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Subject: "The Perfect Model" Part 7 (bd, tor,nc,sm)
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WARNING: Must be an adult to read the following.  All others stay away.

"The Perfect Model"    by  Mahgirb

Chapter 7

A week came and went in the Blaine mansion and Jessie observed only a
few things in passing that seemed odd.  Nothing cruel or unusual as she
had observed on her first couple of days.  But then, the relative quiet
of the last week might have been due to the absence of Mr. Blaine.

He was out on "business."  Everyone seemed to wink or share a knowing
smile whenever this phrase was used, and Jessie knew something was being
hidden from her. 

For the first time in her life, Jessie had money to spend and she was
doing just that.  Her first paycheck brought tears to her eyes, and the
girls encouraged her to go on their shopping trip. Jessie figured with a
check this big, she could afford to blow several hundred dollars and
still have more than enough left over. 

Jennifer, her constant companion, helped the most when it came time to
shop for "real clothes", as Jennifer put it. Jessie was becoming more
comfortable shedding her clothes in front of the colleagues and
especially around Jennifer.   

After a day-long outing to some California malls, Jessie was fully
stocked with sexy clothes, revealing clothes that she could hardly
believe she was buying. 

Jessie was organizing her new wardrobe that night when Jennifer came
knocking.  

"Guess what, Jes?  Mr. Blaine flew back in tonight. He's got some kind
of theatrical presentation he wants to make, so time to put those new
clothes to good use."

Jennifer invited herself into Jessie's closet and started picking out
what she thought was appropriate.

"Here, put this one on," Jennifer extended a tiny black mini skirt and
halter top, " And wear those new stilettos."

Jessie trusted Jennifer's opinions, so she fit into the recommended
attire.  For herself, Jennifer chose a see-through black bodysuit, no
bra, no panties.  Jessie was incredibly aroused by what that outfit did
for her friend, but much of the shyness remained, so Jessie resisted
reaching out and touching the object of her arousal.

Jessie and Jennifer made their way down the stairs together and walked
into the large parlor room where all twenty models were gathered in the
various plush and leather seats.  The seats were re-arranged to face the
immaculate fireplace and mantle.   In front of the fireplace, the coffee
table had been removed leaving a notable empty space in this corner of
the room.

Without warning, Mr. Blaine breezed into the room and stood in that
empty space.  He was trailed by two of this maids, No. 1 and No. 3.
He did not waste any time. He had an agenda and he was anxious to
proceed.

"Ladies, I am happy as always to be home, and happy to see all of you. I
am afraid though, I have some unhappy news. One of you has broken the
rules.  It has come to my attention---and I shall not bother to say
how---that one of you that I trusted has ruined that trust by breaking a
rule with a Maid.  To put it succinctly, one of you pissed in the mouth
of Maid No. 2."

The models began to look around at each other, wondering how much he
knew and wondering who had told.  Everyone seated knew that Christie was
guilty, but no one would have betrayed her.  In fact, most of the models
feared Christie only slightly less than they feared Mr. Blaine.

"It goes without saying how sad this whole situation makes me," Mr.
Blaine continued, "There is good news, however, to counterbalance the
bad news." He turned to his maids and waved his hand.  "You see, on my
travel this week, I stopped in to see an associate in Europe.  He is an
artist like myself, only his subjects, how shall we say, are not
permanent residents in his manor.  He takes on special projects and
utilizes his tools and talents to produce incredible results, incredible
art if you ask me."

The two maids returned, rolling in a large object covered by a sheet.
It had roughly the dimensions of a pool table and it must have weighed
hundreds of pounds, as the strain of rolling it showed on the necks of
the maids. They centered the object and then returned to stand behind
their master.

"My associate, Professor Wrecten, allowed me to purchase one of his
latest technologies.  He first trained me and let me learn the basics on
his test subjects.  Well, I made a few mistakes at the beginning of the
week, but I improved withevery  day.  Now I believe I am ready to master
his machine.  I give you: El Tormada."

With that lasting flourish in his voice, he leaned down and ripped away
the sheet covering. It was a cross between a dentist's chair and
operating table.  Mostly constructed of metals, the  "El Tormada"
contraption sparkled with newness and meaness.   Metal pipes twisted on
the outside and underneath the seat in the center. Shackles and straps
lined the bucket seat, which had several holes allowing access to
whomever sat down in it.  The pipes fed into hoses of every size, and
the hoses all joined at one side at the head of the table/chair.
Indeed, a series of controls let you know where the head of the machine
was located. There were long cannisters and metal jars and hooks and
sharp metal projectiles that had no name stationed at the table's
control panel.  Mr.Blaine smiled with delight as he could not take his
eyes off his newest toy.

"The Tormada is my newest medium, ladies, and I am going to enjoy
practicing with it.  Let me be more specific, I shall enjoy practicing
with Christie. Maids, bring her up here."

Two of the maids had remained unseen behind the parlor doors and they
made their way to Christie.  Christie jumped from her seat as though the
seat was on fire, but the two maids subdued her and dragged her kicking
and screaming to El Tormada.  They wrestled with Christie's flimsy skirt
and tore at the thin fabric. Her clothes were soon in tatters, leaving
Christie with only her high heels to wear.

"Restrain her in the center," Mr. Blaine instructed, motioning for the
other pair of maids to assist.  At one time or another, each of the four
maids had been terrorized by Christie, so each one obviously took great
pleasure in locking Christie down in the chair.  Leather restraints held
her wrists and ankles, while a metal collar snapped around her neck,
forcing her head upright and back against the cold metal of the machine.

"Now, my dear Christie, I suggest that you relax and let the machine do
most of the work."

Mr. Blaine adjusted the controls and El Tormada came to life.  Christie
continued to fidget and squirm, sliding in the bucket seat. All at once,
two hatches opened and metal claws lifted into the air.  They were
directed at Christie's mouth.  Each claw set upon her mouth, slipping
inside and firmly holding against her lips and teeth.  With the click of
a button, the four claws rested against her teeth and forced her jaws
wider and wider apart. Just when Christie thought that her mouth could
open no further, Mr. Blaine expanded them a little more, inching them
painfully apart. 

"The first lesson learned, Christie, is payback. A piss for a piss, if
you will," Mr. Blaine mused, "And you shall be the toilet for all for of
my maids. "

The first maid climbed on top of Christie's naked body and flipped up
her black uniform. She leaned down and positioned herself directly above
Christie's wide mouth. Mr. Blaine nodded and the maid began a long
steady stream of golden piss, aiming it to follow directly into
Christie's reluctant orifice. Christie wanted so badly to close her
mouth, to shut off this terribly bitter taste, but she had no choice.
She had to endure this.  Moreover, Christie knew she had to swallow the
piss as it rained down on her because the volume was too much to just
hold in her mouth. 

Finally, the first maid ended her shower.  The next maid continued the
procession, and her piss seem to go on for an equal amount of time.
Christie continued to swallow, swallowing just so she could continue to
breathe.  Then the third maid followed and the shower went on. 

Now, Maid No. 2 climbed up Christie's tanned naked body.  She was the
maid humiliated most recently at the picnic and hers was the greatest
revenge. Maid No. 2 had been instructed to refrain from going to the
restroom all day, as Mr. Blaine was anticipating this evening's
entertainment.  Maid No. 2's stream started with a great burst of
energy, or relief, and it proceeded for almost two full minutes.
Ultimately, Maid No. 2, smiling, descended from Christie's naked wet
figure.

Christie was utterly humiliated.  How could she face her friends after
this night?  She was the one accustomed to being in control, and now
that time was over.  She prayed that Mr. Blaine had finished teaching
her this lesson. Little did she realize the full extent of his plan, the
full extent of her use as a toilet.

Mr. Blaine slowly withdrew the metal claws and Christie's mouth relaxed
into its normal shape. She moved her tongue around her lips to moisten
them, instinctively, and quickly realized she was licking up some
residue piss on her lips. She recoiled with this bitter taste again. 

"Dear Christie, I am determined to make sure that you  fully appreciate
your crime, and always remember what your place is in this house."  

With this pronouncement, Mr. Blaine set the machine in motion again.
Several buttons were depressed and a pair of cannisters opened at the
head of the table. Christie was unable to see behind her, but this did
not stop her anxiety and her efforts to move her neck despite the thick
steel collar. 

The two cannisters were filled with ink, red and black.  Mr Blaine
punched more commands and two more metal hands emerged from the corners,
extended out to meet Christie's worried face.  At the end of each hand
was a metal clamp, which had a powerful spring.  Just looking at these
made the models, especially the wide-eyed Jessie, cringe in their seats. 

Mr. Blaine positioned the clamps over Christie's eyes and lowered them
slowly down to the eyelids.  As they descended, Christie began to shake
violently, so much so that Mr. Blaine couldn't focus his aim properly.
He worked the controls and arc-shaped steel band rolled up and over
Christie's forehead.  It pressed against her head, restraining her head
from any free movement whatsoever.  Only her mouth could open and scream
as the clamps dug precisely into the ends of her eyelids, pulling them
down over her tearful eyes.

Next, what looked like a tatoo artist's needle rose up and the black
paint was syphoned into the hoses leading from the mechanical needle
arm.  The menacing needle zoomed over Christie's right eyelid and Mr.
Blaine began the delicate work of tatooing. 

It looked painful, Jessie thought to herself, and she unconsciously
moved her body with each twitch that Christie made.  Her fingers made
wild dances in the air, her heels swished side to side in their bonds.
Christie screamed until her throat got raw, and still she had muted
screams to give. Mr. Blaine injected more ink into the needle tool and
re-emphasized his work on her right eyelid. The needle worked fast, and
to Christie it felt like thousands of little needles were pricking her
skin all at once.

Mr. Blaine then adjusted the cannisters and began to inject the red
paint for the next part of his work.  This slow torture continued for
the next eyelid as well.  Black ink followed by red ink, back and forth
for nearly 45 minutes. Some of the models leaned in to get a closer look
at the project, but the needle arm blocked a good view. Finally, after a
few minor embellishments, Mr. Blaine raised the chair up and showed his
work to the audience.

In a type of Victorian Calligraphy, Mr. Blaine had tatooed letters
across her eyelids, first in black, them shaded with red ink.  On her
right, the words, "I LOVE" and on her left, "PISS". It really was
breathtaking artwork, Jessie thought, in spite of her revulsion at the
obvious pain it caused poor Christie.  "I LOVE PISS" in such magnificent
display. 

"Maid No. 2 would you please inform Christie, who cannot see her own
beauty right now, what message is written on her eyelids."

"Yes sir," Maid No.2 stepped forward so all could hear, " It reads,'I
love piss.'"

More tears came streaming down Christie's face.  Mr. Blaine concluded
his sermon to Christie. "And this message means that whenever and
wherever any of you needs to piss, you may feel free to utilize Christie
as your convenient toilet.  She will not complain and she will not
refuse.  After all, whenever she blinks her eyes at you, she's telling
you 'I love piss.'"

End of Chapter 7       


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