After her ordeal in the workshop of The Artist on Friday, Susan Mitchell spent the weekend nearly alone in the guest bedroom upstairs. The man had carried her there Friday afternoon and laid her down on the queen sized bed. Using four lengths of chain and four padlocks, the man chained the woman's wrists and ankles to the four posts of the bed. Throughout the weekend, The Artist would return to served Susan meals each day and let her use the bathroom as well, but for the rest of the weekend, she was bound tightly to the bed by her wrists and ankles. The woman wondered why The Artist had chosen to take a break over the weekend from his photography, but she wasn't about to ask him as being chained to the bed was preferable to most of the tortures she had endured all year.
The Artist came to release her Monday morning. "I assume you are well rested and ready to complete our project this week, Art?" Susan nodded. "I've spent the weekend preparing my next exposition pieces. I think they really are some of my better ideas." Susan didn't know what to say, so she kept quiet. The Artist gave her directions to take a shower and meet him in the kitchen. She did as she was told, lingering longer than usual in the hot water. When she felt she had dawdled enough, she headed down to the kitchen. Upon arrival there, there noticed was a small cabinet against the wall that had not been there before. But before she could think about that, the man told her to climb on top of the kitchen island. He attached a pair of cuffs around her wrists and ankles and locked them together, leaving her in a tight hogtie. The man peeled a banana and placed it in her mouth as he photographed her naked body. Susan was hungry, so she decided to take a bite of the banana and the rest of it dropped to the counter. The Artist admonished her and told her to clean up the rest so she slowly ate the rest of the fruit off the countertop. The man smiled at her and poured a bowl of cereal and placed it under her head. She looked up at him and then began eating the chocolate puffs out of the bowl like a dog.
When she was done with her cereal, the man extended the spout from the kitchen sink and stuck it into Susan's mouth. He told her to hold it tight while he filmed her. Then he turned the water on and she began quickly swallowing the stream of cold water. She thought to herself that she was pretty thirsty after the long weekend and luckily the man did not turn the water on full stream so she was able to keep up without the water choking her.
After The Artist felt he had enough photos, he released the young woman from the hogtie and had her sit cross-legged next to the sink on the island. He tied her ankles together and then ran rope above and below her breasts, pinning her forearms to her sides. He ordered her to hold her hands out in front of her and he placed a glass bowl in her hands. He reminded her again not to drop the fragile object. He extended the sink sprayer over her shoulder and turned on the cold water. The bowl slowly filled, cold water splashing on her bare breasts in the process. She held the heavy bowl as steady as she could while she was being filmed, carefuly not to move too much to prevent the water from sloshing out of the bowl.
The man left Susan sitting there on the island with the bowl in her hands as he pulled out a stockpot and placed it on the stove top. He filled it with water from the pot filler above the stove. He began adding some herbs to the pot, including basil, rosemary and oregano. Susan figured he was cooking dinner as he turned on the heat under the pot. Her arms were cramping and she hoped he would let her free soon before she dropped the fragile glass bowl. But the man left the kitchen, leaving her alone as she watched steam start to rise from the pot. Susan watched the clock on the wall as nearly thirty minutes elapsed before The Artist returned with a plastic tray in his hand. The tray had a large opening in the top.
The man lifted the lid off the pot of water, which was now at a rolling boil and examined it. He turned off the heat and removed the lid. He carefully lifted the pot off the stove and sat it on a rubber mat on the floor and placed the plastic tray on top of it. Then he walked over and picked the glass bowl from Susan's hands and dumped it into the sink. He slowly untied the ropes around her forearms and ankles, then lifted her off the countertop. The woman rubbed her arms while the man returned to the pot of water, placing his hand over it to test the temperature.
Satisfied with the heat, he led Susan over and lifted her up, telling her to spread her legs. He sat her down on the warm plastic and tied her ankles behind her to each of her wrists. Hot steam was now rising through the open hole directly on her open vagina. The man ordered her to sit still as he pulled out his camera again. "Celebrities pay a lot of money at spas for vaginal steams," he said. "Here, you get it for free." He chuckled at his comment but Susan was not amused. The steam was quite hot and she worried that her tender pussy was being burnt by the hot steam. The position was uncomfortable and holding it was not easy, especially with the heat between her legs. Her captor told her to remain on the pot as he once again left the kitchen. Tied as she was, there wasn't very far she could go anyway. She couldn't see the clock any longer so she only had to guess how long she was sitting above the steam.
