The Gallery

Julia stepped into the gallery out of the London rain.  She shook her umbrella and closed it before looking around.  She had come into the city to kill some time, to do some shopping - some of it just window shopping - and maybe to take in some culture as well.  When the showers had started the shops had started to fill up with those retreating from the rain, so Julia had set out, brolly in hand, to look for something of interest.  As she walked through the West End streets the gallery had caught her eye.  She wandered in, liking what she saw.  The pictures near the entrance were mostly abstract, but contained figurative elements, often quite erotic.  Many were curves of the female form, one obviously a breast with a brightly coloured ring – or something piercing the nipple.

“Can I help you?” Julia turned at the sound of the metropolitan voice.  The woman standing there was immaculately made up and dressed.  Black heels, stockings and a pencil skirt.  The blouse a riot of colour announcing that, no she was not just another office worker.  She wore a scarf in the same colours around her neck, a slash of scarlet on her lips and shoulder length dark brown hair cut in a precise fringe.

"I'm interested in the pictures you have on display." Julia answered. "They're... different."

"Yes, Angie is a very promising new talent although some of her work can be a bit difficult for the mainstream." The woman smiled, as if amused by the thought. "We wouldn't dare show most of her stuff out here where the public could see it as they walk by. Maybe you'd like to come on back to the private area, where the best stuff is kept."

Yes, please, I'd like that." Julia replied.

The woman led her to the back of the gallery and, as she approached pressed a button on a hand held remote. A door which had been previously concealed amongst the design of the rear of the public section of the gallery swished open.

"After you." The woman said.

Julia was surprised to find that the room beyond was as light as the gallery in front.  She stepped up to the plate glass windows which ran all along one side and saw that they looked out onto a private courtyard with gravel walks, benches and box hedges arranged in a sort of maze.  One or two bits of sculpture could be seen from her vantage.  They were at a distance but Julia could see that they depicted the female form.  “Odd ...” she thought.  “I'm sure I just saw that one move.  I must be imagining things.”

Turning back to the gallery she could the artwork arranged along the opposite walls or tucked away in alcoves.  She turned to the first picture.  It was indeed more explicit, still partly abstract but with move obvious female curves and hints of chains and manacles.   “Interesting ...” she murmured not quite sure what to make of it.

"As you can see, Angie is fascinated by the beauty of the constrained female form." The woman, now standing close beside her, commented. "She contrasts the harsh brutality of the bondage with the soft subtlety the human flesh. Of course there are always those who fail to see the artistic integrity, who would wish to dismiss her work as somehow demeaning or pornographic but I'm sure a more discerning viewer such as yourself can see their strength, their power, how they talk directly to our inner urges."

"Yes, yes, I see." replied Julia. And, indeed, she did understand. Somehow her body was responding, responding in very disturbing ways.

"Now, this work..." The woman continued, leading Julia on to the next painting. "Can you not sense the intensity of the emotions the subject is feeling? The hood obscures her face, depersonalizes her; the chains hold her open and available. She loses all personality and becomes a symbol of her sex, an object waiting to be used. One is left with the quandary, is she waiting in dread or anticipation?”

“Oh, anticipation.” Julia blurted out without thinking “Anticipation, I’m sure of it.”

“You are sure, aren’t you?” The woman replied. She now seemed to be standing very close and, somehow, Julia felt that the room had suddenly become very warm.

The touch of the woman’s hand as she took hold of Julia's upper arm made Julia jump.  The woman smiled back at her, those scarlet lips curving up in precise reassurance.  Julia felt herself guided to the next picture.  “This an interesting work.  While mostly abstract you can clearly see the kneeling woman, wrists and ankles bound, lips pressed against the heeled boot in supplication.  She clearly understands that the position is right and natural.”  Even closer now Julia could smell the heady scent that the woman wore and was feeling even more light headed.  “It's a highly charged work ... highly charged.” She managed.

She almost didn't notice as she was moved to the next piece, guided by the hand on her arm.  “Next, a sculpture; I think it speaks for itself.”  Recessed into an alcove was a two foot high figure of a woman, kneeling in a classic pose with arms behind her and legs parted.  The form was hooded and the whole of it seemed to be covered is black shiny latex, with just the areas around the breasts and crotch cut away to show bronze underneath.  “Magnificent isn't it?”

"Yes, yes indeed.” Unbidden her hand reached out to stroke the statue, pulling back at the last minute.

“It’s OK.” The woman assured her. “Go ahead, touch if you want. All Angie’s sculptures are interactive; I’m sure someone as discerning as you understands. Do you see how the latex hides the woman underneath; only her breasts and sex are exposed. She has become sex, open and available. Do you see how her breasts stand out, high and proud, surely she knows how desirable she has become. Sure she desires to be touched, the unseen hand upon her breast, upon her sex confirms her worth, confirms that she is desirable. Wouldn’t you like to know how that feels?”

Julia couldn’t reply; she didn’t honestly know the answer. Was this strange woman suggesting that she would wish to pose like that? Her thoughts were confused, part of her wanted to turn and run but part of her did indeed want to know. As if reading her thoughts the woman took her free arm and, together with the one she already held, moved it to behind her back.

“That’s right.” She urged. “Mirror the pose of the statue. No, don’t drop your head; keep your head up, just like the statue. See how it feels.”

The woman changed her grip so that one hand encircled Julia’s wrists, locking them behind her back.

“Now then, come along, there’s plenty more to see.” The woman’s tone had hardened, more forceful, more commanding and, still firmly holding Julia’s wrists behind her back, she guided her on to the next exhibit.

This was also a sculpture of a woman but full-sized this time; half a woman anyway.  Presented at just below Julia's eye level was a well-rounded, shiny latex covered bottom.      Shapely rubber clad legs descended into impossibly high-heeled ankle boots with ballet shoe like toes that perched, precariously on a pedestal.  Cuffs and a bar between them spread the legs apart and it looked as if the sculpture should topple if the bar hadn't been fixed firmly against the back wall.  More surprisingly the figure was bent over with the upper body disappearing at the waist into the wall of the alcove behind.

“A most remarkable exhibit, I'm sure you will agree.  Kiss it.  I know that you would like to.”

“What? I'm sorry.” stammered Julia.

“Kiss it!” The woman's voice hardened and she lifted Julia's wrists up behind her forcing her head down towards the latex.

“Yes, Yes, I will ... I would like to.  There is no need for that.”  Julia felt the pressure on her arms relax.  She bent over and placed her lips on the shiny material.  It was warm and yielding she jumped back in surprise.

The woman smiled.  “As you can tell there is a real woman in there.  Don't worry she is enjoying herself.  Let me show you.”  She reached for a zip on the small of the “sculpture's” back and unzipped it through the crotch.  Julia caught the sight of a firm behind and then a hairless pink pussy emerged as the black rubber slid back.  “Feel!” Julia's hand was moved quickly and placed between those lovely legs.  She tried to pull her hand back but it was held there and then guided between the lips of the exposed woman.  She felt a sticky wetness.  “Push two fingers into her.”  The voice was fierce and insistent and the grip on her wrists strong.  Slowly Julia complied, sliding first one and then a second finger into the “exhibit's” slippery hole.

Julia was amazed at just how easily her fingers slipped inside. Indeed, the exhibit seemed to welcome the intrusion and Julia could feel her muscles flexing, almost as if asking to be further violated. Julia couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like, how she would feel were she to be bent over and exposed in such a fashion. Overcoming her earlier nervousness she eased her fingers back and forth, fascinated by the warm slickness of the exhibit’s vagina.

“I can see that you really appreciate this sculpture. That’s right, push your fingers right in; you know you would want it if you were the exhibit. Being used is what validates her.” The woman’s voice was insistent, would not, could not be denied. “Image yourself in her position; imagine how you would feel; imagine how you would crave the attention.”

All the while Julia had kept on easing her fingers deeper and deeper inside. She had, indeed, been empathizing with the exhibit, wondering what it must be like waiting, latex clad and bound, waiting for the unseen touch to give meaning to this existence. She could feel the rising heat of the exhibit’s response which, in itself, urged her to continue. Yes, she could understand the need, the need to be touched, the need for stimulus, the need for validation.

“And that’s quite enough of that.” The woman said, pulling Julia’s hand away and returning it to behind her back. “Now, kiss her again.”

This time Julia didn’t need telling twice; the woman was her guide to this bizarre world and Julia was relying more and more on her guidance. She bent forward and kissed the bare flesh at the base of the spine; smelling as she did so the warm earthy aroma of the exhibit’s arousal. However, after the briefest of kisses she was pulled away, the zip was refastened, and she was led to the next alcove.

The next sculpture was the inverse of the previous one. Again it was the bottom half of a woman with the top half disappearing into the wall, again the body was encased in latex and again the legs were held wide open by a spreader bar but this time the pedestal was taller, supporting the back and buttocks of the exhibit leaving her legs hanging over the edge, held in place where the spreader bar was attached to the pedestal itself.

“Now this exhibit is also interactive.  Observe.”  Julia looked closer and saw that the top of the pedestal was concave and sloped gently towards the front.  The woman pulled out the front section which tilted forward to  form a trough between the “exhibit's” legs.  She unzipped this model just as she had done the other and a similar shaved pussy was exposed.  The woman pressed down lightly on the figure's abdomen and a stream of piss fountained out and collected in the trough.  “The exhibit is slowly fed water – nothing dangerous but it means it is 'on tap' when needed.  Why don't you come and wash those sticky fingers?”  Julia hesitated.  “Wash them now.” There was steel in that voice and Julia hurried forward to obey rinsing most of the juices of the last exhibit in the urine of the current one.

“I think that we can bypass the next few exhibits, as there is something I would particularly like to see.”  The woman slid the zip back up and closed the trough.  “Come  along.”  Julia was hurried past the next few ‘artworks’ before she was stopped before another alcove.  “This is another interactive work and one of my favourites.  Go on take a closer look.”  Julia was puzzled as she stepped forward.  All there seemed to be was a shop manikin, a pedestal and a box fixed to the floor.  Julia turned to question the woman and was just in time to see her press a button on the remote and a glass door slid across, sealing the alcove.  The woman held the remote close to her mouth and spoke.  Her voice came from a speaker somewhere within the alcove.

“Undress and use your clothes to dress the manikin.  You should continue to wear your heels but everything else that you can't find a place for on the manikin should be placed in the box.  When you have finished undressing position yourself upon the pedestal in a way that you feel is most appropriate.  I will return when you have completed the objective to my satisfaction.  Time is of no importance to me.”  There was a faint click and, before Julia had any chance to respond, the woman walked out of view.

At first Julia pounded on the glass door trying to attract attention but it was immediately obvious that no one was going to come and the door was more than secure enough to survive any treatment she could give it. Frantically she searched in her handbag, surely she had her phone; she could call someone, get help. However, when she finally fished it out the screen was covered with strange characters and all the buttons seemed dead.  In despair she threw it back into her bag. Despondently she sat down on the pedestal determined to wait it out; whilst she would freely admit that she had been deeply affected by the various exhibits if this woman thought that she was going to undress…

Time passed but, as she wasn’t wearing a watch, Julia couldn’t tell whether it was five minutes or five hours. It certainly felt like the latter. She’d tried pounding on the door a couple of times but all she’s got for her pains was bruised fists.

In the end it was her bladder that let her down. More and more she needed to pee and more and more she didn’t know what to do about it. She could, of course, just do it but the blinking red light of a closed circuit TV camera meant that she knew that her every move was being monitored and probably recorded. Did she really want footage of her peeing in this box to be the next new exhibit? Furthermore the thought of being trapped in there with the stench of her own urine was less than appealing. She was their captive, there was no doubt about that and it had been made quite clear that they were prepared to wait for as long as it took for her to capitulate. Maybe, maybe if she did as she’d been told, maybe that was enough, that was what this strange woman wanted, and she’d be freed, or at least allowed to use a restroom. The urge to pee was almost too strong to resist; if she didn’t do something soon she was going to wet herself. Trembling all over she started to undress.

She took off her jacket and laid it on the pedestal.  Taking a deep breath she slowly unbuttoned her blouse.  Once it was off she reached to place it on the manikin.  There was a soft click “Bra first ...”  The woman's voice came from the speaker; Julia realized she had been watched the whole while. Reluctantly, Julia undid her bra, took it off and fastened it onto the manikin.  Her blouse followed and she unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it.  She hesitated realizing that she couldn't dress the manikin in her tights and knickers as it was firmly fixed to the floor on a pole.  “Just put the skirt on the manikin; put the rest in the box.  Put as much of your jewelry on the exhibit as you can.”  The intercom clicked off.  Julia added the skirt, her necklace, rings and even her earrings to the manikin, which she found had soft latex ears.  Finally she added her jacket.  She stepped back and looked.  It didn't look bad.

“Put the umbrella in its hand, empty your bag into the box and put it over the shoulder ... and the rest of your underwear should be in the box.”  The voice was icy.  “Your underwear in the box; the empty bag on the exhibit.”  There was real threat in the woman's voice now and Julia hurriedly upended the bag and placed it on the manikin's shoulder before adjusting the umbrella in its hand.  Trembling as her last shreds of dignity were removed she slipped off her shoes and pulled down her tights and panties.  They followed the contents of her bag into the box.

She looked at the pedestal.  She felt very vulnerable with a large clear door before her and the plate glass of the gallery window beyond that.  She could see by the change of light in the courtyard how long she had been there.  Her bladder was painful now.  She turned and knelt on the pedestal.  As she did so the box dropped into a hole in the floor and she sighed as she watched her phone, her wallet, all her personal papers, the things that defined who she was, disappearing from view.

If Julia had thought she was going to be freed soon she was sadly mistaken. Minutes dragged by and still the woman failed to return.  Julia, now desperate, started to sob.

"Please, please." She begged. "Please, I need to go to the toilet. Please, I'm desperate." She clasped her hands together and squeezed them between her thighs.

"If you soil the exhibit you will be cleaning it up - with your tongue." The voice came through the speakers.

Julia had no doubts now how serious the threat was.

"What do you want?" She pleaded. "What are you going to do with me?"

"Angie's art is always an ongoing project." The voice replied. "It adapts to the tools available. Right from the start I could see that you were malleable, ready to be formed, ready to be shaped. Angie will be along soon. Then she'll decide exactly how she wishes you to be displayed."

"How long?" Julia asked desperately. "Please, I really need to pee."

"Enough of this chatter. Be quiet or it will be all the worse for you." The voice returned sharply. "You will learn patience, one way or another, and the quicker you learn it, the better it will be for you."

Julia clamped her knees together tighter and, sobbing gently, waited in silence. However it wasn't long before the woman arrived, this time accompanied by another, younger woman. They were in no hurry to free her but stood talking together occasionally pointing at her as if they were discussing her.  Finally they walked off together nodding and Julia's heart sank wondering how long she was going to have to bear the discomfort.

She waited for what seemed like hours but it was probably only for about ten minutes.  Then the box rose from the floor again.  Gingerly she climbed off the pedestal and opened it.  Inside were four items.  The first was an object made of black latex, polished so that it gleamed.  Next was a ball gag – black leather and a bright red rubber ball, then a lipstick in the same scarlet and lastly was a set of two clips with a short chain linking them.  Turning it this way and that Julia saw that the latex formed a hood but with hollow, rigid tube about six inches long rising from the crown.

“Apply the lipstick.  Replace it in the box.  You will find that the hood will go on more easily if you turn it inside out and feed your hair through the tube first.  Make sure you get the nose holes aligned properly.  We don't want you to suffocate.”  The intercom clicked off.  Julia sobbed as she generously applied the colour to her lips, thinking it was a shade would never wear and hoping that she wouldn't make a mess of it without a mirror.  She looked at the gag and shuddered thinking that it wouldn't matter too much what her lips looked like with that awful thing in.  She managed the hood as instructed, struggling with the tightness of the rubber.  When she has finished her long hair cascaded from the tube on the top of her head in all directions and fell in a fringe just above her eyes.  They had judged the tube length perfectly.

“Now the gag and the clips.  They go on your nipples.” Sound was muffled by the hood but she could still hear the dreaded instructions.  She placed the ball in her mouth and found that it would sit behind her teeth.  She did up the buckle and felt the leather pull at the corners of her mouth.  “Tighter” the voice was unforgiving and she pulled the buckle another notch.  Finally the nipple clamps.  The spring on the clamp didn't seem too powerful when Julia opened it but as it closed on her sensitive nipple pain exploded and she cried into the gag.  The second was no better and she could barely toss the lipstick back into the box and climb onto the pedestal and resume her kneeling position.

She had a little time to collect her thoughts and the pain in her nipples faded to a dull throb.  She was hardly paying attention and she almost felt that to pee where she was and take the punishment was worth the humiliation.  Then there was a clatter and looking down she saw that two cuffs on short chains has dropped out of openings on each side of the pedestal.  Julia saw that they were the type which once closed there was no way of easily opening them again.  “Ankles” barked the voice and now resigned to her fate she fastened each to her ankles, having to shuffle her feet apart to accommodate the shortness of the chains.

Just and she had finished there was a jingle and a thud behind her.  “Wrists, behind you.”  Looking round Julia saw some similar manacles hanging from a chain running to the ceiling.  Knowing she had no option she clipped them on and felt her breasts push out and more pain in her nipples as her wrists were forced together.  There was a hum of motors and a hatch slide away in the centre of the pedestal between her legs. Rising slowly from the hole was an eight inch long black, rubber dildo emerged attached to a chrome pole similar to the one supporting the manikin.  Attached to the front of the base of the dildo was a transparent moulded plastic funnel with a clear tube at the bottom which descended into the hole.  “I'm sure you understand were this goes.  I know you are wet enough not to need lubricant.”

“No, No ...” Julia's sobs were muffed by the gag.  Time passed with nothing more happening and finally she realized that by mounting the horrible thing the molded cup would give her a way of bringing much needed relief to her tortured bladder.  Shuffling forward on her knees she maneuvered herself over it and slowly sunk down.  It felt large inside her but she had to admit that the voice had been right and it slid inside her easily.  She had just settled with her pubic bone resting against the cup when the dildo began to rise.  At the same time the chain attached to her wrist cuffs was pulled up forcing her to rise with it.

Julia struggled to her feet as it kept going up and up and by the time she was standing straight legged she began to panic wondering if she was going to be impaled.  The short lengths of chains at her ankles kept her legs wide apart with her heeled feet near the edges of the pedestal.  She gasped in relief as the chrome pole stopped rising while her standing position was still fairly comfortable, but her wrists kept on being pulled forcing her to bend forwards to relieve the pressure on her shoulders.  Even that stopped well before being painful and looking down she could see that the clear pipe ran into the top of a sealed glass bottle attached halfway down the pole between her legs and a second pipe continued on from the bottle and into the pedestal below.  She saw the hole at the base of the pole close around it and was just contemplating her new situation when she felt suction in the cup and her clit was pulled towards the pipe.

As she finally emptied her bladder she felt a wave of relief wash through her. However, as the immediate problem was resolved she began to re-appreciate the wider picture. How had she let herself be talked into this; how had she acquiesced quite so quickly? And the dildo, which felt so big inside her, what were the implications of how easily it had slid inside her and, more disturbing, that the woman had known that it was so?

After what seemed like another eternity the glass door which separated her alcove from the main body of the gallery slid back again and she heard voices. She couldn’t see much beyond the confines of the alcove but, from the hubbub there was quite a crowd and, sure enough, she was soon being examined by a steady flow of visitors. As when she had examined the other exhibits there was no ban on touching and the visitors were expected, nay encouraged, to interact as much and as physically as they desired. Julia was grateful that all the clients were women. Somehow having them touching her was so much easier than if they had been men.

One visitor, a tall sophisticated woman with a Latin American look, spent some considerable time with her, watching closely, watching her reactions as strange fingers probed and examined her intimate regions. At one point their eyes met but Julia’s meek supplication was met by a steely, unwavering gaze that did nothing to calm her nerves. She disappeared only to return, this time with the gallery owner in tow.

“This exhibit, it is new, is it not?” She asked. “I don’t remember it from your previous showings.”

“Yes, very new. Angie only finished arranging her just before we opened this afternoon.” The owner replied.

“And is for sale? Has a price been set?”

“Of course, Countess, all Angie’s work is for sale. As for the price, let’s not talk money now; later in my office will do. Oh, your glass is empty. Let me get you a refill.” The gallery owner motioned with her hand and a waitress appeared. She was dressed from head to toe in black latex, struggling to retain her balance on the highest of heels. The gallery owner took a glass of champagne from the tray she carried and handed it to the Countess.

“Yes, indeed, a very interesting piece.” The Countess said. “A worthy addition to my collection.”

Julia was alarmed at thought of being bought and paid full by this cruel looking woman and she had a long time to think about it.  Visitors came and went.  The skies outside grew dark and spotlights turned on to artistically illuminate both her and the manikin beside her.  She couldn't see the other exhibits in the row but assumed that they were similarly lit, certainly the ones in the courtyard seemed to be.  As the night grew on the trail of visitors finally stopped and she was left with her thoughts.

Click click click.  The determined steps of heels on a hard floor brought Julia back to her surroundings.  The woman stood before her along with the rubber-clad maid who held various items.  “Now, be good and you won't be punished, Understood?” The voice was firm and Julia nodded.  The maid dropped to her knees at the base of the pedestal and started work.  First, she clamped a ring to the pole close to where it entered the pedestal.  and tightened it off with an allen key.  Using the key again she released each ankle cuff from its chain and Julia was able to move and stretch her legs for the first time in hours.  “Place your feet together close to the pole.” the woman was remorseless and Julia complied.  The maid attached a short chain to one ankle cuff threaded the other end through a loop on the pole and clipped it to the other cuff.  She stood and moved behind and Julia felt something soft but strong placed over each of her hands and secured.   Then the cuffs on her wrists were released and she was able to stand upright.  Bringing her hands in front of her Julia saw that she was now wearing leather mittens with rings at their ends.  There seemed no easy way of getting them off.  The maid went to work again and soon those rings were secured to the pole forcing Julia's hands before her.  The maid detached the second tube from the glass bottle and then used the allen key near the base of the pole and Julia felt it come free.  She could move again!

The maid disappeared and a moment later returned with a ramp, which she placed against the pedestal.  “Follow me!” The woman turned and started to leave leaving Julia to shuffle down the ramp and out into the corridor.  The chain between her ankles forced her to take short steps and the way it passed back and forth through the ring on the pole as she walked produced difficult vibrations in the dildo.

Julia was led through the gallery where she noticed many of the other alcoves were now empty, their exhibits having, presumably, also been removed for the night. At the far end they went through another concealed door and into an office area. The Countess sat waiting for them, passing the time drinking coffee with the woman Julia supposed to be the artist, Angie.

"So, where did you find this one?" The Countess asked looking up at Julia.

“She just walked in off the street.” The gallery owner replied. “She practically begged to used. I can tell the type, even when they don’t know it themselves. And with that spare alcove just waiting to be filled I simply put the two together. She took a little persuading but not too much. You'll have no problems getting her to respond to training. I think you’ll find her very much to your tastes.”

“Yes, yes, very pretty.” The Countess said. “And if I do decide to purchase when might I take delivery?”

“Well, the exhibition is open up to the end of the week and we’d certainly like her here until then. But maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement.” The gallery owner was thoughtful. “As you know we’re only fully open between four and ten pm and storage at other times can be… problematic. Suppose we were to say that you were to have her on a trial basis; we’ll deliver to you after the gallery closes, you agree to return her by three-o-clock. If, by the end of the week, you still want her we’ll sort out the finances and arrange shipping. If not, well we have other clients who may be interested.”

“That sounds quite acceptable.” The Countess replied, licking her lips.

“Can I just ask that you leave her unmarked?” Angie added. “Just whilst she’s still an exhibit, of course. Once she’s yours you can do as you want. I know you prefer them fully shaven and wearing your brand but, currently, she has this frail, innocent air about her which adds to the violated look I’m after.”

“Unmarked to the end of the week; I’m sure I can manage that.” The Countess laughed. “After that, of course…”

Julia stood and listened amazed at what she was hearing. Idly, as if she were a mere nothing, the three women were discussing her fate, her future, a future in which it would appear she had no say.

“While I am in London Persephone is kindly putting me up and giving me the run of her house.”  The Countess looked at the gallery owner.  “Could you provide some transport?  She flicked her fingers in Julia's direction. 

“Of course,” replied the woman.  “I will leave you to finalize the details with Angie.”  Turning to Julia, “You, come along!”

The woman strode ahead leaving Julia to struggle on behind as best as she could.  They proceeded through what were obviously storage areas to a warehouse and beyond that to a docking bay.  The rear doors of a black transit van were open and the maid was kneeling patently on the concrete floor beside it.  The woman gestured for Julia to enter and she almost baulked, but knowing that there was little use in resisting shuffled into the back of the van.  Looking round Julia could see a number of padded boards mounted on the walls of the van, each with an arrangement of leather straps.  The maid entered and guided Julia to one of the boards and at this Julia did stop and turn to protest.

“Now, Now, we don't want our merchandise damaged in transit.  Imagine being thrown about in this space without means of support.” The woman looked stern.  After a thought Julia nodded realizing what a nightmare it would be to be in a moving vehicle tied and without the use of her hands.  The maid set to work buckling straps about Julia's legs, upper arms and torso, many more than were needed for safety.  Julia was pinned firmly to the board.  The maid exited and the doors closed with a bang leaving Julia in total darkness.