Gromet's PlazaPackaged, Encasement & Objectification Stories

The Opening

by Jo

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© Copyright 2012 - Jo - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; naked; oil; plaster; encase; object; statue; art; display; cons; X

"I'd like to take you home and get you plastered."

Jan barked out a laugh.

Henry you don't have to get me drunk to have your way with me.

True, they hadn't slept together, but they were at that point and tonight was as good as any. Besides work had been hell and she hadn't tied one on in a long time. Still, if she was going to have sex she'd like to remember it.

She saw the intensity in his eyes.

"Sure. Yeah, okay."

His studio was four blocks up and three over. They walked.

Henry was her art teacher. Not that she was into art, but she'd never gone to college, so when she turned 30 she decided to treat herself to a college degree, a liberal arts thing.

He had asked her to pose for him. She was nervous at first, but when she went to his studio he was very professional and the whole thing took about fifteen minutes. Her initial jitters disappeared when Henry pretty much treated her like a prop. He walked around her with his camera, told her to look here, raise her arm, bend her leg. The whole thing was like doing a ballet barre in slow motion. When he was done he simply said thanks, Jan got dressed and that was that.

His studio was in an old factory. They walked around back. Inside Henry flicked on the lights. She had been there before, but he was having the official opening tomorrow and he wanted her to see the new things. He was a sculptor. His specialty female nudes. He worked in several media, but he preferred clay. Jan figured it might be a fetish thing shaping little clay boobs and butts and pussies.

The gallery was on the first floor and after he'd given her the tour they rode the rickety elevator up to his studio.

Henry poured her a glass of wine and talked to her about the showing and how he still had one last piece to finish before tomorrow. It would be the centerpiece. It would be a human form devoid of features. Its title: The Me Inside.

When she finished her wine Henry kissed her, ran his hand through her hair.

"Do you have to pee?"

Henry you sweet talking devil.

"Uh uh."

"Okay then, let's get started. Get undressed."

Confused, Jan began to unbutton her blouse.

"You know what, now that you mention it, I do."

"Through there," he pointed.

Jan went into the bath, closed the door. If this was his 'technique' it was no wonder he lived alone. Still she liked him. Okay, maybe he's not Mr. Smooth, but she was here and, truth be told, she was horny. Maybe it's just an artist thing. He sees so many naked woman that he just takes it for granted. And, yes, she realized she did have to pee.

He was mixing something in a large bucket when she came back. She stopped. He looked up at her.

"The clothes?"

Jan hesitated just a moment then stripped. She watched Henry finish mixing. Watched him pour what looked like brown mud into a shallow box. He held out his hand, not for hers, but for her foot. He smeared some kind of oil on it and directed it into the box. Mud oozed between her toes. He repeated the process with Jan's other foot.

Okay, this is weird. What does he have, some kind of a foot thing? Feels good, though.

Henry poured more mud into the box until Jan's feet were completely covered. He picked up the plastic bottle, squirted oil into his hand and proceeded to rub her legs from ankle to crotch.

Okay, Henry, I don't know what you're doing, but I like it. Seems kinky, but I like it.

He cupped Jan's sex, worked the oil between her lips.

Whoa, slow down there, cowboy.

He stepped behind her, finished oiling her legs, slid his hand between Jan's ass cheeks.

Don't go there, Henry.

He oiled her back, then came back front, did her arms and torso, her face, and even her hair, smoothing it until it was stuck flattened to her back.

He set the bottle aside and reached into the bucket. He pulled out two handfuls of mud, smeared it on her ankle. He took his time, spreading and smoothing it. He was up to her knee, then past, moving up her thigh.

It felt delicious, cool and smooth and slick on her skin. Jan almost purred.

Henry, if you don't make it as an artist, you could always open a spa.

Henry did her other leg, then he took a handful of mud and pressed it to Jan's sex, worked it deeply between her nether lips.

Okay, Henry, that's nice, weird, but nice, keep going. Maybe there's something to this whole wam fetish after all.

He scooped out more mud and proceeded to work his way over Jan's belly, covered her tits.

Hey! Don't start the car if you're not gonna drive it!

"Hold out your arms."

Jan did and he smeared mud from her shoulders to her finger tips, under her armpits, down her sides.


Jan lowered her arms and Henry filled the seams between her arms and body. The whole thing felt wonderful. The mud was giving off a kind of heat. But Jan wondered how they were going to have sex that way, wondered how it would feel to have his muddy cock sliding in and out of her.

Henry turned his attention to her back. He worked a handful of mud between her cheeks.

Okay, you can go there, just don't go IN there.

He covered her ass and back. He smoothed mud over her hair. And then he placed a handful, plop, right over her eyes. She could feel him working his way over her forehead, down her cheeks, even over her lips. At that point Jan was ready to say something, but did she really want a mouthful of mud? He poked something into her nostrils. It was distinctly uncomfortable, but Jan realized that he was covering her nose, too, and she could still breath.

Henry repeated the process, bottom to top, front and back, all over again. It didn't feel quite as good as the first time. The first layer providing some kind of barrier.

Is it warm in here or is it me?

It was warm, almost too warm. Jan stood. She sensed he was finished. Wondered what would come next. Would he fuck her where she stood? Lay her on the floor? She tried to imagine the scene of her mud covered form.

Time passed, Jan was getting antsy. Then there was the sense of movement, metal wheels over wooden floor boards. There was more movement, the rickety shake of the elevator. The proverbial light bulb went on.

Holy shit! Henry! What the fuck!

Jan tried to move, found she couldn't, couldn't move a finger, couldn't blink an eye, couldn't open her mouth to scream.



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