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Marigold Walters hated the name she had gotten from her mother, but she loved the genetics the woman had passed down to her. The name admittedly was awful, but the genetics were amazing. She appreciated those immensely. Those had opened lots of doors for her.
Now going by Mari Walters, having dropped the "Gold" during college, she was currently using those genetic blessings to get into the good graces of the very, very wealthy man who had made eyes at her from the end of the bar. She had recognized him immediately from his pictures in the magazine for the city's most eligible bachelors, along with a few other rich playboy types.
She wasn't looking to settle down. She didn't need an MRS degree. But she could indulge in a little bit of fun and maybe con her way into a few expensive gifts before she got tired of him.
"So, Mari," he was saying, "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"
"I like the view," she said, staring into his dark, almost black eyes. "It's mysterious."
He laughed.
"Luckily, I love women who are far too forward for their good. I like to reward their bravery."
"I do love a reward. What did you have in mind?"
He twirled his keys around his finger. "I was thinking maybe a ride in my Porsche."
"Anywhere in particular?"
"I know another place with a gorgeous view."
"Let me guess. Your place."
"Oh, beauty and brains. Aren't I the lucky man tonight?"
"Maybe," she said. "Take me home and let's find out, Mr. Buchanon."
So it was that she found herself speeding along the highway overlooking the coast with the wind blowing her black hair behind her like something out of a rock video. Then off the highway to the left and onto a few side roads that led to a gated road that unlocked for him and then locked again behind them. After that, they drove another few miles up into the hills until they finally stopped in front of his chateau hideaway.
"You live here?" she asked, knowing full well he didn't.
"Just a few weeks a year. But it's better for rendezvous than my regular place."
"Oh, I'm just a rendezvous?"
He smiled. "I can make it worth your while, Mari. Trust me."
"I hear that from a lot of guys."
"A lot of guys can offer you a closet filled with diamonds to take home as a parting gift."
She smiled and let him lead her inside.
"No, they can not."
"I thought you'd see it my way."
He opened the door and took her hand to guide her inside. "This is far more private. Only my lawyers and the county people know about this place. That way I don't get dogged by the drive-bys on the famous people tours. Especially after that article in West Coast Monthly."
"I just bet," she said.
"Would you like something to drink?" he asked.
"Something fruity with a kick," she said.
He nodded. "I know just the thing."
He disappeared through a door and came back in a few moments with a bottle of Scotch and a glass of blue liquor with a lime on the edge.
She studied the interior of the Chateau Buchanon. Everything was vastly expensive. Original art he had commissioned by top artists. A few famous modern pieces he had bought from galleries. Abstract statues. Crystal nudes. He seemed to have an avant-garde eye that didn't discriminate by style.
She made a note to herself that this place would be easy pickings after the dalliance. She could get word to the rest of her crew and when he was not using the place, it would be theirs for the taking.
Men, especially rich, pompous men, were always such easy marks.
"You like?"
"Oh yes," she said. "The drink is awesome."
"Not the drink silly. The art. The decor."
"Equally awesome. A little weird though. It doesn't seem to have a theme."
"I don't care for a single theme. I like variety."
"I see," she said.
"Here," he continued, taking her hand and pulling her from the sofa. "Let me show you my favorite piece."
He took her through the living room to a large game room in the back of the house. There were two pool tables, about twenty pinball machines, and a row of old console video games from the Eighties and Nineties. In the middle of the room was a wall of what looked to be giant ice cubes.
"Look closer," he said.
She walked to the walk and noticed that inside several of the ice cubes were what looked to be the bodies of women -- or at least the appearance of women.
"Mannequins?" she asked.
He laughed.
"No. Synthetic. Kind of like the stuff prestige love dolls are made from. I've found they fold up best before being coated in the gel."
"Oh," she said, examining the wall closer. "That's wild. Kinky too. Are they all naked?"
"Yep. That's why I call it 'Conquests.' It's supposed to be an ironic statement on how men view dating, sort like collecting notches on a bedpost, only in this case collecting women under glass."
"It's a little creepy when you put it like that."
"It's supposed to be." He put his arm around her and then kissed her deeply. She let him. Weird or not, he was loaded. "You don't want to leave, do you?"
She shook her head. "It'll take a lot more than a wall of naked ladies to chase me away, mister."
"Good, good. I knew there was a reason I chose you."
"Let me show you all the reasons, honey."
And she did. He took her to the bedroom and stripped out of everything she had worn that evening. Then she pushed him against the wall and fished his cock out of his slacks and sucked on it until he came into her mouth. After that, she walked over to the bed and leaned over to offer him his choice of holes from the rear. Anything worth doing was worth doing right, after all, and the robbery to come wasn't the only part of the job she enjoyed. He decided to take her in the ass, as most guys preferred, she mused, if just because most girls don't offer it.
Afterward, they were lying side by side on his bed and she was stroking his cock, trying to get him hard again. She needed one more go. Her pussy was aching for a shot at the action too. She was horny enough to try anything.
"I think I'm spent, Mari," he said. "I don't think I've got anymore left in me tonight."
"Are you sure?"
"Well, maybe there is one thing that always gets me excited."
"What's that, baby?" she asked.
He stood up, still wearing his boxers with his cock flopping out of the opening. "Follow me. I'll show you."
She got up and followed, not the least bit self-conscience about wandering through a stranger's place stark naked.
He led her back to the game room.
"You want to play a video game?" she asked. "That's what gets you hard."
He laughed. "No, silly." He walked to the wall and tapped at several of the empty cubes. Then he nodded and pushed one and it went forward and then snapped back out about an inch toward him.
"It's all modular. That way I can change them around if I get wild hair. And it makes it easier to load up a new doll as I expand the connection."
He pulled at the cube until it came out of the wall. Then he set it on the floor and opened it from the top.
"What?" she asked.
"See if you can fit."
"You want me to get in there?"
He nodded. "Yeah. I'm a pervert, right? I've got a diamond tennis bracelet for you if you do it. Not only that, if you can get in with your cunt at the top of the box, I'll even fuck you while you're inside it to make it even kinkier."
"You know I'm not a whore, right?"
He smiled. "Do you want a matching necklace too?"
"Fuck it," she said. "What's it gonna hurt? I've done weirder."
She walked to the box and walked around it, trying to figure out the best way to get inside so he could fuck her. After all, she still needed attention down there, and if that's what he needed to get off again, it wasn't any skin off her back. Besides, she could more than recover her dignity when she and her crew were cleaning out the Chateau and turning a tidy profit on the black market.
She stepped inside the cube, figuring it to be about two and a half feet all around, wide enough for her to climb into without hurting herself. At five foot three without her heels on she might even have a little room to spare.
She propped her ass on the edge to go in last and leaned forward onto her forearms and elbows. Then she bent her knees and arched her back to the inside, concave not convex, and finally, she pulled and slid her ass and pussy inside facing up at the open side with her face crammed against the bottom of the cube between her palms.
"Am I in all the way?" she asked.
"I'll check," he said, and he flid the lid to close it. It shut smoothly without having to force her further into the cube. Then he opened it again.
She felt his once again hard cock drive inside her, this time hitting her right where she needed it. The weird angle thanks to the cube gave him far deeper penetration than she had expected. He pumped for quite a while, having used up all the previous, easily accessed passion of the early night. Now he was able to go the distance, and that suited her and her hungry twat just fine.
He stopped before unloading into her, told her to hold on, that he'd be right back, and then closed her inside the cube again. He returned several minutes later, and he resumed.
"Took a Viagra," he said, and he pumped her slowly and deliberately for what had to be another hour. When he finally shot his load inside her, she was as spent sexually as she could ever remember being. He had reamed her good. Her pussy was on fire and her climax was still causing her to shudder in the clear box.
She was so out of it, she hadn't even noticed that he had closed the lid again.
"Hey, Simon," she yelled when her senses finally returned. "It's getting a little cramped in here."
He lay down on the ground beside her. She turned her face to the side to see him better but she could only use one eye since the other was hidden from view by her hand, which wasn't going anywhere in the tight quarters of that cube.
"You look so beautiful like this," he said. "I think I'll keep you."
"Ha. Ha. Very funny."
"Did you have fun?"
She wanted to nod, but couldn't. "Very much. I'll have to try this again. Maybe after a shower."
"I wonder how heavy you are," he said.
"Let's not find out, shall we?"
"Oh," he said. "I think we should. "I bet I'm strong enough to pick you up."
He stood up and squatted in front of her cube, then angled up the right side for a grip, then the left, and once his hands were in place, he easily hoisted her inside her little container as if he had been deadlifting at the gym.
"Told you," he said.
"That's nice. Now can I please get out?"
"But you're so fucking cute in there."
And instead of setting her free, he carried her out of the game room. He took her through the living room and kitchen. He put her down on the table, then unlocked a door in the back. He left it open and then picked her up again and carried her through it into what looked to be a workroom.
"Let me out now!" she yelled. "I'm not playing."
"Nor am I, Mari. I haven't been all night."
"What the hell are you doing, Simon?"
"I'm making art," he said.
"What the fuck?! Let me out of this thing now."
"I don't think so."
He laid her on a workbench so her face was facing the ceiling and her pussy and ass were at the bottom of the cube and left her there screaming. Then he went to a metal cabinet and retrieved a canister and a mechanical pump. After that, he filled the canister with a clear gel.
When she saw that, she started screaming in earnest.
"Keep screaming, darling. No one will hear you out here."
He hooked up several tubes to the front of the pump and one larger one on the back between the pump and the canister full of gel.
"I'm doing you a favor, Mari. Can't you see?"
He turned on the pump. The motor inside groaned to life.
"I'm preserving you as you are. You'll always be this beautiful."
"Fuck you! Let me out, you bastard!"
The gel entered the tube.
"Another conquest," he said, and it suddenly all made sense.
The gel flowed into the pump.
"Please," she begged now. She was defeated. She knew anger would never get him to set her free. "Please," she said again.
"That's it, Mari. Beg me to be turned into art. Beg me to let you become part of my greatest project. My dearest piece."
The little tubes leading to her cube, her prison, filled with the gel and crept toward her.
"This gel sets quickly under heat," he said.
He reached beneath the workbench and came back up with a heat lamp.
The first streams of gel flowed from the tubes into her clear prison.
"Please," she begged again, fearing it was too late, that he was too crazy.
He grabbed a second heat lamp, placed one on each side of her, and turned them both on.
The gel was above her waist and ass now, rising up to her upside-down thighs and arms.
"Can you feel it?" he asked, smiling widely and with the creepiest sincerity she had ever seen in her life. "It's already hardening at the bottom, giving you that same look as the others, as if seeing your beauty only through frosted glass or inches of ice. You're like a very, very real Monet character, blurred and obscured in all your details."
"There's still time," she said. "I won't tell anyone."
The cube was half filled with the gel now, and she could feel it harden around her ass and hips and pussy. She tried to wiggle but couldn't. She was trapped for good, and it was coming for the rest of her. She pushed against the top, but it wouldn't budge.
"Industrial glue," he said. "You'd need to be a serious weightlifter to even think about pushing that open, Mari."
"Please..."
"Close your eyes unless you want to be preserved with them open."
She felt the gel touch the corner of her eyes, and she closed them more by reflex than by will. But realizing she didn't want it in her eyes even if she was dying, she kept them cinched shut.
"Please..." she said.
"Almost done now," he said.
The gel had hardened up to the halfway point.
She took a deep breath and held it.
The gel covered the last of her face.
"So, so beautiful," he said.
She waited as the gel crept into her nose and filled her ears, taking away her ability to hear, to smell. She held her breath as she felt it harden, and she finally knew it was over. Her last breath lay trapped in her throat and lungs by the hardened gel.
But she wasn't dead.
Somehow, she was still alive.
Something tickled her nose.
Air.
She was breathing. Actually fucking breathing through the now solid gel. She didn't know how, but she was still miraculously alive. It didn't matter how. She was alive.
Her body shifted and she felt her cube lifted from the workbench. Every shock of movement was absorbed by her amber-like casing as Simon Buchanon carried her back to what she could only assume was the game room.
How the hell was she still alive?
Oh shit, she realized.
They were all alive.
Every fucking woman on his wall. Every piece in his master project. Every 'conquest.' He had built a wall of living art.
Every woman in the wall had once been alive. He had collected them. Hell, he was vain enough to save them in plain view knowing no one would ever suspect a goddamn thing.
She felt the jostling as he must have been pushing her into her new spot in the wall. In her new residence where she could be admired by others. Where she could be called creepy or kinky or beautiful or whatever the fuck some new bimbo would say to try to get one of Simon's diamonds and a night of passion with a fairy tale prince she could brag about for the rest of her life. Or she too might end up in the wall. Who the fuck knew?
She would be young and beautiful forever. But at what cost?
She was cut off from everything. Sight. Sound. Smell. Taste. Only touch, and precious little of that. She was alive, somehow, but there was nothing to make her feel alive. Everything she was, everything she had been, everything she would ever be now had been reduced to a part of Simon Buchanon's art collection.
The irony wasn't lost on her.
She had come to steal his art.
Now she was his art.
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