Matt rang his agent again. This was a hard month. The guy had only found him one brief appearance at a club opening, and the rent was coming due. More than that, his gym membership was too.
‘Well we had one offer come through but you always said that you did not want any weird stuff just posing and such,’ said the guy.
‘How weird?’ Matt asked. ‘Weird sex? That’s not for me.’
‘Well just weird I guess. It’s from one of the galleries, they have a new art exhibition and one of the exhibits is a guy in bondage. They need a whole group of guys to be the models in turn, and you fit the shape they want.’
Matt thought about it briefly but – hell – if there were several of them there then they should be able to look after themselves surely? And anyway it was a well-known gallery, never heard of them showing this kind of thing before.
‘OK when do I go?’ he said.
The next morning found him heading into the centre of the city. He had dressed carefully in his trademark rubber briefs under jeans and a tight T-shirt. He reported to the trade entrance of the gallery and was shown to a waiting room. There were two other guys there too, both fit and tight and dressed quite like him. In fact they were all about the same size, not too bulky, strong shoulders, defined arms and well developed six-packs. Strangely they were very different in hairstyle. One was bald and another ginger. Matt was dark and kept his hair well cropped.
He introduced himself and asked if they knew what it was about but they had little more idea of the job then he.
After 10 minutes a young man came in and introduced himself. He looked a bit self-conscious. ‘I’m the curator,’ he said. ‘This is a first for us, but our main sponsor has demanded that we show this for a month in return for a six-figure deal and we need the money. It’s supposed to be all about courage in the face of adversity, but I don’t really see it,’ he said. ‘Come have a look.’
He led the way through a door into a large hall; in the middle was a wooden frame with a metal post sticking up. Matt could not make it out at first.
‘Would you guys please strip down to your shorts or pants and perhaps we can have a volunteer to try it out so we can see how it works?’
Matt looked at the others and shrugged – why not? He could always back out later if things got risky and – anyway – this was starting to turn him on.
He slipped out of the jeans and shirt and stepped forward.
‘You kneel on this end and your ankles go in these restraints.’ Matt did as he was told, looking along the structure at the T-shaped pole. The curator slipped the metal clamps over his ankles, his feet up against the end of the rails. He heard a pair of locks click.
‘Then we slide this open,’ the curator said and pulled a slide along on the other end of the baseboard leaving a hole. ‘Bend over and put your head in there. Don’t worry, there’s a camera focused on your face so we can see if you are struggling or get too much blood in your head.’ Matt was nonplussed. This really was weird, but then the curator mentioned the fee of £500 each a day sharing the time with the other two guys. The others immediately said they were up for it. Matt got the impression they were as short for cash as him.
‘OK then,’ he said. ‘Let’s just try this out for a short time and see, but you got to let me out when I holler,’ he added.
He bent over and fitted his head between the rails, his neck sliding against a round edge. The curator slipped the board back and Matt realised that he was stuck, kneeling on two rails with his butt in the air in public. Despite his reservations he felt his dick start to harden. He always loved being the focus of the show, and this was an ultimate show.
Then he felt his arms being taken and pulled behind his back and forced against cold steel at the wrists. He felt the shackles close around his arms, and immediately the stress began to build in his shoulders. He looked ahead and saw the camera against the wall. What he could not see was that a projector had come on and the view of his anxious and increasingly pissed expression was all over the end wall of the gallery.
‘OK,’ he heard. ‘The artist has instructed us to make this just two hours each session.’
Matt could not believe his ears.
‘TWO HOURS!’ he shouted. ‘No way!’
Then he heard the voice of one of the other guys who barked a laugh and said, ‘I’m out of here now, this ones not for me!’
‘Me neither, you think we are nuts?’ the other guy said. ‘You need real hard core guys for this, like him – what a mutt for getting into that thing!’
Matt realised that the guy meant him! Then he heard them jog out of the room laughing.
‘Glad you agreed,’ said the curator. ‘The press are due all morning, and we must keep them happy. Suddenly Matt felt fingers on his nose as it was pinched and he opened his mouth to shout and a gag was pushed in, filling him with a hard rubber pecker that must have been at least three inches long. He tried to push it out but felt a strap being fixed behind his head.
‘Good thing I brought this from home,’ he heard the curator say and then heard him laugh too and the footsteps as he walked away…
Metal would like to thank the author, Steellock, for this story!