Compliance

The gallery was converted from a set of offices above a warehouse in a rapidly gentrifying part of town. The confusing maze of internal walls and narrow corridors had been taken out to leave a big open space in the centre with a ring of smaller rooms leading off it. The rooms along the wall with the windows facing out into the street were offices for gallery staff and the rooms around the other sides were used for shows and storage. The whole space was painted white but the floors were old dark wooden floorboards and the roof was high with all the wooden beams and air-conditioning ducting left exposed. Stairs from the street door below came up the middle of the big room, with a railing around the space they left. The gallery had been running for a number of years as the area around it slowly acquired arty shops, now growing expensive, and more warehouses were converted into artists' lofts and apartments. Despite the bright walls and big space it had an intimate, lived in, survivor of a bohemian past, feel.

Mistress C, in her unfamiliar role as curator, and the gallery Director stood near the top of the stairs surveying the main room. Everything looked ready. Near them were two big solid tables in dark wood laid out with wine glasses and bottles ready for the guests for the opening night. The pictures for the exhibition were all up and the videos in the side rooms were running. Mistress C could hear them faintly from where she stood. The elder of the two serving women at the drinks table was studiously avoiding looking at the pictures around the walls; the younger one was still a little flushed and trying not to be caught looking more closely. Mistress C thought that was a good indication for the public reaction to them.

The photographs were arranged in a single row each with a bright spot light giving it a pool of brightness with its associated material. The shots was printed out 12 by 8 on glossy paper and mounted on black cardboard so they stood out from the wall. They were not framed. All of them had been taken on a cell phone camera so the size made even the best of them grainy. There were no captions but next to each photo were text messages printed out on pieces of thick cardboard. They were not arty shots. In all there were 107 pictures of a man's penis.

Near the centre of the room, on the other side of the stairs from the drinks table there was a naked man in a small cage. He was brightly spot lit and a camera hanging from the roof was trained on him.

Mistress C walked down the room and looked into the smaller rooms on either side. Yes, the films were playing and seating in big dark leather couches had been arranged. She turned and nodded to the gallery Director who smiled back in return. They were good to go. As she walked back to the drinks table the first guests arrived.

Mistress C didn't know the first couple who came in - they weren't scene people. They were in their mid-30s, smartly dressed in office clothes and they looked very nervous, which wasn't helped at all by finding the gallery nearly empty. MMistress C watched them with interest – she was keen to see if the Director was right. Would ordinary people accept this as art or would they be horrified and rush off to return with the police? The couple quickly took a drink each and stood very close together studiously reading the big information panel on the wall. Mistress C found an orange juice and stood near the drinks table, trying to follow what the couple's reaction without staring.

The information read:

Compliance

On the 18th 2008 November Mistress C asked her slave to text her a photograph to prove he was locked up as she had asked. She liked getting the photo so much that she demanded more. Over time the taking and sending of the photographs evolved along with the intensifying sadomasochistic relationship of Mistress C and her slave.

As you follow the sequence of texted photographs around the room to the left, you can see those changes reflected pictorially. At the time of the first photograph the slave lived apart from Mistress C and worked in an office. By the end of the year he was a full time slave to her, working from her house, naked and in chains, on various publishing and internet projects.

In order to be sure that her slave could not store images and send them later, Mistress C often texted a message to be included in each photograph and asked for the date to be included. After she received each image Mistress C often responded with another text. The texts are reproduced next to their images.

Accompanying the main sequence of photographs is further material in the side galleries to provide context. Be warned - this is not for the faint hearted. Some people may find the images disturbing.

Mmm, thought Mistress C, anyone who found the images disturbing was going to have a lot of trouble with the entertainment she had planned for the evening. She hoped that the Director had judged her audience well and no one had them both arrested.

The smartly dressed couple had finished reading the warning and started to work their way around the photographs. They were holding hands tightly, looking flushed and intense but not upset. The first photo was mostly quite out of focus. It was of a cock encased in an acrylic chastity device. The cock ring was locked to the cage by a plastic tag and it was clear that the chief aim of the photographer had been to show the serial number of the tag so it could be read. The penis was blurred but you could see that it wasn't erect in the cage. There was nothing overtly erotic about the photograph but it seemed to have caught the interest of the couple. The printed out text on the left of it said 'Prove you are locked' and the one on the right simply said 'Good slave.'

C hadn't been sure about including that photo in the exhibition because it was so unexciting but the Director of the gallery had insisted as soon she had seen it. It was important to show how the whole thing had started. C had originally invited the Director to her house for tea to discuss displaying a set of professional studio pictures of her slave being tortured that she was going to sell. After looking them over the director had been disappointingly uninterested. What had really fascinated her was C using her slave as a tea table. They had had a long discussion about the training required to make it work. Mistress C explained to the Director how she had used full teapots of water getting hotter and hotter. If he moved and spilt the water it hurt him worse than just the heat from the pot and he would get a beating as well. Mistress C demonstrated how well the training had worked by whipping his thighs with the tea still on his back. He cried out but didn't spill a drop. The Director was completely taken by the idea of using the man as furniture and having him suffer. She felt the man's reddened thighs then reached under him to feel if he was excited and found he was locked in a chastity device that wouldn't let him get fully hard. Her fascination grew – especially when Mistress C told her that her slave sometimes wasn't allowed to come for weeks at a time. The Director couldn't understand how a man would let himself be used like that without immediate sexual satisfaction.

So Mistress C went back to to how it all started, with her need to be sure he was locked up as she had asked when she couldn't be there, and that reminded her of the all photographs still left on her mobile. She took it out and they looked at them on the tiny screen; she hadn't deleted a single one. The Director was delighted with such a fresh and novel record of the man's enslavement and immediately pictured an exhibition based on these quirky cell phone photos - grainy and out of focus though they would be when they were printed out. They told a genuinely new story. The big artistic studio glossies were interesting in their way but could be used as basically just merchandise.

The Director's interest in the tea table had had also surfaced in the exhibition. Videos of the slave being used as various sorts of furniture were playing on one of the gallery rooms. If tonight's demonstration went well perhaps Mistress C would bring him in to be a table during the exhibition from time to time.

Mistress C was worried that the poor quality of the shots would be a problem and they would be better to re-take them with a better camera if they were to be shown in public. The Director reassured her that that was what made them so special. Particularly as the quality improved as her slave got more experience and the pictures more adventurous. The two women had sat hunched over the phone almost giggling at the pictures, leaning on the slave who had taken them as the tea cooled on his back.

The Directors favorite had been a picture of his penis hugely erect with the foreskin pulled back to show it was dribbling that clearly hadn't been taken by the slave. A hand with very sharp looking red nails was holding the cock pointed towards the camera to show the pre-cum forming a drop on the tip. A matching hand held a piece of coloured paper with the note 'I only come for you Mistress' next to the glans.

"What's going on there?" she had asked.

"Oh, I was over in Sydney for Mardi Gras and I left him with a couple of friends. When my text asking for a picture came through they thought they would play a game to see how close to coming they could get him before locking him away again. They made him write out that sign for them before they started. It took a few goes to get a good picture and there was a lot of begging to come, they said, before they locked it back up. They didn't let him but they made sure he made them come with his mouth a few times."

"Do you always control him like that?"

"Always since we have been serious – since the first picture. When we first started, we were just playing around and he used to jerk off a fair bit. I didn't like to think of him doing it but I couldn't stop him even though he said he was thinking of me. Sometimes he'd come to me clearly not up to it and I'd guess he'd been playing with himself. That's what these photo's are mostly for; control. Even when his cock is free he knows he could be asked for a photo at any time and if he can't get it up then I know he's been wanking."

"It could be other things, though."

"His problem. He likes to be locked up because that takes the responsibility away from him but I don't keep him that way all the time; I much prefer psychological pressure."

"Do you let him come often?"

"No, why should I? I like to see him excited for me. It's fun to forbid him to come then force him to. I like to see him lose control."

"And then what happens?"

"I punish him for it. It's quite different whipping someone when they are spent compared to when they are sexually aroused. They get no pleasure out of it and I get a lot more."

Thinking about that conversation sent Mistress C over to look for her own favorite photograph. It was fairly early on, before her slave had become full-time. It showed his penis in a 4 ringed gates of hell, fully erect with the foreskin pulled back, and clipped to one of the testicles with a little bulldog clip was a note reading 'Thinking of you Mistress' and the date. The shot was clear and nicely composed. She couldn't say why she liked it so much - it just had an air of excited anticipation that appealed to her. The text next to it simply commanded, 'Send photo.'

More people had arrived now. There was quite a group around the drinks table and the hum of conversation was rising; the caterers were too busy to look around anymore. A few people, mostly couples, were moving around the photographs. It seemed that people needed a pause and a drink to collect their thoughts, and support, before braving the pictures in the exhibition. She looked around and saw where her first couple was now. They had passed the first few shots and were slowing again at the point where she had demanded that he be erect in every picture. She agreed with them: the pictures were much more interesting from then on. She saw they were spending a long time looking at her favorite picture and was pleased.

Finally someone had moved away from the growing crowd by the drinks table to look at her slave in his cage. A tall, purposeful looking woman had taken her drink and was inspecting him quite closely. He had been carefully prepared and Mistress C was proud of him. He had been waxed completely hairless from the neck down. The cage was small, just tall and long enough for him to kneel on all fours with his head and arse almost touching the bars. Wrist and ankle cuffs were locked to the bottom corners of the cage, holding his legs well spread. He was blindfolded, gagged and wearing his 'dress' harness. It was made of thick shiny black leather and the rings and studs were actual silver. It had taken him a long time to polish it to her satisfaction for tonight. The harness was strapped to the bars at the top of the cage so he was completely immobilized and she had ordered him to stay as still as possible so people might take him for a mannequin.

Mistress C wondered how people would respond to him. Would they treat him as art and just look or would they touch? The Director had been particularly interested in this blurring of the lines between art and well, pornography. They had contemplated having a sign saying 'Please Touch' but then decided the uncertainty would be better.

He really was keeping very still. If she looked closely she could see him breathing but that was all the movement. She could see that he had heard people approaching and was flushing slightly but that was only noticeable if you knew him. Her favorite view was from behind. She stood looking down at him, wrestling with the temptation to start the touching by getting down and fondling his balls. She loved the way they looked: hairless and vulnerable. Her stomach swooped as she thought of the electric wand she had brought in case he misbehaved and almost thought she saw his scrotum tighten in response to her anticipation.

A few people were near him now and the tall woman who had come to look at him first was walking slowly around him with an apprising air. As she passed Mistress C she caught her eye and raised an eyebrow. Mistress C nodded and the woman smiled and continued walking around the cage. People were looking at him and some couples whispering, not sure if it was just a realistic model in the cage. The tall woman stopped and stood looking at the man for a while then slowly and deliberately poured her champagne onto his back. The completely unexpected shock of the cold liquid made him jump, hitting the top of the cage and rattling his chains loudly enough to make a lot of the people at the drinks table look over at them and the people near him step back. The woman shrugged and said "Look, not a sculpture after all," to no one in particular then smiled at Mistress C again and said "Can I get you a drink, mine seems to be empty?"

"Thank you," said Mistress C holding out her glass.

"Orange juice? You wouldn't like something stronger?"

"No thank you; maybe later."

The woman took the glasses off towards the drinks table as more people began to walk over to look at the slave. By the time she came back and gave Mistress C her drink there were five or six people standing around the cage.

"Yours, I take it?" she said quietly in C's ear, "Very nice. Not a mark on him, I see."

"Thank you. No, but I expect that will change by the end the evening"

"Good," said the woman, moving off, "I look forward to it." Mistress C felt a tingle in her genitals as she thought about it herself.

Now there were quite a few people moving around the gallery looking at the photographs and some watching the films or looking at the big prints in the side rooms. Most of the people in the main room were working through the photos in order but some were dipping in and out. She looked around for her original couple and walked over to them. They were looking at a picture of a flaccid penis. The note clipped onto the testicles said 'Your cockslave Mistress' and the date. The text printed out next to it said 'That is no use to me. Have you been wanking? You will be punished.'

In the next picture the penis was erect but now completely hairless. It was still obviously pink and sore from being freshly waxed. There were dark bruises along the shaft of the penis. The note held next to it said 'My cock is truly yours Mistress' and the text said 'You better believe it.'

Mistress C remembered how angry she had been that day. She had not instructed her slave not to come without permission but had assumed that he would always ask. Finding out that he had jerked off without telling her was a disappointment. She had told him to arrange an appointment at 10.00 the next day to get waxed and let her know where it was so she could watch. As he had started to splutter "But I don't know..." she had hung up on him. She was still angry during the waxing. It was done in a very up market salon; god knows how much it had cost him at such short notice. She found him looking very embarrassed and hang-dog in the reception area. They were taken into booth by a solidly built middle-aged woman wearing a white smock and with very short bleached hair. He had obviously had to explain something of the situation because she was looking amused and only spoke to C. "I don't usually do men so I've no idea how much it will hurt."

"The more the better," said Mistress C, "I want to see him squirm."

The waxing had clearly hurt a lot. He had had to bite his finger to stop himself crying out. When he turned over so the woman could wax between his buttocks he was shaking. Mistress C watched unsympathetically with her arms folded. The woman from the spa was enjoying herself.

Even after that Mistress C felt he had not suffered enough. In the taxi back to her house she had told him, "I'm disgusted with you. What makes you think you can just wank whenever you feel like it? You only come when I say, cockslave." Her slave was blushing deeply and the driver was smirking at him in the rear view mirror. When she got him home she had had him kneel naked on the tiled floor and play with himself as she watched. When it looked like he was close to coming she made him put his hands on his head and she hit his cock with her riding crop several times then she let him continue. After three times she let him come and made him lick it off the floor. When he had finished she had him hold out his hands. "Keep your dirty little hands off my cock unless I tell you. Do you get that, stupid?" She whipped his hands with the crop until he cried.

The next few photographs all showed the cock in the chastity device from different angles. Her couple was looking at it with interest and Mistress C heard the woman whisper "Would you wear one for me?" but turned away before she could hear the answer. She was disappointed; the woman should have said "Wear one for me."

After the run of photographs in the chastity device, which she thought were a bit dull, there was another from when she began to trust him again that was one of her favorites,. This time there were a series of texts leading up to the photo. The first said 'Please may I come Mistress', then 'No', 'Please may I come for you, Mistress', and finally 'No, you can play with yourself until you are dribbling. Send a picture.' This time the photo had no note, it just showed the glans of his penis with the foreskin pulled back, all shiny with pre-cum and in the background his hand. The text after it said 'Good slave. Now leave it alone' and was followed by 'Please Mistress may I come?' She hadn't bothered to answer but he had been very excited the next day. She hadn't let him come then either.

Passing one of the rooms where videos were showing she heard the sound of her crop and her slave screaming on the sound track. It was playing quite quietly and she thought it was going to be much more impressive live.