Marcus and Victoria had spent years pursuing the "starving artist" dream using his father's money. His sculptures, funded by his trust fund, rarely appeared in public, and the few shows that did happen drew small crowds. Their repeated failures had made them work longer hours in the studio. This turned their creative partnership into a tense situation that left Evelyn feeling out of place. Dinners at his expensive loft were quiet and uncomfortable, interrupted only by complaints about how the art world was against them, fueled by wine. She would go to the studio with him and offer sketches or hold tools, but Marcus would dismiss her with a patronizing smile. "That's cute, babe, but it's not quite right." Victoria, his direct assistant who always carried a clipboard, would agree. "Yes, it needs more edge."
Evelyn wanted their approval more than anything. It was the only time she felt like she fit into Marcus's world. But usually, she spent her time in their large loft feeling ignored, surrounded by unfinished sculptures and empty takeout containers.
One humid night in the studio, which smelled of turpentine, they approached her. Marcus unrolled a sketch of a body in a split pose, with clean lines and tension. Victoria spoke first. "Evelyn, we need you for the next piece. You'd be the model—the living canvas. It involves plaster and latex. It would take a few weeks, and then we could have a successful gallery show."
Marcus smiled. "It would mean giving up some freedoms. But this could be our breakthrough—our way out of struggling. Are you in? Help me succeed, or at least get a positive review."
Evelyn felt sick to her stomach. She imagined ropes against her skin and cold plaster holding her in place for days. The pain of it worried her. "I don't know," she said, her voice unsteady. "It sounds intense. What if I make a mistake? Or it hurts? Really hurts?"
Victoria put her hand on Evelyn's arm and squeezed it lightly. "We need this. You've wanted to contribute for a long time. This is your chance—our chance. It's just two weeks, and then we can go back to relaxing at home."
Marcus looked at her directly. "If you back out now, we'll stay stuck here doing the same thing. But if you say yes, we'll move forward together."
Evelyn paused, her heart beating fast. Part of her wanted to leave—this felt like a warning sign of their unhealthy relationship. But another part still cared about him deeply and hoped this would make her more important to him. That part won. "Okay," she said quietly, unhappy with how uncertain she sounded. "I'll do it.”
**Chapter 2: The Transformation: Posing**
They took Evelyn into the studio as if she were trying out for a low-budget bondage film. She stood still, her heart beating hard against her ribs, while Marcus and Victoria looked at her with calm, focused expressions. "We start now," Marcus said, sounding casual, like he was ordering food delivery. "Strip. Everything off."
Evelyn's mind went blank. "Naked? The whole time? For this?"
Victoria nodded, her smile precise. "Yes. The latex needs direct contact with your skin. No shortcuts in art."
Heat rose up Evelyn's neck, making her face turn red. "This feels wrong. You're my boyfriend, and his assistant. Isn't this like a violation?"
Marcus laughed, the sound deep and confident. "It's for the work. It's our vision. We've prepared models this way before. Focus on the masterpiece, not your concerns."
She looked down at the worn concrete floor, her hands shaking. Part of her wanted to run—this was a sign of their unhealthy relationship. But another part still felt attached to him and hoped this would make her matter more. She took a deep breath. She pulled her shirt over her head. Her pants fell to her ankles. She removed her underwear last, revealing her natural bush. She stood there, her arms at her sides, trying not to cover herself.
Before they started with the suit, Victoria stepped back and looked at Evelyn's body. "One more thing for the fit," she said. "Your pubic hair—it'll bunch up under the latex and cause irritation over time. We need to shave it clean for a smooth seal and your comfort."
Evelyn's face flushed deeper, her hands twitching at her sides. "Shave it? Right now?"
Marcus nodded, already reaching for a small kit on the nearby table with clippers and a razor. "It's standard for this kind of work. Keeps everything flat and prevents chafing during the long holds. Won't take a minute."
She hesitated, glancing between them, but the ropes weren't on yet, and part of her didn't want to argue after stripping.
"Fine," she muttered, spreading her legs slightly as Victoria guided her to sit on the edge of the foam box.
Victoria worked quickly, applying a bit of shaving cream and using the clippers first to trim, then the razor for a close shave. The cool air hit the bare skin afterward, making Evelyn shiver.
"There," Victoria said, wiping her clean. "Much better—no pulling or rubbing later. Stand up so we can get started properly.”
Marcus put his hands on her hips—firm and controlling—while Victoria's fingers moved lightly down her spine, tracing her vertebrae. Evelyn's bare skin prickled under the studio's bright lights, goosebumps forming as they examined every part of her. She felt embarrassed.
"Stay steady, Evelyn. This is the piece," Victoria said, her voice even.
The latex bodysuit went on next—a tight second layer that covered her from head to toe, but left her head, pussy, and asshole exposed. It pulled tight over her curves, compressing her lungs with every breath and making her breathing shallow.
At the center of the room was a box: knee-high and lined with foam, designed for her left leg. Ropes hung from an overhead rig like thick cords, with pulleys attached. They guided her calf into the box, then poured in the plaster mixture—cold and thick, with a chemical smell. It rose up her thigh and set overnight, forming a hard cast that held her from ankle to hip.
The next morning, they began the full split. Evelyn's yoga practice helped her flexibility, but this extreme vertical pull tested her limits. Ropes secured her limbs; pulleys lifted her right leg up until it pressed against her torso. Her back curved into a sharp C-shape, her right arm reached back to hold the ankle, and her left arm extended forward with fingers spread.
The strain hit her immediately. The ropes pressed into the latex, causing red marks on her skin underneath. Her muscles tightened against the setup, and pain started deep in her abdomen.
Over the week, they adjusted the position gradually. But to set the form, they completed the strain in three intense days, increasing the tension step by step.
Day one: The ropes pulled tight. Her leg lifted halfway, and her back curved in protest. She remembered yoga poses from her classes, but now they felt like strain. The marks appeared quickly; she made sounds through her teeth, sweat forming on her skin.
Day three: The ropes pressed deeper, the split almost complete, her back locked in the curve. The pain was constant, with a ligament close to straining. They applied salve to the rope marks, ignoring her reaction, their touches professional. "The shape is coming together," Victoria said, as if commenting on the weather. Evelyn disconnected, her body feeling distant, as the position took over her muscles.
Day seven: Full lock-in. Her muscles stretched to their limit, right leg straight up vertically, toes pointed. Her arms held the positions; the left extended like an offering. The bruises turned purple, but the tension remained steady, like a constant current in her body.
Marcus and Victoria walked around her, checking the angles closely.
"Ready for the next layer," Marcus said, smiling as if he had made a successful deal.
Evelyn's mind went numb, the position feeling like her new confinement.
**Chapter 3: The Transformation: Accessories**
Marcus and Victoria brought over a tray of metal tools: hoop piercings, needles, and one large vibrating butt plug. Evelyn stared at it, her eyes widening in shock. "What are those for?"
Marcus picked up the piercing kit, his hands steady. "Piercings are necessary now. They draw attention to the important lines."
Victoria pulled the latex aside at Evelyn's chest, exposing her nipples. She pinched and rolled them until they hardened. Evelyn took a sharp breath, feeling an unwanted sensation despite the ropes holding her in the split position.
Marcus worked quickly. He clamped one nipple and pushed the needle through it. Pain hit her suddenly; Evelyn made a sharp sound, and her body jerked against the ropes. He inserted the hoop and tugged it to test it. Victoria did the same to the other nipple, causing another sharp pain. A few drops of blood appeared on her skin, but they wiped it away quickly.
They moved lower without stopping. Marcus focused on her pussy. "The clit is direct, no hood. It needs to stand out and stay firm for the lines."
Victoria's hand moved down, and her fingers rubbed the clit until it swelled. Evelyn moved in the setup, feeling heat build where she did not want it. "Hold still," Victoria said sharply, clamping the exposed clit.
The needle went in quickly. The pain was worse than before; Evelyn screamed, and tears ran down her face. Marcus secured the hoop, pulling it to hold the position. The metal now pulled constantly, keeping her nerves active.
There was no break. The plug came next, thick at its widest part. They applied lube to it. Victoria spread Evelyn's cheeks; Marcus pressed the tip against her asshole. It met resistance, and the muscle tightened.
He inserted one finger first, the motion cold and intrusive. Evelyn tightened against it, the pain sharp. "Too tight," Marcus said. "If you had relaxed more over the years and taken it when you should have, this would not be difficult."
Victoria nodded, her voice even. "She wasted time on unimportant things. Now it counts."
He added a second finger, twisting to stretch her. Evelyn's breathing caught, the burning turning into a steady ache she disliked. Her body reacted anyway, and a small sound escaped her.
Marcus added a third finger, pushing deeper. The lube helped, but the stretch hurt. "See? It opens when you allow it. Life works the same way—give in or break."
Evelyn felt dizzy, their words hurting more than the fingers. Shame hit her, but the pressure created its own rhythm.
"Enough," Marcus said, removing his fingers. He positioned the plug and pushed it in. It stretched her open, the widest part catching before going through. Evelyn made a loud sound, the full length settling inside, its base flat against her skin and covered by the latex. He turned on the remote; the vibrations started at a low level, creating a steady buzz.
The piercings reflected the light, and the plug was in place. Marcus and Victoria stepped back and looked at the changes.
"It's a start," Victoria said.
Evelyn hung in the position, the new feelings adding to the existing tension.
**Chapter 4: The Transformation: Encasement**
The plaster mixture was ready, thick and very cold, with a strong chemical smell that Evelyn could already notice. Victoria used the trowel to apply the first amount to her shoulder, which was covered in latex. The cold sludge went through the seams and hit her skin with a deep numb burn. The gritty particles scraped her raw skin. It weighed her down right away and caused an itch inside the suit that she could not reach.
Marcus took a handful and applied it to her back. The cold felt like many small ice picks. The edges went numb while the center burned. The small crystals ground against her pores. Evelyn's breath caught, and the strain from the split caused new pain: her hamstrings burned up her raised leg, her back twisted with each breath, and her muscles cramped.
They applied it up to her chest, the trowel scraping over her pierced nipples. The wet mixture pulled on the hoops, causing sharp pain. Her nerves reacted strongly, and the throbbing pressure affected her chest.
The plaster set slowly and contracted, holding her nipples tightly and causing constant throbbing. The metal felt colder as it tightened.
Lower down, the process continued. Marcus pulled the latex away from her pussy, and the air stung briefly before Victoria grabbed the clit hoop and pulled it hard. The pull opened the new piercing, causing intense sharp pain that made her vision blur. Tears ran down her face. Plaster poured in, the cold grit filling her folds. It burned like extreme cold on her inner lips and held every fold in a gritty freeze that went deeper than the surface.
The clit was trapped, with its base covered and the hoop sticking out under the layer. Marcus inserted the catheter next, the tube scraping her urethra like rough wire filled with sand. A deep cold filled her bladder until it connected, and the plug was hidden inside the shell.
Her asshole tightened around the base of the plug as they applied plaster there. The vibrations were off, but the outer cold gripped like metal clamps. Her cheeks went numb while the inner stretch ached. Evelyn broke down, stress causing a choked sob, and her body shook against the ropes. "Breathe," Marcus said, taking the remote from his pocket. He turned it on low. The plug vibrated, creating a deep rumbling that reduced the sharp edges enough for her to breathe. The vibration calmed the disorder, with a subtle warmth starting low.
But they continued, with hands pulling. Victoria adjusted the nipple hoops in rhythm with the vibration, and Marcus pulled the clit hoop again, with quick movements matching the pulse. The pain became intense: the pulls caused fresh burning, but the vibrations pulled it down, working the nerves until the throbbing turned to heat. The combined actions built without mercy. Her nipples sent electric shocks, her clit swelled under the pulls, and the plug's rhythm pressed inside like pressure on a sensitive spot. Evelyn's mind went blank, thinking *stop*, but her body reacted against her will. Her hips moved slightly in the setup, and her breathing became uneven. The pain quickly changed to release: an orgasm hit strongly, her muscles tightening around the plug, fluids trapped and soaking the sealed plaster. She shook from the aftereffects, and shame made it worse.
More layers were added, the shell's weight pressing on her lungs, making every breath feel like dry mixture ground against her throat like broken glass. Her face was still exposed, but the setup controlled her completely.
Victoria applied the final layer smoothly. "She fits perfectly."
Evelyn floated in a haze, the memory of pain faded by the forced orgasm.
**Chapter 5: The Transformation: Faceless**
Evelyn reacted strongly to their casual suggestion. The plaster shell already covered her body completely, but her face was her last remaining part. It was her final resistance to the process, her last way to hold onto her identity. Marcus picked up the ring gag. The metal O-ring was cold and wide. "Time to quiet you down," he said, sounding relaxed and entitled, like he was asking her to pay him back for something minor.
She shook her head from side to side, a strong feeling of refusal rising inside her. But the ropes held her in place. He forced her jaw open and pushed the ring past her teeth. Her lips stretched tightly around it, and the bar pressed her tongue flat. Drool started pooling immediately. Pain started deep in her jaw as her muscles resisted the position, creating a severe throbbing that spread to her temples. Victoria applied adhesive around the edges. The glue burned slightly as it seeped into her gums, sticky and chemical, securing it in place for a long time.
Evelyn's breathing came through the gap in short whistles at first, then became irregular as panic set in. The panic hit hard—her chest rose and fell against the pressure of the shell, and the plug's low vibration did little against the constant pull of the piercings, which caused a steady ache in her nipples and clit. She moved weakly against the ropes, her whistle turning into a high, desperate sound.
"Relax," Marcus said. He held the remote loosely and increased the setting. The plug vibrated stronger, sending waves deep inside her, which reduced the intensity of her panic enough for her to take a breath. The vibration competed with the discomfort from the gag, but it helped steady her, bringing an unwanted sense of calm.
Victoria brought out the clippers next. They made a low, mechanical sound, and the blades looked sharp. "Quick haircut," she said, pressing them against Evelyn's scalp. The first pass cut off a section of hair. The cold metal touched her skin, and the vibration went deep into her skull. It started as a tickle but turned into a rough scrape as her hair fell. Evelyn jerked, her whistle becoming frantic, but Marcus held her head still, his fingers pressing hard into her neck and leaving bruises.
They worked methodically. The clippers moved in lines from her forehead to the top of her head. Each pass pulled at the hair roots, leaving her scalp exposed and sensitive. The air felt sharp on the newly cut areas. They did the back of her neck last, the vibration traveling into her spine and making her stiffen. Tears ran down her face, mixing with the drool on her chin.
Victoria applied the cream to the bare scalp. It was slick at first and tingled, then caused a slow burning sensation. The chemical worked to prevent hair regrowth. Evelyn's scalp felt very hot under it, with every nerve activated, and the bald feeling was strange and heavy.
The hood came next: a smooth latex piece, plain and featureless, with a cutout for the mouth that matched the gag. They pulled it on, the material gripping tightly. Her eyes went completely dark right away, her temples pressed as if in a severe headache, and her ears muffled to a dull sound. The seal around the ring made her lips thinner, and drool came out steadily. Her world changed completely: no sight, distorted sounds, and her whistle now echoed inside her throat.
Marcus smoothed it down. Victoria applied plaster over the hood. The wet cold hit her scalp, seeping at the edges and intensifying the burn from the cream. The grains scraped the new skin, and it tightened slowly to a firm surface. They shaped it to add false details: short ears, a smooth featureless face, an open ring around the mouth hole, and the piercings left exposed below.
But they added more pulls. Victoria's fingers touched the nipple hoops again, with quick tugs matching the vibration's rhythm. Marcus pulled the clit hoop with firm movements. The pain started fresh: the pulls caused sharp flares, but the rhythm reduced it, with the vibrations building heat from inside. Her nipples reacted under the pulls, her clit throbbed swollen, and the shell held it all in. Evelyn's body arched slightly in the setup.
The final layer set, sealing her head smooth and blank. Only the mouth remained open, a dark opening in the mask.
"Done," Marcus said.
**Chapter 6: The Transformation: Final Coating**
The next day, the studio smelled strongly of solvent fumes. Marcus and Victoria stood in front of the encased form. The plaster was dry but rough under the lights. Evelyn felt the shell's constant pressure. Her muscles were stuck in the split position, the piercings pulled with each short breath, and the plug's low vibration created a steady hum inside her.
Marcus picked up the spray gun. The nozzle made a hissing sound during test shots. "Use thin layers. Make it an even coat with no drips."
Victoria nodded. "Skip the mouth, the piercings, and the base."
The first pass of spray hit her torso. It was a fine mist of polyurethane, cool on contact but warming quickly to form a tight layer under the plaster. It tightened fast, squeezing the shell more. The pressure on her ribs made her breaths shorter, and each breath felt like it scraped her lungs against the compression. The chemical taste came through the mouth hole, coating her throat with a plastic film. Her tongue felt numb and bitter.
They moved slowly around her. The gun made a soft sound as it sprayed her legs, arms, and the raised thigh. The spray stuck to the sealed area over her pussy. The clit hoop stung under the drops. The cold spots burned into an itch, and the metal carried the chill into the raw piercing. Evelyn's body tensed. The added pressure increased the pain from the split. Her hamstrings cramped up the raised leg, and the curve in her back pressed on her spine.
Halfway through, panic started. The pressure was too much, and her whistle became sharp through the gag. "Hold," Marcus said. He took the remote from his pocket and increased the vibration. The plug vibrated stronger, with deep pulses moving through her abdomen. This reduced the intensity enough for her to breathe. The vibration worked against the spray's tightening, calming the panic and allowing a pause.
Victoria checked the drying areas. Her fingers brushed the nipple hoops with quick pulls that matched the vibration. These pulls caused sharp pain from the tips. Marcus then touched the clit weight with firm tugs in rhythm. The pain was intense and raw, but the vibrations reduced it, affecting the nerves until the throbbing changed to heat. Her nipples hardened under the pulls, her clit swelled tightly, and the shell held in the building sensation. Evelyn's mind raced with the thought to stop, but her body tightened around the plug.
They sprayed the head last. The mist made the blank mask smooth, leaving the mouth hole open. The glossy coating hardened quickly, creating a tough shell that shone under the lights. Every line was set, and the piercings stood out sharply against the gray.
"That seals it. It's done," Victoria said.
Evelyn felt the full compression, with the coating as her final layer.
**Chapter 7: Art is Life**
By the end, Evelyn was remade. The plaster shell covered her in gray, hardened under polyurethane coating. Her left leg was locked straight, knee-deep in the pedestal, supporting her weight. The right leg extended vertically, toes flexed, the split pulling constantly on her hips.
Her back curved deeply to the side, the curve grinding her vertebrae with every breath. Right arm reached back, fingers gripping the ankle tightly; left arm extended forward, fingers spread. Breasts pushed out, nipples sealed stiff under the coating, hoops visible through the surface. Pussy filled completely, plaster stuffing every crease, clit the only protrusion from the seal, catheter plug hidden smooth. Asshole shaped the form, plug base a flat disc against the curve.
Her head was a blank mask, smooth and without ears, mouth hole open wide behind the gag. A plaque on the pedestal read "Silent Siren" in gold.
Evelyn assessed the layers: latex clinging with sweat, plaster's weight like heavy pressure on her bones, polyurethane's surface creating a deep itch she could not reach. Breaths came short, ribs confined, each one rasping the gag's metal against her teeth. The pose held her rigid—muscles burned in constant tension, hamstrings aching up the raised leg, back's curve pressing on her spine. Piercings throbbed steadily: nipples pulled by hoops into sharp pains, clit stretched tight, a swollen ache pulsing with her heartbeat.
A few days passed in the studio. Marcus and Victoria returned with a velvet sack. Inside: three silver weights, hooked and polished, each an inch long.
"These increase the pull," Marcus said. "Constant tug."
Victoria attached the first to a nipple hoop, securing it firmly. The weight swung, pulling the piercing down—a raw stretch that activated nerves, metal dragging skin under the shell into fresh burning. Evelyn's whistle sounded sharp, her body tensing against the internal ropes. Marcus attached the second to the other nipple, the double pull intensifying the pain, tips straining the coating in throbbing pressure.
The third attached to the clit: hook secured, weight light but persistent. The pull hit deep—nub jerked forward, raw hole flaring, a deep ache that caused panic; she strained weakly, whistle becoming high-pitched.
"Easy," Marcus said, taking out the remote. He increased the vibration; plug buzzed strongly, pulses moving deep through her ass, matching the pulls into a rhythm. Victoria tested the setup—fingers snapping nipple weights, then the clit one, quick jerks matching the hum. Pain stabbed, but the vibration reduced it, building heat from the pulls. Nipples reacted under the haul, clit a tight knot, the shell containing the building sensation. Evelyn's mind resisted—*enough*—but her body tightened, the orgasm hitting sealed.
Muscles gripped the plug in spasms, fluids against the plaster, whistle high in the release. The release left her heavy, a deep ache in her back.
The weights hung, shining on the gray. Marcus and Victoria stepped back.
"She's locked," Victoria said.
Evelyn floated in the hold, shape and pain combined tightly.
Evelyn's body burned continuously. Nipples pulsed under the seal, hoops pulling raw edges into endless pricks, a chest-deep ache with each heartbeat. The clit hurt more, metal protrusion yanking sealed nerves to swollen burning, desire twisting tight but blocked. Her pussy felt bare despite the filling—plaster rasping walls like grit in a wound, exposure thick in the constant swelling, drainage heavy from the catheter's pressure.
Deeply confined, voice reduced to whistle, thoughts cracked like the shell's fine lines. The pose continued: hamstrings balled fire up the leg lift, back's hook stabbing spine with each shallow breath, muscles quaking under pressure, fatigue turning hold to strain.
But numbness crept in. She observed from outside, body a confining cage, the grinding reducing her to an empty shell—faceless, lost in the pounding.
The low vibration idled in her ass, a mark of control. Panic twitched; whistle edged high. Marcus, nearby, increased the remote—pulses strong through her gut, blunting the peaks but integrating the piercings' pull, grinding pain to warmth: clit and nipples sparking under yank, the stimulation endless.
**Chapter 8: The Exhibition**
The gallery was full of wealthy investors and their partners. Marcus's father had arranged this by making donations to get his son a good spot for the show. Evelyn's shell shone under the spotlights. Her left leg was fixed in the pedestal, her right leg raised high in a split. Her back curved sharply, locking her spine under pressure. Her arms stayed in position. The hoops on her nipples and clit caught the light. Her pussy was sealed smooth, with only the clit protruding. Drool came slowly from the mouth hole in the blank mask. The plaque read *Price of Perfection* in fancy letters. They had changed it from "Silent Siren" to avoid being too obvious for his father's purchase.
Velvet ropes and signs kept people at a distance, saying to look but not touch. But the crowd stayed close. There were rich people in expensive clothes, Marcus's friends from the loft drinking overpriced beer, and Evelyn's parents who looked out of place. Her mother commented on the tension in the lines. Her father said it was modern nonsense. They had no idea their daughter's clit was close to being overwhelmed.
No one realized there was a live person inside except Marcus and Victoria, who acted calm.
A critic with a bun in his hair leaned in closely. "It reduces sex to piercings. A bold statement on how bodies are treated as objects." Victoria smiled professionally. "We wanted to provoke. It affects people strongly, right?"
Evelyn's mother gasped quietly, holding her necklace tightly. "It's so intense. The strain feels powerful." Her father muttered under his breath, looking at the clit piercing. "Yes, powerful," he said with a smile that made Evelyn uncomfortable inside her shell. She thought, Dad, don't look at that.
Marcus put the remote in his pocket. He turned it to medium. The plug vibrated, and the weights moved with it. Her nipples and clit pulled in rhythm, creating a deep sensation in her abdomen. People stared at the piercings, and shame filled her. She thought, they are staring at me sexually, and my mom is here. The vibration continued without stopping, the pulls causing sharp pain in the piercings. Her nipples throbbed, and her clit felt swollen. Her breathing caught, and a soft whistle came through the gag. The orgasm came because of the shame. Her body tightened around the plug, fluids stayed against the plaster. It shook her without release, leaving her weak, with drool coming from the mouth. An older woman with smooth skin noticed the sound. "That noise is strange."
Victoria explained quickly. "It's part of the sound design. It makes the piece more engaging."
The critic agreed and moved on. Her father stayed, talking quietly to her mother about what it might sell for at an auction. Evelyn heard parts of it. The exposure made her feel trapped. Her ribs felt more pressure, her breaths rubbed against the gag, and the position caused deeper pain in her bones.
Marcus turned the vibration low afterward. It teased without leading to release, the weights pulling constantly, leaving her clit and nipples aching. Panic started, and a weak whistle came out. He increased it slightly to calm her. The vibration reduced the pain but increased the denied sensation, making her body react strongly.
The crowd left with polite applause. "It's bold," one wealthy person said. They did not notice the person inside. It was just another expensive piece to them. Evelyn's parents said goodbye to Marcus, complimenting his success, unaware of what was happening.
Victoria smiled. "We did well."
Evelyn stayed there, feeling the aftereffects, with the stares still affecting her, and a sense of disgust.
Hours later, the gallery lights turned off for the night, leaving the space quiet and empty. Footsteps returned, with laughter from drinking and the smell of expensive alcohol and poor choices. Marcus and Victoria came back drunk from drinks with important people. They entered unsteadily. "It was a success," Marcus said unclearly, touching her skirt as they approached the main piece. "His friends liked it. Time to celebrate."
Victoria laughed and pushed him against Evelyn's shell, using her hip for support. "Use the artwork. It's made for this." They did not ask permission. Marcus lifted her hips and entered her with a sound that shook the pedestal. He used Evelyn's fixed position as support. Victoria put her hands on the chest part of the shell, her nails scratching the surface as she moved back, making loud sounds.
Marcus took out the remote and set it high. The plug vibrated strongly, sending deep pulses through her. The weights moved with their movements, pulling her nipples and clit sharply. Pain went through her sealed nerves. Evelyn thought, not here, not like this. Disgust grew as the unwanted sensation built, the vibration stirring her inside. Their movements pressed against her shell. Victoria breathed heavily near the mask, and Marcus's sweat dropped into the mouth hole. "Feel how tight it is?" he said, moving faster. "Our artwork enjoys the attention."
The combined actions overwhelmed her. The pulls felt electric, the vibration turned pain into heat, and her clit tightened under the pressure. Her body reacted again, tightening around the plug in anger. The orgasm came sealed and unpleasant. Fluids filled the space, and her whistle became high from humiliation. They did not notice, focused on themselves. Victoria made a loud sound as she finished, scratching the plaster over Evelyn's ribs. Marcus finished with a strong push that shook the setup.
Breathing heavily, they moved away and dressed quickly. "Leave the vibration on," Victoria said with a laugh, setting it to a low teasing level. "Let the artwork rest overnight. We have the gallery until morning." They left, the door closing loudly, and the lights went off completely.
Evelyn stayed alone in the dark. The shell felt colder, the vibration teasing her without stopping. The weights pulled without release, her breaths rubbed against the metal, and the quiet space felt trapping. She thought, used like that by my boyfriend, left overnight. Disgust stayed with her like the drool on her chin. The position continued without end, with no way out until this damned project was over.
**Chapter 9: The Private Viewing**
The gallery was dark and quiet the next night. The spotlights were off, but Evelyn's shell remained in the center of the room. Marcus's father had made arrangements to keep the space reserved for VIP follow-up visits. This meant his son could show the artwork to wealthy collectors without other people around. Footsteps echoed through the space. Marcus and Victoria brought in the collector, a man in an expensive suit with sharp eyes. His attention went straight to the sculpture before they turned on the low lights.
They positioned him close to the piece. There were no ropes now, just the sound of the air conditioning running after hours. Evelyn's position was clear under the dim light: her legs in a permanent split, the hoops on her nipples and clit reflecting the light, her pussy sealed smooth except for the protruding clit, and drool leaking from the mouth opening in the featureless mask. The plaque that read *Price of Perfection* sat on the pedestal below, the gold letters on the gray surface.
The collector walked slowly around it, his fingers brushing the smooth surface without permission. He touched the breasts, then the raised thigh, and paused to press a nipple weight. "This feels too real," he said quietly, leaning toward the mouth opening. The smell of drool reached him, sharp and human. The low vibration from the plug came through the plaster faintly. "So, as you say, there is someone alive inside."
Marcus and Victoria exchanged glances, looking satisfied. "Yes," Marcus said, his confident tone slipping slightly. "She is the real thing. We told you because someone like you understands that art pushes limits."
Victoria moved closer, her voice low. "You can interact with her any way you want. She is set up for it."
The collector grabbed a nipple weight and pulled it slowly. The pull stretched the new piercing, causing deep burning pain through the nerves. Evelyn tensed, and a faint whistle came through the gag. He moved to the other side and pulled again, making the pain worse. The nipples felt tight and burning under the surface.
Lower down, his fingers caught the clit hoop and jerked it quickly. The sealed pussy did not move, but the metal pulled the clit outward, causing intense sharp pain that made the trapped area swell and throb. Shame hit Evelyn hard: a stranger touching her while her boyfriend watched. Her breathing became uneven and high-pitched.
"Quiet her down," Marcus said, taking out the remote. He increased the vibration. The plug vibrated strongly, sending deep pulses through her abdomen that matched the pulls. The collector smiled and moved his fingers in time with the vibration. The pain felt sharp, but the vibration reduced it, building heat from the movements. Her clit tightened, her nipples reacted strongly. Evelyn's mind resisted, but her body tightened around the plug. An orgasm hit her while sealed: her muscles gripped the plug tightly in spasms, fluids soaked the inside of the plaster, and her whistle became high. The release was sudden but did not help; it only made the confinement feel worse.
He leaned close to the mask, his breath warm. "You must be getting very wet in there, more than my ex during her divorce hearing."
Then he said to Marcus, "The ass. Now." He removed the plug, the stretch burning as it came out. The collector inserted two fingers first, slick and pushing deep, scraping the inner walls in a way that made it hard to breathe. He added a third finger, stretching her fully. Evelyn's muscle tightened against it. The vibration was low, and the pulls had stopped, leaving her on the edge without release, with shame building.
"It holds tight, like it wants more," he said, removing his fingers slowly. Marcus inserted the plug again, causing a new sharp sensation.
"Very impressive," the collector said, stepping back and adjusting his pants as if he had finished a business deal.
Marcus and Victoria stood quietly, the air heavy with their excitement. The approval affected them strongly, their eyes bright and bodies tense with success.
Evelyn hung there in the silence, still on edge, the touching leaving a new mark on her.
**Chapter 10: The Centerpiece**
A week after the collector's visit, Marcus and Victoria decided the piece needed more time on display. His father's money allowed them to extend the exhibit to a full seven-day immersive residency. The gallery stayed open from morning to evening, making Evelyn available to the public. There were no more private viewings. This was the main gallery space, with her pedestal fixed in the center of the hall, positioned to be seen from every entrance. Spotlights shone on the shell: the split pose showed constant strain, the hoops on her nipples and clit hung down, the sealed pussy was smooth except for the protruding clit, and drool came from the mouth hole in the blank mask. The plaque read *Price of Perfection* below.
There were no velvet ropes, just a sign that said to admire from a distance. The doors opened each day at ten, bringing in groups of people: young tourists in casual clothes, older art collectors with catalogs, and social media users taking photos. Marcus and Victoria stayed nearby, with the remote in his pocket and her clipboard in hand. They talked about how the work showed vulnerability turned into a product, while Evelyn felt increasing tension inside.
Day one brought a large crowd right away. People moved around closely, looking at her form. A group of college students stopped near her. One of them brushed the raised leg with his finger by accident. "The detail feels so real," he said, while his girlfriend took pictures. Evelyn felt exposed inside: the air moved over her sealed skin, and their looks made her feel ashamed, thinking they noticed the piercings. Marcus stayed close, his thumb on the remote. An older woman passed by and touched a nipple weight lightly. The pull caused sharp pain through the piercing. Her whistle became high, and the strain from the split increased: her hamstrings tightened with burning pain up the leg, and the curve in her back pressed on her spine.
He turned the vibration to medium. The plug vibrated strongly, sending pulses deep inside her, which reduced the panic but matched the movement of the weights. Victoria spoke to the group. "The form questions objectification. Sex is reduced to fixed points, with piercings as emphasis." The students nodded, and one said quietly, "It's good material."
Marcus turned it low afterward. The pulses stayed near the edge without release, the weights pulled constantly, leaving her clit and nipples aching, her breaths catching on the gag's metal.
The days passed in a series of visitors. Tourists took selfies, with some fingers touching the shell by mistake. A critic in a tweed jacket talked about the pose. "The strain is a statement on the illusion of consent." His student looked at the drool. Strangers came close: a young woman said to her date, "I bet it makes sounds," her breath warm on the mask. An older man in a hat stayed longer, looking at the sealed pussy and talking about private offers. The exposure wore on Evelyn. The shell pressed on her ribs more with each breath, and the position caused deeper cramps in her muscles. She thought about spending a week like this, her life turned into their display.
Marcus used the remote often for the effect. He increased the vibration during a group visit to create "haunting sounds" that people called part of the audio design. Her shame showed in the echoes off the walls. A touch on the clit weight from someone's arm caused intense pain, and panic made the burning worse. He turned it high to calm her, the pulses strong and deep, turning the pulls into heat. Her nipples tightened, her clit swelled under the pull, and her body reacted with a sealed orgasm: fluids filled the plaster, and her whistle became high. There was no relief, just more drool, and the crowd thought the movement was part of the work.
At night, the gallery was dark, but the vibration stayed low, a constant tease without end. The weights pulled without release, and drool collected on the pedestal. Her thoughts repeated: how long would this go on? She felt detached from her body. By the end of the week, she felt like her body was separate, reduced to the basic sensations, with the visitors' looks as the only contact. Marcus picked her up at closing. "It's popular. My father is impressed." Victoria noted the positive attention, thinking about the next opportunity.
Evelyn felt exhausted, the week leaving a lasting effect on her.
**Chapter 11: The Buyer's Return**
Weeks after the exhibition started, Evelyn's shell remained fixed in the center of the gallery. The collector returned, his eyes focused on her form. His father's donations allowed the gallery to stay open longer for special viewings, but the collector had scheduled a private session after closing time, with no other visitors present. Marcus and Victoria led him inside under low lights. Her pedestal made a faint humming sound from the low vibration of the plug. The position showed the full split, with hoops hanging from her nipples and clit, the sealed pussy smooth except for the protruding clit, and drool running from the mouth hole in the blank mask. The plaque that read *Price of Perfection* sat below.
He walked slowly around the pedestal, looking at the split position, the shining weights, and the sealed pussy area with the clit piercing. Drool was visible in the low light, and the low buzz from the plug came through the plaster faintly.
Marcus and Victoria approached him, speaking in a professional way. "The piece is getting a lot of attention," Marcus said, sounding confident. "But the show ends soon. We plan to remove it in a few days. The plaster will be broken, and it will go back into storage."
The collector's face showed disgust. "That is a waste. You have a live person trapped like this, and then you destroy it? It should last longer."
Victoria tilted her head slightly. "Art changes. It is not meant to last forever."
His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. "Set a price. I want to buy it as it is, without any changes."
Evelyn felt shocked inside the shell. *Sell me? Your girlfriend?* The idea hit her hard, and the strain from the position worsened. Her hamstrings burned up her raised leg, and the curve in her back pressed on her spine. Panic rose, and a faint high sound came through the gag.
Marcus took the remote quietly and increased the vibration. The plug vibrated stronger, sending deep pulses through her abdomen that reduced the panic slightly. But the rhythm moved the weights, pulling her nipples with sharp pain through the sealed areas, and her clit moved with their motions.
They moved to a side room to talk privately, their voices carrying clearly. "That is not possible," Marcus said first, sounding bold. "But we are listening."
The collector looked at him directly, then lightly touched the clit weight with one finger. The touch pulled the clit sharply, causing intense burning pain and making the trapped area swell against the plaster. Evelyn moved slightly, the pain turning into unwanted heat. "Four hundred fifty thousand," he said quietly. "I take her completely and handle the details. No one will question your connections."
Marcus paused, holding the remote tightly. "Details?"
The collector showed a tablet with fake documents on the screen. "I will create the story. She is going to Parsons in Paris on a full scholarship. I will send fake emails from her, talking about the city. Then I will stage her disappearance: a solo hike in the Pyrenees, an accident off a cliff. Her purse will be found, but no body. It will be a sad story. You and your friends can attend a memorial and say she followed her dreams. I will send the money now, five hundred thousand, and you stay out of trouble. The art lasts, and she stays with me for private use."
Evelyn listened to every word, the shell pressing on her ribs more, her breaths rough against the metal gag. *It has to be a trick. Marcus? Victoria?* But their expressions changed, showing interest in the money, with Victoria's eyes focused on the amount.
Victoria paused. "Six hundred thousand. Sent immediately."
The collector negotiated, showing more fake documents on the tablet. "Five hundred twenty thousand. She stays sealed, no removal. The European disappearance story will work perfectly. I will even post a final message from her account, showing her smiling at the Eiffel Tower. My contacts will know it is arranged. You will get recognition through my network."
Marcus and Victoria looked surprised at the offer of connections. They exchanged looks, and Marcus said, "Sold."
The collector smiled. "Agreed. Prepare the crate. I want it soon."
They felt satisfied. "This is a big win," Victoria said quietly to Marcus, looking at the shell. "Our breakthrough."
The collector looked at Evelyn's blank mask. "She is not his anymore. Perfection has a price."
Evelyn's thoughts broke apart. *This is wrong. I am just an item now. Gone.* The vibration returned to low, teasing without release, the weights pulling constantly, leaving her in discomfort from the agreement.
**Chapter 12: The Crating**
The gallery closed early for the final day. Marcus and Victoria worked quickly to prepare the piece for transport. The collector had sent a large wooden crate, reinforced with metal straps, designed to fit the pedestal exactly. Evelyn's shell stood in the center of the empty room, the low vibration from the plug creating a faint hum. Her position remained fixed: legs in the full split, with the right one raised vertically, back curved sharply to the side, arms locked in place. The nipple and clit hoops hung with their weights, pulling steadily. Drool continued to drip from the mouth hole in the blank mask. The plaque reading *Price of Perfection* was removed and packed separately.
Marcus turned off the vibration completely for the first time in days. The sudden silence made the piercings' pull more noticeable, a constant ache without the distraction. Evelyn felt the full weight of the position: her hamstrings burned from the raised leg, the curve in her back pressed on her spine, and her muscles cramped deeper into fatigue. Panic started without the hum to calm her, and a weak whistle came through the gag.
"Keep it off until we secure her," Victoria said, checking the crate's padding. "We don't want any movement during loading."
They wrapped the shell in layers of foam and bubble wrap, starting from the base. Marcus lifted the pedestal carefully with a hand truck, while Victoria taped the protective sheets in place. The wrapping pressed against the weights, causing them to swing slightly and tug on the piercings. Sharp pain went through her nipples and clit, making her body tense against the internal ropes. Her breaths became shorter, rubbing against the gag's metal.
In the side room, they discussed the final steps. "The money transferred this morning," Marcus said, looking at his phone. "Five hundred twenty thousand. Clean."
Victoria nodded. "The documents are set. We'll send the first email from her account tomorrow—something about arriving in Paris, excited for classes. Then the posts from the fake account."
The collector had provided a ***********: emails to her parents about the scholarship, social media updates with stock photos of the Eiffel Tower, and a final message about a hiking trip in the mountains. After that, the staged accident—her purse found at a trailhead, news articles about a missing hiker, a small memorial service where Marcus and Victoria would express grief publicly.
Evelyn heard every detail, the shell amplifying their voices in the quiet space. *This can't happen. I'm still here.* The lack of vibration left her on edge, the pulls from the weights unrelieved, her clit swollen and throbbing against the seal. Shame mixed with fear, her thoughts racing in the confinement.
They slid the crate's base under the pedestal and lowered it slowly. The foam compressed around her, adding pressure to her ribs and making each breath feel restricted. Marcus checked the remote one last time, tucking it into a small compartment in the crate lined with velvet. "He gets the controls. Full access."
Victoria sealed the top with screws, her movements efficient. "It's secure. The truck arrives in an hour."
The crate closed with a final click, plunging Evelyn into complete darkness. No light, muffled sounds, the air thick and still. The position held without change, the weights pulling constantly, drool pooling inside the mask. Without the vibration, the ache built steadily: nipples burning from the hoops, clit stretched tight, muscles quivering in the split. Her mind screamed silently, but only a faint whistle escaped.
The truck ride began with a jolt as they loaded the crate. Vibrations from the road traveled through the pedestal, mimicking the plug's rhythm but without relief. Hours passed in motion, the crate swaying slightly on turns, causing the weights to shift and tug unpredictably. Pain flared with each bump, her body unable to adjust. Fluids from earlier built up inside the seal, adding discomfort to her bladder from the catheter.
At the destination, hands lifted the crate again. Unloading sounds echoed—forklift beeps, doors opening. The collector's voice came through clearly. "Set it in the viewing room. Uncrate carefully."
They removed the top, and light returned. The room was a private space in his estate: walls lined with abstract art, a large window overlooking a garden, soft lighting on a reinforced stand. The collector stood there, dressed casually, a glass of wine in hand. Marcus and Victoria unpacked the plaque and remote, handing them over.
"She's perfect," the collector said, attaching the remote to his belt. He turned it on low immediately. The plug hummed back to life, sending a steady pulse through her, which dulled the sharp edges of the pain but stirred unwanted heat. The weights moved with it, pulling her nipples and clit in rhythm.
Victoria smiled. "Enjoy her. The story starts tomorrow."
They left with handshakes and final instructions. The collector circled the stand, his fingers tracing the shell's surface. He tugged a nipple weight lightly, watching the form for reaction. Evelyn tensed, the whistle soft through the gag. "Responsive," he said to himself. "This will be worth every cent."
He increased the vibration to medium, leaving the room to let it run. The pulses built steadily, the pulls syncing into a forced rhythm. Her body reacted against her will, tightening around the plug, the orgasm hitting sealed and intense. Fluids pressed against the plaster, her whistle high in the empty room. Shame flooded her, now truly alone, the collector's possession.
The vibration stayed on, teasing after the release, the weights unrelenting. Evelyn drifted in the haze, the new reality settling like the shell around her.