tofi's trail

Kithyll had agreed to stand in for the nude model that had gotten sick and cancelled on short notice on her and her art class. His friend had asked him, and since he wasn't busy and would get paid, he said he would do it. It was a university class at a school that didn't really prioritize their arts department, and Kithyll thought that if he could help, he would, since the school ''couldn't afford'' the last minute booking fees of the professional models. Having gone to a school with a similar attitude towards his field of study, literature, Kithyll sympathised with the students.

He had actually done some nude modeling before, as a way to get some cash during his own studies. It was a year or so since the last time though, so he did feel a bit awkward initially.

The students lined up around the little make-shift stage Kithyll was directed to, their sketch pads at the ready. Kithyll told them that they could request poses from him, and class started.

At first he got to stay in the various positions for five minutes each, then it was switched over to one, and later ten. Just as he recalled, the students first asked for more conventional poses, but as they relaxed they became more comfortable with asking about funny and outlandish poses. It was a lot of fun, though a strain to stay perfectly still for an extended period of time.

Then there were the more daring requests. A young woman was the first to request one, blushing as she asked him to spread his legs in his seat, and look cocky and seductive as he showed off his junk. It actually wasn't the first time that Kithyll had heard that sort of request, and he tended to attribute it to a curiosity toward his cock, tattooed with wide circles of black ink. It did attract a bit of attention whenever he took his clothes off, just as the black bands of ink on his face attracted it when his clothes were on.

One of his clawed fingers touched his lower lip, he tilted his head slightly, and ran his gaze over the students crowding the room. The teacher, his friend, was sketching something as well, only looking up as she reset the timer or the times she got up to look at her students' work. Kithyll smirked at the group, drawing on the acting he had not been very good at; his facial expressions were the only thing he was good at, there, being terrible at delivering lines with any conviction or appropriate tones. He saw more than one of the young adults' faces flush, and knew he was doing a good job of looking the requested part.

The second request was a bit more embarrassing, but Kithyll wasn't so embarrassed that he shot down the request. He was directed to stand, legs far apart, with a slip of fabric looped around his waist, fisted in one of his inked hands and resting underneath his balls, displaying the shape of his tattooed cock to the room starkly. He saw a glittering sort of expression in some of the eyes staring at him.

The third was simpler. He was given a rod to represent a weapon, a spear he pictured, and held it such, as he was directed to act as the evil overlord standing by his throne and looking down at the heroes challenging him. The fourth was the heroes' defeat, the overlord’s triumph. The fifth was holding one of the heroes' heads in one hand, the spear aimed at the throat of another. The sixth scene, an alternate version to the overlord setting, was the overlord’s defeat.

It evolved, the prop spear, a broomstick with the head screwed off, was placed behind his back, and he was asked to pretend that it was tied to the insides of his elbows. By the looks on several students' faces, they didn't really see the scene before them this time. One said she had an idea, disappearing for a few minutes as Kithyll was allowed to rest. She returned, kneeling behind him and lifting up the stick back to his elbows. "Try again," she encouraged, and Kithyll did. He didn't expect the rope that tied around his arms, fastening them to the stick. Surprised, Kithyll turned to look toward his friend, who just sent him a look that seemed to say what can you do? and then returned to her work. He couldn't really believe that she was just allowing the students to tie him up, when they hadn't even asked.

"Hey, guys, if you could hurry it up and untie me, that'd be great." He said it softly, without sounding like he was pleading.

A guy waved his hand, and gestured toward his face. "We'll be done faster if you show the overlords anger and humiliation," he said. A real heat burned Kithylls face, but it was true. And it was just close to half an hour until the lesson would be over, so he would only need to put up with these shenanigans for a little while longer. He obliged, though hesitantly, and drew the expression suited for the role and situation to his face.

It was as if a whisper ran through the room, though nobody said anything. There was a brief moment where the group of students simply stared, before they turned their attention to replicating what they saw on their papers.

They weren't done with having the heroes humiliate the overlord, to Kithylls dismay. His knees were spread apart to once more show off his junk. As the students shifted him around, Kithyll looked down at his thighs, and the tattoos shifted with the muscles beneath his skin. He felt fingers card through his hair, and let out a "H-hey now-" that went ignored as his hair was collected and pulled, a knot of rope tangling with the length of it to stretch between his hair and the stick between his arms. Kithylls fingers flexed, and his throat was pulled taut, forcing him to open his mouth in an attempt to breathe easier.

The humiliation was real, this time, as the students drew him. It flushed his face and made his lips shiver. He tried glancing over at his friend to ask for help, but couldn't catch sight of more than the top of her head.

"I got another idea," someone said, though Kithyll didn't catch who it was. Some of the students came back up to him, and he relaxed as the ropes were loosened.

He heard an unpleasant, plastic tearing noise, and caught sight of the thick silver tape in the hands of one of the students. At that point, Kithyll started to struggle. He didn't want to do this job any more. His friend wasn't watching, he noticed. Purposefully so, it seemed to him.

Kithyll’s arms were pinned back. One person held his head and kept it pressed against their body - right in their crotch, which he could feel the swell of against his face - and his hair out of the way. One sat on his legs to stop him from kicking. The tape was wound around his upper arms, pressing them against his torso tightly. Tape was then wound around his ankles, hindering him from walking.

He was released, and he had to catch himself against the floor with effort, as he didn't have full mobility in his arms. He felt a sharp pain in his right wrist, and winced. Kithyll tried to prop himself up with more weight put on his other wrist, though balancing was a bit difficult in his current situation. He glared up at the students, finally filling with anger. He knew his face was red with humiliation, but he was angry, too.

"Enough of this! You're not being funny!"

The students ignored him completely, or at least his words. Their attention was solely on him, and on their sketchpads, as they drew him in his current helpless position. Kithyll tried to pull himself up to sit, but it wasn't easy with a wrist that throbbed with a dull pain. He tried spreading his knees apart, but they didn't go far.

He was pulled up to sit after the timer rang its however many minutes, and tape wound around his legs, pressing together upper leg with lower leg. He was propped up against the feet of the chair, like a prize for the victor of the throne. He heard a student murmur "wow" in a quiet voice, and Kithyll, upon following their gaze, saw his cock stand at half-mast. His face burned with the deepest humiliation he had ever felt, as he realised that the touches of the hands manhandling him had unwittingly turned him on. He wasn't even into humiliation, or being forced to do things against his will, but his cock decided to react despite that.

There was a different sort of air about the students as they drew, their pens scratching against their papers so much more loudly than before.

A hand was on his cock next. A student pumped him to full hardness, drawing precum from the tip. He was allowed to stretch his legs, and was pulled into the chair, where he was left with the embarrassment shining on his face. His cock bobbed against his belly, smearing fluids against his skin and asking for attention that Kithyll himself didn't desire.

Kithyll had his ankles released. He tried to make a break for it, not caring any more how he looked. He just wanted to leave, to return to his apartment and curl up in his bed, hiding under his blankets. His legs were pushed up toward his chest, his thighs taped to it. More of his arms were taped together as well, and the students made sure that they would be able to see his dripping cock while they sketched. Kithyll felt tears run down his cheeks as they pressed a balled up rag into his mouth and taped over it.

Far too late did his friend speak up. "It's time to close up shop, kids. Next class'll be here soon."

Kithyll felt relief as the students, though groaning and protesting, started to put away their stuff. Expectantly, Kithyll watched them all mill about, waiting for any one of them to release him. He felt more and more upset and worried as the students started to leave the classroom.

Eventually, it was only Kithyll and his friend left in the room. She was gathering up her stuff, cleaning up after her class. Kithyll let out a loud noise to call for her attention, and she looked over toward him. She sighed deeply, and Kithyll felt his blood freeze to ice as she spoke.

"I'm really sorry, dude. Next class'll be here in a couple minutes and I really won't be able to undo all the tape before then." She walked over to him, and wrapped her arms around him. Her voice was comforting in tone, but Kithyll didn't feel comforted. "I'll hide you for the time being, and I'll be back tomorrow to let you out, okay?" Kithyll shook his head in protest, trying to speak. "Great. Just, relax in here, okay? Nobody'll look in it."

She put him down on the ground, and opened up an old paint-stained cabinet's bottom doors. Kithyll tried to squirm away as she pushed him onto the lower shelf.

"It's fine, I promise. It's being tossed on Monday, so nobody's got any interest in it. Tomorrow's Friday, and I'll be here early to prep for classes anyway. You'll be out in just a few hours." She patted him on the head, ignoring his cries and the tears that had started to fall from his eyes once more. "Just be quiet while the next class' going on and it's all good."

She closed the door, and he heard a key shift in the lock. Kithyll hit the door with his head, making loud noises. She opened up the door again.

"Y'know what, I got a couple minutes before I gotta rush to catch my train. Gimme a sec."

Kithyll relaxed, hoping that she finally got the message.

But she didn't. Instead, she returned with the tape, and, pulling him back out of the cabinet, she started to wind him up in more tape. He saw his body more or less disappear beneath the silvery plastic. His head was drawn back by his hair again, forcing it to lock in a bent position where he couldn't shove it against the cabinet.

"Just because you're a menace, and because I don't want your cum on the wood..." She muttered to herself, and Kithyll felt his friend's hand squeeze around his balls. He whimpered at the touch, and let out a muffled cry of protest as she started to wind silver tape around the base of his balls. She did so very tightly, drawing them downward from his cock. Kithyll sobbed. His friend looked him over, and dropped the tape roll to the floor so she had both hands free. She started to push him back into the cabinet, muttering. "I swear, if I miss my show because of you...."

The door closed once more, and this time Kithyll heard the key turn more firmly, then be removed from the lock. There was a scrape of wood as she probably set the key down on the shelf on the cabinets lower level that he was trapped inside. There were footsteps, and then there were voices.

"I'm surprised you're still here," a stranger's voice said, and his friend laughed. "I had to do some cleaning after my class. I'll see you tomorrow."

Kithyll knew that the rushing footsteps were those of his friend, abandoning him in the stupid cabinet, nearly his whole body wrapped up in silver tape. Only the top of his head was bare, his eyes staring at a sliver of light that sometimes turned to shadow as the classroom was filled by students.

She better be back really early the next day to release him, or he would never forgive her.

Croquis of Intimacy