarp in the corner of the truck.
The artist uncoiled some more rope and wrapped it tightly around the translucent cube holding his angel slave. The last thing he needed was to damage it on the way over to the auction; this sculpture being more valuable than the others packed inside the truck. After he made sure everything was secure, he stepped out the back and pulled the door closed, locking Eileen in the dark.
The excitement of what was about to happen alleviated some of the pain but her need to pee had also grown to the point that she couldn’t hold it any longer. Soon she felt a warmth spread around her sex and trickle down the inside of her left leg. She soon realized the Mark had taken in account that particular need and had a tube that made sure to drain her pee away and into some container in the base.
After the horror of what she had to do went away, Eileen began to enjoy her bondage a bit more. True, she had a few little aches here and there and she was a bit hungry but the promises of lustful sexual torment eclipsed those little things totally.
Eileen was still dreaming taboo dreams when the door of the truck slid open and a pair of workers as well as Mark stood on some kind of loading bay for the auction house. The bound woman squinted in the bright sunlight as the workers began to take each of the sculptures out. Eileen was the last to go as they wheeled her through the storeroom and into the gallery proper.
The gallery was larger than Eileen had imagined, with tall vaulted ceilings and vast expanses of white walls. A corner of the gallery had been set up expressly for Mark and workers busied themselves carefully displaying the other sculptures and a couple of sculpted panels for the walls. Each had their own erotic elemental signature that her Master was noted for.
Mark focused on getting the Eileen sculpture ready. He had already notified several good clients of this sculpture and really needed to get top dollar for it. As he was plugging her in, he notice her urine sack was partially filled and smiled a bemused smile knowing that at least that part of his planning had worked.
The lights inside flickered on and Eileen felt the humming begin inside her as well as the electric tingles on her nipples and clit causing her utter a swooning moan. Warm sparks of pleasure arced through her as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of total encasement. All Eileen could do now is feel and that realization started to turn up her sexual thermostat.
The workers paid no attention to her as they completed their tasks around her, not knowing that their movements were touching in places that they would never touch. Slowly, a storm of bliss was building inside of her as the vibrators and clips worked their magic.
Then they all stopped.
She opened her eyes to see her Mark standing there, remote in hand and waging his index finger.
“Not now, little slave, not until showing,” Eileen heard in her earphones.
Apparently Mark had heard her. The embers were still burning however and there was nothing Eileen could do to fan them. She would just have to wait for the showing.
The workmen had finished their tasks and a few well-dressed people mingled around her and the other sculptures. Eileen assumed they were the gallery owners getting an advanced peek at what they were about to sell. Mark had disappeared for a bit but Eileen saw him reemerge wearing a very stylish grey suit. He looked very confident; very in control as he mingled. That was her Master, Eileen smiled.
Soon some lights dimmed and spots turned on various displays and Mark stepped in front of his prize piece and turned it on.
Once more Eileen’s electric friends caressed her with their buzzing, sending another flash of pleasure flooding through her. She strained against her mummification yet nothing yielded as the humming bliss continued to build within her.
Opening her eyes, she watched well dressed men and women, wine glasses in hand, wander around her and watch her as if they knew she was inside seething in rapture. Whenever they drew near, the electric tingle shocked her swollen nips and clit, causing her to moan uncontrollably. Time and time again, she would be engulfed in a white hot orgasm as the patrons watched her outside her acrylic cube.
Then Eileen saw something that sent ice piercing through her gut.
Eileen spotted her husband.
The bound woman could not take her eyes off of him as he carefully studied each of Mark’s pieces. Her husband knew of her affection for Mark’s works and had surprised her with a piece or two on special occasions. She was positive that he did not know about the affair. His business endeavors took up far more of his attentions than she ever did. Eileen was his trophy wife, dressing up the estate not unlike an antique sofa or a painting. No, the only reason that he would be here would be to buy something for her.
Devon, her husband, came over to Eileen and began to eye critically. She found she was holding her breath despite knowing that he did not have the slightest clue that she was inside. The humming and buzzing continued but she fear kept their attentions at bay as Devon continued to circle around her.
As her husband circled back in front, she heard Mark in her earphones. “Eye-catching, isn’t she?” Mark said.
“Quite,” Devon said, still looking at her, forefinger on his chin and his glasses perched at the tip of his nose.
“I think this is my most difficult piece yet,” Mark continued, “A fair amount of thought and work went into this piece, things that you can appreciate time and time again.”
“Are you the artist?” Devon asked.
“Yes, I am. Guilty as charged.”
“My wife is very fond of your work,” Devon said, “I have several of your pieces at home. I find your stuff intriguing but not on the level as say, a Picasso or a Pollock. But still, you do fine work and my wife adores your stuff so I am more than happy to be a patron. What make her happy makes me happy.”
Mark smiled and shook the man’s hand, “She is lucky to have you to give her things that she enjoys.”
Eileen breathed a sigh of relief as her husband wandered off. Eileen was sure that Mark had no idea with whom he was speaking. She would have to tell him after the auction in the confines of his studio.
Slowly people started to drift away towards the separate auction room. Mark stood by the doorway as the bidding started on the art displayed here tonight. One by one, each piece was carefully transported by gallery workers to the stage.
Then it was Eileen’s turn.
Workers unplugged her and carefully trucked her to behind the curtain to the platform. As a spotlight highlighted another of Mark’s works, Eileen was placed at another part of the stage and plugged in. Mark had shut off the lights and speakers, but the vibrators came back to life as well as the electric teasing of the clamps.
The pleasure rushing through her flashed as a spotlight now illuminated her. The red and blue lights turned on and she knew now she could be heard. She felt the vibrators turned onto a high pulse as the strength of the current teasing her clit and nipples increased. Bolt after jarring bolt of pure ecstasy coursed through her as the bidding started. She could barely hear it above her own moans as an orgasm rushed higher and higher inside of her until it engulfed he in gut-wrenching bliss. Her body strained against her cocoon but she felt no give as the hammer went down and she had been sold. . .
-o0o-
Ending 1:
Mark was pleased. Eileen went for far more than he had expected; more than any other of his large works of the past. Even in these bad economic times, there was still money to be made in art.
As the patrons were writing checks and presenting cards to the gallery’s host, Mark took advantage of the post-auction chaos to wheel in Eileen’s replacement and put a tarp over his enslaved angel. Quickly he loaded her onto his idling rental truck and secured her. All of his other works went as well and after doing some mental calculations, Mark was set for at least another year. He would claim his check, minus the auction house fees, in a few days. Right now, however, he needed to get back and get his Eileen out of her prison.
“You went for a pretty penny,” Eileen heard Mark tell her through her earphones, “I think in part to your performance.”
Eileen felt herself blush. Even though she was unplugged, the lingering effects of her orgasms still were sending a ripple or two through her from the memories of being on display. She didn’t know how much the people could hear her, but she was sure that her moans caused more than one stirring between their legs.
“I have one more surprise waiting for you, my little slave, when we get home.”
So far, all of her surprises had been above and beyond good and her mind dashed ahead to envision what he had in store for her. Whatever it was, she was sure that it couldn’t possibly be any better than the one she had just been through.
Then she thought of her husband.
Soon she would have to making the trek across town and to her ‘real’ home. Her friend, Susan, would have covered for her again, saying that their shopping trip lasted a bit longer than expected and both of them spent the night at a hotel. For Susan, it was a game she excelled at and spending a day or two at the Hilton was just the bonus she needed from her hum-drum world of interior design.
However, even Susan didn’t know where Eileen was. No one did save herself and her Master.
The truck slowed, then stopped and the rear door was lifted open. Mark pulled the canvas from his sculpture and unbound it from the interior of the truck. Carefully he moved Eileen from the truck, through the empty garage and up into his studio.
As soon as the artist parked Eileen, he started to undo the panels. Eileen was grateful to see an undistorted world again as he put the acrylic panels aside.
However, instead of releasing Eileen further, Mark wheeled a small television in front of her and turned it on. There, on the screen, was a woman that looked remarkably like Eileen. In fact, the woman was wearing the clothes that Eileen had brought with her to change into when she left to go back to Devon.
“Hi Eileen,” the girl on the television said, “You don’t know me but I am going to be you today! Mark here asked me to be you. I know it is probably a shock to hear that, but be patient and all will be revealed.”
The camera pulled back and the fake Eileen opened the door to the real Eileen’s Mercedes. The actor’s white-gloved finger caressed the sedan’s top.
“You see, Eileen,” the woman continued with her slight southern accent, “Mark cares for you very much so he has decided to keep you for himself. I know Mark’s tastes so I know what that probably means for you. So, I am helping Mark make you disappear. I have your passport along with all your other little goodies that makes you you and I have a one way plane ticket to Quebec. I will drive your wonderful little car to the airport, park it and take the next flight there where you will disappear and I will reappear to take a flight back a few hours later as myself. It’s that easy. Your husband, I am sure, will spend quite a bit of money trying to find you but you and your friend Susan have made sure that your little ‘thing’ with Mark was very discrete. So I am sure his private eyes won’t find you and knowing him, at some point his money will be worth more to him than you and he will stop the hunt.”
Eileen could believe what she was hearing. The shock completely drained her.
“So enjoy the rest of your life as Mark’s little plaything. I am pretty sure he won’t tire of you.”
With that, the fake Eileen got into the Mercedes, shut the door and drove away. The screen then went blank.
Mark took the DVD out of the television set and dropped it onto the floor, grinding it into pieces before carefully sweeping it up and dumping it into a dust bin filled with the remnants of past art projects. He then stepped back over and looked into her eyes.
“Surprise!”
Ending 2:
Mark was pleased. Eileen went for far more than he had expected; more than any other of his large works of the past. Even in these bad economic times, there was still money to be made in art.
As the patrons were writing checks and presenting cards to the gallery’s host, Mark wanted to take advantage of the post-auction chaos to wheel in Eileen’s replacement and cart his slave away.
“You were right,” Mark heard a voice behind him say, “It is very eye-catching.”
Mark turned around to see a patron he had spoken to earlier as he was looking at the piece.
“Thank you,” Mark said, “but you have to excuse me. I need to get the piece ready for delivery to its new home.”
The man smiled, “No need to do that. My people will be here shortly and take of all of that.”
The color drained from Mark face, “With a piece like this, I like to make sure that everything is correctly installed. I have my truck here and it would be no trouble at all to drive it over there and make sure it is properly taken care of. If I could just get your address, Mr. . . “
“Devon Chaucer,” the man said, “But I don’t think it is so complicated that one of my staff can’t handle it. You see, I am expecting my wife back from a shopping trip and I wanted to surprise her. Of course, when I came here I wasn’t expecting to pay for such a lavish piece of art, but my wife is worth it.”
Mark was about to say something else when two well-dressed workmen came up.
“Is this the piece, Mr. Chaucer?” one of them asked.
“Yes it is, George. Make sure to secure it tightly. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to it before I surprise my wife with it.”
Quickly the workers wrapped Eileen in some bubble wrap and began to wheel her out with Mr. Chaucer trailing a bit behind.
“Are you sure you don’t want my help?” Mark called out weakly, “It would be no problem.”
“No, that is quite alright. I got it from here. I don’t want to ruin it if she has gotten home before me.”
“I am pretty sure you won’t,” Mark said dejectedly under his breath, “I am pretty sure you won’t.”
Ending 3:
Mark was pleased. Eileen went for far more than he had expected; more than any other of his large works of the past. Even in these bad economic times, there was still money to be made in art, he grinned.
As the patrons were writing checks and presenting cards to the gallery’s host, Mark called his other contacts to make sure everything was going as scheduled.
Claudia was already at the airport. She was nearly the same height and build as Eileen and with the proper wig and a pair of sunglasses, she could be Eileen’s twin. She had already dressed in Eileen’s clothes and sported everything that Eileen had worn, including her wedding ring.
Claudia had driven Eileen’s Mercedes to the airport and parked it in the long term area. The suitcase belonged to Claudia as well as all of its contents, but nothing that would scream out not belonging to either woman. Claudia’s other ID was safely in the briefcase she would be taking to Quebec with her.
One way tickets usually are a red flag to security, so Mark made sure to make it two way. However, Eileen would be making the return trip. He even used her credit card to book it from a payphone in the Mall a month ago when he was sure of the auction date.
Like his previous auctions, there were certain clients that knew the real contents of his art and would pay a pretty penny for them. This drove up the prices of his other, smaller pieces as well as making it easy for his clients to take home their newly purchased slaves.
Mark also made sure that Eileen kept their affair a complete secret, instilling fear of her husband finding out as well as others, making sure she didn’t tell even her best friends about Mark. Her husband didn’t suspect, he was positive of that. So another rich housewife was bound to some dungeon somewhere to please someone else.
The sculptor was a little sad to see her go, but his lifestyle needed cash as the Crimson Group was always in need of more product. Quietly he slipped out of the end-of-auction crowd to out in front of the Gallery to light a smoke.
“Do you have another?” a woman’s voice asked.
Mark turned around to see a very attractive brunette with dark, almond shaped eyes and a ‘fuck-me’ type of smile.
“Sure,” Mark pulled out his cigarette case and offered the woman one.
“Thanks. I am trying to quit, but the stress of these auctions, well, let’s just say I need something to calm my nerves.”
“I know what you mean,” the artist said as he mentally took note of the brunette’s selling points, “I definitely know what you mean.”
Vote on the ending you liked best, on Fesseln's blog Fesseln's Fiction
18.08.09
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