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Message-ID: <36428asstr$1021039804@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: shattered_mind@hotmail.com (SJTJ)
NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 10 May 2002 04:22:20 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} A Touch of Art - Chap. 1 (F+/M, Fdom, bd, exhib, cbt)
Date: Fri, 10 May 2002 10:10:04 -0400
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Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
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Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

This story is incomplete. Any comments or constructive criticism is 
welcome.

If I get enough of a response I will continue it.

----------------------------
(c)2002 copyright by SJTJ (aka Naive)
Copyright information: This story is the sole property of SJTJ (aka Naive). 
No one has the right to alter distribute or sell this story with out my 
written permission. I do hear by give the right to copy, give, or display 
this story to anyone who wants it. Changes and follow-up stories should 
have my permission. Any grammatical or spelling changes are permissible as 
long as it does not change the ideas or concept.
----------------------------
This story is intended for mature audiences. You must be 18 or older to 
read this story. This story may contain violence and sex situations. If 
this subject matter offends please DO NOT read. Thank you.
----------------------------

A touch of Art (Chapter 1)
By Naive, shattered_mind@hotmail.com

        It had been a rough semester for Roger and was going to be his next 
to last, but after failing the final in Ms. Timms class their was no way he 
was even going to graduate. The summer was almost over and it was time to 
decide what he was going to do about school. Neglecting to tell his parents 
about his predicament left him in a total panic. Sara was Rogers best 
friend they had known each other since the first grade and she only lived 
down the block. Sara was also a computer major but she was interested in 
graphic design, Roger was more into the programming aspects. When Sara came 
over Roger spilt the beans to her, luckily for him she thought she could 
help. Ms. Timms was also an art teacher, and Sara and her were good 
friends. In fact, they had a class together this very semester. A few days 
later Sara came back with his schedule in hand.

        "How the heck did you get my schedule?" Staring over the piece of 
paper in hand. It had less classes then he expect, and was disappointed to 
not see the class he had failed on the schedule. "Couldn't get me in the 
class, hum?" His tone filled with disappointment.

        "Actually, I got you as good as I can get. She promised she would 
let you in next semester."

        "Really!" Jumping to his feet he grabbed Sara and swung her around. 
"That's great! I know I can explain another semester to my parents no 
problem, but how? Last time I saw her she called me a slacker and said I 
would have to have a 3.8 GPA before she'd let me take it again." He 
remembered the conversation well. He had spent most of the semester working 
on what he thought of as more important projects, and more important 
classes. Supposedly, it had gotten back to her, so she made his life rough. 
It became a tug of war to keep up with all his other classes and Ms. Timms 
class. The end result - failure. All the other classes came out good, but 
hers dropped his GPA to a 3.4 it would have taken forever to get it back 
up. She told him she didn't like slackers and had the right not to take him 
back into the class; she read it strait from the handbook. She was going to 
ruin his life over one stupid comment. The biggest problem was that she was 
the only one teaching the class, and she was his advisor; Their was no way 
around her.

        "Well, I did have to make a deal with her."

        "Deal?" His face became a cloak of caution. "What kind of deal?" 
Sara liked to make deals, most of them got him into to trouble. They were 
friends, but she had caused many bumps in their relationship with deals.

        "You see . she needed a model for the art class this semester since 
no one volunteered. So, to make up for what you said, I told her you would 
do it; that's how I got your schedule. Ms. Timms made your schedule how she 
needed it." Sara could see Roger freaking. His eyes were starting to roam 
and he started pulling at his hair.

        "I can't do that!" Roger exploded. "I get stage fright walking up 
to a McDonald's checkout counter - you know that!" Roger's heart started 
beating hard in his chest and his breathing became ragged. He hatted being 
in front of people it terrified him.

        "Come on Roger, calm down." Pushing him so he was sitting down, she 
put her arm around his shoulder. "Don't worry I'll be right there with you. 
At least for one of the classes. I'll help you through it."

        "I can't even ask a girl on a date, and you expect me to stand in 
front of all those people - staring at me." Tears started to form in the 
corners of his eyes. It was hopeless he was going to fail in life, just 
like he had with all the girls. Sara caressed his cheek. After awhile, she 
finally calmed him down, and made him see this was his only choice. 

        The weeks went by and school was starting again. It was Roger's 
first day as a model. He was to show up early so Ms. Timms could place him 
where she wanted him for the class. He was there prompt, but utterly 
terrified. Nervously he chewed at his finger nails as he sat there waiting 
for Ms. Timms.

        "Roger, there you are." Roger leapt to his feet from his seat. "I'm 
sorry I didn't mean to scare you." Ms. Timms smiled at him. But, the smile 
was odd - almost predatory.

        "Ms. Timms, I'm not sure I can do this." Twisting his hand over his 
knuckles, he tried to calm himself as he spoke. "I'm not good in front of 
people. I just can't go out there."

        "Well, it's your choice Roger, but a deal was made. You shouldn't 
worry so much: the classes are small; I know, I hand picked them myself." 
Her eyes held a gleam that made him uncomfortable. "You have some time to 
decide, but if I were you I'd stick with the deal." Following Ms. Timms 
into the classroom he looked around. About fifteen easels were set up 
around the room and a small dais rested on the far wall. The harsh smell of 
paint wafted around the room. "Come help me with the windows Roger." Ms. 
Timms pointed to a set of windows and asked Roger to open them for her. All 
of them were shut tightly, but with some strain he forced them open. When 
he turned Ms. Timms was watching him. A blush ran over his whole body - he 
felt her eyes on him, sizing him up. "I can see that your a little shy. 
We'll have to get you over that. Come on, sit here on the stool." Patting 
the little stool on the dais. He sat down and looked out at all the chairs. 
He had to hold onto the base of the seat to keep from bolting. She walked 
behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. She could feel the tense 
muscles underneath his thin pullover. "I have a plan if you'll listen to 
it. It just might save us both some trouble."

        "What's that, Ms. Timms?" He stammered as he looked back at her.

        "Call me Ronda. I think that a blindfold might help." If she didn't 
have her hands on his shoulders, she new he would have bolted right then. 
He did try to get up, but Ronda put just enough pressure to keep him still. 
"Don't be so hasty to discount it. Let's try it first and see how it 
feels." Looking around he saw Ronda walking over to a large chest, by her 
desk, and pulled out a leather blindfold. If he was going to leave it was 
now or never. But, he was transfixed by Ronda's sensuous movements and the 
blindfold in her hand. Walking behind him she placed it on his face. 
Everything was black, cool leather against his skin. "Now isn't that 
better." It was kind of calming. No eyes on him, no pressure. "Just sit 
there and get use to it." Roger felt a little silly just sitting there, but 
it wasn't so bad. He started to think of all the sculptures in the museums 
and paintings he had seen. He would be immortalized forever.

        "I don't think ." Pulling the blindfold off, his words died in his 
throat. Nausea washed over him as sixteen sets of eyes stared at him.

        "Class this is Roger, he's going to be our model this semester. 
Learn his features well." Ronda watched Roger, she could see he was trapped 
there by his own fear; this semester was going to be fun she thought. 
Walking to the dais she stood behind him and pulled the blindfold back over 
his eyes. "Just sit there and you'll do fine. And, unless you wish to fail 
another class with me - I suggest you stay." She whispered in his ear. 
Confusion ran across his face as he turned slightly towards her. "Oh, 
didn't I mention - this is an independent study for you. If you leave, you 
fail." He could hear her little laughter as she walked off. He was trapped. 
His mind kept seeing all those eyes on him. Hours of sitting went by in 
darkness. When he finally got a break he ran to the restroom and lost his 
breakfast. A female voice startled him as he wiped his face clean.

        "Are you all right?" Sara said behind him. Roger turned and sat on 
the hard tile floor and looked up at her. His eyes had a desperate look to 
them.

        "I can't go back in there. I just might as well fail and get it 
over with."

        "Roger, you did fine." She patted his shoulder. Knocking his head 
softly on the metal partition between stalls, he tried hard to keep it 
together. "Come on you did it. It wasn't that hard: you can do it again. 
I'm right there with you. Just think of me out there for support." Helping 
him up from the floor they returned to finish out class. The first week 
passed, and he survived. But, he wasn't prepared for what was next.

        Monday morning came and he got up early, quite tense. He felt this 
burning sickness deep inside that he couldn't explain. The model thing was 
giving him nightmares; making it hard to sleep. He almost called Ms. Timms 
to tell her he was sick, but he knew she would never believe him. He was 
sure that she knew before hand that he was terrified of being in front of 
people: this was her little punishment for his statements last semester. 
Maybe if he apologized she would let him out of it.The blindfold at least 
made the day go by a little faster. Ms. Timms said that she told her 
classes that it was a little experiment Roger was doing for a psychology 
class, so they wouldn't know his little secret. Though, some of the girls 
from the class he had seen, smiled at him, and said hey here and there. It 
was a little bonus, because none of the girls ever seemed to notice him 
before. But, he was still utterly terrified to be up there. Roger showed up 
early as usual, but this time Ronda was there first. She had a set of 
clothes laid out on her desk and smiled at Roger as he walked in. She 
noticed his eyes looked a little haggard, and he didn't have the same 
youthful jump to his step. This would make it much easier for her to get 
what she wanted from him, if she played her cards right; being tired made 
him easier to manipulate. Today was going to be a good day. Sara of course 
had been right - he was shy, and had a terrible phobia of being in front of 
people. But, she was also right when she said that he could be manipulated 
with little effort: Sara had done it their whole lives.

        "How are you this morning Roger?" Standing up from her desk she 
guided him to the chair in front.

        "Just a little tired. I've had a mild case of insomnia." Roger 
rubbed at his eyes, still trying to get his focus this morning.

        "I'm sure you'll be fine. I'll call your other teachers and tell 
them that you'll miss their class today."

        "Your going to let me go home." Roger said as a wave of relief 
swept over him.

        "No, of course not. You can rest just as good here as at home. 
We'll just let you stay in the chair and rest while we all work." Ronda 
watched as the smile collapse from his face. "I had the janitors bring in a 
chair from my house, so you won't have to perch on that horrible stool all 
day." Well, at least their was that. "Here." Handing him the clothes from 
off her desk. "Try these on."

        "Where can I change at?" Roger asked as he looked for a place to 
change.

        "Right here." Sitting down on the desk, she smiled at him. His face 
flushed red and his mouth instantly dried up. He didn't wear underwear: he 
couldn't change in front of her! "Oh, come on Roger it's not like I haven't 
seen a man in his underwear before."

        "I don't wear underwear." He managed to choke out, as he stared at 
the floor in total embarrassment.

        "Oh, I'm sorry." A wicked little smile crossed her face. "Would you 
like me to turn around?" Roger nodded. As Ronda turned she pressed the 
little red button on the control she held tight in her hand. Sara's 
information was completely accurate - everything was going as planned. 
Roger quickly striped out of his clothes and almost jumped into the pants 
before Ronda could turn, but she never did. Roger felt much better as he 
slipped on the rest of the clothes.

        "I'm done." Roger said. Ronda turned and looked at the young man 
before her. He was very good looking and had a nice well defined body. The 
black pants and thin black shirt made him look stunning. She peered at his 
feet, even they were tan and well shaped; this young man had no reason to 
be scared to stand in public, he was magnificent. Flowing blue eyes and 
short black hair, she was just wet thinking about taking him. But, the best 
part was that she was in control; just staring at him made him fidget and 
shift under her gaze. He would be a precious addition to her collection. 
Too bad it would only be a short stay, because after he was trained he 
would be sent over to Sara - he would be her toy from then on. She almost 
regretted the deal she had made, but she got three young women for this one 
young man. A fair trade.

        "Good, you'll be wearing that in class today."

        "Really?" Roger shifted in the tight clothes. He couldn't get 
comfortable in the tight pants. It felt like they were crushing his nuts 
into his leg and he couldn't shift his dick into the right place to make 
the pants feel ok, that's why he always wore loose clothes. Trying to get 
comfortable he started to get a hard on, even worse in tight pants. He 
noticed Ronda watching. With a quick flush to his color, he sat down to put 
his shoes and socks on.

        "You don't need those." Grabbing his arm she pulled him up. She was 
quite strong and Roger couldn't help but stager into her as she stood him 
up. Ronda loved the way he couldn't hold her eyes and his color keep 
turning, his normally tan skin, to a cherry red. Putting the blind fold on 
him, she led him to the chair on the dais and pushed him into it. Roger 
fell back into the leather chair, it felt like one of the old barber chairs 
he saw in the shops. Roger put his arms on the rest as Ronda placed his 
feet onto some cold metal foot plate, each one had it's own. "Hold still a 
second." She said beside him, he felt something tighten over his wrist. 
Trying to reach up to lift the blindfold, so he could see, he couldn't move 
it; it was strapped down. Right as he was about to pull the other away, he 
felt another tight squeeze on that wrist. He was now trapped.

        "Um . Ms. Timms, what's going on?" Roger felt something clamp down 
on his ankles, and could hear the sound of Velcro.

        "I'm just getting you ready for class." She smiled to herself. "The 
straps aren't too tight are they?"

        "No. But, why do you need to strap me down? I'll sit here."

        "Well you might change your mind soon."

        "Why's that?" Roger felt terror rise to his throat. He knew it 
wasn't going to be good.

        "Today we do the nudes for the class." Rubbing his cheek, she let 
her finger rest on his quivering lips. "Not scared are you?"

        "I never signed on to do nudes." Roger couldn't believe this, at 
least he had clothes on. "I won't do it."

        "Roger, my dear. You don't have a choice." With a quick yank she 
pulled the shirt from him. "I just love prop clothes. These were made for a 
friend of mine about your size; he's a quick change artist." Roger started 
to yank at the bonds but he was held tight. Ronda placed her index finger 
in his pants and let it play over his glans. Roger about choked: how could 
she do this to him?

        "Please Ms. Timms, I'm sorry - I never meant to say those things 
about your class. Please let me go." He was almost in tears, as his voice 
shook with terror.

        "Oh, Roger. I was never mad about that. I failed you to get you 
here." She couldn't help but laugh at his confused look. "I guess I should 
tell you that your, oh so sweet, Sara had this plan quite awhile back. Your 
just falling into place now."

        "Your lying! She would never do this to me!" Rage boiled in him, 
she had to be lying, but what if she wasn't? Why would Sara do this to him?

        "I'm sorry but I don't have time to argue - the class will be here 
soon." Yanking on the pants, they tore loose and Roger was left naked. 
"We'll talk after class."

        "Please, please let me go. I can't do this! I'll do whatever you 
want. Ple." Roger's begging got him nothing but a ball gag in his mouth. 
All he could do was mumble after that.

        "You see Roger," Pulling a strap around his thigh - spreading his 
legs apart. "I want my class to be more hands on." Strapping his other leg 
in, she watched as his struggling was reduced to intricate wiggling; 
though, it did make his penis wave hypnotically around. Grabbing a hold of 
his cock made him freeze as her grip tightened. "I like my class silent. If 
you move to much or make any more noise, well let's just say their might be 
repercussions." With that she took hold of his testicles and gave them a 
good squeeze. Roger's teeth ground together as the sick feeling from before 
became a burning white pain in his gut. "Enjoy class!" Ronda bopped off to 
her office to get ready for the day. While Roger sat there and waited for 
the inevitable. A few tears escaped as he tried to hold back his fear.

(c)2002 copyright by SJTJ (aka Naive)
Naive

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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