Susan Mitchell was dizzy and in a lot of pain. The Artist had built a wall out of wooden planks in his garage. The wall had three holes in it. The largest was in the middle, with a wooden plank protruding just under the hole like a shelf. The Artist had placed Susan on this plank and then folded her in half, bending her legs back onto her chest. Then he had slid her naked body through the large hole up to her waist, so just her ass and pussy protruded through the wall. The two other holes were slightly higher up on the wall and the man bent Susan's legs at the knees and shoved her feet through those holes to the other side of the wall. The Artist had placed rubber gaskets in each of the holes after positioning the girl, preventing movement. Then he had chained her wrists to the wall between her spread legs, her forearms behind her thighs. Susan's head hung down off the platform so she stared straight ahead, the garage door upside down in her view frame.
The Artist had started by tickling the girl's bare feet. Stuck in the wall, Susan thrashed and bucked, trying everything she could to get loose, but with no luck. She laughed and cried until she ran out of breath. The man started and stopped on and off, giving her only brief respites before tickling her more.
As she hung there trying to calm down after the last assault, The Artist had started in on her exposed pussy, first with his fingers, then with a vibrator. He would occasionally go back and tickle her feet as he held the wand against her clit. The stimulation, and the helplessness of her predicament overcame her. She bucked against the wand, and the man, seeing her excitement, pushed it tighter against her exposed flesh. She let out a soft moan, deeply enjoying the stimulation until finally she orgasmed. She lifted her head as she felt the wave of pleasure and then let it drop again, exhausted.
Susan had little time to recover before she felt the pressure of the man's penis against her opening. He had surprised her by not having sex with her as often as she might have expected. She was, after all, a captive here, kept totally naked, and usually bound in some manner. Today, however, he had apparently decided just photographing her was not enough. She felt him thrust himself deep inside her. Her body moved slightly in the hole in the wall as The Artist began pounding her. She thought about how ridiculous this was. She was an object stuck in a wall. From one side, nothing but a pair of exposed holes. She was used to being a toy now, but somehow this affected her more than usual and she started to cry as the man plowed harder into her. He was rough and aggressive, but happily quick. She felt him withdraw and she lifted her head up to ease the pain in her aching neck.
When the man finished cleaning himself up and got dressed, he went to work disassembling the wall that held Susan captive. He removed the rubber gaskets and release her feet, then slid her body out of the wall. He helped her to her feet and walked her back into the house. He brought her a glass of water while he started work on his next installation.
Mounted on one wall of the empty room was a shelf, but it didn't appear it would be of much use for holding items as it was only a foot long thick dowel rod between two intricate metal brackets. Several feet above and below that were two more pairs of decorative brackets.
The Artist brought over a small step stool and had Susan stand on top of it. He then positioned a ladder next to it and climbed it. He placed a pair of heavy metal cuffs around the naked woman's wrists and raised them over her head. The cuffs had a set of metal prongs that snapped tightly into the upper decorative bracket, holding her wrists tightly in place. The wooden dowel was resting in the small of her back.