The FSRA

The FSRA - Art

The needle penetrated my arm, and I felt a panic and struggled against my restraints although I knew there was nothing I could do. I imagined that they were killing me, or were going to modify my body, cut parts off or doing something horrible like that. Little did I realize what was going to happen.

After a minute or two, I felt myself relaxing. It was the oddest sensation, my muscles simply gave out, and went limp. I didn't feel relaxed mentally, but I found it harder and harder to struggle against my restraints. I gave up and simply lay there, letting the drug take effect in my body.

In another minute, I realized that I was not relaxed. I was paralyzed. I was trying to move, but couldn't. My mind was telling my arms and legs to move, but there was almost no response. The paralysis was so complete, I could not scream, or make a noise. My eyes stopped moving, and my mouth hung open.

And then my breathing stopped. The paralysis had effected my lungs and I was suffocating, laying there on the metal table. The panic in my mind was complete, inside my head I screamed and screamed as I tried to draw a breath but could not.

A tube was produced and shoved down my throat. Just as I was about to pass out from lack of breath, a machine started pumping air in to my lungs, breathing for me. I had been placed on a resperator, which was now in control of my breathing.

I had never felt so helpless in my life. Even when crucified, or hung upside down with water pumping in to me, or any of the other horrible tortures I had experienced, I had been able to scream. Now, I simply lay there. Paniced, screaming, struggling, straining against the restraints - but all in my head. My body lay quietly and accepted the actions of my mistress and her assistants.

My entire body was smeared with a cream. It was clearly a depilatory, removing all hair from my toes to the top of my head. This was washed off with a sprayer, water and cream and my hair all running down the drain in the metal table on which I lay motionless.

I was then oiled with some heavy clear liquid, which was smeared on all my exposed skin, including my face, genitals, feet... between and under jointed and fingers... everywhere.

The resperator made a slow, steady click - hiss - click - hiss noise as my chest rose and fell with the air pumped in. This was the only movement in my body. I was unable to even move my eyes, and stared at the ceiling or whatever was in front of me at the time.

My body was manipulated and placed in an odd position, with my knees bent all the way, legs spread, and my arms up, hands behind my head. Cardboard was placed around my genitals, a large tube was shoved up my anus, and small tubes inserted in to my nostrils.

Then came the plastic.

A large metal container, almost like an oxygen or helium tank, was brought over to the table. A hose extended from it, and Mistress Cynthia took it, and pressed a release on the end. A thick, steady flow of a clear hot liquid was poured over my feet, then up my legs, over my knees and around my hips. Some of the liquid ran down to the metal table on which I lay, but much of it stayed on my skin as a coating. The cardboard around my genitals prevented the plastic from covering my penis and testicles, and the tube in my anus ran out through the plastic around my buttocks.

I heard Mistress Cynthia tell one of her assistants "OK, pump him up for a bit."

The respirator was stopped, just as my lungs were filled with air and my chest and abdomen were distended. The hot plastic flowed, covering my stomach, and then chest, and up to my shoulders. As this took several minutes I was desperate for air, and in my mind begged for the machine to be turned on again so that I could breath. I saw spots in my vision.... I could no longer stay conscious. Things were turning black.

I felt a sudden sense of well being, and began drifting in darkness, and there was a light, a comforting light...

The respirator was turned on again, and the air slowly brought me back to consciousness. I had not been out for more than a minute or so, but I was sure I had been near death. Still completely unable to move anything, I lay there letting oxygen flow through my body, as the last bits of thick hot plastic covered my neck, face and neck.

The viscous liquid began hardening quickly, but I was able to breath under the sheet of semi-hard plastic which covered my chest area. Expanding my chest area with air earlier had assured there would be enough room for me to breathe.

I was left on the table for a while, simply breathing. The plastic hardened. I stared at the ceiling, slowly realizing that I had been completely encased in a plastic coating.

Art - this was what I had become. An unmoving statue, a human, living thing which simply lay on the table for all to see and admire. But never to move, not even an inch. The plastic casing was form fitted to my skin, preventing any movement except for breathing.

A hair dryer was produced, and the hot air covered my plastic prison. Later, it became clear this process helped smooth the outside of the plastic, making it mold evenly and clear so that the appearance of the "art" would be unmarred by bumps and bubbles.

I felt muscle control coming back. My breathing slowly became more erratic, as I stressed to push against the respirator. The tube was removed from my throat and I breathed on my own, with some difficulty. I tried to scream, but was unable, all that came out was a slight whimper - my throat was sore from the tube, and there was not enough room in the plastic case to take a deep breath.

My eyes darted around the room. I saw Mistress Cynthia cleaning up the materials that had been used. Her helpers waited and acted on her orders efficiently. I was ignored. After a while, everyone left the room and I lay staring at the ceiling, trying to get muscles to move again and unable to tell whether the drug was still preventing my muscles from flexing, or if the plastic was holding me so tightly it didn't matter.

It didn't matter. I could not move.

I could cry though, and I did.

Darkness descended, and I lay unable to move even a finger. The sense of complete helplessness, of paralysis without loss of muscle control, the claustrophobia... it overwhelmed me and I screamed as best I could. The sound was absorbed by the brick walls of the dungeon. I was in a strange position, with my legs bent as far as they could at the knee, the knees spread wide exposing my genitalia, and my hands placed behind my head as if I were relaxing, laying in the grass looking at clouds.

As the sun was brightening in the small high window the next morning, some groundskeepers came to my dungeon. The remove the tube from my anus, and the cardboard from my genitals. The small tubes were removed from my nostrils. I could breath through the mouth opening or my nose, and would be able to urinate and defecate. I could see. But these were about the only things that I would be allowed to do.

My stiff form was lifted up, and set on a cart in a kneeling position. My toes and knees supported my frame, and I realized for the first time that I was permanently frozen in the classic submissive slave position - kneeling, legs wide, with hands behind head.

I was rolled upstairs, in to the main living areas of the mansion. It was opulant, furnished well, beautiful, and spacious. I rolled down a hall and in to a large room that looked something like a casual living area, though there were many cushions, several couches and comfortable chairs spread around, as well as a large flat screen television hanging from the wall. I was lifted up, and set in an empty space in the center of one wall.

A metal pan was placed below me, between my legs. To catch whatever body fluids and waste might be emitted from me, I presumed.

The caretakers left, and I remained in the well lighted room, not moving, though my muscles strained and pressed as best they could. The plastic, while thin and clear, was as hard as rock.

My mind was going... I could feel it. The panic which had never quite left me had returned. I was trapped. Buried alive. Unable to move a muscle. Encased and placed on display in this room, for all to see, but unable to move.

I cried out again, a slow mournful wail, but this time I was answered by a hiss. Something else was in the room! My eyes darted around, examining the furnishings.

Then I saw...

Three other art works. Just like me. Two females and a male. Placed in the center of all four walls. All encased and unable to move, just like me.

But the female nearest me was talking, in a low, muffled voice. Her jaw could move very slightly in the space left for her mouth opening.

"Shhhh.... she doesn't allow art to make noise. She will come in and punish us all if she hears!"

My eyes focused on the talking artwork. She looked like she was about 20, short blond hair encased in the plastic covering, a perfect body with thin waist, breasts perfectly formed and held in the perfect position by the plastic encasement. Her legs were thin but looked muscular. The sight of her made me remember my constant erection, which was raging free, throbbing slightly.

"How long have you been here?" I whispered.

Breathing and talking seemed to come hard for her. Her answer came in low gasps. "A week... Its horrible... I thought I was going to go insane... I still wonder if I am... We are fed, and she uses the room sometimes... with her friends... otherwise we are just statues to admire..."

The other male, directly to my left, said nothing... but in the quiet room I could hear him wheezing. It didn't sound good.

"What is your name?" I ventured after a moment.

"I can't remember... I can't remember... I think it was Anna... Dave there... he isn't well off... he has been here longer than me... he is getting weak..."

Every few minutes one of us would venture to say something. It was difficult talking, we had to keep voices low, and none of us were able to keep the breath or the strength going for long. The other girl in the room, a brunette, did not speak English. So, Anna and I talked a little.

Dave urinated into his pan. I wished I could have, but I had not had anything to drink in 24 hours. In the evening, as the sun set, a caretaker came in, replaced our pans with clean ones and then left.

An hour later, the same caretaker came in with a cart. The cart had four large bottles on it, that looked like baby bottles. They were filled with a brownish liquid. He took the first bottle, placed it in a bracket which then went over my head and positioned the bottle with the nipple in my mouth. I suckled the nipple with gusto, I was starved, and thirsty. As I pulled the stream of sustenance from the bottle, the others were given similar bottles. We all suckled and fed, except for Dave, who took small sips, but seamed too weak to drink the entire bottle.

This was my life as art... unable to move, on display.

Mistress Cynthia came in to the room on occasion and would show us off to a friend, always a girlfriend, though sometimes men were allowed in the room as well. On the third day, one of the visiting girls, a tall redhead, came over and was fascinated by my continuing erection. She touched the plastic of my casing, but then ran her fingers down to my protruding penis and stroked it lightly. It immediately throbbed in response, and I groaned slightly. As she continued to stroke, I felt the eruption of several days accumulated seed and with a loud groan ejaculated hard. It spurted well out in to the room, and I continued pumping semen out for at least 30 seconds before finally slowing.

This display struck the redhead as highly amusing, and she and Miss Cynthia went out of the room laughing and discussing something.

That evening, Miss Cynthia reviewed poor Dave's condition. She sighed, and took out several long needles. She inserted the needles in to his testicles, causing a series of muffled screams, in spite of his weakened state. Enjoying the pain her "art" was experiencing, she continued to insert needles in to the few exposed parts of his body until the cries weakened and grew feeble. She left him then, turned the lights out and all was quiet.

In the morning, it was clear that Dave had died, encased in his plastic shell. Caretakers came and removed his rigid body. We never saw or heard anything of him after that.

A party was held that evening. A number of guests attended, about 10 couples in all. The room was filled with food, wine, and music, and the guests enjoyed themselves tremendously. Some played with the art, some played with each other. Eventually, all 20 of the guests were naked and playing in twos and threes on the furniture and pillows. I had never seen so much fucking going on in one place in my life. There were literally piles of bodies, and I was as still and motionless as a statue, watching the debauchery.

Late in the evening, one woman came over to me and sucked my penis, bringing me to a huge orgasm. When she saw I was still erect, she had an idea. She and two of the men lifted me and lay me down on the floor. Then they got one of the other art pieces and lay her down on top of me, placing my penis in her mouth. In this way they had me mouth fuck first one, and then the other encased women.

The women then took turns riding my motionless form, amazed at how I kept hard, and orgasmed again and again. The men, jealous of the women's activities, took the other two art pieces and positioned them on their hands and knees, penetrating them from the front and behind.

When the evening was over, all three of us, the living statues, were covered with semen and the guests were exhausted.

The next day we were cleaned up. I could feel my mind slipping away again, the strain of being completely immobile was driving me insane. When the mistress came in to the room with another woman, she stood in front of me, demonstrated my erection and my ability to come repeatedly. I was out of it, and had begun to pant and make a low keening noise, and did not hear what they discussed. But after they left, some caretakers removed me, and wheeled me on a cart back down to the basement.

I had begun to sob with what little room I had to breathe. I lay on a table in the semi-darkness and waited. Finally, one of the lead caretakers came in with some sort of circular medical saw. He plugged it in and began sawing through the hard plastic.

An hour later, I was free, laying curled up on the floor, crying. Before I recovered, my elbows were tied to a strap placed around my waist and I was collared and led to a cell, where I was fed and watered.

The next morning, I was returned to work, naked in the sun except for the straps that restrained me.