Winning the Blonde Goddess Ch. 07

When a man has a crush on a woman, he feels compelled to do all manner of foolish things to win her over.

My name is Scott and I have a crush on Darya. Darya is a ballet dancer with the Chandler Theatre, Fairhaven Center for the Performing Arts. She's 5'11", she's lithe, graceful and poised. Her eyes are an alluring royal blue, her long, blonde hair looks like spun gold and her lips are full and pouty. She also has a slender waist, dancer's legs and a firm, flexible dancer's body.

I'm also a ballet dancer with the Chandler Theatre and I'm 6'00". I also have dancer's legs and a firm, flexible dancer's body. You'd think that we'd have so much in common that Darya and I would be irresistibly drawn together, however, Darya seemed quite skilled at resisting me.

She issued an ultimatum, saying that the only way I could ever be her boyfriend was if I was willing to endure twelve difficult trials of her choosing. I had already completed nine of her twelve tests and needed only to complete three more to achieve total victory.

One day she knocked on the door to my apartment. When I opened the door for her, she informed me that it was time for Test Number Ten.

"There is an art studio on Kingswell Avenue," Darya explained, "They need models for their art classes. I have already spoken to the man who teaches the art classes. He is very excited at the prospect of you modeling for him."

"That's all?" I asked, "I just have to be an artist's model?"

_______

Of course, that wasn't all. There was more to Darya's tenth test than simply being an artist's model. However, Darya refused to provide me with the necessary details.

I arrived at Harry's art studio at 8:18 am on a Saturday. His students weren't expected there until 9:00 am, but I wanted to meet with Harry and get an idea as to what I was in for before I had to meet with his students. Darya had been vague about what I would be expected to do, however, I suspected it would be something that would humiliate me somehow.

Of course, I was nervous, I knew Darya's mindset. I figured she wouldn't have sent me to just send me to do ordinary modeling as one of her tests. And when I met with Harry, he confirmed my suspicions.

"Okay, Scott," Harry began, "first, I need nude models. Second, I need bondage models. My students will expect you to be naked and in strict bondage for every pose in my classroom. Is that a problem for you?"

Despite my anxiety, I told him it wouldn't be a problem. I intended to pass all of Darya's tests, including this one.

"So, I just undress here?" I asked, noticing that there was no privacy screen in his classroom.

That's exactly what Harry intended me to do. He sat at his desk and sipped his coffee while I stripped naked. I took off my shoes and placed them underneath a chair. As I took off the rest of my clothes, I folded them and placed them on the same chair. My bikini briefs where the last item of clothing I removed and when I placed that atop the rest of my clothes, I looked up and saw that Harry was eying my body with obvious interest.

"You have a very nice body, Scott," Harry informed me, "Darya said all kinds of great things about how great you looked, but I assumed she was exaggerating."

"And now?" I asked as Harry's eyes flicked up and down my naked body, examining every inch of my anatomy.

"If I'm being honest, I have to admit I was wrong. You're flawless," Harry admitted, "If anything, Darya undersold you."

The flattery helped to curb some of my anxiety about being naked for Harry's class, however, my unease and apprehension were soon to be elevated once again.

"Before my students get here," Harry said, "There are a few more things I have to tell you."

He set his coffee mug down, looked me in the eye and said, "This is no ordinary art class. My students pay me one-hundred-fifty dollars for every class they attend. Now, they do bring a sketch pad and they do actually do sketches, however, they expect a certain level of eroticism from my models."

"Going beyond merely being naked and tied up?" I asked.

"Well, yeah," Harry admitted, "Nudity is great and all, and you're a very attractive man, but my students are going to expect you to be fully sexualized."

"Fully sexualized," I said, imploring him to clarify.

"They're going to want you to look sexually aroused," Harry elaborated, "You have a nice cock, but it's soft right now. When my students get here, they're going to expect it to be hard and erect the entire time they're drawing you."

"Wow," I said, giving Harry a sardonic look, "You sound more like you're running a porno service, than an art class."

"A little column A, a little column B," Harry conceded, "This important thing is that I make more money doing this. If I was running an ordinary class, my students would be paying me a lot less. And the models who posed for my students would be getting paid a lot less too."

At that point, Harry opened up the top drawer of his desk and pulled out an envelope. He handed it to me and told me that it was my fee. The envelope was filled with twenty-dollar bills. I counted them and was happily surprised at how much I was getting paid.

"This is a lot of money," I observed.

"Sex sells," Harry explained, "The more erotic my class is, the more money I can charge my students. That means bigger profits, and bigger payouts to the models who pose for my class."

"Okay, I can appreciate money," I said, "But your class is three hours long. I can get hard pretty quickly, but it's not easy for a man to maintain an erection for three whole hours."

"Right, I can help with that," Harry said. Then he opened his bottom desk drawer and pulled out a few items.

There first things I noticed were latex gloves and a bottle of Swiss Navy anal lubricant. Then I noticed an anal plug of disconcerting size.

"This goes inside of you," Harry said, holding up the anal plug, "The tip will press directly against your prostate gland and there's a high tech gizmo inside of it that makes it pulse and stimulate your libido. The whole time you're posing for my class, this thing will be buzzing away inside of you, making it impossible for your cock to get soft."

I'd seen things like this before. Nari had used an electronic anal plug like that to stimulate the intimate gland inside of me, however he only used it on me for about fifteen or twenty minutes. The thought of having something like that throbbing inside of me for three whole hours seemed overwhelming.

"I'm not sure about this," I said somewhat apprehensively, but Harry acted as if this was no big deal.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said offhandedly, "Just bend over my desk and I'll slid it in. It'll be fine, you'll see."

A powerful feeling of dread overtook me, and my heart pounded insistently in my chest, however, I bent over at the waist and leaned over with my forearms resting on the surface of Harry's desk. For his part, Harry snapped on a latex glove, picked up the bottle of lube and disappeared behind me.

I felt the cold, greasy substance applied to my anus as Harry worked his fingers between my buttocks, and I let out an involuntary gasp as unfamiliar fingers opened me up and speared my anus. A potent feeling of helplessness gripped me as my anus was opened and explored.

"Push out with your hips," Harry instructed, "and relax your sphincter muscle. The plug is a lot bigger than my fingers, and it's gonna hurt going in if you don't loosen up."

I was naked and in a demeaning pose as Harry fingered my anus. My legs trembled and I whimpered, however, I tried to follow Harry's instructions and soon felt the silicone plug sliding into me. Per Harry's instructions, I tried to relax my anus and I felt the plug go deeper, then the narrower base of the plug slipped inside and seated.

"There, that wasn't so bad," Harry said imperiously, "Soon you'll be ready for my students to do sketches of you."

Harry removed the latex glove and then picked up a small touchscreen device. He tapped some options on the screen and then I felt the plug inside me begin to pulse.

"Holy fuck," I gasped.

"I can vary the type of pulse it sends to your prostate," Harry informed me, "The one that's going on right now is pretty aggressive and gets most men hard within seconds."

My legs trembled and I panted as the pulsing inside me stirred my loins. It didn't take long before my soft cock became rigid and engorged with blood. In about a minute, my cock was so swollen and erect that it ached.

"Okay, I'm gonna change the settings now," Harry said when my cock was throbbing and obscenely erect.

Harry tapped more options on the screen of his device and the pulsing coming from the anal plug changed. There were still waves of desire emanating from deep within me, however, they weren't as extreme.

"I started you off at level six," Harry explained, "If I had left it there, you probably would have ejaculated all over my desk within the next two minutes. I set it down to level three. That should keep you hard for the next three hours without forcing you to climax."

I gasped as I realized just how cruel this was going to be. I was naked, my cock was painfully erect, throbbing and I was going to be kept on the edge of orgasm for three hours by this device deep within my ass.

Harry told me I could stand up and I whimpered. Three hours of being edged. If Darya had told me that the tenth test involved something this cruel, would I have agreed to it?

Things became even more agonizing when Harry's students began to show up. There were about fifty of them and most of them were female. I think I spotted five young males, but there were at least forty females, ranging in age from about eighteen to forty-five.

All the students seemed to be enamored with my exceptionally erect cock. Even the male students were fascinated by it. I wanted to use my hands to cover it from their view, but Harry made it clear that I was forbidden from being anything like that.

"Okay, everybody pick and easel and take out your pads," Harry called out to his students, "The first pose will begin in five minutes."

Harry recruited one of his female students to help immobilize me up for the first pose. There was a bondage device in Harry's studio which he called a Saint Andrew's Cross. It was shaped like the letter X and Harry and his student used leather straps and buckles to secure me to it. I ended up bound to it in a spreadeagled position with my legs spread wide open and my erect cock indecently on display.

It was a lewd way to display my naked body, and I felt exceedingly embarrassed with fifty students staring at my helpless nudity while they ostensibly drew me on their sketch pads.

Of course, the students had no idea that there was a device hidden up my rectum that was forcing me to experience wave after agonizing wave of desire. They saw my tumescent cock and may have wondered how I managed to keep erect and throbbing for so long, but they had no idea the torment Harry was putting me through with his wicked device.

My balls felt heavy and I struggled not to moan or whimper as the device inside of me manipulated my libido and kept me wickedly right on the edge of an intense orgasm without granting me relief. I felt feverish and my cock throbbed and stood straight up, hungry for some direct physical contact.

The student drew me like that for about forty-five minutes, and then Harry was announced that it was time for me to be arranged in a different pose.

Harry called up two students to unbuckle my wrists and ankles and then he had them move a wooden stage out near the center of the room.

"Okay, Scott, stand on that," Harry encouraged.

The stage was approximately six inches high and perhaps seven feet by seven feet. I stepped up onto it and felt more exposed and on display than before.

"Okay, Scott, for this next pose, I want you to stand with your hands behind the back of your neck, chin up, elbows back and your legs far apart."

This pose left me open and exposed. At least when I was bound to the Saint Andrew's cross, my buttocks were hidden from the class. Now, I was surrounded by students, some had an excellent view of my cock, others had an excellent view of my ass, others had a view of me in profile and got to see a little of both.

Holding a pose like that for long periods of time was difficult and Harry kept admonishing me to maintain position.

"Scott, keep those elbows back," he'd snap, "Chin up," or "spine straight!"

Sweat began to bead on my torso before I was allowed to break from my challenging pose. Of course, the pulsing device inside me continued to tease me with waves of desire, keeping my cock hard and keeping me sexually frustrated.

"He looks like a slave on the auction block," one of the students whispered as she stood at her easel and drew me.

As I stood there, exposed, on display, with dozens of eyes assessing my naked body, I felt like a slave on the auction block. The way they studied every line of my naked body, it was like they were trying to decide how much money I would be worth and how much they should bid on me.

Behind me, I could hear the scratching of pencils and more whispers, the word "slave" was mentioned several times. I heard the phrase "perfect bottom for spanking" at least once, and "excellent buttocks" at least twice.

I might not have been a slave on the auction block, but my naked body was being examined, judged and scrutinized in much the same way as a naked slave would be right before he was auctioned off to the highest bidder. And there I stood, obediently holding the position I'd been ordered to maintain, so that dozens of men and women could examine my naked body at their leisure.

Perhaps, the most demeaning thing about the entire situation was that I felt a potent wave of desire possess me at the idea of being a naked slave being sold at a slave market. Darya's tests all had a way of combining eroticism with submission, subjugation, harsh punishments, public humiliation and blind obedience.

Darya has warped my sex-drive, so now I would get aroused at the thought of being sexually abused, ogled, humiliated, spanked, whipped or forced into naked servitude. I wasn't always like this. Darya had changed me. Her difficult and demeaning tests had pushed my libido in a direction it had never gone before. I was shocked at how much Darya had transformed me.

After an eternity of standing for that pose, I was told I could relax for five minutes. I let out a loud sigh of relief and sat down, then students began admiring each other's work and making suggestions for my next pose.

"He should be on his knees," opined a female student.

"His wrists should be bound behind his back."

"He should be wearing a slave collar."

Most of the students in the class had an opinion and wanted to be heard. The suggestions came fast and furious, Harry did his best to seem receptive to his student's ideas and tried to incorporate a number of them into a single pose.

When my five-minute reprieve was up, Harry produced a black, leather collar that he handed over to two of his students. They buckled it around my throat, and I discovered that the collar was so high and stiff it forced me to keep my head up.

Next Harry produced a chain and some leather wrist restraints. My wrists ended up bound behind me, joined to the back of my collar by the chain. The chain was so short that my hands couldn't reach low enough to cover my bare bottom.

Of course, I ended up kneeling on the wooden stage for the next pose. The students wanted me to look like an obedient, submissive slave, and slaves kneel, right? Of course, I was made to kneel with my knees far apart, thus leaving my cock and balls indecently exposed and on display.

Every inch of me was on display, my ass, my cock, my nipples, and the students studied every inch of my naked body and created images of my helpless nudity on paper. And that wicked electronic device continued to pulse mercilessly inside me, and it felt as if my cock was growing larger and larger every minute. It felt unnaturally swollen and seemed as if it would burst.

It was unnatural and awkward to kneel in that position for long periods of time. I felt feverish, my muscles felt sore and I had a fine sheen of sweat on my torso and thighs by the time it was all over.

"Can you let me out of these chains?" I asked Harry when I was allowed to get up from my kneeling position.

"In a minute," Harry said, "I think it would be good for you to see the work of some of my students first."

I was naked and forced to walk forward into a crowd of fully clothed female students. Most of them didn't bother to conceal their prurient interest in my naked body, and with my wrists bound behind my back I could do nothing to cover myself.

"Scott, This is Jamie, she's my best student," Harry confided, introducing me to a tall slender woman. She looked to be slightly older than me, had tattoos on both her arms and she had a pixie haircut. She looked me up and down as Harry introduced us and smiled.

"Hello, Jamie," I said, "I'd shake hands, but you can see how it is."

I flexed my arm muscles and struggled briefly against the chains that bound me, Jamie gave a small laugh in response to my remark.

"Harry can be wicked the way he teases his models," Jamie said, and then Harry encouraged her to show me some of her sketches.

I was shocked at just how raw and sexual I looked in Jamie's sketches. And it wasn't just the way she drew my body. The way she drew my face, I looked desperate and raw with desire. Is that how I really looked? In Jamie's sketches I looked helpless, vulnerable and feverish with lust. I started to see why Darya put me through such tormenting trials, the way Jamie drew me, my suffering looked erotic.

"I think I really captured you," Jamie said as I stood there and viewed her sketches.

I looked like a naked slave, helpless, exposed and enduring an endless agony of sexual desire, desperate for somebody, anybody to touch me.

"Is that what I really looked like?" I asked.

"Let's take a look at some of the other student's sketches and see what sort of perspective they have," Harry suggested.

I was still naked, still bound and that wicked electronic device was still inside me, pulsing away, stimulating my cock, as Harry escorted me around the room and bade me to view sketch after sketch that had been drawn by his students. Over and over again, I saw the same looks of helplessness and raw sexual desire on my face.

"I look the same in every sketch," I concluded.

"If you'd like to do some private modeling, call me," Jamie said, handing me a scrap of paper with her name and phone number written on it.

"My hands are still chained behind my back," I reminded her.

"Oh, sorry about that," Harry said, "I'll get you out of that."

Harry removed my collar, the wrist restraints and the chains and Jamie gave me her handwritten note. Several other students decided they wanted to hire me as well and handed me their own notes. Apparently, my services as an artist's model were very much in demand.

And after Harry's student had packed up their belongings and left the classroom, Harry finally removed the pulsing plug from my rectum. I felt oddly empty after he took it out and I reflexively let out a heavy sigh.

I was naked and bent over Harry's desk as he cautioned me, "I wouldn't call any of those numbers if I were you."

Curious, I asked him, "Why not?"

"These are hard core members of the BDSM community," he explained, "They're going to want you to do more than just pose in the nude. They're going to want to test your tolerance for pain. I guarantee you, every one of those charming ladies own at least one riding crop, and they'd love to see how it marks up that lovely, smooth skin of yours."