Model Slave Pt 03 Ch 01

I read Centerpiece by DanielleKitten, and that gave me the inspiration for the first chapter of Model Slave III, but The Midnight Lurker, and Masters_in_your_Mind also have great centerpiece stories. There have been many other centerpiece stories, but I used this one as my guide. I did send her a note asking for permission to base my story on hers, but never received a reply, so I went ahead hoping that she would view it as a compliment. If not, it is all my fault for going ahead. Still, this is only the first chapter of a multi chapter story.

This is basically an erotic love story and of course all characters are over 21. It will definitely not start out as a love story, but it will get there. My editor is sick and only partially finished an edit and I hope it is okay, but in addition, other chapters will be coming out slower. The Model Slave Series contains BDSM, bondage, exhibitionism, and lots of kinky sex. If you don't like these things then this story may not be for you. Please vote often (fives are most welcome) and of course please leave constructive comments.

PS - This is Model Slave III is the ending of the Model Slave series. If you have fantasies, ideas, etc for new stories please let me know, that includes twists on existing stories and I will see what I can do. Many of my stories have started out that way. I really appreciate the many ideas all of you have sent me. The Medieval Queen Series, the next chapter of Venus Ascending, the Nancy Drew series and Fairy Tales are all in the works because of your ideas.

Model Slave III

Chapter 1

Emma felt totally exposed and while there was a little embarrassment, she was also excited about having men ogle her naked form. The glass table was cold and hard and the only thing she had on were the wrist and ankle cuffs they used to bind her to the table. She could feel her flesh shrinking from the way it felt under her. She also realized that her naked ass was just as exposed as the nude front. Her arms had been stretched over her head and her legs had been stretched wide and tied to the legs of the rolling table.

A shiver stole over her, and she felt her nipples aching and engorging. Of course, being naked as the day she was born could have something to do with the chill. As she was told, she managed to relax on her back, barely able to wait until the glass table warmed from her body's heat. However, before it warmed the men around her began to tighten the slip knots on her limbs with her arms and legs stretching to the point, she was afraid they might pop out of joint.

She felt her ribs lift, and it became harder to breathe. Emma looked down at her body and noticed her breasts were raised high on her chest and her nipples were achingly hard. Her back popped and she swore that her flat tummy was touching her backbone. She couldn't see anything below her swollen breasts, but she felt the strain on her legs, hips and stomach.

When she arrived, she was in full makeup, but the workers had cleaned the makeup from her face exposing her light mask of freckles across her nose and beneath her eyes. This made her look much younger and to many suiters sexier. However, Emma tried to hide her freckles, preferring a more mature and classier look. Still, several of the workers ogled her mask on her face that gave her a younger yet exotic look.

Oddly she was more conscience of her exposed freckles than being naked on the table. While being naked and exposed to the workers around her felt excited, being tied up and helpless added a thrill she had never experienced. She had always been curious about bondage but never felt brave enough to actually do it. Now she didn't have a choice and her body trembled while her mind began to envision men doing whatever they wanted to her. They hadn't even started and her body was aching for someone to take advantage of her vulnerable condition.

She glanced around and could tell her stretched naked body was affecting the workers. All of them were giving her longing glances and most of them had bulges between their legs. As thrilled as she was, she knew she had to act humiliated of else they would think of her as a shameless slut and treat her as one. Maybe that wouldn't be bad, but they had to earn it.

"Not so tight!" She wriggled and groused.

When her agent told her about the gig and what kind of money she was going to make, she was torn. She needed the money but the whole thing sounded weird. Back in Oklahoma this would never happen, but in LA anything could happen and often did. Still, she assumed that she would be wearing the tiny bikini she had brought. Now she had been told to lose the bikini, she would be naked or forfeit the money and the job. Well, you know the old saying, "when you assume you make an ass out of U & me."

After several months of waiting for a gig, Emma's agent finally got her something that would help pay the bills. Her real name was Emma and she loved her real name, but since middle school her nickname had been Barbie, because she was the spitting image of the doll with the same name. As she grew and blossomed it was as if the doll had been patterned after her. So, when she went to LA to further her modeling career, she just started using her nom-del-a-plom.

LA had been a bad choice to start a modeling career because there were literally thousands of Barbies just like her. Her stunning looks got her an agent, but she had been through three agents since arriving and none had given her any jobs to help pay her bills, till now. But even this job was kinda sketchy. She was to be a sexy centerpiece at a bachelor party. Normally she would have given them the middle finger, but her funds were running thin and she needed any money she could get.

"You look a little chilled." the chef remarked as his eyes roamed over her succulent body then stopped transfixed, ogling her succulent breasts and turgid nipples. Her nipples seemed to appreciate the lechery and hardened before his eyes.

She couldn't help but glance down, seeing the small brown tips of her nipples grow tight, thrusting skyward and even she thought they looked very inviting. "Yeah, ya think? Remember when I asked you to warm up this thing I'm strapped to, well?." She knew she was being rude but for the life of her, she couldn't find it in her to care. "Can we just get on with this?" Despite her outrageous act, having all these men and women ogling and gawking at her naked form was electrifying. However, the butterflies inside her womb couldn't wait to experience the main event.

Modeling had always been like that, having people ogle you as you strutted around in skimpy or non-existent outfits. Emma didn't know about other models, but she suspected that like her all models got a thrill from ogling throngs of people around her. To be a model you have to like showing off your face, body, hands, abs, breasts, hair, whatever you are modeling. Emma was enjoying the attention, since it had been a while since she was on display or in front of a camera.

"Yeah, sure, OK." the chef muttered, pulling down on his white jacket.

"Turn your head to the side," he ordered. She did as he said, feeling his fingers searching in her hair. He pulled out the rubber band she'd used to keep her thick, golden colored hair back, slipping it into his pocket before he finger combed her hair. The golden waves and curls looked startlingly brilliant against the translucence of the glass table, and he arranged it the way he wanted it to look, the length was just long enough to touch the outside edges of the table.

"All you really have to do is just have to lay there and be the gorgeous centerpiece that I'm creating. Barbie, you have to remember you can't move no matter what happens. That is why we have you tied tightly to the glass table." He'd told her, a grin on his face. "I'm going to make you a fantastic living centerpiece and soon you will be the delicious dessert and climax for my epicurean meal. You may not taste as good as my dinner, but I have no doubt that the patrons will find you as my dessert very appealing."

"You want me all bound up on a table, have fruit and other food draped over me artistically and lie there, not moving, while your patrons feel me up while they eat?" She groused with very little enthusiasm, but she knew being the dessert for a bunch of horny men would be wild. Inside her butterflies were going wild at the thought. She had never been any part of something like this, but now she couldn't wait to have twenty men licking, slurping, and nibbling on her naked body.

"No one is going to hurt you. I know you are going to want to move around when they start touching you, but any movement will wreck the display." he said, reminding her with a small tweak on her petulant nipples, that she was his slave for the moment. His eyes slowly roamed over her deliciously displayed form as he talked.

"I don't have to do anything else except lay here?" Emma asked with serious doubt in her voice.

"Nope, just lie there. Oh, you may get touched, fondled and aroused, but you are not allowed to have a climax, squirm around or fidget." He looked at her with a stern glare and added, "As a matter of fact if you move, we have to tighten your bonds so you won't move anymore." His grin at the last comment, let her know that he relished the idea of tightening her bonds.

Emma took the last part of that conversation as a warning and felt a shiver of dread. Now that the time was here, her stomach was a mass of butterflies, and she could feel gooseflesh erupting on her skin. She couldn't help complaining, "How can you tighten my bonds any tighter, my joints are almost out of socket now?"

"There is always a way. Okay, I want you to have a dreamy look, kind of like you just woke up after some very naughty dream. I would love for you to keep a seductive look on your face and as the men begin eating off of you, feeling you and caressing you. A little moan or erotic whimper would be great, but only your face can show what you feel and no sexy seductive body movements."

The chef began to pull and tug on her form trying to get her into the position he wanted. Emma moved as he wanted, but bound as she was, she had very little movement, still she wiggled into the position she thought he wanted. But as the evening progressed, he kept moving her until she finally shifted her torso and hips into a position that left her comfortable and didn't offend his artistic sensibilities. She had to admit though that she felt very exposed as both her butt and her pussy were out there for anyone to see. It grew worse as she felt his hands on her legs, pushing the straight one back and bending the other one so that it was toward him more. That position raised her hips just a bit more and she knew anyone standing at the bottom of the table would get a fantastic view of her bald pussy.

He finished quickly and then she felt the touch of his fingers at the juncture of her thighs and a cool oily substance that he rubbed into her suddenly nude-feeling skin. She didn't dare lift her head to see what he'd done and could only gasp when he spread apart the lips of her pussy and rubbed his fingers against her clit.

"I knew you'd like it," he said, smirking at her. Before she could speak, he leaned down and licked one of her hard nipples before turning away.

She didn't even have the chance to be indignant at his familiarities before two more men were standing around her. They carried huge bowls of fruit and the chef held a large green wrapped package of flowers.

"Do not move, you remember what will happen?" he ordered.

White daisies were coiled into her hair, strawberries and grapes were scattered around her body. Apples were sliced, formed into shapes and laid against her skin. Peaches and pears were also cut into shapes and glued to her skin using some kind of sugary syrup. Leafy greens were fanned out under the fruit that was on the table, making her feel like some kind of pagan sacrifice, or like a turkey at Thanksgiving.

An apple was cored and sliced; the rings glued to each of her breasts so that her nipples showed through the holes in the centers. Strawberries, matched as perfectly in size as Chef could make them, were glued over the holes using the same sugary syrup. She felt as if she were wearing some kinky new kind of bikini. But at least she was now covered somewhat, but she knew once the crowd arrived it wouldn't be long.

More of the syrup was ladled over her, running in trails down her skin, leaving it to shine and making her shiver. One of the other men made curving lines of blueberries over her hip and down her stomach. The other took slices of kiwi and dotted her legs with them.

Then the chef picked up a paintbrush and dipped it into the liquid, running it around her eyes and across her cheeks. A mask was formed, using raspberries and black berries.

She felt the brush on other parts of her body, but whatever they were using to "paint" her was warm, bordering on hot and slightly thick. "What's that you are covering me with?" She couldn't help asking.

"Melted dark chocolate, but I did cool it down for you." The chef answered, showing her the small palate, he held that had small tubs of different colored chocolate. He swirled designs around the fruit, drawing an ivy vine that bloomed with chocolate flowers. Despite the fact that he said he cooled the chocolate down it was still very warm and sensual as he covered her body.

It took them less than half an hour to create their "living centerpiece" while she lay there, feeling more like a pagan sacrifice than a human. Finally, the Chef stepped forward once more. In his hand was a huge white flower. It looked like a beautiful white Easter lily, but it was the biggest one I'd ever seen. She looked at him with eyes wide as he traveled down her torso and asked, "What are you going to do with that?"

"The piece de resistance," he exclaimed. She felt his fingers once more, parting her pussy lips with the thick stem of the flower sliding between them. Emma gasped as the stem rubbed her clit and G-spot as he wiggled it inside her. He stepped back to examine his work, coming back to fidget with the flower, which rubbed against her clit each time he moved it.

Her hips began to sway with involuntary reactions to his manipulations and she whimpered as the chef toyed with her nether regions. The entire decoration process, plus all the ogling eyes had started an erotic tremor inside her, but there had been no direct carnal touching, until now. She was already wet inside from everything that had been done to her and the chef's every touch fired up her primal sexual cravings to a whole new level.

Each and every touch, stroke, paint, or placement of some food product on her skin, stoked the fiery butterflies in her womb. By the time they finished decorating her she was as turned on as she had ever been and really couldn't wait to feel fingers and hopefully mouths nipping and caressing her painted skin. Her hips wiggled a bit with the chef's manipulation of the flower and she couldn't help the fiery passion building inside her highly decorated form.

"Are you done yet?" She whimpered, hating the fact that this whole thing had gotten her so turned on. She still had hours to lie on this table while the attendees plucked the fruit off of her body. But her imagination of what was going to happen coupled with the anticipation only continued to stoke the fiery need inside her.

The thought made her even hotter. She knew she was an exhibitionist, and all of this turned her on. However, the thoughts of what was to come made her squirm on the platter. She knew there would be a crowd of men ogling her craftly displayed body, but they would also be touching her and eating all the chef's creation as they touched her.

"Yes, impatient one. We are finished. Now we saw you move and if you continue, you'll spoil the effect." The chef yelled for his helpers and Emma felt her limbs being stretched, by her bonds, even further. Maybe it was all the relentless sensuality, but the stretching felt so sensuous, adding to the wanton cravings fluttering inside her pussy. The chef stepped back and she saw a flash of white light.

"Wait a minute, no one said anything about pictures." But secretly she wanted more photos and more people to see the photos. With the stretching and now the photos, the passionate fire inside her built to incredible proportions and she was finding it difficult to catch her breath. Her chest rose and fell in gasping heaves wobbling her spectacular breasts with some of the decorations sliding into her cleavage.

"Don't move!" Chef snarled, reaching out and putting back the fruit that had fallen off of her. He took another picture and then moved around the long table, getting shots from every angle.

"Voila," he smirked when he was finished. He waved at his assistants as they moved her long glass cart towards the door. "Have fun, girlie."

"Have fun?" She couldn't believe she'd heard him right. She was sticky and covered in fruit and chocolate with a flower stem rubbing against her clit and driving her crazy. This was supposed to be fun, well she knew that by the end of the night she would be quivering with an unrealized desire. Already she was finding it hard to stay still and with her hips squirming, her panting breathes pitched her chest hurling her breasts to and fro.

Swinging doors parted and she was wheeled into a huge room full of tables. The air conditioning was going full blast and she could feel her nipples tighten even more. The chocolate began to harden pulling on her skin. Emma was going to end up with pneumonia, she just knew it. Ending up in the hospital with pneumonia would be a perfect way to get even with her agent. He'd never live down the guilt of being the cause of her death.

Someone touched her hip in one of the few places that wasn't covered with fruit, chocolate or flowers and she glanced up.

"Wow, you look incredible." It was one of the Chef's assistants, and as she blinked up at him, she couldn't help but think how cute he was. His chiseled features, short, cropped hair, and a day's growth of beard made her rethink because he was ruggedly handsome. His shirt was stretched tightly over a massive chest and huge arms but dipped into a tight muscular waist. Emma felt her already turned-on body, gushing with sexual overtones about this guy.

"Thanks, I think," She felt the blush that heated her cheeks and hoped the fruit would cover it.

He reached out, straightening one of the locks of her hair that had slipped forward. His hand hovered around her, obviously wanting to caress her or maybe taste her. "I'm Steve," he said.

"Emma er Barbie. My real name is Emma, but my model's name is Barbie" She replied. "I'd shake hands but..." One of her hands was painted with chocolate flowers, the other was covered with blueberries and cherries and both were bound above her head.

"We don't want Chef on our cases," he said, glancing back over his shoulder. "The man's a lunatic but he does know what he's doing when it comes to this stuff. You look amazing, gorgeous and very delicious."

"Really? I don't know, I kind of thought I'd rather forget this entire experience." She groused, hoping she didn't sound as self-conscious as she felt.

"Really," he replied. "After this is over, if you want, I can show you the pictures we took. For now, look at yourself in the mirror on the ceiling."

She looked up and saw the masterpiece that was her gleaming from the ceiling. Wow, was all she could think as she studied her athletic form stretched such that her body was all sexy, erotic angles, shadows, and edges. Her tiny waist led to her ribs being lifted, dancing under her stretched skin with her breasts shimmering.