LITMIR.BIZ

       Along for the ride

      Don’t move a fucking muscle. Julie’s cold fingers pad over my hard dick which is cradled in the palm of her other hand. I hold my breath. Julie’s focus is just as taut, her attention fixed on the wet plaster she is spreading over my entire cock. I watch her from above the hardening cast that runs all the way down from my shoulders to just above my knees.

      Julie’s top teeth bite into her lower lip with the concentration. Her fingernails. That bite. The cast’s brittle white outer shell. It is me that is putty in her hands.

       She could do whatever she wants to me.

      I breathe out. She catches my eye.

      ‘Not much longer,’ she smiles, and the lines crinkle around her eyes.

      She takes a step back to observe her handiwork.

      ‘Looking good,’ she mumbles, ‘looking good.’

      Julie picks up her mug of tea from the paintsplattered trestle table and takes a sip. I lick my lips. My own mug sits tantalizingly out of reach.

      ‘It shouldn’t take too long to set, and then we’ll have you out of there. Free at last,’ she winks.

      While we wait, I try to imagine what I must look like from Julie’s point of view. A fit young guy caught in suspended animation in the middle of her studio, and on the way to giving her a new coat hanger. Or whatever she plans to do with my sculpture.

      I was Julie’s muse, her model, her material all in one. It was my dick that had got me this far. But standing here now, I had a hunch that maybe sometimes it was taking me too far. Because the only reason I was here was because of my prime-quality cock, legs and torso. I could be anyone.

      I now knew what it felt like to be treated like a lump of meat. My hands might have been free, which meant that I could help Julie a little with her work, but I had to be careful, as the very movement of my underarm muscles threatened to do serious damage to Julie’s cast.

      I’d shake my head at what my escort work got me caught up in—If I didn’t fear that moving my neck and chest muscles might ruin Julie’s artwork.

      I’m not sure what I’d expected when Julie had called earlier in the week and asked me to help her out; I was just happy to be able to do so. When she’d told me she’d need to cover me in plaster for her artwork, it had taken me right back to the beginning of this game when I’d needed photos for the agency websites

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