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Jenny was looking through the local newspaper for a short-term job over the university break. She looked through the first few pages, disheartened that they all wanted at least two years experience or were commission based. She got to the end: the last section, TV Film and Modelling.
She was half Indian, half Fijian, shorter than average, a little curvy, fit but defiantly not a Model or TV hopeful. She pressed on more out of boredom than any real hope of a job… There were the obligatory scam ads offering “portfolio” shots at bargain prices but a small ad near the end that caught her eye.
“Fit young ladies of all sizes to model Orthopaedic braces and posture aids, $100 per day.”
This seemed legit. It wasn’t much, but how hard could it be to do a medical catalogue? She thought. In the back of her mind, the thought of being on display gave her a little thrill.
She emailed off her drivers license scan and got a response straight away. It was just an address and a time, Level B1 155 Castlereagh St 7pm Friday. She wondered if this was an interview or the shoot… feeling too shy to ask, she decided to just go and take her chances.
Jenny got there at 6.30pm because she was anxious about being late and when she got in the old elevator the B1 button didn’t work. The doors opened again and the cleaner got in and pushed the 9 button.
On the way up he noticed that no other buttons were push so he asked:
“What floor honey?”
“Um, B1 I think.” replied Jenny.
“The elevator doesn’t go there anymore; you can use the fire stairs.” The cleaner suggested.
Jenny got off with him on 9 and walked through the fire stairs door. The cleaner called out “…why don’t you take the lift back down to the ground?”
…but the fire door closed before she could catch it and she had to walk down 10 levels in her highest heels and tightest pencil skirt.
Jenny got to Level B1 still 20 minuets early and there were a couple of guys hanging rigging and lights. A man came over with a clipboard and handed it to her saying:
“Sign this use-of-image release and fill in the insurance and your bank details on the next page.”
She took the clipboard but in the dim light could not read the first dark coloured page. The man just tapped his finger at the bottom and she signed in the box with the big ‘X’. Two more women arrived and the Man gave them clipboards as well.
The only seat in the large dim basement space was a dark coloured circular vinyl couch. Room enough for six or eight sitting in a circle with their backs to each other. On a folding table opposite there were a few dozen clear plastic Orthopaedic braces with long clear straps and buckles. There was another table with half a dozen small electrical boxes and a bundle of wires.
Jenny finished with the questions on the forms and looked up at the rigging being hung. She imagined getting her photo taken and felt a little naughty as she looked up at the two circles of lights, one small and one larger directly above the couch. Jenny guessed that the shoot would be on this round sofa.
The man came over and collected Jenny’s forms as she watched foça escort two more Women come in. She thought that this must be the audition, why else would they need so many models? She felt a bit sad at the thought of perhaps not getting this job.
After the clipboard man seated the new arrivals he returned to Jenny with a brace from the table. It was a solid brace for both arms. It’s clear plastic rigid form ran behind the shoulders and held the arms slightly bent in a big open hug at shoulder height. The brace was split so it buckled up one piece in front and the other at the back.
When the man, now with a large digital camera around his neck, started to fit the front on he stopped and said,
“We’ll have to slip off your shoulder straps for this first shot they are in the way of the brace.”
With that he took the back of the brace back as Jenny reluctantly slipped her arms out of the thin straps of her tight satin singlet top.
Noticing her reluctance he added:
“You do know this is a performance Art installation?”
Jenny had heard this term before but never really understood what it meant.
Sensing from the look on Jenny’s face she wasn’t ready for this the photographer started to return the brace to the table.
“No, wait…” Urged Jenny, “I don’t want to leave… just tell me what you want.”
“OK, our models are fitted with their costumes, and then remain on display for the patrons as human art.”
Explained the photographer.
“So… …what do I have to do?”
Asked Jenny, now more than a little curious about being human art… …on display.
“You, well you just stay where we put you… the exhibition will be short, continuing over the next few days or so.”
Jenny was getting more excited about the possibility, she had always gotten a little thrill about being watched.
“OK, Let’s do it.” Said Jenny with a smile.
The photographer quickly put the back of the brace on again and clipped in the front. The dim light reassured Jenny about slipping off the shoulder strap. The thought of an accidental flash for the three men working on the set-up made her blush a little.
“What if they take my picture …as my top falls… …or all these guys see me?” she thought, allowing her self a mini fantasy.
As the photographer tightened the straps, Jenny noticed there was a very tall neck brace attached in the middle and it tilted her head far back as he fastened it. She felt the rear of the brace on the back of her head and was startled when the front covered her lower jaw pushing her head up and her mouth closed, the bottom of the brace just touching the tip of her nose.
The riggers stared down from the lights; testing each bank in series. The lights were coloured and not what Jenny expected for the medical catalogue she had first thought this to be.
Some club music started playing behind her head and she felt something drop onto the couch behind her but locked in the top part of the brace, could not turn around to see. Now she was fixed into the brace in a kind of frozen waltz position.
Jenny felt another foça escort bayan little rush as she flexed her arms in the brace and realised her arms, head and neck were now fixed together, she was unable to shift from her pose. She had always been drawn to clothes that restricted movement, but this was really turning her on. The Photographer walked over to the table and picked up another brace and moved around to the next girl. One of the riggers came over to Jenny and said,
“Close your eyes honey.”
Without hesitation he sprayed her face with “Airbrush Legs” a kind of pantihose paint and waved his hand to dry it with a cardboard template. He took the template and said,
“…keep em’ closed.”
…with a second can he sprayed bright blue coloured hairspray in a solid oval over each closed eye, then another circle template and pink colour for the cheeks and lastly a lip pout shape in bright red over the top of the clear plastic neck brace covering her mouth.
“Perfect… …oh wow you look fantastic.”
Jenny was getting suspicious now… …she lent forward to stand up but felt her singlet top slipping so sat back down blushing. Her attempt to catch the falling top and lift the strap just making both her arms, neck and head do a circular motion like pivoting her head around like a puppet slipping her top down a little further. Jenny took a breath in to push out her chest and sat back so the seat held up her singlet.
The two men went around, bracing and painting the other models and in just a few minuets the Photographer was back to Jenny.
The music got a little louder as the photographer lent over her and clipped something to the back of her brace. He made a twirl with his hand and Jenny was pulled from behind: back against the couch and then up to her feet.
Her Singlet top falling to her waist. She tried to scream but very little sound came out. The Photographer took another brace that looked like two plastic chairs, one with half the seat missing and strapped it around Jenny. The second brace snapping on to the base of Jenny’s posture collar.
She was relieved not to be bare-chested. She could not see that her breasts were showing through, now pressed against the inside of the clear plastic of the brace.
The photographer unzipped Jenny’s skirt… and she made a wild kick at him out of reflex.
He made the twirl with his finger again and then an open palm when she was lifted completely off the ground just enough to force her onto the tips of her toes.
The Photographer walked off and Jenny dangled there tips of toes just touching the floor, slipping then swaying a little. She was facing away from the others but guessed correctly that they were all being bound up the same way.
As she dangled a barely able to touch the floor her pencil skirt and singlet slid off. Someone from behind pushed the lower brace forward so she was sitting in it. Ass cheeks forced out and legs spread and bent like riding and invisible horse. The Photographer came over and locked in the front part of the lower brace.
Jenny was now suspended from the ceiling arms escort foça and legs spread wide, locked in a hard clear plastic shell. She could move her hips and legs together and her arms shoulders and head together but only side to side. She could wiggle but not bend, or talk.
Angrily she screamed and wiggled. A little sound came out of her nose but it was no match for the background music. She was upset about being bound up but then at the same time the restricted movement was stimulating, like a strong embrace. The smell of the men walking past now seemed to be getting sweeter.
Jenny was feeling more excited and got more angry because she didn’t want to be turned on now she was angry. She screamed more and wiggled more and felt a wave of frustration and humiliation. She was totally helpless and it was arousing her like she had never been before.
The thick plastic was hot and she was starting to perspire a little, her flesh clung to the inside of the brace like a beautiful glass statue. The cool air on her ass reminded her it was poking out … in her mind the image of herself suspended like a shiny gorilla piñata.
The lights came on: Jenny was caught in a spotlight, her eyes dazzled for a few seconds. Someone gave her a spin and she saw a man walk around and spin the other seven models all painted and suspended like her.
The lights went out and she was lowered to the floor face down. Jenny felt relieved, she guessed they had had their fun and she was getting let out. She was now very horny and wet, each time she struggled against the body brace she felt a little more turned on. She mentally fought hopes that one of the men would touch her… down there.
One of the riggers came over and pulled roughly at her back. She prepared for the freeing… or something else…, looking over at her clothes on the floor. The rigger walked over to the clothes and put them in a plastic bag. Jenny got winched up again this time ass first. She could feel the blood rush to her face on the way up. Then Jenny and the other seven were rocked back and forward again continuing the suspension control tests.
The music stopped and lights on again. She felt a buzzing cramp in her side and she uncontrollably lurched, one elbow up the other down – then to the other side. It was an electrical current flexing her muscles. Whenever the current released she was finding herself out of breath.
Breathing in the brace was difficult while it was supporting all her weight. She panted through her nose a few times before she felt her body move again. Hips left, then right, the same phantom electrified muscle sensation but lower down. Lights off one more time.
Jenny and the other models were lowered again, panting through their noses, partly from fear, partly from the effort of being jiggled around inside their plastic shells.
The Photographer came around again and rolled Jenny over onto her back. He knelt down between her legs and took a large red marker and circled her right nipple. Jenny wiggled side to side and tried to speak. The man just ignored it.
Pressed up against the clear plastic brace her breasts were perfectly round. He wrote the number 2 next to it in big bistro menu writing but she couldn’t lower her head to see the “02”. The Photographer stepped off and looked down over her saying:
“Just two more things and we are ready to go. The guests should be here in about an hour.”
To be continued.
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