“I don’t normally do polite, I’m afraid, it’s not flattering on one like me…” he said walking past her and gesturing for her to follow him through the gallery, “Come now, wouldn’t want to get lost, would we?”

They moved between columns adorned with paintings, huge sculptures, walls of photographic prints and even a few deftly painted murals. Finally, he brought her to a door, wood stained so dark it was black, an ornate silver handle serving as the doorknob.

“This, conversely, is my studio,” he said with a smile, opening the door.

The area looked like a shrunken amphitheatre with a raised dais in the middle, a camera sitting on the edge of it and an easel set up at the foot. Stranger, however, was what was sitting on the dais. It appeared to be a chaise lounge carved from onyx; a pair of shackles resting at the foot and near a plush velvet cushion at the head.

“Now, Noel my dear, we can either do this easily, with you buckling yourself in there like a good subject, or I can force you to do so, which I can assure you, only I will enjoy.”

Noel followed quietly, mostly because she didn't know what else to do. She examined the artworks they passed, but with growing apprehension rather than admiration now. There was silence again as well, the pair's steady footfalls the only sound in the gallery, echoing slightly thanks to the room's high ceilings.

She came to a stop at the threshold of the studio, eying the accoutrements suspiciously. The setup was slightly alien, but nothing looked too out of place until her eyes fell upon the gleaming silver shackles. Her bright green eyes widened slightly in surprise and her mouth fell open.

"Y-you've got to be kidding!" She stammered, taking a few steps backwards. She looked up at the being towering over her, suddenly acutely aware of how much larger than her he was.

"That's uh...That's a very flattering offer." She said, backing up a few more steps, "but I'm, um, not really interested in doing any modeling work at the moment."

Turning on her heel she she took of at a dead run, weaving between the statues and glancing fearfully over her shoulder as she drove towards the door they'd entered through.

Despite looking dangerously heavy, the door opens easily at her touch, swinging open and bringing her… well… not where she expected to go.

Though there was no way she could have found her way amongst the twists and turns of the labyrinthine gut through which Icelus had led her to reach his studio, not to mention she had no idea how to get out, all of that was null as the door brought her right back to the studio, standing in front of the dream king and most likely looking a little perturbed and a lot confused.

“It’s really hopeless, darling, the walls and doors are on my payroll. Still trying to win over the floor tiles and the ceiling, though. I mean, they’re asking exorbitant fees, but still, it would be good to know you’ve got allies, right?” he laughs, mentally patting himself on the bat for his little joke.

“Now, you’re going to shackle yourself in,” he sighs, ticking off his points on his claws, “You’re going to shackle yourself in, or I’m going to bring each and every one of those statues back there to life and let them have a go with you, and then, sweaty, covered in all kinds of god-knows what, and exhausted, you’re going to wake up in a cold sweat in your bed. And you’re going to be the one who explains to every single one of your professors why you skipped out on all your classes the past two weeks. Because there most certainly are two weeks worth of statues back there.”

Noel cried out in shock, stumbling to her knees as she crossed the threshold. Her head whipped back and forth, looking from the gallery to the studio and back again. A look of utter confusion crossed her face, but when he began to speak her eyes narrowed suddenly and she got to her feet. It's difficult to look defiant and brave when your tormentor stands a full foot taller than you and seems able to control the very world you occupy, but Noel was trying rather valiantly.

Her glare faded slowly, brave mask cracking when he threatened to hand her over to an army of living statues. She looked back over her shoulder and went cold when she saw just how many, and how large, the stone creatures were. She took the first step towards the dais without thinking, almost an instinctual reaction to the threat in the gallery. Slowly, with great reluctance, she approached the black stone couch. She looked dubiously down at it for a moment: whatever the strange man had planned couldn't be as bad as being raped by an endless procession of giant stone monsters, could it?

She sat gingerly, as if she expected the jet black stone to burn her exposed skin. With even greater hesitation she pulled her legs up onto the chaise lounge and reached down to attach the first of the shiny silver cuffs around her slender ankle.

Icelus smiled as she began to shackle herself into the bonds that adorned the chaise lounge, smiling, “There’s a good girl, buckle yourself in nice and tight then. Pay no attention to the arm bonds yet, just settle with the ankles, they’ll suffice for the moment,” he trails off, a bit distracted, taking a black beret and placing it on his head, a comic foppish air to the horrifying scenario.

“Right, now, just lay back and try not to scream, would you?” He smirked, taking a brush and a palette, making a few preliminary strokes, giving some points of reference to the canvas, his head tilted in glazed concentration.

The chaise, meanwhile, was acting rather strangely. Though it was cool at first, it quickly warmed with her presence upon it, the obsidian conducting her body heat nicely throughout the entire surface. Despite its hard surface, it was rather comfortable to the touch. Quickly, however, things turned sour. Two muscular hands emerged from the side of the lounge, made of obsidian as they held her shoulders, a third from behind her clipping a slender silver collar inset with a large amethyst around her throat, the metal snug against her flesh, a delicate spool of chain attached to the back of the collar and trailing down her back, disappearing somewhere behind her.

Noel's hands practically trembled as she finished binding herself to the strange piece of furniture. The cold stone against her bare skin made her acutely aware of just how short the pleated blue skirt she wore was. She futilely tugged at the hem, wishing less of her creamy white thighs were exposed to the strange being's glowing eyes.

The jet black chaise began to warm noticeably beneath her until it matched her body temperature. The pink-haired girl squirmed with discomfort, reluctant to follow the strange being's order to lay back. Assuming such a submissive pose before him felt...wrong.

Nothing about this situation felt right. Her eyes widened for a moment as she felt a quick, pounding heartbeat. She went tense, frozen with fear until she realized it was her own pulse, not something from the eerie couch she sat upon.

She didn't have time to relax before the large, masculine hands grasped her slender shoulders and pulled her down until she lay back upon the chaise lounge. She cried out in fear and began to thrash and struggle against the inhuman hands. Her bright green eyes were wide with terror as she strained every muscle in her nubile young body in her futile attempts to escape the black stone's clutches. The shackles around her slender ankles rattled and clanked

"Let me go let me go!!!" She screamed, panic saturating her voice.

Icelus sighed in an over-dramatic fashion, leaning out from behind his canvas, lofting one ridged brow as he watched her struggle.

“I recall asking that you try not to scream. There was no restraint in that, please try to better follow my orders in the coming hours, would you dear?” he hissed with mock sweetness, moving back behind the canvas and drawing his brush across it in broad strokes.

The hands cracked obsidian knuckles as they released her, the chain attached to the slender collar around her neck pulling tight, holding her back to the warm chaise. The hands worked across her chest, warm to the touch but carved from hard stone, fumbling across her ample chest.

The blunted fingertips birthed points, crystalline lengths tearing through her top with sickening ease, rending it to strips in a few quick, shredding gestures. They crawled over her chest, groping and teasing before sliding down in a strange massage over her bared belly.

When the massive stone hands released her shoulders Noel immediately tried to sit up. Her body had hardly left the unusually warm stone when the delicate silver chain went taught, causing her to briefly gasp as the silver collar encircling her slender throat cut off her breathing. She fell back immediately, emerald eyes darting around in panic, though of course she found no means of escape.

A harsh string of curses, almost comical coming from a girl whose hair resembled strawberry icing on a schoolgirl cupcake, issued from her mouth as the massive hands began to awkwardly grope her heaving chest. She stopped mid-word, voice dwindling to a terrified whimper as the blunt black fingers sprouted what looked to be claws made of glittering crystal. Noel tightly shut her eyes screamed again, heedless of the dream god’s request, as they descended upon her rapidly rising and falling chest.

Rather than tearing into her flesh, however, when Noel hesitantly opened one eye a few heartbeats later they were cutting away the last few shreds of cloth concealing her chest with what would have been impressive precision if she wasn’t laying bound and now naked before some sinister creature with a bizarre sense of humor. Her ample breasts spilled free once unconfined, settling back against her chest though they still stood impressively high and firm for their size.

The helpless schoolgirl writhed beneath the strange hands’ touches as they made their way down her half-naked body, blushing and gritting her teeth in frustration as their touches caused her small pink nipples to harden slightly.

“Did I tell you where I got that particular lounge from, dear…?” Icelus asked, his voice trailing off as he leaned out from behind the canvas, adding a few strokes of dark maroon to finish up a background setting that matched the low light of the chamber, lit by flickering torchlight. The low-burning scones cast deep shadows across the circular chamber, making her flesh take on a honeyed tone, the lowlights of her vibrant hair seeming to stand out in greater contrast, dark pastel shadow against the bubblegum pink of the highlights.

“It’s really quite an interesting story…” he continued, really paying no mind as to whether or not she answered at all.

The hands continued their awkward groping, one sneaking up along her chest, walking along it with pointed fingers before slipping across her lips, pushing one pointy finger into her mouth, the surface cool and slick like polished stone but oddly warm, lewdly massaging her tongue and exploring the space between her pouty lips.

“I stumbled upon it in the nightmare of one of the girls on this very island. This wasn’t one in which I intruded, of course, just observed, but it fascinated me nonetheless. I did a bit of research and found that she had been molested by her psychiatrist when she was younger.”

The second hand trailed down, sneaking beneath the waistband of her panties, spreading its fingers, index and pinky sliding across her thigh as the middle and ring curled to tease the lips of her sex.

“I found it rather fascinating… Such a hurtful and intimate betrayal of trust…”

Noel groaned, twisting her torso in any direction she could in an attempt to escape the fingers that danced along her silky smooth flesh. Chained to the chaise, however, nothing she could do gave her any respite. The fingers finally crawled away from her chest, but it brought her no comfort. She let out a muffled squeal of outrage as the thick stone finger invaded her mouth, preventing her from even responding to her tormentor, adding insult upon injury. She tried to dislodge it, but the golem-like hand was immensely strong. The prodding digit effectively held her head in place.

She wished he hadn’t told her the terrible furniture’s story. It was bad enough to know some other girl had suffered at its hands, but its tragic origin made it all the more terrible. She squeezed close her bright green eyes, tears welling up in their corners.

There was little time to wallow in her despair though, as the second hand slipped between her legs. It was inevitable of course; she hadn’t honestly expected him to just stop and let her free, tell her it was all some sick joke, but when the two thick fingers curled back and dipped shallowly between her slick pink pussy lips she let out another, now muffled, scream. Her body arched, pulling against her bonds with all her strength. Tears began to flow from her bright eyes and a sobbed racked her body.

“Oh my… lovely…” Icelus teased, dragging his brush across the canvas, attempting to capture the subtle submission of her pose, her arched back and her heaving breasts offering herself up to the chaise, despite her own hopes to the contrary.

“You’re one of the best subjects I’ve ever worked with, darling…” he laughed, continuing his painting, his violet eyes pouring over her form, catching every subtle tense of musculature, every bead of sweat that fell from her supple, creamy flesh and dropped to the lounge, the chair seeming to enjoy the torment in and of itself, warm and welcoming to her abused, slender form.

The chain held her tight to the surface, the collar snug against her shapely throat, holding her in place. The hand near the top of her form began to pump its fingers lewdly in and out of her lips, teasing her tongue cruelly with the strange, cool, stony length, the smooth glasslike surface brushing across the warm, wet pink inside of her mouth.

The hand near her tender slit followed suit, pumping softly in and out of her aching tunnel, using a rock-hard thumb in the most delicate of touches to tease her clit, working the stiff lengths of its fingers in and out of her sweet little sex, reveling in the juices that coated them with each thrust, dripping to the seat of the lounge.